#thinking of what little shits most sidestep’s are

[just-a-tiny-goldfish]

How Ortega the most elegible bachelorette/bachelor in Los Diablos chooses sidestep repeatedly over actual people with their life together is always such a ‘wtf’ moment for me

#I’m like???? #thinking of what little shits most sidestep’s are #also thinking of oro and I’m like ???? she’s a feral little creature #u sure u want that one Julia 🙂 u reeeeally sure??? #there’s the one little confession in the apartment where Julia is like #I didn’t want the media blaming my bad manners on being in gay love with u 😔 #HAVE U SAT WITH ORELLUA FOR 5 MINUTES I CSN GARANTEE THATS NOT WHAT THE PUBLIC WOULD BE THINKING #YOUR BAD MANNERS? Julia bby ur fine

[driaswrld]

city boys! — gojo satoru and geto suguru.

wc : 1.4k

summary : you go grocery shopping with satoru and suguru and they're just idiots tbvh (gn! reader)

part of : the star paradox collection.

notes : i have shamelessly brought my calculator to a kfc drive thru and yes i do it at the grocery store bcus i have dyscalculia math sucks don't @ me. also i have so much satosugu brainrot i can't breathe. yay to the satoru themed era of the blog :))

other : this can be read as platonic or poly just however you wanna see it! (like three curse words i think - mentions of cunnilingus) I SWEAR ITS NOT WHAT U THINK

current casette : city boys - burna boy

There’s something about summer that makes Satoru and Suguru hang off your shoulders more than they ought to. In the most mundane situations too.

“—and it’s not even that serious!” Satoru groans, dragging his feet on the floor, reluctantly marching behind where you’re pushing the trolley. “Who cares what kind of curry it is? Curry is curry.” He reasons with a huff.

Suguru nudges you in the middle of the supermarket aisle from time to time, pointing out things you usually buy, brands you usually prefer over most, and you grab whatever you find remotely necessary and toss in the cart, both of you collectively ignoring Satoru’s whines.

“C’monnn… Listen to me!”

You pick up a can of diced pineapple and look at Suguru. “Nah, that one’s too sour,” he murmurs and you put it back instantly. Afterall, Suguru’s the best taste tester you could ever ask for. Satoru just scarfs down everything in a forty mile radius.

“The design on the can was pretty though, ‘s a shame.” You sigh.

Satoru’s groans fall on deaf ears.

You turn a corner and head into the fruit aisle. Suguru’s eyes flick to something over your head and his steps falter for a moment. While you’re pushing the trolley ahead, a soft smack! noise comes from behind you and before you can turn your head—

“No! I wanted the other one—”

“This one’s better—”

You ignore them, albeit barely with all the commotion both boys are causing in the supermarket. Leaning over an array of cherries on display, you hum to yourself, carefully picking the pretty ones to add to the cart, perusing at the other assortment of fruit and if even possible, Satoru and Suguru’s bickering gets louder.

“That tastes like shit—” “You look like shit—”

“You kiss your mom with that mouth?”

“You eat pussy with that mouth?”

You strain your head forward as an old lady strolls past, her eyes a little wide and eyebrows knitted with a look of utter shock and you shrink. With a stiff, humorless giggle you turn your back to her, suddenly finding a bunch of grapes oddly interesting.

Embarrassing.

And when you breathe a breath of relief as the old lady passes by, Satoru swings his arm over your shoulder, pouting. “Suguru’s a dumbass—” He’s cut off by a smack to the back of his head, and despite yourself you can’t help but laugh a little.

“Will you two just behave and,” you shift out of Satoru’s hold to take the mini package of ridiculously sweet m&m infused rice krispies he has in his other hand.

You toss it into the cart. “—help me pick some stuff for my fruit salad?” Satoru shrugs with a sigh, he hates shopping. It’s so boring—

You laugh and pull up the list you typed up on your phone : Raspberries, check. Kiwi, check. Watermelon, check. Grapes…

“What else do you need?” Suguru asks, and he sidesteps Satoru, leaning casually on the trolley, one foot pushing it forward and backward as you look through the fruits. “Grapes—” you murmur, suddenly feeling indecisive as you look through the different bunches. Green or Purple. Purple or Green.

Satoru pushes his sunglasses down to the curve of his nose. “Green, ‘s prettier,” he says and you turn to grab a bunch of the green grapes as Suguru straightens his body, pretending to look over your shoulder as he sneakily drops a package of plain marshmallow rice krispies into the cart. “Yeah, green would make it look way more appealing, wouldn’t it?” You whisper to yourself.

“I saw that—” Satoru begins to say.

“Purple’s better, healthier than the green ones.” Suguru says with a straight face. Behind your back he flips Satoru off.

You shrug your shoulders and grab a small bunch of both. If anything, it’ll be shared well between you and Shoko in the bentos you make. Hopefully she appreciates the struggle.

Sliding your phone unlocked, you glance at the list again as you step off. Grapes, check. Suguru pushes the trolley, following close behind you as Satoru trudges behind him. “Wait—” You halt immediately, and Suguru has to steer the trolley left so he doesn’t run into you, but Satoru steps on the back of Suguru's shoes, and looks away with a bashful whistle.

“Other aisle, we need to turn around.” You say, sliding your phone back into your back pocket. Canned Pineapples. You forgot you put back the last one. “How many damn aisles are there?” Satoru mumbles as you turn and make a beeline for the next corner, going back where the three of you came. Suguru chuckles.

Kneeling, you grab the canned pineapples opposite to the ones Suguru said were sour. Hopefully that much distance in the store is enough of a difference between the two brands.

You check the list one more time. Pineapples, check.

“Right, that should be it.” You mumble and both boys internally celebrate — well, Satoru makes a show of letting out a long dramatic sigh of relief while Suguru nods.

Taking a look into the cart, Satoru pettily moves his package of rice krispies on the other side of the cart, away from Suguru’s and when Suguru looks at him incredulously, he sticks a tongue out, “Your flavor’s trash.”

Suguru rolls his eyes and is about to push the trolley forward to run him over when he sees you pull out a scientific calculator from your tote.

A scientific calculator. The same one you use for school. “The fu—” Satoru is about to say, and Suguru glances at him, both of them trying to at least read each other’s minds about what the hell is going on.

You however, are so hyper focused on your little task, pushing the buttons of your calculator, tongue poking the inside of your cheek. Satoru and Suguru watch you for all of two minutes. One minute spent with expressions morphing from confused, to even more confused, to utterly amused. The second minute spent snickering quietly and snapping silent pictures for the groupchat.

“Huh, I went over a little.” You hum and though they haven’t wiped the sheer amusement off their faces, they both find themselves intrigued. “By how much?” Suguru asks, quickly sending off the pictures to the groupchat.

“Seven hundred yen.” You reply as you step forward to peer into the cart, willing and ready to discard one unnecessary item to drop the price.

Three of your phones chime. Satoru checks his own notification.

[Gojo Fanclub]

Nanaminn <3 : who added me to this???

Nanaminn <3 : delete my number gojo.

“Bet it’s the curry.” Satoru mumbles absentmindedly, typing at his phone screen. “The curry’s like—” he pauses, shoves his phone in his hoodie pocket and counts silently on his fingers. “A thousand yen or something — they must’ve put the god of curry in there or something.”

“It’s not the curry,” you reason scouring the cart for any discrepancies. And there’s quite a few of them. Including but not limited to some Sakura tarts, sour candies, an extra package of rice krispies—

“The curry powder we picked is five hundred yen, it’s not the curry.” Suguru shrugs, and Satoru leans against one of the shelves of seasoning, letting out a quiet sneeze.

“Bless you— I need to recheck these.” The calculator comes out again as you murmur to yourself, the click clacking of the buttons drowning out your own thoughts.

“I’m just saying— maybe it was the rice krispie Suguru snuck into the cart—” Satoru mumbles, all while he bends his body at the end of the aisle, reaching blindly around to the shelves on the other side.

“You put one in, I was only balancing the trolley weight.” Suguru interrupts, and he turns his head away when you look up from your calculator at him accusingly.

“See?” Satoru grins, almost victoriously as he grasps a package of baumkuchen, wheeling his hand back as he sidesteps Suguru, moving to slide the pastry into the trolley. “Who knows what else’ll just drop into the cart?” And your calculator is forgotten as you snatch the pastry from Satoru’s hand. “Nothing else is dropping into the cart—”

But something else catches your attention as you’re about to scold him.

Two bright green bags, hidden at the bottom of the cart, stuffed under the packaging of Sakura tarts.

“Who the hell put Kenpi chips in here?”

Satoru and Suguru both freeze, and suddenly their accusing fingers are pointed at each other. But instead of scolding them like they expect—

“Should’ve at least put one for me.”

You're never going to the grocery store with them again.

Bonus :

“Satoru’s paying for the extra snacks—”

“Not fair! Suguru shouldn’t get to just stuff his face—”

“Only two of those snacks are mine. Two. Out of ten.”

A notification sounds on the three of your phones.

[Gojo Fanclub]

Nanaminn <3 : is that my calculator that you borrowed???

@todorokies gets the privilege tag cs i told knives ab this first😭

#★ DRIASWRLD #tsr ⭐️ #jujutsu kaisen #satosugu x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #satoru gojo #suguru geto #gojo x geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #satoru x reader #suguru x reader #gojo satoru #geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fic #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #jujustsu kaisen x reader #geto x reader #gojo x reader

[izvmimi]

cw: selfship content. married with named children. fluff.

Izuku has been pacing around the kitchen for the past five minutes, and you, devilish as you are, are pretending not to notice, content with your late night snack of hot chocolate and lightly buttered bread.

The kids are all asleep, or at the very least turned in for the night, and things have been overall peaceful in the Midoriya household for the past few days, so whatever has your husband in distress is unlikely to be that bad. Additionally, he has an expression he makes when the situation is more embarrassing than dire, and that's written all over his face at the moment.

You bite into a particularly crunchy part of the bread and the sound appears to echo - Izuku looks at you and you return his gaze with your mouth full, blinking innocently, then burst out laughing when he frowns.

"Fine, I'll bite. What's wrong, baby?" you ask.

Izuku stops pacing then stands still facing you, one arm crossed over his chest and his other hand balled into a fist under his chin.

"Did you know Izumi had a crush on..." his voice was already hushed, but now it falls into a barely audible whisper, "... Ami?"

You blink. That's all? you wonder.

"Well, yeah..." you reply. "He's uh... been like that since he was 8?"

"What?!"

Izuku looks betrayed for a moment, then moves over to you quickly, pulling out a chair to plop down on.

"Okay, but his sketchbook is literally filled with portraits of just her!"

You drink the last of your hot cocoa, then smile at him, resting your hand on his wrist posed on the table.

"Sounds like his dad."

Izuku turns pink at the ears, but then he shakes his head, trying to focus.

"It's not the same!"

You sigh. "Are they tasteful at least? They seemed fine when I saw them."

Izuku's mouth opens and closes quickly. "W-What do you mean tasteful?"

"I mean he is 15."

"___! They're okay, he's not a pervert!"

You tilt your head to the side. "Exactly, so what's the problem?"

Izuku looks at you with incredulity, shocked by your unbothered manner. "You know, perhaps the 10 year age difference??" Izuku starts. "What if he gets his heart broken? It's not like it can happen!"

You take another long look at him, then laugh again.

"Don't burst a blood vessel, it's just puppy love. He'll get over it."

"I didn't get over my first crush!"

"... Honey, how old do you think I am?" you ask. He sighs then sidesteps your statement, knowing he sounds ridiculous, then presses his head against the table. You push your plate and mug aside now, then take his fingers in yours, and he turns his head to the side to look up at you.

"You know, it's not weird for your teenage son to have a crush on a pretty girl, especially when she was his babysitter most of his life. It's harmless."

Izuku frowns.

"It's not weird I promise. Plus, it won't last." With that last part you lean just a bit closer to whisper, "I heard him on the phone with someone else, he has a crush on another person in his class right now, which I also know because he actually starts caring if I iron his shirts for school."

Izuku seems briefly relieved, then again bothered by this additional info.

"Why doesn't he tell me anything?" he asks.

"Teenagers don't tell anyone anything, don't worry about it." You say, squeezing his fingers. He gives you a half-smile, then you decide to change the subject.

"By the way, Atsuna needs to get stuff for cheerleading, so you can you take her tomorrow? I have some errands I need to run."

"Cheerleading? When did she start cheerleading?"

Izuku looks genuinely dumbfounded, following you as you get up to put your dish away.

"Two weeks ago." You snap your fingers. "I need you to keep up."

He pouts, and you actually feel a little bad.

"I'm kidding," you insist, but the damage is already done. You lead him back to a seat in the kitchen, and he frowns again, tapping his foot anxiously as he sits.

"I'm a shit father," he mumbles, and your heart aches for just a moment. You shake your head then cup his face in your hands. Izuku looks at you and you soften then kiss him.

"No way. You're just doing a ton at once right now. Let me take care of things for now, and then we'll catch up this weekend, okay?"

His hands circle around your wrists, and he's not completely convinced but he nods.

"You do such a great job, I wanna pull my weight," he murmurs and kisses you again. You let his kisses warm you more than the cocoa and press your forehead against his.

"You pull yours too, baby. We can't give 100% to everything all the time so I'll cover you and you cover me, okay?"

He nods.

"Thank you," he adds. You move out of your seat into his lap, and caress the side of his chin, feeling the roughness of his unshaven face, tired but still handsome.

"I'm taking more days off," he promises.

"You don't have to," you insist.

"I don't have to, but I want to."

You laugh but it's just a breath through your nose, and press yourself closer to him so that your face buries into his chest.

"#1 Pro Hero wants more days off so he can give his son the Talk? That will go over well with the Hero Commission."

Your sarcasm hits a little too close to home but he gently grips your fingers again and pulls them to his mouth, kissing the finger tips.

"Izuku, your husband and the father of your kids, wants to spend more time with the beautiful woman he married and the children he helped create," he states. You look into his eyes and he looks determined to make a change and you smile, accepting his resolve.

"Thank you."

---

Your phone rings in the late evening on Sunday, and you can't help but be amused as you pick up. The second you say hello, you can already hear screaming on the other end of the line.

"Is there a reason Deku is suddenly off the patrol schedule for an entire month?!"

You stifle a laugh.

"Why don't you ask him, Kacchan?" Calling his name like your husband does only serves to aggravate him more.

"Very funny. Tell him to pick up the fucking phone."

You glance over at your husband who is busy helping your youngest daughter, Ai, braid her hair down for bed in the living room. Ai holds a mirror and tells him where to part her curls, and Izuku's tongue sticks out as he tries the style on the video on the TV screen. Despite his slight confusion, he looks happy as Ai observes his work and gives him plentiful encouragement.

"When he's no longer busy. Bye! Hug the wife and kids for me!" you say cheerfully as you hang up.

#izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #cw kids #cw families #mimidoriya #daydreams: bnha #mimi's notes

[oh-katsuki]

a little zombie apocalypse katsuki!au drabble. my twd rewatch is giving me many thoughts...

cw: apocalypse au, reader is alone, mentions of death, implications of child death, grief mentions, reader is described as a "little thing" but that's more just the way katsuki talks, katsuki is a little gruff but he means well, guns, weapons, general apocalypse thoughts, mentions of zombies but we follow the "never call them a zombie" rule, katsuki and reader meeting for the first time, etc

the light of your fire is dim, embers burning low as you sit in a foldable chair beside it. you've got a metal spatula in your hand. you're not sure why you grabbed it when things went to shit, but panic does weird things to the mind. this, along with a few other oddities, are all you managed to take from your house when the world fell to ruin. everything else are things scavenged along the way or from people you'd met, joined, and lost.

the night is near silent and trees creak and crack like the hulls of great ships under heavy pressure, but the birds don't sing and nothing in the crowded wood you're taking shelter in makes a sound. well, except for you and the gentle crackle of your fire.

your head is on a swivel. it has been for months. ever since the outbreak, ever since the dead rose and began consuming and infecting the living, you've kept watch. a paranoid, never ending cycle that you suppose—if left on your own—will burn itself out. you swallow thick and return your attention to the fire, watching the tree line just in front of you for any hint of movement or monsters.

a branch cracks just behind you. a swift sound, followed by rapid footsteps. you stand, quickly turning your head, only to see a a figure a few feet away from you. they move quickly and the dancing light of the fire obscures their features from view. their eyes, most importantly. you can always tell if someone is dead or alive based on their eyes. in this light, should this stranger have that milky white film over them, you wouldn't be able to tell.

you make a small noise, something between a whimper and a shout, as the person comes to a stop in front of you and holds a gun directly between your eyes. the living. this person is alive. you're not sure at this point if encountering one of the dead would have been worse.

"drop your weapon," he says in a hurried voice. it's aggressive and threatening. it comes from deep in his chest.

you raise your shaky hands to your head quickly at the order, screwing your eyes shut as if looking in theirs would be a cause for attack.

"i-it's not a weapon!" you shout, voice cracking. "it's- it's a sp-spatula. it's a spatula."

the words are rushed and heavy, fear seizing your chest as you look down the barrel of the gun. the firelight glints off of it and you can make out the person behind the barrel's features. he's big, blonde under the grime, you think. a man. not the best thing to encounter alone at night in times like these.

you see him hesitate for a moment, eyes darting between you and the silver kitchen item in your hand. you drop it quickly.

"do you have a weapon on you?" he questions, voice a little less urgent.

you shake your head in response and then shakily look beside the chair. there's a knife there and a pistol with no bullets. you're a poor shot and you'd run out of ammo the previous week. he glances to it, the gun still raised at you, and sidesteps to grab them. when he does, he cautiously lowers the weapon. you start to lower your trembling hands.

then, as if struck by some realization, the man stomps towards the fire and you jump as he does.

"the fuck are you doing lighting a fire?" he says angrily. "those things may be dead, but they can still fuckin' see. that's a good way to get yourself killed."

he stomps out the fire as he talks, urgently stamping out what's left of the low-burning logs.

"i- i didn't think there were many in the area," you justify, furrowing your eyebrows as you step away from him.

"and that's a risk you want to take?" he says indignantly. you wonder briefly what business he has worrying about you.

"what do you want?" you snap, "my food? weapons? life? what is it?"

the man scoffs, "jesus, none of that."

you narrow your eyes and take a step back.

"not all people who camp out in the woods are good," he says. "but i sure as shit didn't expect to find some little thing like you alone lighting a damn fire. stupid."

"there were more," you say indignantly, like somehow that makes it better. "force of habit, i guess."

the man pauses for a moment as understanding passes between the two of you. it's a relatable feeling. everyone has lost someone now. you just happened to lose everyone.

"got a name?" he asks.

you hesitate in giving it to him before deciding what it could hurt. the man nods as if he likes the sound of it.

"i'm katsuki," he furrows his eyebrows. "you're alone?"

you nod, swallowing down the grief that pushes at your throat.

"wasn't always," you respond, "but yeah. now i am."

he nods his understanding.

"come with me."

"where?" you say instinctively, a defensive edge to your voice. katsuki looks at you like your stupid, or maybe it's pity, like you're a wounded animal. probably both.

"where the fuck do you think?" he retorts. "we've got a camp a little ways from here. i saw your fire from one of the watch posts we have stationed around the place."

you look at him like he's a little crazy for even thinking to bring you there.

he scoffs and rolls his head over his shoulder. "look, we've got men and women," then he pauses, "used to have children. we're not gonna hurt you. world's gone to shit, do you really wanna keep at it alone?"

he's probably right. you've been alone for weeks now, exhausted for longer, and though your common sense tells you not to go off with a strange man in this kind of world, the promise of community is far too tempting. you nod and glance back to your camp. a measly collection of supplies.

"we'll come back for it when it's light," he says. "i don't know about you, but i'd rather not spend longer in these dark ass woods than i have to."

"okay," you say. the presence of another person both sets you on edge and makes you feel the fatigue even more. a gun's barrel on your nose followed by the promise of safety and you're going with him? you must be stupider than a horror movie protagonist. "do you take in a lot of strays?"

katsuki looks over his shoulder and you think you see him smile a little at the phrase.

"if that's what you want to call it," he says begrudgingly. "me less than the rest." then, with a softer tone of voice, barely noticeable with the quiet whisper you both have been speaking at. "i'm sure the others won't mind one more."

#bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #mha x reader #tw: guns #tw: weapons #tw: death #tw: child death #i like this a LOT #i wanna talk abt it more #pls come talk to me about it if you'd like i have so many thoughts that i wanna share #mha zombie!au #<- that's my tag for this i think

[bbydeathclaw]

Petulance

pairing: silco x fem!reader (nsfw)

AO3

summary: Silco sends you away to try to get some work done and you decide to be a horrendous little shit about it.

tags: fluff, smut, established relationship, fingering, oral sex (f!receiving), good ol' mating press, teasing, bratty reader, simp silco

word count: 5.4k

adorably aesthetic mdni banner by @cafekitsune

a/n: hello! this is my first time writing in a looong while almost 10 years to be exact please don't look at me. but I had to get back into it with this shamelessly self indulgent fic of my favorite brooding king pin. I hope you enjoy!

Silco had thought it a bit odd at first, the ease with which you’d taken your leave from his office tonight. Ordinarily when he’d attempt to send you away in favor of getting his paperwork done in a more timely manner, you’d put up some form of sulky little protest.

An overemphasized pout coupled with a look of feigned sadness, eyebrows furrowed together when you’d offer to assist him with said work. Your reason being that it would ‘probably get done faster’ between the two of you. 

A lie, and a blatant one at that. You were, on all counts, absolutely shit at keeping your focus on any tasks he’d try to give you. You knew it. He most certainly knew it. Truly he’d wonder why you’d even bother offering at all if you just spent most of the time trying to distract him anyway. 

Still, he can’t say he isn’t amused by your actions. He finds these juvenile acts of yours terribly endearing for the most part, and even starts to look forward to them, knowing full well that he'll give in to just about anything if you’d simply ask it of him. 

Which is why he can’t help but feel somewhat disappointed when you don’t do any of this at all, and Silco starts to regret his idiotic suggestion entirely until you throw a cheeky smirk his way instead. 

“Alright, I think I’ll go bug Sevika for a bit.”

A single eyebrow quirk, followed by a low hum of approval. 

“I’m sure she’ll be positively thrilled by that,” he replies, suppressing a smirk of his own at the thought of his second in command being pestered by someone almost half her size. 

He’s still disheartened by your willingness to leave, but ultimately makes peace with it knowing that you’d more than likely return at some point. You give him a small wave with your fingers followed by a wink over your shoulder, and Silco doesn't hesitate to drag his gaze over your body shamelessly as it saunters out of his office.

About an hour passes, and the music coming from downstairs is just starting to pick up for the evening. You enter the room with a fluid sidestep, leaning back against the door once it closes behind you. His good brow raises slightly. “Back so soon?”

You don’t answer at first, instead making your way over to one of the tables in his office, like a cat quietly stalking about until something catches its interest. He watches you methodically as you settle for one of Jinx’s old trinkets that had been long discarded, carefully turning it over in your hand. “Sevika called me a menace.”

This time he makes no attempt to hide the subtle upturn from the corner of his lips. “I’m afraid I’m inclined to agree with her, my dear.”

“She seems pretty cranky tonight.” 

“Hm, surely through absolutely no fault of your own.”

You bite the inside of your cheek in what he can only assume is an attempt to stifle a giggle before turning to face him with an adorably giddy expression that makes his chest tighten. 

“Whatcha doin’?” 

So innocent, as if you were completely unaware of the effect you had on him. Silco doesn’t answer you verbally, merely bringing his forehead to rest against his hand and lifting the piece of paper he’s holding in the air with the other. The sullen face you make doesn’t go unnoticed by him as you turn to put the gadget back down with an airy sigh.

“Well,” you drag the word out. “I guess I’d better let you get back to it.”  

“Yes, that would be nice,” he says in turn, though it comes off more teasing rather than the displeasure he’s trying to convey. 

You study his face for another beat or two before you finally respond. “Okay, if that’s really what you want.” It’s not. Not even in the slightest. “I’ll go see if Thieram needs any help at the bar.”

“My love, Theiram is more than capable of handling his responsibilities as a bartender alone. It’s why I hired him, in fact.” He pauses. “Have you perhaps considered staying up here and behaving yourself, rather than looking for more ways to wreak havoc amongst my employees?” 

For a moment Silco thinks that he may be tipping his hand too soon, fearing that you’ve caught on to the fact that he’s basically been doing fuck all except sitting here and waiting for you to come back to his office. His suspicion only rises with the way you’re tilting your head and downright beaming at him with ill-disguised glee, like you’d been reading his every thought. 

“If I stayed up here it certainly wouldn’t be to behave myself.”

The paper he’s holding makes an audible crunch sound, his hand crumpling the edge of it faintly in response to your suggestive remark. 

Before he has the chance to reply with some snarky comment, you’re already heading towards the door, making a show of swaying your hips and giving him another view of the delicious swell of your backside before you take your leave again. His chair makes an audible groan as he leans back against it and lets out a lengthy sigh, running a hand through his hair and glancing down into his lap at the result of your seemingly endless torment.

Intolerable minx.

By the third time you make your way back up, only about half an hour has passed, and Silco’s all but given up on the prospects of getting any semblance of work done tonight. His thoughts being entirely permeated by you and the state you’d left him in. 

The Last Drop is in full swing now, and the liveliness of everything going on downstairs comes through the open door as you re-enter his office. However this time, he makes no effort to acknowledge your arrival, his chair now facing away from his desk, turned instead towards the large stained glass window that bathes him in a sickly, pale green light. All the noise from the club gets muffled when the door shuts once again, followed by the sound of purposeful footsteps making their way over to him.

“Welcome back,” he states flatly, trying to sound as disinterested as he can manage in his current predicament while he looks over his clipboard in a vain attempt at trying to salvage what was supposed to be a productive evening.

“Hello there, almighty Eye of Zaun,” you chime back with a playful lilt in your voice. “Did you miss me?”

Silco’s eyes tick upwards and stare blankly at the window straight ahead, actively suppressing the urge to let out another heavy sigh. You were going to be the death of him at this rate, there was absolutely no doubt in his mind. How you managed to be both so insufferable and still so unbelievably charming he’ll never quite understand. Before he has the chance to turn his chair with an already fixed scowl, he hears a faint thud behind him, the distinct sound of glass meeting wood only slightly muted by a soft shuffling of papers. 

A few seconds pass before Silco finally spins around to face you, seeing that a tumbler has been set down right on top of the paperwork he had been ruminating over all night. He’s also greeted by the sight of you already sitting in a chair directly in front of his desk, grinning from ear to ear. His heart swells at the sight and his scowl gradually melts away, only to be replaced by something more along the lines of skepticism when he takes in your expression fully. 

Your smile is accompanied by what appears to be a look of pure satisfaction, though he has no clue as to why. His non-discolored eye narrows at you, like a parent trying to figure out what misdeed their child has committed behind their back. 

Silco regards you warily for another moment, taking in every minute detail of your face in hopes of detecting something that might give you away while he reaches for the glass set in front of him. Ice clinks against the sides as he swirls it around before bringing it to his lips, taking a long sip followed by a hum of appreciation. His eyes shoot back up to meet yours, and finds you now biting your lip while trying, and failing, to suppress a huge grin. 

You’re definitely up to something, that much he’s certain of now, and the fact that he still can’t figure out what it is causes his previously feigned discontent to turn into more of a bubbling frustration, having just about enough of whatever game you’re playing. A fleeting thought crosses his mind as he glances down at the drink now dangling from his fingertips, then back up to you. 

Silco knows you’ve taken in the brief look of suspicion on his face when you let out a laugh that, despite the visible displeasure he's exuding towards you, is still one of the sweetest sounds he's ever heard.

“I didn’t poison you, if that’s what you’re wondering,” you quip, clearly amused at the implication.

“At this point I would be grateful if you did.”

You laugh again, but it comes out more like a short exhale through your nose along with a relaxed grin, taking a sip of your own beverage, and Silco’s good eye narrows at you once again. 

“Are you drunk?”

“What? No.”

Silence.

“Then what did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything.”

He practically glares at you for what feels like a considerable amount of time before it finally dawns on him that you haven’t left yet. 

“Did you need something darling? Or have you just come to find more ways to elicit whatever reaction you’ve been hoping for this evening?” Silco brings the tumbler to his mouth once more, letting it hover there momentarily in order to get the rest of his words out. “Because if the intended reaction was to see how far you can test my patience I can assure you-” 

Words die on his lips immediately when you make a move to stand, mismatched eyes shooting down to your waist to see what appears to be quite possibly the shortest skirt he’s ever seen you in, leaving so very little to the imagination.

He’s still holding the glass right up to his face while he watches you make your way around the only obstacle that separates the two of you before hopping onto one of the corners, your butt and thighs jiggling faintly when they make contact with the solid piece of furniture. “I just figured you could use a drink after such a long night of hard work. Is that so wrong?”

Silco tracks your movements with an almost predatory fixation, watching you lean back slightly to rest against your arms, crossing one leg over the other and he has to actively resist the urge to scoff. This thing is hardly covering anything, you’re essentially sitting there with your bare ass on his desk. The realization of that along with the sight of everything you’re showing has his cock hardening at an alarming rate.

You don’t seem to notice, or if you do you don’t say anything, eyebrows knitting together in a poorly disguised attempt at looking genuinely worried. “What’s wrong? You don’t look very happy to see me.” 

Silco sets the glass down onto his desk with a bit more force than intended, turning his chair to face all the way forward and bringing his mouth to rest against interlocked fingers. Any moment now he’s expecting you to hop right off that corner and make your way back downstairs, back to a place filled with depraved and perverted onlookers. 

Realistically he knows no harm would ever befall you while you were down in the Last Drop. All of his subordinates had been given clear instruction to keep a watchful eye on you at all times, and after a while a lot of them had started to do it less out of obligation and more so out of genuine care, especially Jinx and Sevika. 

Plus, he knows you can hold your own in a fight. Growing up in the undercity had hardened you just enough to make you a scrappy but formidable opponent. So logically speaking, Silco knows there's no safer place for you to be, but the thought of anyone other than himself seeing you in that, especially the less than respectable patrons that frequent his establishment nearly every night, makes his blood boil.

“Of course I'm happy to see you, my dear,” he retorts, turning his head to look over at you once more, eyes darting downwards to that indecent piece of fabric wrapped around your waist then back up to meet your gaze. “It's just that I'm seeing quite a lot of you at the moment, and if you go back downstairs, so will everyone else.” His last words come out strained as he shifts in his chair in a poor attempt to alleviate his growing erection.

“Oh, you mean my skirt? Is there…something wrong with it?” You lift your hips to take the tiniest of scoots towards him, and Silco’s eyes immediately hone in on the action. 

“Don’t be cheeky.”

Another scoot. “I’m afraid that can’t be helped, especially in this.”

At this point he wouldn’t be surprised if you really are trying to kill him, taking controlled and steady breaths while he attempts to suppress his growing ire in response to such a ridiculous question. Of course there’s something wrong with it. Silco’s sure he’d nearly be able to see the soft outline of your mound if you were to spread your legs, even in the slightest.

He lets out another deep breath before picking up his pen and casually scribbling his signature on one of the invoices strewn about in front of him. “You will not be going back down there like that.”

He’s not looking at you, but Silco can see the movements of you moving closer out of the corner of his unmarred eye.

“Are you..asking me to stay?” 

He doesn’t respond, instead electing to take another piece of paper to scrawl his name at the bottom offhandedly. He knows what you’re playing at, the fact that it took him so long to realize it irks him to no end. He wouldn’t mind answering honestly and just telling you that yes, he does want you to stay, but the thought of giving into your bratty little antics this evening doesn’t sit quite right with him. 

Which is why he makes the conscious decision to ignore you as you move close enough to where your upper leg is now narrowly brushing his elbow, the shift causing him to mess up the tail end of another signature. Silco chances a glance towards the movement and regrets it almost immediately when he takes in the soft curve of your thigh, his cock twitching painfully at the sight.

He makes his second mistake when he follows the tantalizing trail of your body upwards and is met with the most unabashed, shit eating grin plastered across your face. He has to force himself to look away, the hand not holding his pen coming up to drag his long fingers back and forth across his mouth as he contemplates the idea of sending you away all together, leaving you pouty and disappointed. And for a moment he comes close to doing just that, until he makes the grave error of risking a glance up at your face again.

You’re not smiling anymore, expression replaced by something far more lustful and serious. Silco simply stares as your tongue slides out to pull your bottom lip in between your teeth before gently nudging his elbow with your knee. He doesn’t hesitate in dropping his arm to offer you the space in front of him, and you slide over gracefully. He stays perfectly still while you plant a foot atop each of the armrests of his ornate chair, knees pressed tightly together.

He finally responds to your earlier question with one of his own. 

“What would possibly give you that idea?” His voice is light and teasing, all traces of anger gone. “You’ve been nothing short of a nightmare all evening, love. And now this?” Fingertips come up to stroke the side of your calf, humming appreciatively.  “What am I going to do with you?”

This earns Silco a wide, toothy grin as you scoot forward. “Whatever do you mean? I’m just sitting here.”

“Don't be coy with me, sweetheart.” He leans forward, breath fanning over your knees as he speaks. “Be a good girl and tell me what you want.”

“I want you,” knees parting just barely, “to answer my question.”

Silco pushes his tongue against his cheek in minor annoyance before sliding both hands up your legs and over your knees, then back down until he reaches your hips. He grips firmly at the supple flesh and yanks you closer towards him, eliciting a sharp squeak followed by a string of giggles.

“I think you might be the most aggravating creature I’ve ever had the displeasure of courting.”

Your face adorns a look of mock appreciation. “Awe, thank you!”

Slender hands travel back up to your knees. “Truly just a tantalizing little menace.” He waits for you to part them further, granting him the access he’s so desperately craving. “One that I’m both drawn to and irritated by all at once.”

Your smile is nothing short of haughty, as if you’re truly taking everything he’s telling you as a compliment. “Well now you’ve really got me hot and bothered,” you shoot back, knees moving further away from each other until you’re spread all the way open for him.

Although spoken in a sarcastic tone, Silco sees that your words are in fact true, his eyes taking in the sight of your already dripping cunt.

“Indulge me, sweetheart,” he says, one hand coming up to trace the backs of your thighs with his knuckles, causing goosebumps to decorate your soft skin. “Why the need to be so difficult tonight?” 

You shiver at the touch, bottom lip still tucked between your teeth as he brings a thumb up to stroke lazily over your pussy. 

“J-just for fun,” you retort, but your voice doesn’t hold the same conviction. “Wanted to see..how long it would take.”

“How long what would take?”

The laugh you let out is shaky at best, but there’s still a bit of confidence left when you answer. “For you to ask me to stay.”

It only takes about half a second before Silco’s thumb pushes into your core and his tongue cards a long, hot stripe along your folds. The noise you make spurring him on further as his mouth envelopes your clit, giving it a harsh suck before pulling away with a satisfying wet plop sound.

“I don’t recall asking anything of the sort,” he chides, sliding his thumb back out. “If memory serves me correctly, you came into my office several times practically demanding my attention.”

Silco punctuates his last few words by pushing two fingers into you, pulling another sharp inhale from your lips as he turns his palm to face upward and curls them inside of you.

“Has it ever occurred to you,” he starts, bringing his thumb to circle against your now swollen clit, drawing a long whine out of you as you work your hips against him. “..that perhaps I attempt to send you away in order to finish with my tasks quickly, just so I can get back to doting on you with said attention? Selfish little creature.”

Your eyebrows pinch together, speaking between shallow breaths. “You.. could have just.. said that.. you know.”

Silco smirks, watching you look back at him with a pair of pleading eyes. “And deny myself the pleasure of seeing your lovely pouts and open displays of petulance?” He adds a third finger. “I think not.” 

“Silco,” you whine, “please.”

His cock twitches in response, and he doesn’t waste any time bringing his mouth back down to your bud and swirling his tongue around it lavishly while his fingers twist and turn inside of you. He watches you throw your head back, one of your hands snaking upwards to grip the edge of the desk above your head, the other coming to latch onto the top of his head hard as you roll your hips against him. 

“There, that’s it,” he coos, “show me how eager you are. Use me.” 

This draws another string of small gasps and moans from you, coupled with lewd, wet, slurping sounds as Silco continues to lap and suck at your clit, bringing his free hand to grip your thigh and anchor you to him. The strain in his pants grows increasingly more painful when you sigh his name affectionately, followed by a noise of protest when he removes his fingers from you all together in an effort to tug at intricate buttons of his trousers, freeing his aching cock and palming himself to the sight of your ruined state. 

Your arousal coating his fingers serves as a welcome lubricant for him to stroke himself languidly, relishing in the feeling of you bucking up into him, using him to chase your own end. His licks are hot and thorough, leaving no part of your heat untouched.

“Yes,” Silco groans into you, “just like that.”  

Your other hand comes down to unbutton your top, cupping and squeezing at one of your breasts, and he knows you’re close by the way you’re begging and pleading above him. The sound of your voice feeds into his determination, letting go of his cock in order to wrap both arms around your thighs, securing you in place and devouring you like a starved man.

The way you cry out his name while your walls flutter around his tongue has him reeling, mismatched eyes boring into you, watching your orgasm in complete reverence as your fluids run down his chin.

“Good girl,” Silco sighs, his movements slowing down to let you ride out your climax. “You always make such sweet sounds for me.” 

Your legs tremble and the vicelike grasp you have on his hair loosens before you slump back down onto his desk, words barely managing to come through your short and labored breaths.

“Could've been making them a lot earlier if you’d…stop trying to kick me out.”

A hint of a smile creeps up on his face as he presses small, feather light kisses up the backs of your thighs, leaving glistening spots of your slick behind in their wake. “You know, it is possible to keep your unsolicited remarks to yourself every once in a while.”

Yours breaks into a devious grin that tugs at his heart without mercy. “Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” 

“Mmm, point taken.” 

Silco stands to turn your body so that you’re taking up the full length of his desk before climbing up onto it and bracing himself with a hand on either side of your head. His length bobs thick and heavy with need, bringing it to rest against your slit.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?”

You roll your hips against him needily, coating his cock with your arousal. “Maybe.”

“You drive me absolutely mad,” he growls, voice dripping with carnal hunger as he pushes your legs up against your chest once again, lining himself up with your entrance. And it’s the way you're looking up at him with your lip tucked in between your teeth in anticipation, the slight inward curl of your eyebrows in an almost pleading expression that has him pushing into you in one, smooth buck forward, making you gasp as he bottoms out inside of you.

Silco sees your eyes roll back, and he has to physically stop himself from doing the same. He wants to see it all, wants to see your blissed out expression while he fucks you, wants to see all the different ways he can make you come undone beneath him.

You make a pitiful attempt at stifling a moan, one that ultimately fails when Silco starts to rock his hips against yours, pulling them back slowly and savoring the feeling of his cock dragging along your walls before driving them forward with a sharp, pointed thrust. But he’s right there with you, exhaling a throaty groan at the feeling of your walls engulfing him so deliciously, the sensation being nothing short of divine.

“Look at you, taking me so well,” he whispers, lowering his head and tilting it to place gentle kisses along your jawline before nipping at your earlobe. “Like we were made for each other.”

The breathy whine this elicits causes him to straighten himself upright again, picking up his pace steadily, and soon the room is filled with the obscene, wet smacking of skin against skin as Silco begins to pump into you with feral-like need. He readjusts your legs so that your calves are hooked over his shoulders, letting him fuck you so much deeper. 

You’re a mess of broken pleas beneath him, and he clings to every single one, a symphony meant solely for him and him alone. Silco watches you with wholly, unabashed devotion as your face twists and contorts in pleasure, pleasure that only he can bring you. And though he wants to feel like he’s still in control, he knows deep down he’s equally ruined by what you do to him, maybe even more so. His seafoam eye glazes over, and strands of hair fall loosely around his face as he ruts into you. 

You reach up and try to put your arms around his neck, but the position your legs are in only allow you to claw at his shoulders helplessly. “S-silco, please..”

“Oh? I see someone’s finally learned some manners,” he taunts.

The huff of annoyance you let out amuses him more than he’d care to admit, “For fuck’s sake, Sil. Let me hold you.”

“Demanding thing,” he scolds, but gives into your ‘request’ regardless, lowering your legs just enough so that your knees fall to the side and hook over his forearms, letting you wrap your arms around his neck with open urgency. And now you’re pulling him down and holding him there, like the waters he'd nearly drowned in.

Silco’s jaw goes slack as he turns his head and pants in your ear like some wild beast, whose sole purpose is to bring you to your end. Like it was all he was ever made for. Your head turns to meet his lips with your own, and he tries to keep some semblance of restraint while he kisses you, but he can’t, not with you. It’s hungry and sloppy, full of exceeding desperation. 

He breaks the kiss reluctantly to make his way down to your neck, lips and tongue moving against the delicate flesh and littering your throat with marks of all kinds, leaving no room for anyone to question who you belong to. “Mine,” Silco snarls possessively in between sucks and bites.

He's about to pull away when one of your hands slides up to the nape of his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair and locking him in place, begging for more, more, more, and Silco’s more than happy to oblige. You’ve got him wrapped around your finger so tightly, and this realization both excites and ruins him as he begins to ram everything he has into you with new purpose.

“Oh fuck, Silco. Right there,” you cry out, voice becoming raspy and hoarse from your continuous gasps in between moans. 

"Yes, that's it. Show me how much you want this, how much you need this," he huffs out through gritted teeth, trying to establish some form of dominance once again, but it's no use when he realizes his words are just as applicable to him as they are to you.

He forgoes his hold on your legs, letting them fall to your sides briefly before wrapping them around his waist. Your eyes flutter shut and your head starts to loll to the side, but Silco grabs your jaw quickly and forces you to look directly at him.

“None of that, darling. I want you to look at me when you come undone,”  His breath comes out ragged and primal. “You want to be a good girl for me, don’t you?”

You nod frantically in response, eyes drifting downward to stare at his mouth, like a silent plea. He takes the hint without delay, squishing your cheeks together until your lips form a small pout before leaning down to kiss you fervently. His tongue swirls around yours, hot and wanting, before he pulls away just enough for him to pant into your open mouth, his connecting to yours by the thinnest string of saliva. 

Silco can sense your second orgasm approaching rapidly, and he brings his fingers towards your lips. You take the hint right away, wrapping them around his digits and sucking on them lavishly. Once he’s satisfied enough, he removes them and snakes his hand down through your intertwined bodies, settling for the bundle of nerves located between your legs.

Your moans increase in pitch, arms and legs squeezing even tighter around him as he works you with skilled flicks of his wrist.

“You’ve endured this so well, my love,” he whispers against your ear, voice laced with unrestrained hedonism and resolve. “Let’s reward all that effort of yours tonight, shall we?”

His question is rhetorical, but you nod so eagerly for him nonetheless as your walls begin to pulsate, clenching so unbelievably tight around him you’re practically pushing his cock out, nearly sending him over the edge himself.  

“That’s my girl,” he sighs with heavy grit and worship. “You feel incredible.”  

Silco’s face comes back up to hover over yours, looking directly into your eyes while he fucks you through your climax, his own looming closer and closer. He leans down to kiss you, swallowing your labored breaths greedily as his thrusts begin to stagger before coming to a complete halt, his pelvis flush against yours as his cock twitches obscenely within your heat. He lets out a harsh, guttural moan right into your mouth as he spills into you, your walls continuing to milk him with stuttered squeezes, and he has to pull away sharply to exhale a series of delirious gasps. 

Your chests heave against one another, waves of pleasure slowly dissipating as your sweat soaked bodies stay interlocked. Silco shifts slightly, bringing his hands to stroke the top of your head lazily with his fingertips. His forehead comes to rest against yours as he places soft, tender kisses along your cheeks, your eyes, your lips, anything within reach.

He’s rewarded with a giggle, followed by a dopey little grin.

“You know,” you say as your breaths finally return to normal. “I just remembered the other reason you try to send me away while you work.”

Silco already knows the answer, but you punctuate your words anyway by wiggling your ass, causing the sound of his paperwork shuffling beneath you, followed by a light yelp as he smacks your bottom lightly. 

“Impossible little wench,” he chastises, lifting himself off of you and being greeted once again by the sight of the thing you keep referring to as a ‘skirt’. He grabs the edge of it with his fingertips, holding it up like it was a cursed object. “Where in Janna’s name did you even get this from?”

You bark out a laugh before propping yourself up hastily to look down at it with pride. “Ran let me borrow it.”

“Excuse me?”

“What?”

“Borrow it,” he repeats, “as in you have every intention of giving it back to them?”

You stare at him for a moment, no doubt mulling over your answer.

“...No?”

Silco smirks at your response before leaning in. “Good girl. Besides, I think we may find many more uses for it still.”

Your eyes widen with child-like wonder, but for the entirely wrong reason. “Oh, so you’ll wear it for me, too?”

He stares back at you blankly, blinking several times before rolling his eyes almost theatrically, earning him another small fit of laughter as he finally graces you with a response.

“Whatever pleases you, I suppose.” 

#silco #silco arcane #arcane silco #arcane #silco x reader #silco x you #silco fanfic #silco fanfiction #bratty reader #simp silco #mdni

[eos-headcanon-station]

Sanji Absolutely Dotes on Zoro in French

-He does so in an insulting tone so the marimo doesn't get any ideas

-It starts around Lodetown, when he can't quite keep his feelings in check. It's not like the swordsman will ever understand him anyways.

-Sanji knew it probably wasn't the best way to pack off his feelings, but since when did he believe in healthy ways of dealing with his problems?

-Nami, Robin, and Brook pick up on it (Nami knows enough French to get through a conversation if she has to, Robin knows like 6 languages so that's a given, and Brooke only knows romantic phrases in French, not that he uses it)

-Brook almost asks Sanji about it but he sidesteps the shit out of that conversation (He saw what happened at Thriller Bark, he doesn't need more information)

-Post Thriller Bark with Sanji and Zoro getting on a little better he absolutely triples down on the compliments. He doesn't tell Zoro what the words mean because at this point? It would be too embarrassing to tell him. He's been at it too long.

-During the timeskip though to give him something to surprise Sanji with, Zoro decides to try to pick up French so he can hurl the insults back at him.

-Mihawk begrudgingly agrees to help him with the basics and any insults he can think to teach him. Perona starts chiming in later with "useless" French words.

-He catches so much shit from Perona when he starts piecing together that most of what Sanji has been calling him aren't in fact insults. It's mostly gushy pet names and compliments.

-When they meet up on Saobody again, he waits till they bicker to tease him with it.

-Sanji starts muttering sweet things in French under his breath as he usually does, then Zoro responds by needling back with compliments of his own.

-This catches Sanji totally off guard. His face goes deep red and he starts stringing actual insults out in French. He covers his face with one of his hands, but it doesn't stop a sheepish, bashful smile from creeping up his face.

- "So you can learn new tricks that don't have to do with swords, eh Marimo?" He'd say, eventually grabbing Zoro's hand.

-Later, Zoro gets Sanji to keep teaching him French since he'd lose the practice if not.

#eos thinks #one piece #zosan #roronoa zoro #sanji #black leg sanji #I just think it would be sweet and silly okay

[trashpandato]

Cardigan

“Hey Lena?” 

Kara’s voice drifts through the hallway. It still makes Lena’s knees a little weak, having Kara here, in their shared apartment. Lena has always been someone who values her own space, and in the past, when people she had dated for a while brought up the idea of moving in, she always sidestepped it. She likes her alone time, likes having her place set up just the way she wants it. But with Kara, everything has been so different from the get-go. Granted, it took them years of pining and heartache to get here, but when they started dating for real, it was Lena who went all in and asked if they should look at a new place together, to move in.

And now here they are, and it’s those little moments that make all the difference, like seeing Kara rush to get ready in the morning, finding Kara’s discarded towel on the floor in the bathroom, hearing her sing to herself while she’s working on something.

Or hearing her call her name from down the hall.

“Hm?” Lena hums.

Kara’s next words sound a little closer, so Lena assumes she’s making her way toward the kitchen, where Lena is opening a bottle of wine for them for tonight.

“Did you, um, did you do the laundry?”

Lena frowns. She’s not sure how Kara would be able to tell it was her and not the cleaner that’s been doing most of Lena’s chores for years. She wonders if she missed a few pieces while she was sorting the items before throwing them in the wash. Kara does have a tendency to leave piles of clothes everywhere.

“I did. Why do you ask? Did I forget to wash some of your things?”

“Oh. No. I’m pretty sure you got them all.”

Lena looks up from the wine bottle then, just in time to see Kara walk in wearing a cardigan that looks about four sizes too small. It doesn’t take long for Lena to connect the dots.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry, Kara. I have no idea how that happened.”

By now, Kara is standing right in front of her, an unreadable expression on her face. Lena can’t tell if Kara is upset about the laundry faux-pas or not. But then, the tiniest hint of a smirk appears at the corners of her mouth.

“So you didn’t do this on purpose?”

A flash of panic settles behind Lena’s ribs at the accusation. 

“What? No. Why, what makes you think that? I would never deliberately ruin your clothes. I’ll replace whatever got damaged, of course.”

Kara must sense then that Lena is on the verge of spiraling and puts her warm, reassuring hands on Lena’s shoulders.

“Hey. It’s okay, you’re fine. Mistakes happen, okay? It’s just a cardigan.”

Lena tries to nod.

“I just,” Kara continues, “I thought maybe you were looking for ways to see my biceps more clearly. All the time.”

There’s a full-on shit-eating grin on Kara’s face now and it nudges Lena out of her internal self-flagellation.

She smacks Kara’s arm and laughs. “There are better ways to see your muscles.”

“Oh yeah?”

Lena steps a little closer and runs her fingers along Kara’s neck, down to the dip at the bottom of her throat, drifting lower.

“Mm. If you stop making fun of me for messing up the laundry, I’ll show you what I have in mind.”

Kara grins again. “Deal. You might have to cut me out of this, though,” she says, waving at the skintight cardigan that looks like it’s almost cutting off circulation in her arms.

Lena raises an eyebrow. “Maybe I like you a little restrained,” she says, before pulling her blushing girlfriend down the hallway towards their bedroom.

#supercorp #kara x lena #supercorptober2023 #supercorptober

[kneelingshadowsalome]

your toxic könig is so perfect and the more recent posts made me think about a similar kind of au but with gromsko. like god i need this man to """force""" me into being his perfect little wife i swear.

AND IM SO SORRY but being slavic also makes this even more feral for me because i imagine the second his gf shows a bit too much independence/DARES to talk over him (yeah it's an achievement to be able to talk over him, the mf is LOUD)/etc he just. goes feral like he sees it as a challenge and he needs to show her what a slavic woman is actually supposed to be like.

but slavic or not he'll keep holding the fact that he "tamed" you over your head even when he's fucking you. talks about how this is your place, this is where you belong and how he's going to make sure you remember by breeding you full.

Omg Gromsko OMG

I'm so normal about him yes yes it's just your ask that made me this way ^^ I'm blaming you my dear anon 💕

CW: Protective & possessive behavior, implied sexism

So, Gromsko. Your car broke down in the middle of the road and this absolute bear of a Pole pulls over to help you. He has a charming smile, sure, but he's also obnoxiously bold. That casual masculine bravado makes you feel weaker than it should; there's this aura of shameless pride about him, and you can't quite decide if it's annoying or sexy.

You try to tell him you can handle it, that the repair guy is already on his way. But Gromsko? Hah. He just bypasses that shit. Pops up the hood and gets to work. The car is fixed in no time, and the next thing you know is that you just said yes when "Sobieslaw Kościuszko, pleasure to meet you, miss," asked if he could take you out to dinner this evening.

And it's true that he's loud. Like, why does he have to talk by half shouting...? (Probably because he has to make it known that he's the strongest, most virile male in the area.)

Sobieslaw always sits with a wide spread, with a broad, tall chest, with a confidence that seems to come naturally to him. He never tries to make himself smaller, no matter how crammed a space is. Everyone except the elderly has to move aside when he walks because he's not going to dodge or sidestep. You're not the only one who fears he will eventually break one of those dainty little chairs in the fine dining place he brought you to; the waiter side eyes this man like he's some beast that somehow got in and should be caged, not fed.

Despite all that brass, Gromsko is a proper gentleman. Always opens the doors for you, always pays at a restaurant. And always grabs your waist and draws you closer if there are other men around. Guy looks like he's ready to get into a fist fight for you if it comes to that.

It's kind of hair-raising how he laughs at the very concept of independent woman. His woman should never have to be "independent." It would be an insult to him as a man if his wife had to go to work.

He tells you how beautiful you are with intensity and passion that seems to come from another age. That boundless adoration makes you feel drunk, and Gromsko doesn't seem to notice anyone else but you – it's like all other women have disappeared from this planet.

He lays siege to you like crusaders of old laid siege to a city. You never have to fear whether you're coming off as too interested or eager or that you'll "scare" him away: this man is always more interested and eager than you. Still, you fear that everything will come to an end once you give this man what he wants – namely, sex.

You couldn't be more wrong! He's not fucking around, and he's not dating for the sake of getting laid. He's looking for a wife and a mother for his kids.

An infuriatingly sexy, uneven smile spreads across his face everytime you meet. He's checking you out, and he's utterly shameless about it. You're being rated like cattle, and it should not send butterflies to your stomach when you notice he seems to more than just approve of your hips and breasts. Little do you know Sobieslaw Kościuszko has already decided you're to be his wife.

When you finally spread your legs for this man, you expect him to fuck you with the urgency and attentiveness of a 20-year old hockey player. But Gromsko is actually a skilled lover! You don't know why and you don't know how, but he seems to decode you and all your weaknesses in record time. Hot kisses and intense love making are his bravura. Gromsko is so attuned to you and your pussy that it should be illegal.

It's like the gods made this man to breed women and spread his seed because he has the biggest balls you've ever seen. He doesn't grow all too soft after climaxing, and continues to fuck you even after you both just came. With sloppy patience, sure, because you're practically begging for mercy under him… but the point is that he just won't stop. He continues to pump you with strong hips and infinite stamina, and groans how perfect you are as you approach your second orgasm.

He places so much trust on his cock that, perhaps surprisingly, you're the first woman he has ever put his mouth on. It's the only thing that makes that eternal shield of pride tilt aside a bit, because he hates it when he doesn't know what he's doing… but neither is he a man who backs down when faced with a challenge!

He doesn't know what he's doing, which means he takes a mental note of every single thing that makes you shiver and sigh. This Polish bear learns to please you and just you, examines how you respond to slow licks and fast laps, sucks on your nub until you cry, and when he sees how much you enjoy his treatment, this man goes crazy.

"You like that, kochanie?" He pants between your legs, drunk on your pussy, swearing in Polish and giving lewd comments about how wet you are. He only ups the pace with his tongue when you cum. You're an overstimulated mess, but he's not done. He crawls on top of you and gets down to business with his thick cock, those heavy balls start to slap against your soaked flesh until you feel like you have no brains left.

"It's easier to just stop fighting, kotku," he seems to approve of your wet, moaning state more than anything. But it's the wickedly pleased gruff of "Let's get married, Słoneczko," that sends you spiraling into another overstimulated, glorious orgasm.

You don't even know that he's already told his whole family about you. You don't yet know that his grandmother already loves you. But it starts to dawn on you that you got more than you bargained for when Gromsko informs you that he'll take you to Poland but only as his wife.

Perhaps that's where this man's charm lies! Gromsko simply knows what he wants: a good loyal wife and a nice, large family. If you can give them to him, he's not wasting any time getting you pregnant. You're knocked up before you even know it, there's a ring on your finger before you get to say Na Zdrowie. You're his little wife now, and there's nothing you can do about it ❤️

#answered #gromsko x reader #gromsko #sobieslaw kosciuszko #gromsko cod

[hey-august]

I'll Be Your Whatever - Chapter 1

Description: Life is full of all sorts of characters - some who come and go, and others that stay. After propelling yourself into a lie you can't (won't) take back, a certain pirate captain may have a reason to come by more often. (Chapter 2)

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: SFW, some profanity. Buggy x afab!reader. No use of Y/N.

A/N: I've been so excited to write this story using one of my favorite relationship tropes. For now, I expect this to stay SFW. There might be a little angst and spice in the future, but nothing Rated R. I'll update the warnings if that ever changes.

The title comes from "your whatever" by lovelytheband.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ �� ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

As a port town enroute to other, more popular, destinations, there was never a lack of variety with the visiting travelers and explorers. Sailors, merchants, pirates, voyagers, and more made up the guests who patronized the town. They stopped to make repairs and keel hulls, purchase supplies, and plot courses. Most ships only stayed for a day or two. Others wanted a longer reprieve before moving on to busier, dramatic adventures. 

Despite living in a town with more assortment than the corner candy shop, it was the locals that made you grit your teeth on a daily basis. You could put up with unapologetic rudeness, aggressive flirting, unnecessary bargaining, and other sour, temporary distastes. This type of behavior was expected from visiting seafarers, but you found it less excusable from those you saw every day of your life.

So when you noticed the two locals who you found particularly unsavory, you considered hiding in the shop you just vacated. Despite years of brushing off their advances and refusing to drop a crumb of attention that’s nothing more than polite, Reeves and Bolsti were stuck on you like butter on toast. Before you could take shelter in the shop, they caught up and were thickly spreading the compliments and attention.

“Hey lovely, I thought the sun was blinding today, but it’s actually your beauty.” 

“I think there’s something wrong with my eyes…I can’t take them off of you.”

“Are you tired from running through my mind all day?

“Your hands are too beautiful to be carrying those shopping bags, why don’t you let me take care of them for you?”

Blinking away the expressionless glaze coating your eyes, you gave the men a tightlipped smile and shook your head. You explained that you still had stops to make and couldn't stay.

“You make me wanna follow my dreams,” Bolsti said with a wistful sigh. He hooked arms with you and continued, “So, where am I following you?”

A pit caught in your throat, hot and heavy. The words burning you inside weren’t worth the resulting ripple effect. Gossip and rumors move through town like fire and you wouldn’t be able to tamper the words threatening to burst out. Swallowing the impulse, you extracted your arm and stepped away. 

“I really do have to go-”

Reeves interrupted and offered to keep you company, which you swiftly declined.

“There are a lot of pirates around today and you can’t be too safe. I’m sure your dad-” The rest of Bolsti’s remark died under the hard look you sent his way.  Shuffling his feet, he continued with a mumbled, “we just want you to be safe.”

“I’ll be fine. The pirates aren’t the worst ones around here,” you said, hoping they got the message. Their rolling eyes said the message was delivered and ignored.

“Please, we’re better than those disgusting thieves. Just give me - I mean, one of us - a chance. We know you’re not seeing anyone.” Reeves stepped closer and flashed what he thought was a charismatic smile. There were poppy seeds in his teeth.

“I am seeing someone.” The words came from your mouth but you didn’t remember saying them. Shit. 

It was obvious neither of them believed you. They were arming themselves with follow-up questions that would only sink you deeper. You had to get out of this situation. You excused yourself, yet again, and moved to sidestep the duo. Bolsti reached out and you pulled your arm back, away from his grasp and into the stomach of someone behind you. Hands on your shoulder and the offending elbow prevented you from delivering another accidental blow.

“Fuck, watch what you’re doing,” said a winded voice. You felt annoyance in the words and in the hold on your body, but not danger.

Reeves eyed the hands on your body with anger and jealousy. You didn’t look uncomfortable and he wondered whether this person was actually a stranger to you.

“Is this who you’re seeing? Your…boyfriend?”

All eyes were on Reeves. Bolsti’s, in shock, because he hadn’t entertained that thought yet. Yours, because those were the kind of follow-up questions you wanted to avoid. And the new addition to the group, because he had no idea what the hell was going on. The hands fell off your body at the accusation.

You shook your head to everyone’s relief. Except yours, because Reeves couldn’t keep his damn mouth shut. A growing smirk and an inhale likely preceded a snarky comment about how you’re lying and you couldn’t stand to hear it. Whatever possessed you to say you were seeing someone reared its stupid head and spoke up again.

“We don’t use labels like that.”

Even the stranger knew you were lying and couldn’t hold in a snort. You’re a joke. This is a nightmare. What the fuck. Before anything worse could happen, the door to the shop swung open.

“Is there a problem here?” asked one of the shop owners, eyeing the group.

“No, Mr. Inslo, we’re leaving,” you said quickly, unwilling to languish any longer in the hole you dug.

You grabbed the arm of the person standing next to you and pulled them down the street, blinking back your frustration. The sounds of Reeves and Bolsti explaining the situation - spreading your lie - faded into background noise.  Once you two were a decent distance away, you stepped down a side street to release your unwilling conspirator and wipe the tears blurring your vision.

Finally, you looked at the stranger and were greeted by a face you recognized from the bounty posters. Of course. Not just a pirate, but a pirate captain. Instead of the fearsome grin from the poster, however, he currently wore a different look. The clown-y face paint and red nose probably influenced how you read his expression - he appeared irritated but also bemused.

“You’re shit at acting.” His hard tone stung. That was a fair review. You deserved it.

“Whatever, things got out of hand. Sorry for dragging you into it,” you grumbled, deeply embarrassed that your awful performance had multiple witnesses.

“And…?”

You stared at the pirate, unsure what cue you must be missing. Realizing you needed another prompt, the pirate held his stomach and feigned an injury. He leaned to the side weakly and contorted his face, letting out a groan of pain. The odd blue tassels on his hat swung with his movement. You bit back a smile at his dramatic retelling.

“Sorry for assaulting you.” The forced apology was enough to put a stop to his charade. “I guess you do know something about acting.”

“I should, I’m known as the ‘Genius Jester’ after all.”  The blank, placid smile on your face annoyed him. “I’m Captain Buggy, the Star Clown!” He held out his arms in a welcoming gesture, which did little to elevate the tightlipped grin that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Mmm, clown. That explains the…” You waved your hand in front of your face, which seemed to make Buggy even more pissed. “...face paint,” you finished with a confused mutter, which was met by a small sneer.

You didn’t understand why the pirate was getting so fired up when you already apologized and absolved him from the shitty situation you created. Feeling tears well in your eyes again, you took a shaky breath to try and calm the agitation and exasperation flooding your body.

Buggy watched as you tilted your face to the cloudless sky. Your overfilled eyes reflected the bright sunlight before you closed them and inhaled. When you opened your eyes, a few tears escaped.

“Listen, you can go. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“What were you trying to do?”

You didn’t expect the question, but reasoned with yourself that he probably wanted to know how he got involved. It didn’t take long to share the full backstory. You hoped talking about it would alleviate some of the stress. Afterwards, you still felt the oppressive weight on your shoulders, however, it was nice to have someone who knew the truth.

A soft breeze carried voices down the side street. Buggy noticed how you tensed and correctly assumed you heard the two shitheads you were trying to avoid. Panic was written across your face as your eyes darted back and forth, contemplating different scenarios. This was like a cheesy soap opera and the clown could hardly hold in his laughter at the scene. Unfortunately for Buggy, the chuckle that escaped his mouth made him a target.

Without warning, you grabbed Buggy’s coat and stumbled backwards until you met the wall. The momentum threw the pirate off his balance. He threw up his arms to stop from crashing into you or the wall, which was your plan. You were caught between his arms while he leaned towards you - to anyone passing by, this would look like an intimate moment between lovers. And that orchestrated sight is what Reeves and Bolsti saw as they slinked past.

You let go of Buggy’s jacket, letting him step away. Your face was flushed and your eyes sparkled with the momentary victory. You were surprised to see the pirate was smiling as well.

“Not mad?”

“No, that was surprisingly effective. I think they believed it.”

“It only worked because you were still here,” you sighed, resting your head against the wall. “Honestly, a small part of me wants to ask you to keep playing along.”

“Sounds like a role I don’t want.” 

You appreciated how Buggy met the energy of your half-hearted remark. It was nice to joke about your predicament.

“That’s fair. What’s in it for you… What do pirates want? Treasure? A treasure map?” you mused.

“Sure, I would do it for treasure.”

You froze. And Buggy noticed. You locked eyes, parallel thoughts running through your minds.

“Would you really? “Do you actually have treasure?” 

Another pause. The two different questions managed to answer each other.

“A map. It belonged to my dad,” you finally clarified. 

“A real treasure map?” Buggy asked in a low voice you felt compelled to answer. You nodded.

“Tsk tsk tsk,” the pirate waggled his finger, admonishing you for answering. “Telling pirates that you have a treasure map is a very bad idea.” 

Fuck. He was right. This was a bad idea. Multiple bad ideas. This was not your day. Your face scrunched in anxiety and disappointment. Another expression that garnered an amused huff from the clown. The subsequent glare you sent him didn’t diminish his amusement.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry. I know how to keep a secret,” Buggy said with a wink. “I’ll see you around, sweetheart.”

And with that, the pirate left. He heard an agonized groan and stomping feet fade as he walked away. He shook his head and chuckled as he imagined the frustrated tantrum you were throwing behind his back.

#buggy x reader #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x you #buggy op #opla buggy #one piece buggy #buggy the clown #buggy the clown x you #one piece x you #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #buggy fanfiction #buggy the clown fanfiction #hey-august i'll be your whatever #x reader

[comicaurora]

Hi Red! I was curious if you've watched the new Yu Yu Hakusho live action, and if so, what your thoughts were on its pacing and handling of various plots. Personally I thought it did some very clever things and it genuinely pleasantly surprised me at a couple points, but at the same time the fact that it's only 5 episodes hurt its ability to do the story justice a bit.

Also I was rewatching the Dark Tournament arc of the anime today and wondering what it must've been like to watch when it originally aired, considering all the multi episode fights. Do you remember any of your thoughts at the time?

On an unrelated note, I'm really excited for arc 2 of Aurora!!!! Also sorry this is so ramble-y

I have watched it! For the most part, I really enjoyed it, although in pursuit of compressing everything down to five episodes it did a couple things I think definitely harmed the overall impact and characterization.

Spoilers below!

The first episode is I think nearly pitch-perfect. The visual design on the Spirit World is top-tier, and the choice to make everything that was a sacred artifact move like ferrofluid was a very clever bit of visual design. It's absolutely weird and original and I think it was a very fun way to spice up Fluffy Cloud Heaven.

Of all the things they sped through, I'm very glad they did not speed through the crucial characterization of Yusuke initially choosing to stay dead on the assumption that everyone is better off without him, and the show subsequently taking its time to show the wake, let Yusuke's mom and Keiko really feel their feelings, etcetera. The adaptation of the wake was, to my memory, almost 100% true to the anime version, including the gut-wrenching moments like Kuwabara starting off angry and then breaking down, and the toddler Yusuke saved not really understanding that he's dead. And I had no complaints about the parts of this arc that they did speed up - a lot of the timeline of the original show is training arcs and Yusuke having to prove himself, and I had almost no problem with them skipping over that. Yusuke not having to do any tasks before coming back to life is A-OK with me.

I also entirely lost my shit at The Dropkick.

And then the last bit of episode 1, where they have to deal with the possessed kid, was absolutely top tier. The way they make demonic possession look and feel in this show is truly horrific, and I loved the way they played it like a one-man zombie apocalypse. The fight choreography was also very impressive and I liked how much they used the environment. Also, letting Kuwabara fight this guy first was a very good way of making the power-scaling clear and establishing that Kuwabara is a fundamentally very decent person willing to punch above his weight class to try and help.

However, this episode did get me excited for something they ended up not doing, which was a bummer. The first thing we see in the show is a Makai insect, which in the anime are the tools of the villains in the Four Saint Beasts arc - at the climax of that storyline, Makai-insect-possessed students and faculty corner Keiko and Botan in the human world while Yusuke fights an increasingly desperate battle against Suzaku to try and stop him. If the full-on body horror zombie thing was what makai insect possession looked like, that scenario immediately seemed like it was going to be butt-clenchingly terrifying.

Of course, they ended up entirely sidestepping the Saint Beasts arc, which is understandable - narratively speaking its only real function is to let the four protagonists team-build after their contentious first meetings. It became clear pretty quickly that with the time they had, it wouldn't be worth it to go there. That said, I think they really could've used a little more team-building time - more on that later.

The first episode also pretty solidly established the tone they'd be taking for the rest of the show - much more dark, almost no comedy. Normally I find those sorts of adaptations pretty dour and joyless, but in this case I thought it helped make the stakes feel solid, and if anything it lined up better with the original premise of "the demon world is a truly horrifying place and its incursion into reality would be an absolute nightmarish apocalypse." I didn't mind that it felt like the stakes were real and the heroes fighting demons was really necessary.

The second episode made it pretty clear where they were going with the series adaptation. While it speeds through the intro of Goki, Kurama and Hiei, it also lets Yusuke's fight with Goki feel - again - extremely well-choreographed and tense. The choreography in this show is consistently very impressive, especially considering how often our heroes have to fight fully CGI bad guys - and this fight doesn't even have any dialogue in it, but it still makes it entirely clear what Yusuke is thinking at every point, which is very impressive, especially since he goes through an entire arc from "I don't need to figure out how to use the Spirit Gun" to "I desperately need the spirit gun to start working right the fuck now". They also handle Kurama's intro very well, making it very clear that he's cunning and kind of inscrutable but not necessarily malicious, and in the scene where Yusuke's tailing him it's pretty clear from the choreography that Kurama knows he's there and is very carefully waiting long enough for him to follow him without feeling like he's being lured, which is entirely in-character, and again a very impressive way to show characterization without any dialogue required. And of course the reveal that Kurama is in fact a Nice Boy who is trying to sacrifice himself to save his mom is real good, and letting Yusuke's past experience with seeing how his mom reacted to his death make him immediately ride or die for Kurama was a very solid bit of characterization - and adding Kuwabara to this subplot where he wasn't originally there helped balance out the characterization a little bit with an entirely justified naysayer pointing out "dude he's a demon maybe don't trust him immediately." It also helps get Kuwabara involved in the main story nice and quick, where he originally is a bit of a late arrival.

The part I was getting a little worried about at this point, and an element of the adaptation that I legitimately think is a detriment, was how they were handling Hiei. A huge part of what makes Hiei fun in the original series is that he is legitimately a huge bastard, and in his introduction is a full-blown bad guy who Yusuke very nearly dies fighting. Classic Hiei kidnapped Keiko and nearly turned her into a demon just to fuck with Yusuke. And what makes their relationship great is the team-building that happens in the Four Saint Beasts arc the adaptation is evidently skipping over, where Hiei is so baffled - and so touched - by Yusuke's completely unearned trust in him that he immediately becomes 100% ride or die for Yusuke and only Yusuke.

He's a vicious little asshole who takes himself very seriously and legitimately has the power to back up his grandstanding 90% of the time, and that's what makes him so fun to watch - those little slivers of characterization where he's goofy or baffled or vulnerable or lets himself be visibly impressed with one of his teammates, mixed with the moments where he's like "okay this has been fun but it's time to die now" and just one-shots the bad guy with another dangerous forbidden technique he picked up for shits and giggles.

So I was getting a little worried that the adaptation wasn't gonna let Hiei be, like. An actual asshole. Because what makes him fun as a character is that he is an asshole, he just also has a handful of sympathetic motivations and nice qualities that he usually doesn't own up to. And I ended up being right about that, which was a bummer, but again, the way they did it was a bit of extremely efficient streamlining. In the anime, Hiei's introduction is just him being a dick for no reason - then everyone has a team-building bonding arc with the Four Saint Beasts, and then Hiei is revealed to have a real heroic motivation hiding somewhere in there: rescuing his secret twin sister Yukina from a nasty human holding her prisoner.

So the adaptation basically just streamlined the entire rest of the show into that arc. Hiei's intro stealing the fancy knife? He's using it to get the Jagan Eye to look for Yukina. Hiei storming this compound full of humans? They're the ones holding Yukina prisoner. It's 100% sympathetic, he's just not willing to own up to that to anybody. Everything he does that's dubiously moral or kind of a dick move? It's actually fine, or he's being framed (like in the shot they perfectly remake from the anime where he kidnaps Keiko, except just kidding it's a shapeshifting bad guy framing him), or Yusuke's the one who attacks him in the first place.

And that's extremely efficient storytelling! It just makes Hiei kind of an antisocial dick and not even slightly a villain, which I think dramatically reduces how fun his character is - it just flattens him into a very standard-issue lancer archetype who refuses to express any sort of emotional or physical vulnerability to anyone, which is a fine character trope, it's just kind of more boring than the dickhead outdoor cat I was hoping for.

The same thing also happens to Genkai, who in the original series has dozens of episodes of screentime to show off how she is the best kind of mentor ever written - a dickhead mentor.

She's rude and snarky and a full-blown asshole, and she and Yusuke have a truly hilarious mentor-stydent dynamic because they're both assholes. And it's not until a good way into the Dark Tournament that we see them in a dynamic that's not just being assholes to each other - when Genkai consolidates all her power into a sporb for Yusuke to absorb, and he spends several episodes nearly dying about it. The fact that Genkai truly cares about him as her student - and the fact that he truly cares about her as his master - only comes out in this subplot, when she honestly believes she's fucked up and killed him and he goes beyond his limits to absorb the power she's given him. It's a beautiful moment of payoff after dozens of episodes of planting, and right after that happens, Genkai is killed.

So when the live-action show introduced Genkai, and after a good solid montage of training and anime-accurate fight scenes and some really good Kuwabara moments, she told Yusuke she had one final technique to give him, I said out loud "oh my god please don't speedrun this." And then they did. She gave Yusuke the sporb and he absorbed it immediately and painlessly, and then they left, and then she immediately gets killed.

My notes on that part were just

So I didn't like that part. Like Hiei, Genkai is such an effective character because her moments of vulnerability and non-assholeness are so rare, and the rest of the time she's an absolute goblin nightmare. Getting rid of that reduces her to another, much flatter trope, and killing her in the same episode she's introduced almost entirely removes the impact of the moment and just makes her another dead mentor. But again, this is episode 3 of 5. This isn't the writer's fault, this is the writers making a very hard decision on what they need to get into the plot if they're planning on speedrunning the entire Dark Tournament arc - which they are. The primary rule they seemed to use when adapting Yu Yu Hakusho is "if the heroes fought this bad guy more than once, no they didn't." So the first fight with the Toguro brothers is going to become the only fight with the Toguro brothers, and they need to speedrun the entire core plot of the Dark Tournament arc within the confines of Toguro's introduction in the Rescue Yukina arc.

And the thing is, hot take? I'm not mad about that. The Dark Tournament is an iconic moment in Shonen anime history, but like. it's a tournament arc. Like all tournament arcs, it goes on a very long time, a lot of it is extremely repetitive, and it eventually arrives at the foregone conclusion end state of "team protagonist vs team final boss". In a five-episode adaptation, you pick the smallest number of good fights with real stakes and you just use those. And that's what they do here. Kurama and Hiei both get little bottle-episode fights with their respective most plot-relevant opponents from the Dark Tournament, and they both get to show off their dangerous forbidden techniques.

And it slaps. It could've used more buildup for maximum punch, but again, five episodes. And frankly in the original they didn't get much buildup either, just "this is a thing I've been working on, hopefully I don't die about it."

And consistently, the fight choreography continues to be really good. The physicality of the actors is very solid and the way CGI attacks and opponents get worked into the choreography is so fluid it's sometimes hard to tell where the CGI ends. And considering the final boss is two full-CGI photorealistic bad guys, I think they do an incredibly good job making the fights feel real and solid.

Characterization-wise, since so much of the final episode is just a lot of fighting against a big damage sponge, there's not a ton of time for talking, but the choreography is, again, a standout. Even outside combat, the secondary characters get a lot of little moments to shine - even Damsel In Distress Du Jour Keiko gets to pull the "oh no, I, your valuable prisoner, am sick, please come into my cell within easy throttling range" trick and breaks herself and Yukina out, which slaps and makes the whole breakout feel like much more of a team effort, and it also lets Keiko and Yukina share some brief but extremely tender moments of characterization that does a lot to make them feel like well-rounded characters. And back in the main fight zone, the characters don't have much dialogue but show where they're at through how they move. Everyone is exhausted and beaten down and has already used their finishing moves, but Yusuke's in trouble, so it's time to scramble back up and tackle the bad guy. It's just such good choreo and such good acting that it makes me forgive a lot of the pacing struggles they're dealing with from boiling everything down to 5 episodes, and without dialogue - just through fight choreography - they manage to make me buy the teamwork dynamic they've thus far failed to establish due to speedrunning past all the stuff that's supposed to help them bond. This is the first part of the show that makes me believe that Hiei has any affection for the gang and any reason to fight alongside them beyond coincidence.

And they continued the trend of hitting all the major plot beats from the stuff they were speedrunning, which led to me counting down the minutes to the Kuwabara Fake-Dies To Motivate Yusuke moment.

The rest of the fight is pretty much just a shot-for-shot adaptation of the final stage of the Toguro bossfight, plus the added fun that it's the first time in the show Yusuke has actually yelled "spirit gun" out loud, which is neat. And it took every second of those five episodes, but in the closing scene they finally reached the group dynamic I was hoping for.

All things considered, given the parameters they had to work in, I think this is the best we could've possibly gotten in only five episodes. I would've probably preferred one where instead of cramming the entire dark tournament into three episodes they just left it alone and just did Rescue Yukina plus maybe the Saint Beasts, but if this is what we were getting, this was a very solid way to do it. I, at least, had an overall very good time, and have been thinking about rewatching it, which is wild since it's only been like three weeks since I watched it the first time. But yea, overall the pacing is wild but I think there was a lot of love and thought put into it, and it really shows.

#asks #not aurora #media recs

[a1307s]

Very Good or Very Bad

(Jaime Reyes)

[Art is not mine! Credit to PollyGuo]

Requested by: Aiko424 

Keys:

Y/N: Your Name

Word Count: 6880

Warnings and/or Pre-notes:

Cursing

Super long, so my bad

Cállate. Por favor, cállate tu molesto bicho: "Shut up. Please, just shut up you annoy bug"

———————————————————————

"You're shaking," I say to a twig of a guy nervously looking down at his phone. Ever since I not so accidentally blew up an abandoned building a few weeks ago Wally - my older brother - won't let me walk myself anywhere. Given, I blew up the building to save the lives of innocent - and stupid - citizens of Central City but he didn't want to hear any of that. So, I've been stuck on a leash ever since.

Most of the time Wally himself, Artemis, or Dick pick me up and walk me home, but Dick is on medical rest and Wally and Artemis left for Gotham this morning to visit her parents. You'd assume that would get me off my leash, ya? No. Instead of letting me go to Gotham too or trusting me to watch myself they asked Dick to watch me for the next week.

Since he's on medical leave, all Dick can do is relax so no hero work and definitely no patrolling Blüdhaven. Since Wayne Junior got himself injured, he's not allowed to leave Mount Justice so that Barbra and M'gann can monitor him. Also because of this, I'm stuck being walked home by the league members and being stuck in a rock box with Wally's old - and new - team mates, which doesn't seem like a fun time.

By lunch Richard texted to tell me 'Jaime has a half day so he's coming to pick you up'. After a quick description - skinny Hispanic boy that talks to himself and has a beetle on his back - I had an idea of who to look for after school.

"I'm not shaking," Says - hopefully - Jaime. "I'm just cold."

"You're just a lair," I say back, taking a sidestep to look for this beetle imprint Grayson mentioned before. An imprint is present so I'm pretty sure this is the right guy. "Why are you shaking?"

"I am not shaking and even if I was shaking it might - or might not - be because I'm terrified of Nightwing and what will happen to me if something happens to you," Jaime races out, constantly glancing down at his phone.

"Mmkay, a little paranoid of you," I say, grabbing the guy's wrist and heading towards the school gates. "I don't know where I'm going," I tell him, dropping his wrist and reaching into my bag for my phone.

"Umm... that way... I think?" He says, glancing to the left after burning holes into his phone with his eyes.

"Let me see," I say, tilting his phone to look at the directions. "Do you not know how to read a map? A google map, nonetheless? We got to go to the right."

"Oh, okay" Jaime says, moving to my side to start heading down the street. As Dick mentioned, he constantly whispers to himself as we walk down the road.

"So, like do you talk to yourself cause you're crazy or?" I ask, glancing at him before turning back to the sidewalk in front of us.

"I'm not crazy," Jaime answers before continuing to whisper to himself. "I'm not crazy," he repeats.

I hum in response before turning to walk backwards so I'm facing Jaime. "People that aren't crazy usually don't have to state it," I say, locking my eyes on him. His eyes are a brown color whereas I got the signature green West color.

"In my defense, you asked," he says, constantly moving his head around as if it's on a swivel.

"Touche," I answer, folding my hands behind my head as I continue to walk. "So, Jaime Reyes, what's so big and bad about you?"

"Big and bad?"

"Ya, like why are you a hero and all? What's so special about you that Batman was like 'oh ya this kid can totally beat the shit out of villains'?" I ask, amusingly watching Jaime having a mini freak out.

"Um... There's an alien parasite on my spine I guess," He answers nervously, glancing down at his phone before doing another environment check.

"You guess? There either is or isn't and I feel like you would know," I voice, rethinking if he really is a hero or if Bruce just happened to adopt another kid by accident.

"Yes, there is one. What's with all the questions?"

"I just like to know who's hanging around my brother and uncles is all," I answer, going to turn face front again.

Despite me counting my paces, I'm closer to the street than I thought, which leads me slap dab in the road. "Be careful," Jaime snaps, grabbing the hood of my hoodie and pulling me back on to the sidewalk. "Nightwing would kill me if you got ran over."

"One, Nightwing wouldn't kill you. Artemis might but Nightwing would just lecture you and me. And two, there isn't any cars coming so it's not like I would have gotten ran over," I tell him, slightly smiling at the distress on his face. "You're like super stressed out about this. Why are you stressing so hard?"

"I'm not stressed out," Jaime answers, not letting go of my hoodie as we walk across the street.

"I've known you for like five minutes and you've already lied twice. Batman must be having a field day with you."

"You don't know me," He answers, stopping once we are safely back on the sidewalk to check the directions again. "And I've never met Batman, so I don't know what he thinks of me."

"He thinks you have emotional regulation issues," I say, repeating what Bruce told me last month about the newest member on Nightwing's hero squad.

Jaime glances up from his phone to me a few times before pulling me in the direction he decided on. "Did he really say that?"

"Ya, but he didn't mean it in a 'I'm better than everyone' way. It was a more of 'Yo, Nightwing your underling has this issue and here's how to help with it' way I guess," I answer, focusing on Jaime's face. He's quite a pretty boy when he's not in the middle of a panic attack.

"Well Nightwing says you're a reckless air head," My escort says, pretty upset about the information I've shared with him.

"I know I am. I take after Wally." I shift the collar of my hoodie to get more comfortable with Jaime tugging on it. He notices and drops his hold on my clothing.

When Jaime figures out which way to go, he grabs on to my wrist and starts walking again. "Ya? You take after Wally in any other ways?"

"Not really. I mean I have his humor but that's about it."

Jaime suddenly stops, causing me to bump into his back. It's a lot more toned than I thought it would be and there most definitely is a beetle attached to his spine. "You're not a speedster?" He asks, turning his head to look at me.

"Hm? Oh, no I'm not. I'm more of a retro hero like Nightwing and Artemis," I answer, moving myself to stand next to him instead of being dragged behind.

"Why aren't you a speedster? Genetic skip or something?"

"Well we don't really know how it'll work with Barry and Wally's genetics yet since neither have had kids. Barry got his abilities in a freak accident and then Wally got them by coping said freak accident," I explain, taking in the soft coloring of Jaime's skin.

The phone booth portal thingy Bruce invented is sat in front of us, so I take the chance to say, "You're really hot," before wiggling out of his hold and slip through the phone booth.

"What?" Jaime voice echos through the empty training room when he slips in after me.

Unlucky for him, I'm already in the living room and in Richard's grasp. "You're getting so big," my make shift Uncle cries, squeezing me in his arms and covering the crown of my head in kisses.

"You literally saw me last week," I murmur, rolling my eyes as I try to wiggle out of his grasp.

"And since then you've definitely gotten taller," Richard says, followed with a whine when I mange to get out of his hold. The tantrum doesn't last long though. When Jaime enters the room, Nightwing's attention is switch from me to the beetle boy. "Jaime! Good job not losing Y/N on the walk here!"

"You really paint me out to be some teenage dirt bag don't you?" I ask, swinging open the fridge in search of a snack.

"No I don't! You're just... a lot like Wally."

"You mean I'm a reckless air head?" I tease, pulling out a cheese stick before plopping myself on one of the arm chairs.

Nightwing's masked eyes get bigger before he sneaks a glance at Barbra. "Bsh... no... I would never call you that. That's so-"

"Out of line for a grown man to insult a young girl?" I finish for him, watching as he accuses Barbra of spilling the beans through his eyes.

"Just go do your homework or something," Richard says, using his crunches to storm out of the room. It was quite a funny sight, watching him trying to storm out with a broken leg.

————————————

"Oh it's you again," I say, sneaking up on Jaime who's waiting at the front gate to walk me home again.

The blue of the beetle armor pokes out from under Jaime's sleeves before disappearing again. I must have really scared him then. Since Mr 'you don't know me' avoided me all day yesterday I decided to check Bruce's file on him. It was an interesting read to say the least.

"It's me again," He repeats, doing a look up and down of me before pushing himself off the gate he was leaning on. "You're not wearing a hoodie today," He comments, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Ya, I don't like people using the hood to walk me like a dog," I answer, holding the straps of my book-bag as we walk. "You have another half day today?"

"No," Jaime answers shortly, his head back to being on a swivel.

"Then why are you walking me again? Isn't El Paso like 700 miles away or something?"

"Something like that but Mount Justice is even further away from here but it's only a ten minute walk for us," Jaime answers, stepping around me so he's closer to the street.

"True, but you wouldn't have time to get out of class and get here to pick me up even with the Zeta Tube," I comment, watching as Jaime's eyes lock on the street corner begger. His name is Connie and he chills on the street corner around this time and during the before school rush in the morning. Connie is an okay guy but he is quite quick to anger.

"What does it matter?" Jaime asks, switching which side he's standing on so that he's closer to the begger. His hand wraps around my wrist as we past Connie and cross the street.

"I'm just curious," I answer, constantly glance at Jaime's hand on my wrist.

"Curiosity killed the cat. Also, how'd you know I was from El Paso?" Jaime asks, glancing around the new stretch of sidewalk. His hand stays very much latched around my wrist as he does so.

"Barbra mentioned you were from Texas, so I just took a guess at one of the bigger cities within the state," I answer, holding my breath in hopes he'll buy the lie. He does, luckily, and leaves our conversation to die off. "So.... you get in trouble at school or something?" I ask after a couple minutes of silence.

"I got suspended," He answers, tugging me in front of him as a group of other teens walk past. The mix of holding my wrist and walking so close to me causes Jaime to bump into me every couple steps. His chest is hard, even harder than Bruce's. When I glance down his fingers are coated in the black armor I recognize from the photos in his file. Does he feel threatened by me or by the baseball players walking past? It has to be me, right? I'm a trainee of Kid Flash, Nightwing, and Batman himself. How the fuck would my school's baseball players threaten him?

"For what?" I ask, glancing up at my repeated escort. Jaime's jaw is tight, and his eyebrows are squinted together.

He makes whispers in Spanish under his breath - which I don't understand, before he answers me. "Does it matter?"

"Why are you so pissy today? For someone that was bitching yesterday about me not knowing them, you're not very open with me." Jaime glances down at me but doesn't say anything in response. Instead, he lets go of my wrist and shifts himself between the road and me again.

The rest of the walk is uneventful other than a cardinal crossing our path. Jaime did not find my excitement over the bird very interesting though. He just mumbled to himself and dragged me the rest of the way to the phone booth. When we get to the hidden zeta tube, I go to step into it but Jaime pulls me back. "Hey, what did you say yesterday?" He asks, eyes locked on me and hands locked around my wrists.

————————————

Jaime's POV

What the fuck? What the fuck?! Why am I the one picking up Nightwing's niece? Nightwing's arsonist niece. Who blew up a building. Heroes blow up buildings all the time. Heroes around my age do not blow-up buildings! Except Kid Flash's little sister apparently!

I nervously glance at my phone again, re-reading Nightwing's description of his niece for the hundredth time. What if I can't find her? What if I mistake another kid for her? What if I bring another kid to the mountain on accident? That would definitely get me kicked off the team. Or murdered! Do heroes murder? I don't think so... well.. Arsenal does. Would he kill me? Nightwing wouldn't let him kill me... right? Artemis's parents kill people and she's technically this girl's sister-in-law, right? Would Sport-Master kill me for accidentally abounding Artemis's sister-in-law?

What if some freak accident happens on the walk to the Mount? Nightwing would defiantly kill me if his niece got hurt on my watch. Or Wally would... or Artemis... or Batman. Oh my God I forgot about Batman. I bet Batman would throughout his no kill rule for this chick. I mean his son refers to this chick as his niece. That like technically makes this girl his granddaughter.

"I will not let Batman - or anyone else - hurt us," Scarab says, which does not help my train of thought. I'm totally going to get murdered.

In retaliation to my thoughts, Scarab tries to activate my armor. "We do not need that right now. Not needed," I whisper to myself; Well technically to the Scarab but might as well be one in the same. "Can't you just like scan people and let me know who does fit the description?"

"Yes. Please read the description." I whisper the description out loud a few times before a bell rings. "Scanning has commenced," Scarab says as I look around at the different people spilling out of the building. "Jaime Reyes, your high epinephrine levels have caused you to start shaking," the parasite adds.

"High levels of what is causing what?" I ask, glancing down at my phone to read the description again.

"Your high levels of epinephrine has called what humans have named 'anxiety'. Your body is trying to release this 'anxiety' by shaking," the bug answers. "Suspect has been-"

"You're shaking," A voice says from behind me.

"-identified," Scarab finishes. Way too many noises are going on right now, both inside and outside my head.

I turn to look at the person behind me and wouldn't you know, she fits the description perfectly. "I'm not shaking. I'm just cold," I answer, taking in the girl in front of me. She's the spitting image of Wally. Her eyes are the same green as his and her hair is red but not the same red as Wally's. Maybe it's dyed or maybe she just got different genetic pigments than Wally.

"You are shaking Jaime Reyes, and you are not cold. Your body temperature is ninety-nine point four degrees Fahrenheit. From the high levels of resorcinol in her hair, the girl does not have natural red hair," Scarab says, answering my question.

     "You're just a lair," Y/N says, taking a sidestep and decking her head to get a glance at my back. Ya, this definitely has to be her. "Why are you shaking?" She asks, setting herself back in front of me.

     She has freckles. Really cute freckles. How old is she? I glance down at my phone again to read Nightwing's description again. From his explanation Y/N is only a year younger than me. "Jaime Reyes, suspect is waiting for you to answer."

     Oh shit, ya, I haven't answered her yet. In my rush to answer her without it seeming like I ignored her; I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. "I'm not shaking and even if I was shaking it might - or might not - be because I'm terrified of Nightwing and what will happen to me if something happens to you." What the fuck kind of answer was that? That was such a loser answer.

"Jaime Reyes, you are shaking. You're shaking because you're scared of Nightwing, Wally, Artemis, Sports-Master, Arsenal, and Batman," The Scarab says, making me even more annoyed with my own name.

     "Mmkay, a little paranoid of you," Y/N says before grabbing my wrist. Her skin is super soft against my own. This can't be the touch of an arsonist, right? It's too soft, too smooth, too gentle. I willingly follow her as she walks away from the building and off the school grounds until she comes to an abrupt stop.

     She drops my wrist, causing a tinge of sadness to rise in my chest. Why am I sad that she's not touching me anymore? I don't even know this girl with cute freckles that dyes her hair red to match her brother's. "Subject has caused an increase in your phenylethylamine levels. When subject let go of you, your phenylethylamine dropped which is causing the human emotion of 'sadness'."

     "I don't know where I'm going," Y/N says, messing around in her bag. After a couple seconds she pulls out her cellphone. I take the chance to type the address Nightwing sent me into my phone.

     I keep glancing between my phone and Y/N as she checks her notifications. She doesn't answer any of them and instead slips the phone into her hoodie pocket. She stands there, staring at me. Her eyes are bright and so full of life. "Subject's levels of catecholamines has slightly risen," Scarab says, replacing my thoughts with their voice.

     "I don't know what that means," I mumble, looking down at my phone again to try and focus on the directions.

     "Subject is experiencing 'annoyance' from your lack of answering."

     "Umm..." I mumble, glancing at my phone again. "That way... I think..." I say, glancing to the left. Why is it so hard to focus right now? She's just a girl. I'm around girls all day. I go to school with girls all day, and then go fight crime with girls all night, and then go home to a house full of girls. She is just a girl.

     Y/N takes a step forward and reaches out towards me. "Let me see," she says, her fingertips pressing against my phone so she can view it. Her nails are black, but her ring finger has a blue stripe on it. That's cute. It reminds me of Nightwing's suit. Oh shit, Nightwing is going to kill me if our walk keeps lagging from my lack of awareness. "Do you not know how to read a map?" She asks, looking up at me with those big fucking beanie baby eyes. "A google map, nonetheless? We have to go right," she says, turning right and starting to walk in that direction.

     "Oh, okay," I peep out, taking wide strides to catch up to her.

     "Subject is effecting your chemical balances. Recommendation: Illumination," Scarab says, in their nonchalant way.

     "Illumination? Illumination? Maybe let's not 'illuminate' Batman's granddaughter, ya? Batman is not an enemy I want to have in this lifetime or the next," I fight back, trying to keep my voice low so Y/N doesn't hear me.

     "Recommendation: Illuminate subject and Batman."

     "The fuck you mean 'illuminate Batman'? How about we illuminate no one? That sounds like a good recommendation."

     "So, like do you talk to yourself cause you're crazy or?" Y/N asks, sneaking a peek at me before her eyes focus back to in front of her.

     "I'm not crazy," I rush out.

     "Subject is now causing a re-rising in your epinephrine levels," The parasite glued to my spine says.

     "You are causing the rise in my epine-whatever," I answer back, glancing at Y/N. "I'm not crazy," I repeat, worried she didn't hear me the first time.

     Y/N hums before turning on her heels. "People that aren't crazy usually don't have to state it," she peeps out, as her eyes look me up and down. She's now facing me as she takes steady backwards steps. The fuck is she doing this for? She's going to trip or get bumped into or fucking kidnapped easier cause she's not paying attention.

     "Subject is waiting for a response," Scarab says, causing me to mentally roll my eyes for the hundredth time today.

     "In my defense, you asked," I finally answer back, constantly looking around for any possible threats. Heaven rest my soul if I bring Y/N to the Mount with a scratch or a bruise on her. Nightwing - and then Wally - and then Artemis - and then Batman will skin me alive if she gets hurt in the ten minutes, she's in my care.

     "Touche," Y/N says, a bit of a whistle squeaking out with the word. She folds her arms behind her head as she opens her mouth to speak again, "So, Jaime Reyes, what's so big and bad about you?"

     Maybe I'm not annoyed with hearing my name today. She should say it again. Why the hell do I want her to say it again? And why the hell did she fold her arms up? That's making the situation even worse. What if she trips? She won't be able to catch herself. "Big and bad?" I ask, a bit confused after I register her words.

     "Ya, like why are you a hero and all? What's so special about you that Batman was like 'oh ya this kid can totally beat the shit out of villains'?" She asks, a soft smile gracing her face. A cute, soft smile that I can't enjoy because she can't walk like a normal person, so I have to be aware of every stupid thing including possible rocks on the freakin sidewalk!

     " Um... There's an alien parasite on my spine-"

     "Jaime Reyes! People should not know about us! This increases our chances of harm!" Just kidding, I'm back to being annoyed at hearing my name.

     "- I guess," I finish, mentally rolling my eyes again.

     "You guess? There either is or isn't and I feel like you would know," Y/N says before spacing out.

     Why is she spacing out? She should be focusing on walking and not tripping! She should be focused on getting to the Mountain unharmed. "Yes, there is one. What's with all the questions?" I ask, getting a little annoyed with her carelessness. Doesn't she realize her safety determines my safety?

     "I just like to know who's hanging around my brother and uncles is all," Y/N answers, turning on her heels again to face forward.

     'Uncles'?! So, she's related to more than just Nightwing? Who else is her uncle? That's the fucking road! As Y/N is turning around, she steps directly into the street. Panicked, I reach forward and grab the first thing I come in contact. "Be careful!" I yell at her, dragging her back to the safety of the sidewalk. "Nightwing would kill me if you got run over," the words spill out before I can stop them.

     I soft smile returns to Y/N's face before she speaks. "One, Nightwing wouldn't kill you. Artemis might but Nightwing would just lecture you and me. And two, there isn't any cars coming so it's not like I would have gotten ran over. You're like super stressed out about this. Why are you stressing so hard?"

"I'm not stressed out," I answer, looking back and forth on the road before tugging Y/N across by her hoodie.

     "Subject is correct; You are stressed Jaime Reyes." Ya no shit. My mentor - the Nightwing - entrusted me to walk his niece to the Mountain. His niece who is actively trying to get herself - and me - killed. Nightwing who won't murder me. Oh no, but his teammate - his best friend's girlfriend - will.

     "I've known you for like five minutes and you've already lied twice. Batman must be having a field day with you," Y/N says, glancing at me with mischievous eyes.

     Oh, ya Batman likes me so much that he hasn't met me. Everyone likes me so much that half of the team can't remember my name. Before I can stop myself, I answer her in anger, "You don't know me. And I've never met Batman, so I don't know what he thinks of me."

     Once we're back on the safe sidewalk, I take a chance to check the directions again to ensure we're heading in the right way. "He thinks you have emotional regulation issues," Y/N says, looking at the tree in front of us.

     He? Who's he? Is she talking about Batman? The old guy that dressed up as a bat because he can't deal with the loss of his parents thinks I have emotional regulation issues? I glance at Y/N throughout my thoughts before focusing us in the right direction. "Did he really say that?" I ask, even though I know there's no way an adult furry thinks I have issues. I don't have issues. I just have murderous alien technology attached to me.

     "Ya, but he didn't mean it in a 'I'm better than everyone' way. It was a more of 'Yo, Nightwing your underling has this issue and here's how to help with it' way I guess."

     The fuck does that mean? Once again, before I can stop myself, I answer in anger, "Well Nightwing says you're a reckless air head." He sure was right. Who walks into the road without looking first? What a stupid girl, a stupid person.

     "I know I am. I take after Wally," Y/N says softly, lifting up her colored nails again but this time she messes with her hoodie. I'm holding it a lot tighter than I mean too so I drop it, letting her walk freely again. Hopefully, not freely into the road again.

     "Ya? You take after Wally in other ways?" I ask her, actually curious if she has superspeed as well. I mean, she has too, right? Her brother is a speedster so why wouldn't she be one too? I take second to double check our direction again before starting the walk back up again. I make sure to grab her wrist instead of her hoodie this time because I'm not confident she won't walk into traffic again.

     "Not really. I mean, I have his humor but that's about it," Y/N says from behind me, a sad undertone buried in her words.

     I stop walking, taking a second to process her words and trying to get the Scarab to shut up so I can think clearly. From my unwarned stop, Y/N bumps into my back. She feels really warm against me and the smell of vanilla envelopes me. "You're not a speedster?" I ask, glancing behind me to take her in. Her eyes are wide, and cute, and very green. How are they so green?

     "Hm?" She asks, looking up at me, slightly softening her face. "Oh, no I'm not. I'm more of a retro hero like Nightwing and Artemis."

     Y/N moves herself so she's standing next to me instead of behind me like before. "Why aren't you a speedster? Genetic skip or something?" I ask, continuing to lead her forward again.

     "Well, we don't really know how it'll work with Barry and Wally's genetics yet since neither have had kids. Barry got his abilities in a freak accident and then Wally got them by coping said freak accident." What is up with these heroes? Are they all crazy? Am I going to go crazy too?

     I stay trapped in my thoughts until we are slap dap in front of the portal tube thing. I think Beast Boy called it a 'zeta tube' or something. "You're really hot," Y/N says before loosening my grip on her and disappearing into the tube thing.

     "What?" I ask but she's already gone. I follow her through the phone booth before re-asking my question. Unlucky for me, she's already gone from the training room. At least I lost her in the Mountain, I guess. I stand in the empty room for a second, replaying the moment a couple times. She definitely called me hot. Is that a good thing? It has to be a good thing.

     I shake the thought out of my head before walking into the common area of the Mountain. Great, there she is, right there, again. "Jaime!" Nightwing calls. "Good job not losing Y/N on the walk here!" Y/N responses but I don't stick around to hear how it plays out. I spend my time in the Mountain locked away in my assigned room so I could think over the events of the walk and the feelings I'm not sure I'm happy I'm feeling.

—————————————

Today has not been the best day. I'm still a bit off from walking Y/N home yesterday, which drizzled into my day today. Some guys at school were talking about her, well about her hero identity, not her specifically. They were still talking about her though and not very nicely. For whatever reason, I couldn't just let it go and ended up starting a fight about it, which got me a suspension from school. Mama is not going to be thrilled about that.

Nightwing on the other hand, seemed quite amused that I got suspended over his niece. So amused that he asked me to pick her up again. Instead of waiting on the school grounds, I decided to wait outside the school gates. I don't want to be picking up Y/N again. She messes with my head and causes the Scaran to go all haywire.

Before getting thrown out of school for a few days, I talked over yesterday's experience with Paco. He seems to think I have a crush on Y/N. Maybe I do. I don't know. I don't know what I feel or what to think. Nightwing says it's hard to have a relationship wellbeing a hero, but Wally and Artemis have been together for ever and they're heroes. Maybe it would work out since Y/N and me are both heroes too. I don't know.

"Oh, it's you again," Y/N says, poking her head around the gate.

Since I was lost in my thoughts, her sudden appearance manages to scare me. "Self-defense activating," Scarab says, as my armor starts wrapping around me.

"Don't do that," I hiss, keeping my tone low. I don't need Y/N thinking I'm crazy or accidently hurt because Scarab thinks everything is a threat. "It's me again," I say once Scarab chills out. I glance at her, taking in her outfit. She's not wearing a hoodie today so I'm able to take in more of her figure. Her figure that would feel really nice against mine own. What? No, do not think like that. I stand up straight and shove my hands into my pockets to stop myself from touching her like I want too. "You're not wearing a hoodie today," I comment to try and see if she did it on purpose or not.

Y/N's hands wrap around her bookbag straps as she matches my strides. Her hair bounces as she walks, sliding around to frame her face. "Ya, I don't like people using the hood to walk me like a dog," she says, poking at me for my actions yesterday. "You have another half day today?"

It takes me a second to connect what she's saying. I'm too distracted by her hair, and face, and body, and I need to look at something else. I glance around, looking at all the different people and scenery and anything but her. "No."

"Then why are you walking me again? Isn't El Paso like 700 miles away or something?"

El Paso? She knows I'm from El Paso? How does she know that? I didn't tell her that. "2018 Toyota driving at dangerous speeds. Recommendation: abolish vehicle," Scarab says, causing my eyes to snap to the road.

"Let's not do that," I whisper to them, shifting my position so Y/N is further away from the road. "Something like that," I finally answer back, taking a second to process the rest of her statement. "But Mount Justice is even further away from here but it's only a ten-minute walk for us." How does she know I'm from El Paso? Why does she care that I'm picking her up again? Does she like that I'm picking her up again?

"True, but you wouldn't have time to get out of class and get her to pick me up even with the Zeta Tube," Y/N says, moving closer to me.

Is she moving closer on purpose? Why would she be? I look around again and notice a homeless looking man on the street corner. Is that why she's moving closer? "Scarab, can you do a scan of the man over there? See if he has anything dangerous or whatever," I whisper, keeping my eyes on the man.

"Scanning commenced," Scarab says as I move my placement again so I'm between the guy and Y/N.

"What does it matter?" I ask Y/N, glancing down at her for a split second before going back to sizing up the guy. It can't be that hard to take him if he tries anything... I think.

"I found three knives on the subject," Scarab says, popping the images of said knives into my mind. It still trips me out that this thing can do shit like this. In response to Scarab's findings, I wrap my hand around Y/N's wrist. I don't need her starting issues, or getting hurt if this guy starts anything.

"I'm just curious," Y/N says, looking down at her wrist.

Does she like that I'm touching her? "Scarab, can you scan for Y/N's lovey chemical thing?" I whisper, trying to catch a glance at Y/N's face to see how she's reacting. "Curiosity killed the cat," I say, trying to get her to look up again. "Also," I start, letting my own curiosity get to me. "How'd you know I was from El Paso?"

"Barbra mentioned you were from Texas, so I just took a guess at one of the bigger cities within the state."

"Y/N has high levels of phenylethylamine and epinephrine," Scarab answers after their scan finishes.

"And that means what?" I ask, even more confused than normal.

"Phenylethylamine has been nicknamed the 'love chemical' by the human race. Y/N has high levels of said chemical that raised even more after coming in contact with you. Epinephrine is the 'adrenaline' chemical, often present when in distress, lying, or with high blood pressure. Recommendation: Reproduce in order to lower the high levels of phenylethylamine and epinephrine."

What is the issue with this stupid alien? I cannot 'reproduce' with someone I barely know. But that does mean Y/N likes me back, right? Maybe I should ask about what she said yesterday. Maybe I should ask her out. Maybe... or maybe she'll say no. Or maybe she'll say yes and then I'll have a target on my back with half of my own team aiming for it. Or maybe -

"So... you get in trouble at school or something?" Y/N asks, cutting off my thought process.

Or something. "I got suspended," I answer, glancing up and seeing a group of guys heading our way.

"If you plan on being life partners with Y/N I recommend doing it soon. 78% of the group ahead has high levels of phenylethylamine for your protentional partner as well, Jaime Reyes," Scarab says, causing my skin to crawl with anger.

They don't get to like her too. I already know parts of her they'll never get to know, and I've known her two days. No, not allowed. I tug Y/N over so she's standing in front of me. We're so close that she constantly bumps into me. Every time she does, sparks run through my veins. They do not get to be near her. They need to go away. In reaction to my unwarranted anger, Scarab tries to activate my armor again. Maybe Batman is right. Maybe I do have issues controlling my emotions.

I pick up the pace a bit to try and get Y/N away from them sooner and get their attention off of her. They not so secretively check her out as we walk past, which only pisses me off more.

"For what?" Y/N peeps out, looking at me with those big green beanie baby eyes again.

It's hard to hear her over than sound of Scarab trying to justify murdering a group of people. "Cállate. Por favor, cállate tu molesto bicho," I whisper, trying to relax my nervous and calm down. I should not be this jealous. Who cares if a group of Y/N's classmates are checking her out? Not me, I don't care. "Does it matter?" I finally answer her, but it comes out sharper than I meant it too. I really need to chill out.

"Why are you so pissy today?" Y/N asks, matching my snappy tone. "Fror someone that was bitching yesterday about me not knowing them, you're not very open with me."

I look down at her as she looks forward. Frustration is very evident on her face. She looks cute frustrated. With the group being out of sight and no more creepy guys with knives around, I decide it's safe to let her go. I drop my hand from her wrist, and just like yesterday a tinge of sadness fills my chest. I want her to get to know me. I want to me open with her. I want to get to know every inner and outer thing about her. And I really want to see those eyes looking up at me as she spread out on my bed. That's perverted. Like, really perverted.

Y/N's frustration falls from her face as she turns her head. I follow her eyes to see that sitting in a tree next to us is a bright red cardinal. Y/N steps off the sidewalks and slowly walks towards the bird. I stay put, watching her gush over the bird and talk to it like it's a baby. I'm going to ask her about what she said yesterday, I'm going to ask her out, and I'm going to make my perverted thoughts a reality.

"Jaime Reyes, your aphrodisiac levels are raising," Scarab says, once again confusing me.

"You really need to start explaining things to me when you say them."

"The chemical aphrodisiac controls arousal within the human raise."

"So, I'm horny? Really? Didn't notice," I say sarcastically, watching Y/N walk back onto the sidewalk once she's done gushing over the bird. The rest of the walk is silent, but I don't mind. It gives me time to build up my confidence to spit out what I want to say. I couldn't help myself, so I ended up grabbing Y/N's wrist again to walk her the rest of the way.

Once the zeta tube is in front of us, I make sure to keep my grip on Y/N and even go as far as grabbing her other wrist so she can't run off like she did yesterday. "What did you say yesterday?" I ask her, focusing on keeping my eyes on hers and trying not to throw up my nervous. This is either going to go very good or very bad.

#jaime reyes #blue beetle #Jaime Reyes oneshot #blue beetle one shot #young justice #young justice oneshot #jaime reyes x reader #blue beetle x reader

[wonwussy]

Present Hauntings [pt1]

the graphic above was edited by @chogiwapadada​ do not remove the watermark and do not repost

pairing; jeon wonwoo x afab reader

genre; exes/enemies to lovers, eventual smut (minors dni because i don’t need you sticking around for the smut that will come thank you), crack humor, suggestive

notes/warnings; dumbass boy shit, lots of swearing because this is real life and swearing is fun, alcohol consumption, arguments… more to follow in further parts (YES THERE WILL BE MORE PARTS because i hate myself)

word count; 4100 and some change

Soonyoung glanced down at the flyer in his hand, before back up at the open gate in front of him and his friends. “Who has a party in a graveyard when it’s not Halloween?” he asked, scrunching his nose.

Wonwoo shoves his hands into his jean pockets and shrugs, tipping his head back to read the name of the graveyard. “I think they missed the perfect opportunity to call it “Raveyard Bash”,” he commented, grinning crookedly at his best friend, Mingyu. “Other good options would have been “Boneyard Ball”, “Necropolis Social”, or–”

“”Orgy at the Crypt”,” Mingyu cut in, receiving laughs from a few within the group.

“At least that sounds interesting. Grabs the attention. “Party at the Cemetery” isn’t very creative,” Wonwoo added with another shrug.

Soonyoung rolled his eyes and tucked the flyer back into his pants pocket. “All I’m saying is having a party at a graveyard in the middle of the summer seems stupid. It’s a Halloween thing,” he pointed out.

“One would argue that all your tiger striped button ups are for Halloween too, but here we are,” Seungkwan shot back, tugging at the collar of Soonyoung’s shirt.

Soonyoung reached back to smack at his hand, causing Seungkwan to reach out and smack Soonyoung back.

“Kiss and make up already,” Mingyu muttered as he pushed past the pair, Wonwoo in tow right behind him.

“If I’m kissing anyone tonight, it’s going to be Vernon!” Seungkwan protested loudly as Soonyoung made a face at Mingyu’s back.

Vernon blinked at his words, as if snapping out of a daze. “Wait, what?”

Mingyu and Wonwoo laughed as the other three trailed behind them, Soonyoung and Seungkwan still arguing in hushed tones. Mingyu glanced at Wonwoo and slung an arm around his shoulders. “You know, “Boneyard Orgy” would have been a good one too. Get it? Because “bone” and “orgy”?”

Wonwoo snorted and pushed Mingyu gently as he laughed and stepped back. “You’re a child.”

“Maybe, but you still found it funny,” Mingyu said smugly.

He couldn’t argue with that fact and shook his head a little. “Just don’t get scared if zombies start rising from the graves,” Wonwoo teases.

Mingyu instantly looked distraught with the idea, glancing around as they wove their way between headstones. “Fuck, Wonwoo. Why did you have to go and say that?” he whined as he sidestepped a grave. “Fucking hate zombies.”

Soonyoung grinned, his teeth bared as he grabbed at Mingyu’s waist in an effort to scare him. He laughed when the bigger man flinched, reaching up to pat his back. “Don’t worry. They only go for people with brains,” he joked.

Mingyu frowned and shoved Soonyoung, causing him to bump into Seungkwan. “I have more brains than you,” he shot back.

Wonwoo couldn’t help but laugh as Seungkwan shoved Soonyoung back into Mingyu, which resulted in Soonyoung and Seungkwan starting up another argument between them. This was a normal Friday night for them, and Wonwoo wouldn’t have it any other way.

It wasn’t long before they finally reached a small clearing between headstones, a Bluetooth speaker blasting EDM music next to a couple of kegs. It wasn’t a large number of people, maybe twenty or thirty from what Wonwoo could tell, but most seemed to be well on their way to being drunk.

“Drink!” Soonyoung announced the minute they reached the fringes of the party, his arms raised over his head. Head bopping to the music, he could never keep still when there was music playing, he crossed over to the keg for his beverage.

Seungkwan sighed as he watched Soonyoung, though a small smile was tugging at his lips. “None of us are keeping up with him tonight,” he commented, before following after the older boy.

Vernon rolled his eyes as he reached up to adjust his beanie. “None of us, except Seungkwan.” He paused as he glanced at Mingyu and Wonwoo. “If he kisses me, I’m blaming you two,” he warned as he turned to walk backwards towards the keg. “It’s your fault.”

Wonwoo simply grinned at Vernon and shrugged one shoulder. “It’d be worth it,” he called after Vernon, receiving another eye roll as he turned forward.

“I’m going to go find Jihoon,” Mingyu said, before slipping his way into the crowd, leaving Wonwoo by himself.

Not that Wonwoo minded. He usually chose to stay on the edges of the party to people watch. He would eventually have a drink in his hand, though he rarely got drunk since he was more often than not the designated driver.

He noticed a small pocket of his friends dancing across from him. It wasn’t a surprise that Joshua, Seungcheol, and Jeonghan had made it here before the rest of them, already surrounded by several girls who were swooning over their good looks. They were just clumped together, but Wonwoo could see Soonyoung’s tiger striped shirt in the middle, a drink in his hand as he danced.

Wonwoo tugged the sleeves of his navy sweatshirt down over his hands and started making his way towards a small bench at the base of a tree nearby. He grinned at Mingyu and Jihoon as he passed them, giving a small wave to the pair.

He reached the bench and paused when something, or rather someone, caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. He slowly turned in a circle, his eyes searching the crowd of people, and stopped short when he saw you.

You, standing there in your seafoam green sundress that hit right above your knees, without a care in the world. Your head tipped back in laughter as your braid slid off your near bare shoulder. You and your tan skin, which seemed to glow in the setting sun. The very picture of a summer beauty, even if you were surrounded by headstones and tipsy party goers.

A spark of arousal shot through Wonwoo. Which only made the anger that followed burn that much hotter. He scowled and ran a hand over his mouth, his mood quickly shifting into a darker one. He couldn’t believe you had the nerve to show up to his party. Granted, it wasn’t actually his party… if he had thought about it, he wasn’t sure who was really throwing it… but that wasn’t the point. You were there, and he was there, and one of you was going to have to leave. Wonwoo knew it wasn’t going to be him.

He shoved his hands into his sweatshirt pocket and started to stalk over, when he felt a hand on his hood pull him back. He let out a strangled noise and whipped around to see Mingyu standing there, shaking his head. “What the hell?”

“You are not going to start drama,” he said simply as he dropped his hold on the fabric.

Wonwoo huffed and turned back to look at you. “I wasn’t going to. I was just going to strongly suggest that she leave.”

Mingyu took a sip of his drink and shook his head again. “You’re not doing that either. You’re going to leave her be, and you’re going to enjoy this party.” He paused as he shoved the rest of his drink into Wonwoo’s chest. “Drink. And be merry.”

He swiped the drink from Mingyu’s hand and tipped it back, draining the rest of the cup easily. He made a face as he handed it back to his friend, shaking his head a little. “That tasted like piss water.”

“Cheap beer. Easy drunk,” he replied with a half shrug. “There might be someone running around with a flask, if you want something harder.”

Wonwoo glanced around, before his eyes landed on Seungcheol. Bingo. He had to have some Bacardi on him. He tugged his hood up over his head and stared at his feet as he walked, not wanting to chance making eye contact with you.

He managed to weave his way through the growing crowd, sliding up to the older man’s side noiselessly. He nudged Seungcheol’s arm, causing his friend to jump slightly in surprise. “Give me a drink,” he said, leaning over closer to him to be heard over the music.

Seungcheol looked confused, before pointing towards the keg. “Get it yourself! It’s over there.”

“No. Your flask. I know you have one.”

Seungcheol studied Wonwoo’s face for a moment, before letting out a resigned sigh. He reached into his back pocket and produced a silver flask, which had a small cherry bunch engraved on the front. “Try not to drink it all. That’s all I have for the whole night,” he told him.

Wonwoo unscrewed the cap and tipped it back, taking a long gulp. He grimaced as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, recapping the flask. He didn’t say anything as he handed it back and pulled in a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

Joshua, who had been watching the exchange, furrowed his brows in confusion. “What’s the problem?” he asked as he leaned closer to Wonwoo. He could tell something was off about the man, but wasn’t sure what it was.

Glancing around again, to make sure you were still hanging around, Wonwoo bounced a little on the balls of his feet. He wasn’t sure he wanted to say anything at all about you being there, but if the others knew, maybe they could provide a better buffer. Mingyu couldn’t hang around him the whole night trying to keep him in line.

“She’s here,” he replied finally, looking back at the pair.

Confusion crossed their faces at Wonwoo’s words, looking around to see who he meant. They both spotted you at the same time, dancing with a couple of your girlfriends with a drink in your hand. Their mouths formed a small “o” of recognition as they looked back at Wonwoo, eyebrows raised. “Do you want to leave? I can take the others home later if you do,” Joshua asked in concern.

Wonwoo shook his head as he looked back at you, his eyes following your curves as you moved to the music. “No. I’m not letting her chase me out of here. I’ll just… avoid her,” he said, though he wasn’t sure how easy that was going to be.

Seungcheol looked skeptical at Wonwoo’s words, before shrugging one shoulder. “As long as you don’t start any fights. Please.”

“I won’t. Can’t promise I won’t finish any though,” he mumbled. He turned from the pair and started walking away without another word, leaving them wary of how the night would actually go.

Joshua watched Wonwoo disappear and sighed, running a hand through his hair. “This might be a disaster,” he muttered into his plastic cup of cheap beer.

—-----------------------------------------------------------

You let out a half laugh as you manage to stumble away from your group of friends, claiming you needed some air. You assured them you were fine, though they didn’t fight you too hard on you wandering away. They had their eyes, and hands, on whomever they were looking to go home with that night. Your best friend was currently trying to get the attention of Soonyoung, but he was nearing too far gone to notice.

You were a little unsteady on your feet as you made your way further from the party. As soon as you noticed Wonwoo skulking around, skulking was the best way to describe it, your alcohol intake increased just enough for you to get a decent buzz going. You had felt his eyes on you several times, probably glaring, but you were determined not to let him “ruffle your feathers”, as your grandmother would have said.

Glancing around, a stained glass of the back window of a family mausoleum caught your eye, and you came to a stop in front of it. You could see a small light flickering inside, and you leaned over to try and peer through one of the smaller panes that was busted out of the design.

“What are you doing?”

The unexpected deep voice startled you, causing you to let out a shriek and stumble backwards. You were more unsteady than you thought, and you landed flat on your back, coughing as the air was knocked out of your lungs. “Fuck,” you groaned, blinking your eyes open as you tried to catch your breath.

You weren’t sure who you had expected to find staring down at you, but it certainly wasn’t your ex-boyfriend. You instantly narrowed your eyes at him in a glare, only to have it returned in kind. “What are you doing creeping up on me?” you demanded as you pushed yourself into a seated position.

Wownoo scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest as he watched you. “I wasn’t creeping up on you,” he denied, and you could practically hear his eyes roll. “You’re the one who is creeping around some family’s tomb.”

“I wasn’t creeping around.” You paused as you struggled to your feet, no thanks to him, and leaned over to brush your legs off. “I saw a light,” you added as you straightened and turned to face him.

Wonwoo’s eyes snapped back up to your face when you turned, unable to help how they traveled down your backside and legs a moment before, and raised an eyebrow at you. “A light. Right. Ghosts coming out to play or something?”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes, and you shook your head at him. “Ha. Ha. Whatever. You don’t have to believe me, and I don’t have to convince you,” you muttered under your breath.

You smoothed down your hair and adjusted your dress, stopping when you realized he was still standing there and watching you. “You can go away now,” you told him, waving your hands at him to go.

“Why should I? It’s a free graveyard. I can stand where I want, can’t I?” he shot back.

You folded your arms over your chest, mirroring his stance, and shook your head. “I was here first. You snuck up on me. This is my area of peace,” you argued. “So, go away.”

He snorted and ran a hand through his hair as you spoke. “You clearly haven’t changed. Still a self-entitled bitch who thinks she owns whatever she wants,” he spat as he took a couple steps closer to you.

Your mouth dropped open at his words, and he knew he struck a nerve. Normally, he’d care, but tonight was different. Whether it was the alcohol, the unresolved anger that had been simmering towards you after the break-up, or the fact that he felt the night had been soured by your presence in the first place. He just didn’t care what he said, he just wanted to press your buttons.

You nearly stamped your feet as you closed the gap between the pair of you, reaching up to poke his chest. “And you are the same self-righteous asshole who really only cares about himself,” you growl, not realizing how close you are to him. That is until you can smell the familiar scent of his cologne, and your resolve nearly falters. He still smelled so damn good.

“I’m the asshole? You’re the one who broke up with me! I think that makes you the asshole!”

“I did it because you, Jeon Wonwoo, are the asshole! You still can’t see it all these months later!”

And he was kissing you.

Before you could stop him or protest, his hand was on the back of your head and his lips had crashed to yours. His other hand pressed flat to the small of your back, holding you to him. You can feel his fingers curl into the fabric of your dress as your brain screams at you to push him away.

Instead, you kissed him back. Your hands are fisted into his hair as you deepened the kiss further, practically melting into him. His tongue tangled with yours as he started to walk you backwards until you hit the wall of the mausoleum, his hand leaving your back to brace himself against the stone.

Part of you knew you should let him go, push him back and get away, but he felt too good. His lips on yours, the taste of whatever liquor he had been drinking, his thigh slotted between your legs. It all felt too good, and you were just desperate for more.

His one hand was still holding your head, as if you’d try to run, and he pulled back just enough to pull in a quick breath. He tipped your head to the side as his lips slipped down your jaw and to your neck, heading to the one spot he knew so well. He slid his hand down from your head and to your thigh, pushing up the skirt of your dress as his fingers curled into your skin.

A quiet whimper escaped you as his lips trailed over your neck, and you could feel him smirk against you. You wanted more, almost needed it. You slipped your fingers underneath his sweatshirt and hooked them into the band of his jeans, tugging him even closer to you.

Both of you were so lost in each other, you didn’t hear the sound of a twig snapping nearby as Jihoon approached the two of you. “Wonwoo, I’m gonna ta- oh, shit. Sorry!” he exclaimed when he realized what was happening.

You leaned your head back against the wall behind you as Wonwoo’s hand fell from your leg, both of you breathing hard. You licked your lips and glanced at Jihoon over Wonwoo’s shoulder, who was just staring at the two of you in disbelief. “I.. better go,” you muttered, before slipping away from Wonwoo.

You didn’t look back as you heard Wonwoo speak to Jihoon, silently cursing yourself. You rubbed your forehead and frowned, wondering how you could have let yourself get that far. You almost had sex with your ex against a mausoleum in a graveyard. Maybe you should swear off drinking.

You definitely needed to swear off Wonwoo.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wonwoo groaned as he rolled out of his bed, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. He had a splitting headache, and wanted to stay in bed, but noises from inside his apartment had forced him to get up. He yawned as he shuffled out of his bedroom and down the hall, pausing when he realized Soonyoung was still passed out on the couch. “You know, with as much noise as you’re making, I’m surprised he’s still asleep,” he muttered to his roommate as he crossed to the breakfast bar to sit on a stool.

Jun glanced up from the cupboard he was digging in and shrugged. “I’m hungry. Not my fault he passed out on our couch,” he replied, before pulling out a pot with a soft “gotcha”. He set the pot on the stove and nodded towards the coffee maker. “It’s fresh. And he’ll probably wake up when he smells food. He’s always hungry after he drinks.”

Wonwoo yawned as he nodded and headed to the coffee maker, pouring himself a mug. “Jihoon could have gotten him in his own apartment. How did he end up here again?”

“You said ‘I got him’, and bridal carried him in,” Jun recalled with a smirk. “It was rather cute. I have some pictures if you want to see.”

Wonwoo made a face and shook his head, taking a large gulp of his coffee as he sat down. “I’m never drinking again.”

Jun chuckled as he started throwing stuff into the pot, shaking his head a little. “I feel like I’ve heard that before, but you never follow through,” he teased.

Wonwoo opened his mouth to say something back when he stopped, hearing a loud groan from the couch behind him. “Morning, Tiger Tits,” he greeted loudly, not bothering to turn around as he took another sip of his coffee.

Soonyoung groaned again and rolled off the couch, hitting the ground with a thud. “I’m hungry,” he mumbled as he pushed himself up into a seated position.

“I’m making food. There’s coffee,” Jun replied simply, holding back his laughter. “Have a good time last night?”

Soonyoung ignored the question as he stood and padded into the kitchen. He stopped when he saw Wonwoo and turned to stare at him.

Wonwoo blinked at him, his mug lifted halfway to his mouth. “Can I help you?”

“Did I hear right when Jihoon asked if you were making out with your ex?”

Wonwoo nearly choked as Jun whipped around at Soonyoung’s words. “You did what?!” he demanded. “How drunk were you?”

“I didn’t–” Wonwoo stopped and sighed, running a hand over his face. “I wasn’t that drunk… maybe. And I wasn’t making out with my ex. Jihoon doesn’t know what he saw, and should probably learn to keep his mouth shut,” he muttered into his coffee, praying neither one would catch on to the lie.

Soonyoung studied Wonwoo for a moment and shrugged, before pouring himself some coffee. “If you say so. I did always like her though,” he replied as he shuffled back out to the living room. “She made this place smell better,” he added, receiving a hum of agreement from Jun.

Silence fell over the three men, before Soonyoung broke it a few moments later. “Did you call me Tiger Tits?” he asked, causing Jun to laugh loudly into the pot on the stove.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You did what?!” your best friend nearly shouted at you over the phone, causing you to wince and hold the phone further from your ear.

You had just woken up to a barrage of texts and calls to make sure you were okay. After scurrying away from Wonwoo and Jihoon, with what felt like your tail between your legs, you had gotten an uber back to your parents’ house. And now you were laying in your childhood bedroom, nursing a hangover and regret, while your best friend fired a million questions at you.

“Fuck, Min-Hee. Shut up for a second. You’re not making my headache any better,” you mumbled, tugging a pillow over your eyes. You groan and close your eyes as Min-Hee apologized through her demands, resisting the urge to toss your phone to the floor.

“Tell me everything! What happened after you left us?” she asked, finally allowing enough time for you to speak.

You let out a long breath, though it sounded more like a groan, and shook your head. “I don’t know. One minute we’re at each other's throats, arguing over god knows what… and the next, he’s got me up against a mausoleum, with his hand going up my dress.”

A squeal left Min-Hee, and you winced at the sound. “Holy shit. So, are you two back together? Did you hook up? What happened?” she rattled off.

“No, we aren’t back together. No, we didn’t hook up, thank god. I don’t want to get back together with him,” you answered, though part of you felt like it was a lie. You quickly smothered that part, not wanting to let it take hold in your head. “Jihoon found us, and we stopped. I didn’t stick around after that.”

She huffed into the phone at the information, and started mumbling. “If Jihoon knows, then Soonyoung definitely knows. So, it only stands to reason that the rest of the guys will know, and then our friends are going to know.” She paused and let out a snort. “Well, if you wanted to keep it a secret, no chance of that now.”

You let out another groan and kick your legs a little under the blanket. “Great. Just what I need. Why are all of you still friends anyway? It’s made it that much harder to avoid him,” you grumble as you push the pillow off your face.

“Well, we didn’t break up with Wonwoo, you did. Though, none of us know why. You two were practically perfect for each other,” she muttered under her breath. “Besides, his friends are cool. And hot. I’m still hoping I can get Soonyoung into my pants.”

You rolled your eyes as she spoke, though you were fighting a small grin. “I’m sure you can. But Wonwoo and I were not perfect for each other. We fought a lot, and it always seemed to get ugly.”

Min-Hee huffed again, and you can practically hear her eyes roll into the back of your head from your bedroom. “You should have asked for Soonyoung in the divorce. Then maybe I wouldn’t have to work so hard to get him naked,” she whined.

“You know, when you finally sleep with him, you may end up super disappointed. What if he isn’t that good in bed? Or worse, he’s a furry?” you teased with a laugh.

“First of all, I’m really glad to know you think I have a chance. Second, you’ve seen him move his hips. There’s no way he’s bad at sex. Finally, I can totally overlook him being a furry. He’s fucking hot.”

#wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #wonwoo x afab reader #wonwoo x reader #seventeen fic #wonwoo fic #svt fic #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic #wonwoo fanfic #present hauntings

[poisonheadcrabsalesman]

Tease

A comm for @fablepatron - A fun idea that spawned from a goofy conversation, and well, I always commit to the bit.

-

Routine offered a sense of security and order when life kept finding ways to stay interesting. When your day-to-day life had no peace, you had to carve out the space to hide it. You had to find the good ones among your allies, who had your back and made you smile. Drinks after missions gone south became just drinks and chatting became a weekly thing - unnamed for their own sanity.

Sure there were the faces made at each other when no one else was looking, the runs through the atrium that were less than professional, and then knowing where to find the other when shit went south. Lasky could find her in War Games and Palmer could find him somewhere you could see the stars. Lasky knew about the hole she had punched in the wall of her room and Palmer knew where he went when the nice guy schtick was slipping. They were Infinity Command, control was not something they could afford to lose. Appearances were everything in the UNSC.

But somewhere along the way, when Commander Palmer and Commander Lasky were suffering together under Del Rio, Palmer became Sarah and Lasky became Tom. And then Tom became Captain and things got complicated for all of 5 seconds. And then Roland came into the picture.

Loud, bright, and just enough of a nuisance to make even the most seasoned sailors smile.

And then the unnamed weekly thing looked a little more like date night with the usual levels of snipping about who’s turn it was to choose.

-

Sarah swaggers into the Captain's ready room, squeezes behind his desk, and finishes raiding his minifridge before Tom even passes the threshold. He keys the door shut, turning to chide her with his mouth already stretching into a smile.

"I thought you said you were going to wait up?" He asks as he watches her crack open a beer and sit in what was technically his chair.

"I thought you were going to walk faster." She replies, tilting her head and raising her drink in mock cheers. It would be more effective if the can wasn't comically small in her hand. Sarah had an almost dainty grasp on it, a word that was not often applied to the Spartan Commander.

He rolls his eyes and waves her off, sidestepping around her to get to his stash. Grabbing his own beer and the chair on the other side of his desk, Tom gets comfortable next to her.

“So, what do you think he has planned?” Sarah asks after a moment.

“I find it best not to guess. I don’t like giving him ideas.” Tom answers, head rolling against the back of the chair to look at her.

“You don’t like encouraging him.”

“I encourage him plenty, he’s always making suggestions. It’s just when he starts getting creative that I worry.”

Their conversation tapers off as the lights lower on their own. The room darkens to a comfortable level with a single spot illuminating the holodisk where Roland usually appears. Instead, there's golden stage curtains that billow with movement.

"He does love to show off." Sarah mutters into her beer.

Tom looks at her and mouths “creative” before knocking back his own drink.

Music swells from the speakers on the desk and walls before settling at a comfortable volume. Brassy jazz streams in with sax and piano in the forefront.

Tom and Sarah share a glance as they fight outwardly reacting too much. Eyebrows furrowing in unison, they both eye the display with some trepidation, waiting for the next surprise. Tom takes another sip and then crosses his arms, side-eyeing his partner for her reaction. Even Sarah’s discipline can’t keep her from smiling just a smidge. The corners of her mouth tugging upwards as she attempts to hide it behind her drink.

Tom leans over and whispers “Do you think he’ll want us to clap?” which further destroys her resolve. She snorts and lightly smacks his arm.

They watch as tension builds. Fond amusement on their faces while making comments under their breath to each other.

"Why did he choose music as well? I feel like I'm in a period piece."

"He's having fun and showing off, let him preen."

“And let his ego get bigger?”

A quiet snort sounds in response. 

They quiet as the curtains pull back to reveal a stage, a chair, and the man of the hour.

Roland’s facing away from them as the curtains part. He turns and looks over one shoulder that sways with the music. Tom narrowly avoids spitting out his beer and Sarah wolf-whistles as Roland turns and starts undoing his scarf. He throws one leg up on the chair as he unties the scarf, smug face on display to his captive audience. The fabric comes undone under his confident motions and a sliver of skin is now on display.

Tom swallows hard and coughs while Sarah grins as Roland performs. He’s bright with emotion and more than amused that he’s got their undivided attention. Gleeful, he looks them over and then refocuses on his performance. Roland tugs the ends of the scarf one at a time, shimmying the fabric back and forth from its place along his neck as he raises his chin to show off. Roland steps off the chair and turns, pulling the scarf all the way off with his right hand as he faces away. The fabric billows in a fake wind and falls limp from his hand. He is still very much covered by the harness and jacket of the flight gear.

"I want to see him make taking the parachute harness off sexy." Tom mumbles into his drink.

"Well, I want to see how many shirts he has on.” Sarah says, throwing an arm around Tom as Roland continues whatever the hell routine he had conjured up. She had to admit the stage was a nice touch, but not out loud where anyone could hear it though. Wouldn’t want to be too encouraging.

The scarf is laid on the chair and Roland starts shimmying out of the parachute harness slowly. He turns so they don’t see him fiddle with the buckle on the front of his gear, but they watch as he slides a strap off one shoulder with a wink. The other follows as he moves slowly. He sways with the music, horns and drums driving the beat on.

Again, he looks coquettishly over his shoulder, batting his eyes to the amusement of his audience. Tom’s face is screwed up like he isn’t sure if he’s going to laugh or cry. Roland turns as the music swells, hands holding the straps tight against his flight suit while he spins. Graceful, even in the boots and bulky flight uniform of a WWII pilot. He holds the gear like a dancer would hold her skirts and sashays a little before stepping out of the harness and draping it on the chair with the scarf.

“If he starts doing a fan dance I’m leaving.” 

“I want to know what he’s rendered under there. Maybe inspired by the nose art?”

“Let’s not bring that back up.”

The music swells, brassy horns punctuate his latest move to face the audience as piano keys accentuate the crescendo. Roland hasn’t made a move to remove his cap, and he still doesn’t. Instead, steady fingers find the zipper to his jacket and he unzips it slowly while the drums keep time. His opposite hand holds the clothing tight so nothing shows. He shimmies his shoulders in time with the music.

The stage lights change, beams of gold turn and focus as the mood changes and a sultry jazz piece starts. A muted trombone sets the scene while female vocals come in with an upbeat tempo.

Tom and Sarah hear the lyrics mention “burlesque” and their eyebrows climb higher in tandem.

Roland grins and poses. He spreads his stance out and meets the chorus with a flourish as he whips his jacket open and catches it on his upper arms while he dances. There’s another couple of layers under the jacket now visible. Something that looks like an inflatable life vest and a long sleeve heated flight-suit.

“Take it off! Take it off!” The vocals cry over the speakers. Sarah barks a laugh, drink forgotten while Tom coughs into his fist as the music picks up. He had thought it was safe to drink. Roland grins and shimmies the heavy leather jacket down as the song continues. He gets it around his wrists and flicks it around. It rests heavy on the chair on top of his scarf and harness.

Tom finally clears his throat and recovers from the surprise. Sarah is busy clapping, but she slaps him on the back and pulls him upright when he falls forward again.

“You both are killing me.” He says, wheezing slightly.

“Don’t be a baby, and sit up, or you might miss something.”

“Yeah, like another jacket.” 

With that comment, Tom sits up in time to see a small yellow life jacket go sailing off the stage at him and disappear in a sparkle of hardlight before it reaches his face.

Sarah snorts at the face Tom makes and the way Roland grins as the horns start up again. He sits dramatically on the chair, kicking a foot up and throwing off a boot. The other one follows over this shoulder. Then Roland does a little flamboyant twirl and shimmies out of the pants of the coveralls, throwing a wink at his audience as the bulky layer slides off and is added to the pile on the chair. It’s the least amount of clothes they’ve seen him in, and there’s another pair of pants under his pants.

“I might get another drink at this rate.” 

Roland sticks his tongue out at the comment and sits back down on the nearly covered chair. The bulk of the gear accentuates the slow revealing of his “actual” outline as he unplugs the heated flying shoes from the undersuit. The shoes join his boots in the pile, and Tom and Sarah are treated to a glance of socked foot and ankle as Roland pulls up the pant leg a bit and then does a little kick to stand. 

“Take it off, Take it off! You can yell like the rest!” 

The song plays on and Roland beams. He shimmies to the music, peeling off another layer. The heated suit that was covered by the flight coveralls comes off as the Andrew Sisters croon and cry. 

“Take her out when it's over, she's a peach when she's dressed.”

Tom and Sarah remain silent, enraptured by the scene in front of them. No whispered comments come as Roland teases and turns. He starts shucking another layer off, but pauses as he realizes he’s got their complete attention. 

“But she stops and always just in time, time, time.”

The song plays on but the energy has changed. There’s a new look in his eye as he slows his movements. The music shifts and Roland grins as brassy jazz floods the room from the speakers, piano keys tinkling and slowing things down to something more…intimate.

There’s nothing left but the long underwear and whatever he has underneath it. Roland sits and hikes up a leg, showing off a sock and garter combination with a waggle of his eyebrows. Tom chuckles and Sarah whistles as they watch what is probably the end of the show. Maybe. The tension is palpable as Roland exercises a patience he is most certainly not known for.

The chair, once bare, is now comically covered in all his previous layers. A veritable mountain of gear in the shape of a seat that hides his movements from his audience and makes them wait for a peek. The socks, garters, and long pants come off. The pile grows and then a look. Long golden legs on display, the soft flesh of his thighs barely exposed from the other side of his seat. It looks as if he’s not wearing anything – save for the pilot cap, of course.

His audience is enthralled. Drinks forgotten, Tom and Sarah watch with wide eyes. Roland fixes them with a look one might describe as a pout, eyes smoldering. A wry smile disappearing as he peels off the last bit of long underwear with the shirt going over his head. He’s left then – apparently bare – behind the mountain that is the chair. 

He shimmies his bare shoulders and they can make out two thin straps near his throat. Delicate and thin, an amber against his gold. Roland stands gracefully. Tom and Sarah make surprised, choked sounds as the air leaves their lungs. Sarah recovers first with a disbelieving chuckle, but Tom might truly be broken with how oxygen seems to refuse to work with his airways.

Golden skin draped with amber lingerie stretches out in front of them. Garters that hug thighs and sheer mesh that leaves very little to the imagination. A belt accentuating his figure while the top near sparkles with its see-through, shimmering fabric while hiding nothing. All on display over a pilot’s physique, there’s muscle and fat on a frame built for maintaining an aircraft in wartime. Only now it is no longer hidden away under pilot gear and safety features, but wrapped in simulated silk and satin and parading about.  

“So he decided what he wanted under all that gear.” Sarah murmurs and it’s Tom’s turn to elbow her side.

Roland dances with the last swell of the music and then takes a dramatic bow. The stage dims the lights and the curtains close on his performance.

The audience claps. Nothing wrong with a little encouragement. Tom even calls for an encore. Roland pops his head out from between the curtains with a broad smile.

There’s no encore, but Roland does come back out and start redressing. He could just as easily blip the layers back on but he’s committed to the bit. Tom and Sarah both notice the lingerie strap under the long underwear as Roland puts on his kit with efficient movements. Guess he’s keeping it then.

“So why no parachute? You have the rest of the gear, Mr Historically Accurate.” Sarah asks, hands on her hips, head cocked and a smile on her lips.

“Did you want to add another fifteen minutes to the show?” Tom mutters as he tosses their drinks into the trash and shuffles over. He throws an arm around her waist and peers curiously at Roland.

"Personal choice. I made my avatar and it felt right. Besides, it would cover my assets." Roland says the line with a cheeky grin and a wink.

#my writing #comm examples #Roland the AI #Thomas Lasky #Sarah Palmer #palmerolasky #the ouroboros continues

[dogueteeth]

something yet unnamed.

Beck(formerly known as Isa) x Roach (Sidestep x Sidestep)

sfw | A little moment between Beck and Roach(@salem-wilde 's blorbo) before the poly with Tegan is set. | AO3 Link

Available Below the Cut

"Beck."

The sky is so starless. Staring at it doesn't help. Mars seems so bright in the city, but you know how tiny and beautiful it can be in the full weight of a galaxy undisturbed by electricity and smog.

"Beckster."

Maybe you should go back out to the desert some day. It wasn't the most stable time in your life, living out in the wilderness, callusing your feet on stones and eating scorpions and saguaro fruit. But it was peaceful. Cold. And when you looked into the night sky, it was beautiful.

"Beck."

Just like them.

"Becky."

Your nose crinkles at the name, and Roach giggles, bright and amused. The little shit. 

So you rest your head on them in retaliation. Comfort. Letting them know they have your attention. It's better for the both of you than eye contact or a verbal response. You're not used to either. But you're not used to touch, either. You hesitate before your temple lands on their head, heart squeezing uncomfortably and hands prickling with sweat, but Roach doesn't seem to mind. They bask in it. Bathe in the touch after a small hitch in their breath. Is it easier for them than it is for you, to be touched? Or are they just braver about it?

Brave or desperate and you're not sure what either really means because you're raising your arm to let Roach cuddle into your side, your arm wrapped around them like... what? Friends? You're not sure if the word applies to the two of you any more. Not since they kissed you. Not since you kissed them back, and you've been avoiding it, avoiding them, avoiding talking about it. You don't know what it means. Sometimes you don't want to know. That means putting a name to it. Making an enemy known. Could you trust them with that? Talking? Talking never solved anything for you. It just made problems worse. Digging your own grave and putting the dirt on like a pair of pajamas. Forgetting the bells and gravestone.

Touching them is your form of communication, in a sense. The comfortable way of talking. Letting them know that, whatever the hell the weirdness is between you two, you trust them enough to let them touch you.

Trust them enough to close your eyes. Breathe in, feel the world around you as they speak, jaw moving against your shoulder, and you're more aware of them than you ever would have been with just your ears. Aware that they keep their eyes open for you. Keeping an eye on the world while you let yourself expand, let go, relax. Extend yourself into tendrils of thought and awareness poking at the world. Poking at the little pinpricks of thought around you. People passing by the park turned away with a small push because surely there's nicer places than a dark bundle of trees to walk this evening. Ants on the hill, minds too alien and distant to be understood, more pheromone than thought, but still alive and real in a tangible way, speaking to each other in ways you can't understand, speaking... the bug is speaking.

Roach is speaking.

And you want to listen.

"... I just think you two would get along, you know? I think it'd be nice."

"Nice to what?"

"Meet him." They say, pulling away from you to squint a little, and oops. You really should've been paying better attention to them. It just felt too nice. To close your eyes and rest for a bit.

"I'm not good at meeting anybody."

"Neither is he," they say, flashing a quick smile that your eyes hone in on a little too fast. The curl of their lips says they noticed, even as you blink and try to look away quickly. You definitely don't swallow a little as their finger traces the line of your jaw. This is fine. They're just being friendly. Just being Roach. As long as you avoid thinking about the fact they're remembering what it was like to kiss you. As long as you don't think about how you're blushing and remembering how that felt, too. "That's why I think you'll get along." 

"Putting two awkward people together hardly sounds like a good idea." Their fingers are on your lips, teasing, and you can't avoid looking at them anymore. Can't avoid staring them down a bit, daring them to do something about it. Pull away. Draw closer. Back off, pretend it never happened. Kiss you again. Pull you close and tell you to kiss them again. Roach shrugs.

"You're both difficult people," they say with that quirky little smirk. "I think you'll cancel each other out."

"That so?" You whisper, because Roach has inched closer, so close, very close. You can feel the fur lining of their coat tickle your covered collarbones. Their hands are in your coat, pulling you closer, slow. Their breath is on your lips, and you could push them away, stop them. You're small but they're so much smaller than you. That's a rarity. One that would make it easy to brush them off, walk away, and go about your life as if nothing ever happened. 

But you don't.

And their lips are so soft.

A little chapped, but soft, velvety and warm against yours, and you're sure that your lips are much worse. Rough, never enough water. Stiff, unused to kissing and being kissed, awkward, though you suppose they're not much better in that regard either, with the way they forget to turn their head and your noses are squished together for a few, uncomfortable seconds. Breaking away for each other with small, crimped smiles because it's silly, and Roach breaks first but you can't help your small, breathless laugh either. Maybe you're not ready to name it. Whatever this is. But you're not sure you can push it away, either. Can't push Roach away.

"So," you drawl, tilting your head to give them a suitably suspicious look, "who's this mystery guy you really want me to meet?"

"Tegan," they say, all moonlit freckled smile, "his name is Tegan."

#cerrisa beck becerra #roach ryder #fhr #sidestep #fhr sidestep #sidestep/sidestep #fluff writing #oneshot

[andmaybegayer]

Look, I'll be honest, I got very little for you here.

Typically around this time of year I'm either still out wandering some wild place in South Africa or I have just got back home from said wandering and either one of those means I've got like, three or four books that I've just finished and a bunch of albums and probably some kind of photographic shenanigans.

These are not happening right now.

I am currently in an apartment in Prague with some visiting family I've been touring around so it is. Different. In light of this fact we're going to do our:

Last First Monday of the Year 2024-01-01

which is going to be a wrap-up of notable entries from 2023. It's true, I got some notes!

Listening (Music):

There is a clear winner for Most Important Album for me this year and that has to be Titus Andronicus putting out The WIll to Live. I picked up Titus Andronicus a few years ago on a rec from a guy on IRC and after putting The Monitor on loop for days I was so down with it. Unfortunately while the rest of their repertoire is honestly really solid punk, The Monitor is truly next level shit. The Will to Live finally closes that gap. It's so good.

There's a lot of good pull songs from this one but I do adore Baby Crazy which is just a breathless rundown of the core philosophy of the album. Part of what links The Monitor and The Will to Live is a very heavy handed metaphorical through line, The Monitor through American Civil War references and The Will to Live through the convoluted nuclear family analogue.

Truly no one is doing it like Titus Andronicus.

Listening (Podcasts):

Noted originator of the new weeklypost tradition @girlfriendsofthegalaxy was always talking about Friends at the Table and so I was like "Hey her taste is pretty good that's probably better than the median TTRPG podcast" and hey. It was. SO much more than I was expecting.

I started with Partizan which was at the time the current season, and hoo boy. F@TT does many things that handily sidestep a lot of my issues with RPG podcasts. By running tight little game systems with strong narrative focus and leaning more into the storytelling side than actual play (while still allowing rolls and player decisions to completely upend the plot) they get into the action quickly, have strong character driven scenes, and manage to hold my attention.

I will be open and say that the politics of Austin Walker's storytelling are very mixed. A lot of people act like these games are incisive political commentary but they only really hit that occasionally, which I think is good. Leaning into the weirdness of these settings is important, and trying to make them cleave too close to modern problems at all times would weaken them, compared to what they actually do well.

What If Han Solo Was Beyoncé. Remember: You Have Beaten Your Worst Days. Destroy Something Instead Of Understanding It.

Within four episodes of the start of Partizan, one half of the game has seen the death of a minor god and started a false flag operation with consequences that would persist to the end of the season. The game systems in play often outright prevent character death in all but the direst situations, but they replace that with dramatic character change. Clem becomes Obsessed, Valence becomes Righteous, Sovereign Immunity becomes Paranoid.

They are definitely playing "for the camera", if you aren't a fan of heavy allusions to other media as part of storytelling you will not like this, but they work it out well. There's a commitment to interesting storytelling that follows well into the next point, which is:

They are very good at getting into characters motivations. Clementine Kesh is despicable, she is terrible, and she's the central focal point of a huge run of Partizan. Hella Varal of the Hieron series is also a spectacularly character-driven entity, frequently a major driving force of the plot, doing things none of the players would really want to have happen. This also applies to Lem King, to an extent.

After catching up with Partizan I went back and I've been running through the backlog. I am almost caught up to Twilight Mirage, I might step out to listen to the current season since it follows directly from Partizan. I'll see.

Reading:

Without a doubt the big one this year was Terra Ignota. Absolutely lodged in my brain forever.

Terra Ignota is like the flipside of the Culture. The Culture assumes that its members are so far gone from their humanity that their utopian issues are almost incomparable to ours. The Hives are instead a utopian society built on a hard break from modernity that has left them very, very vulnerable to our modern problems. The approach Terra Ignota takes to gender, nationality, and family is set up to argue a very interesting case, not that those things cannot be changed, but that you can't just go cold turkey on them.

(The Gender is particularly forceful. Mycroft's haphazard attempts to reverse-engineer gender for his imagined Reader are so good, they perfectly replicate the internal experience of going to a very very queer environment with a brain that was still ultimately wired by the recent past.)

The actual plot of Terra Ignota is kind of secondary to the spectacle of all these Types Of Guys interacting and exposing their internal processes in a way that is so satisfying. The Hives are unusual in part because there's so few that probably appeal to the readers. I don't think pretty much any of Terra Ignota's expected audience have much interest in the Europeans, Masons, or the Mitsubishi, and while some of them might agree with the Brillists they are given so little screen time that it's hard to say. Really it ends up being the Humanist/Utopian debate at its core, with the Cousins there to balance it. As a result it's impressive that by the end I think most people I've talked to are less sure whether they agree more with the Humanists or the Utopians.

Watching:

Arcane, a one that I don't think I talk about too much, in part because it's so tidy. A perfectly wrapped gift of tragedy! Any story where at almost any point a few characters could just talk it out and resolve all their problems but they don't is *chef's kiss* to me. If you like Othello you will love Arcane is what I'm getting at here.

Arcane is such a gorgeous show, dripping with character, every single scene is so carefully considered. There's an extremely long (in time) close shot of Jayce throwing up over a bridge that I think of all the time.

Arcane is so clear and uncompromising in its presentation of its characters. I've said before that there's actually very little character development among any of the main cast, instead the show builds on bringing very strongly defined characters into conflict and exploring what they do next. This works wonderfully.

And the music! I have probably listened to the Arcane soundtrack a little too much. Basically the only time I went on spotify this year was to look at the Radio channels for songs from the soundtrack.

Playing:

Given that I spent so long playing Breath of the WIld this year you'd think it would be that and you'd be dead wrong. Not that great! It's fine! I like an immersive sim open world game but do you know what I actually do when I feel like I want to play a game just for the pure thrill of it. I go open TItanfall 2.

Titanfall 2 is the ideal first person shooter campaign. It is short and sweet and interesting and manages to keep you sufficiently overpowered without making you feel like it's easy. I played the campaign on Hard at the start of the year and it is the shooter I remember shooters I don't actually like as being.

The reason I play first person shooters is for the fast reaction twitch play. I do not care for long kill times, I do not care for gradually plinking enemies down, I do not want to think about a target for more than 5 seconds. Titanfall is absurdly fast if you play it right, you never stop, you optimize for shooting on the run, and you bounce around the field like a pinball. Delightful.

Titan Combat in the campaign is meh, it's so often just a slog against artificially toughened bosses, or figuring out how to deal with those little AI bots. It's fine. I like being a big robot. Titans are probably better in multiplayer. At some point I will install Northstar so I can try multiplayer lobbies.

Tools and Equipment:

The 3D printer! I have been in the orbit of 3D printing types for ages but now that I have one I can see why its an essential tool for so many electronics types. The ability to just Make The Thing You Need is so powerful. Printed items have their limitations but they all pale in relation to "I hit a button and the exact thing I need appears in 2-12 hours".

So many projects stall out because you need a bracket or an adapter or a flange or a box that you know all the specifications for but that will take two weeks to arrive or has to be ordered in batches of 200 or costs 10× as much as you're willing to pay.

My printer is cheap as shit, the Anycubic Neo cuts as many costs as possible without being actively bad, and it's still a great printer. It can do anything I need well enough that I can carry on with the rest of my life. It has the precision to do slip fit parts and even basic materials have the strength for fairly crucial components.

Like, sure, you can make a lot of these things quickly by hand if you have the parts available, but like, even if somehow all your problems can be solved by cutting a PVC pipe to the right size and shape, do you keep all possible dimensions of PVC pipe in a drawer somewhere? No, you run into a problem that needs 60mm pipe and you only have 50mm pipe and now you gotta go to the hardware store and buy 2m of pipe for a project that needs 0.2m of pipe. It is such a problem-solver to be able to fabricate arbitrary complex shapes from plastic stock.

Making:

The big one. The Penrose Quilt.

This took months for me and my mother to put together, and it came out exactly like we hoped. It's so good, it looks incredible, we put it together by hand with needles and thread and time, I sleep under it every night, it is the ideal item. Few things to build your handsewing confidence like backstitching probably over a hundred meters of seams.

This was a really ambitious project and yet we pulled it off. Absolutely ridiculous.

#Bandcamp #Youtube #last Monday of the week #last first monday of the year

[gatheringbones]

[“You might be thinking that we seem to be talking about people smuggling rather than people trafficking, and that those two things are different. People smuggling is when someone pays a smuggler to get them over a border: in UK law, human trafficking is when someone is transported for the purposes of forced labour or exploitation using force, fraud, or coercion. It’s tempting to think of these as separate things, but there is no bright line between them: they are two iterations of the same system.

Let’s break it down. It is common for people to take on huge debts to smugglers to cross a border. So far, so good: clearly smuggling. But once the journey begins, the person seeking to migrate finds that the debt has grown, or that the work they are expected to undertake upon arrival in order to pay off the debt is different from what was agreed. Suddenly, the situation has spiralled out of control and they find themselves trying to work off the debt, with little hope of ever earning enough to leave. Smuggling becomes trafficking. The discourse of trafficking largely fails to help people in this situation, because it paints them as kidnapped and enchained rather than as trying to migrate. It therefore seeks to ‘rescue’ them by blocking irregular migration routes and sending undocumented people home— often the very last thing trafficked people want. Although they might hate their exploitative workplace, their ideal option would be to stay in their destination country in a different job or with better workplace conditions; an acceptable option would be to stay in the country under the current, shit working conditions, but the very worst option would be to be sent home with their debt still unpaid.

By viewing trafficking as conceptually akin to kidnap, anti-trafficking activists, NGOs, and governments can sidestep broader questions of safe migration. If the trafficked person is brought across borders unwillingly, there is no need to think about the people who will attempt this migration regardless of its illegality or conclude that the way to make people safer is to offer them legal migration routes. People smuggling tends to happen to less vulnerable migrants: those who have the cash to pay a smuggler upfront or have a family or community already settled in the destination country. People trafficking tends to happen to more vulnerable migrants: those who must take on a debt to the smuggler to travel and who have no community connections in their destination country. Both want to travel, however, and this is what anti-trafficking conversations largely obscure with their talk about kidnap and chains.

Our position is that no human being is ‘illegal’. People should have the right to travel and to cross borders, and to live and work where they wish. As we wrote in the introduction, border controls are a relatively new invention – they emerged towards the end of the nineteenth century as part of colonial logics of racial domination and exclusion. (ICE, the brutal American immigration enforcement police, was only created in its modern form in 2003; the previous iteration of it is as recent as the 1930s, an agency called Immigration and Naturalization Services.) The mass migrations of the twenty-first century are driven by human-made catastrophes – climate change, poverty, war – and reproduce the glaring inequalities from which they emerge. Countries in the global north bear hugely disproportionate responsibility for climate change, yet disproportionately close their doors to people fleeing the effects of climate choas, leaving desperate families to sleep under canvas amid snow at the edges of Fortress Europe. As migrant-rights organiser Harsha Walia writes, ‘While history is marked by the hybridity of human societies and the desire for movement, the reality of most of migration today reveals the unequal relations between rich and poor, between North and South, between whiteness and its others.’

A system where everybody could migrate, live, and work legally and in safety would not be a huge, radical departure; it would simply take seriously the reality that people are already migrating and working, and that as a society we should prioritise their safety and rights. Some journalists and policymakers argue that migration brings down wages. However, the current system, wherein undocumented people cannot assert their labour rights and as a result are hugely vulnerable to workplace exploitation, brings down wages by ensuring that there is a group of workers who bosses can underpay or otherwise exploit with impunity. Low wages and workplace exploitation are tackled through worker organising and labour law – not through attempting to limit migration, which produces undocumented workers who have no labour rights.

However, instead of starting from the premise of valuing human life, the countries of the global north enact harsh immigration laws that make it hard for people from global south countries to migrate. You don’t stop people wanting or needing to migrate by making it illegal for them to do so, you just make it more dangerous and difficult, and leave them more vulnerable to exploitation. Punitive laws may dissuade some from making the journey, but they guarantee that everyone who does travel is doing so in the worst possible conditions. Spending billions of dollars on policing borders actively makes this worse, without addressing the reasons people might want to migrate – notably, gross inequality between nations, which in large part is a legacy of colonial – and contemporary – plunder and imperialist violence.”]

molly smith, juno mac, from revolting prostitutes: the fight for sex workers’ rights, 2018

#molly smith #juno mac #history stuff #currently reading