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dreamescapeswriting · 3 years

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Break In The New Year ~ MYG [Request]

WORD COUNT: 5.4K

GENRE: Friends to lovers, New Year’s Eve, Non Idol Au, angst with a fluffy ending

PAIRING: Yoongi x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: Mentions of house being broken into, heartache, and police cells 💕💕

"I would owe you a big favour, we already went through this. You can hold it over me for the rest of my life." You tugged on Yoongi's arm as you walked through the supermarket together, begging for him to do you yet another huge thing for you. Yoongi had been your roommate since you were in college and you both continued to be roommates even after graduating and getting jobs. Moving in together was the best decision either of you had made since you knew each other for such a long time it made sense.

"You already owe me from the last time I did something for you." You rolled your eyes at him before jumping up to reach for the box of corn flakes that were on the top shelf, always on the top shelve. He was talking about how you'd gotten him to go to a family event with you so you wouldn't be the talk of the party and he would be instead.

"Then I'll owe you double, you don't understand Yoongi-" When he reached up for the box for you you stopped talking and thanked him for it placing the box into your trolley.

"They're like the bitches of Eastwick," He finished off what you were going to say since he'd heard the story about your co-workers a billion times from you. It was the truth though, the three of them were evil, whenever they got together you swore they were planning the end of the world.

"I told you that one already?" You laughed nervously while following along behind him to the next aisle, he was pushing the trolley this week since the week before you had an "incident". Which he brought pleasure in bringing up every time you whined about not getting to push it.

"I still stand by the fact that the trolley rolled on its own." You folded your arms over your chest like a child earning a chuckle to come from Yoongi as he raised his eyebrow at you turning to his side as he picked up some toilet roll for the apartment.

"The trolley, which you were pushing, rolled on its own into a rack of wine with you hanging on the back of it and shouting-" Yoongi stopped still as he lifted up his hands into the air and shook them as if he was trying to do jazz hands.

"Whee look at me, so much fun, so much fun!" He mocked in a high pitch voice to which you threw a roll of kitchen roll at his head bouncing off and ending into the trolley.

"I don't sound like that," You pouted at him walking around to the next aisle when you saw someone from work walking towards you, fortunately for you it was one of the nicer females on your office floor. Always trying to be pleasant with you and everyone around her, even she hated the three bitches of Eastwick on your floor. Everyone hated those three though, you didn't even think your boss liked them if you were being honest.

"Y/n? Hi!" You smiled at her walking with Yoongi as he looked at you with an expression of 'who is it?'.

"Hey Dawn, Dawn this is Yoongi. Yoongi this is Dawn from work. She's one of the IT girls." You smiled at Yoongi to let him know that Dawn was friendly and he reached out his hand to shake hers.

"Nice to meet you, Y/n talks so much about you. Roommates in college, roommates again. You must be very close." Dawn was being friendly with Yoongi so he smiled at her and joked about it with her,

"Very close, I'm secretly blackmailing her to stay with me really." He teased as you walked towards the freezer sections to buy food you would both need at the home.

Once you were out of the supermarket Yoongi looked at you,

"I'll go. But you owe me big. Huge." He told you as you began shutting the boot of his car, turning to look at him you smiled at him innocently. All of this was to get him to come along to the New Year's Eve party that your boss was throwing, it was a huge party that would be thrown on your office floor. They did it every year and every year you were alone which was why you were begging Yoongi to go with you this time.

"I don't like when you smile at me like that, y-you look creepy. Stop it." He begged you but you smiled even wider before wrapping your arms around his neck and giggling like a possessed doll as you tried to get him to do this for you.

"Thank you Yoongi!" You yelled gaining the attention of couples in the parking lot who were all giving you weird looks as Yoongi tried to get away from you trying to pull his body away from yours but you kept your grip on him.

"It's a date-" Yoongi told you before cutting himself off, he looked at you as he began to turn a slight pink colour at the thought of taking you out on a real date.

"I'll be your fake date. Dawn told me how the Bitches of Eastwick all slam you for never having one." His words came out in a stutter but you knew what he was trying to say and do for you so you thanked him. Unwrapping your arms from around his neck and smiling at him,

"You're a lifesaver. You have my soul until you decide to use your favours." You promised him, taking the trolley back over to the trolley bay leaving Yoongi to start up the car trying to calm down his brightening cheeks.

"No funny business either, you have to dress nice that night. It's an office party but everyone's going all out." You told him once you were back in the passenger seat beside him, he knew he'd agreed to this but now he was hearing more about it he wished he hadn't.

"It's a New Years Eve party, it's not as if we need to go all out-" He stopped talking when he saw the sad look on your face, he'd always found it hard saying no to you whenever you gave him that look and you knew that. It was like looking into a puppy's eyes whenever they were begging for food and it made him think of Holy back home. He reached out to cover your eyes with one hand,

"Stop playing that to your advantage, it's not fair. I'm not dressing up in a suit just for a party!"

"I'm dressed in a suit for a party." He grumbled a week later when he was standing in the apartment living room in his tux, it was an all-black piece with a black bow tie to match. He brushed his hands down the fabric as he stared at himself in the huge mirror above your fireplace.

"You look great, shut up." You muttered from the bathroom as you applied the finishing touches to your makeup, you wanted to look nice since there was going to be a photographer on-site snapping pictures of everything. It was true though, Yoongi looked sexy...Not that you would ever tell him that to your face you would be too embarrassed to.

"Right, Bitches of Eastwicks, names!?" You called out as you slipped into the pair of silver high-heeled shoes you'd gotten to go with your dress. This was a test to make sure he could perform well tonight as your fake date.

"Blonde one is Flair, Brunette is Mina and then the one with dyed blue hair is Claire?" He looked over at the bathroom door when he heard it open and his mouth almost dropped to the floor upon seeing you. The red dress you were wearing was a high-low one with lace sleeves just off the shoulder and then the rest of the dress was multi-layered with tulle, and a satin lining.

"What? Does it look bad?" You panicked to yourself, looking down as you ran your hands over the fabric but Yoongi shook his head. He hadn't seen you this dressed up since it was your graduation night and even that was just a pair of jeans and a fancy shirt - which you'd stolen from him.

"You look great...S-Seriously, you look...Wow." He was at a loss for words as he continued to look at you, it was just something you'd picked up in a sale shop. It was almost 50% off so you knew it had to be the dress for tonight, you could never afford the real thing in your lifetime or the next.

"Good...T-That's er...That's great." You both turned tried to ignore the awkward tension that was lingering in the air. The thing was you'd had a crush on Yoongi since you were in your first year at college together but he'd never been interested in you that way before. Deciding to go for other girls around you rather than you so you forced those feelings deep down inside of you. Yoongi, in turn, doing the same thing when he thought you didn't like him either.

"I'll drive," He grabbed his keys from the coffee table in the living room and began walking out towards the driveway.

Neither of you had discussed what this fake date evening was going to entail so when you got to the office Yoongi took over everything acting as though he was your boyfriend. He wrapped his arm around your waist while you did your best to ignore the tingling sensation it sent throughout your body. He kissed your cheek whenever someone would look at you both and spin you around as you walked across the dance floor.

"Let's go get a drink," He whispered to you as he made his way through the crowds of people, all of them dressed up just like the two of you were. Some even more extravagant - as if they were taking it as some kind of competition.

"Y/n?! Is that you?!" Yoongi felt your whole body tense up as soon as someone screamed out your name, all eyes working their way onto the two of you as you stood at the drinks table. Taking in a huge deep breath you prepared yourself for the fakest smile you could manage.

"Flair!" You cried out in almost a higher tone than hers, Yoongi's grip on you tightened as he turned you around to face Flair, from what he'd heard he was expecting someone old and mean looking but that wasn't what he was met with. As soon as he turned to look at the blonde mouth fell open, even more so then when he'd seen you at home. The dress you were wearing was on Flair's body only in black and with more beading, on the top half of the dress, she'd clearly had it altered. Your stomach sank upon the sight of her in it, every cell in your body turning against you and telling you that she looked better in it than you ever would.

"Oh look! We're matching," She said condescendingly as she moved closer to you, one of the worst things about Flair was that she faked her niceness. She would act as though she was your best friend, mimicking her digs at the way you dressed or looked as though they were nothing but playful banter between two friends.

"Oh wait, yours isn't the same. It looks like you got yours at a sale," The tag! You'd completely forgotten to take the tag out of the back of the dress and your heart began to thump against your chest at the thought of people seeing it on you and laughing about it but it was too late.

"Ah, my fault. I forgot to remove that for her when I bought it." You looked at Yoongi with tear-filled eyes mentally thanking him for at least trying to save you from embarrassment, everyone around you was starting to giggle and chuckle amongst themselves.

The tag was removed so Flair moved onto something else to dig at you for as she always did with everyone around her,

"Did you do your makeup? I just love this shade of red you have on your lips," Your hand raised to your lips as you tried to hide it from her, whenever she said she loved something it meant she hated it. You'd worked with her long enough to know exactly what she did and didn't mean when it came to things like this.

"You must be her date, Yoongi was it? Dawn told me all about you." Dawn hid behind her own date as Claire and Mina pushed you to stand behind them while they interrogated Yoongi. Who didn't look scared in the least and was smiling bigger than you'd ever seen him smile around you before. It was just like college all over again when he would find other girls to be with.

There was an hour to go until Midnight, Yoongi was walking over to you after spending most of his night with the bitches of Eastwick all of them laughing so loud you could hear them over the music blasting through the speaker beside your head.

"This is great! I can't believe you think Flair hates you. She loves your dress, hair and makeup tonight. She's even going to take you out for breakfast one day next week." You smiled falsely at Yoongi who was feeding into all of her lies, it happened with every guy who came into contact with Flair. At this point, you were starting to think that maybe she was a witch and could put a spell over anyone she wanted to. Deciding you didn't want to put a damper on his night you played along with it,

"Sounds great, is that for me?" You asked as you pointed at the drink in his hand, he stared down at it before shaking his head at you.

"No, I grabbed it for Flair. She's going to give me a tour of the building-"

"I can do that if you want to see it." You told him as you got up on your feet ready to take him wherever it was he wanted to go but a panicked look spread across Yoongi's face.

"No! Flair said she'll do it. She knows the lay of the land better, she's been here a lot longer than you have Y/n." And just like that, he left you alone by the speaker to overthink everything that was running through your head. Did he forget that he was supposed to be pretending to be your date? Did he forget that Flair was one of the few people you hated in this world? Dawn slowly made her way over to you with a drink in her hand holding it out to you in an offering and sign of peace.

"I have a blabbermouth," She whispered as she slid the drink into your hand, you smiled weakly at her shaking your head. Flair, Claire and Mina had their own way of bringing out that side in people though. People always found themselves spilling secrets or gossiping along with them just so they could feel like they were a part of something with them, just like high school when people would try to fit in.

"It's alright, we've all been there." You whispered to her before downing the drink she'd given you and rose to your feet once again wanting to get out of the room for a while. Clear your head and just get some air,

"Going to go to the bathroom." You told her as you began making your way out of the office and towards the ladies on that floor.

30 Seconds to go until midnight and you were still rushing around to try and find Yoongi, Claire and Mina were both with their dates on the dance floor chanting out the numbers of the count down. Someone claimed to have seen Yoongi up on the roof so you were sprinting up the two flights of stairs that lead to the roof exit, you'd just hit the top flight when you heard the chanting of numbers.

"10!" You were starting to breathe heavily as you continued to go up the final flight,

"4!" You whimpered as you pushed the huge door open until to then hear fireworks exploding, for a second you looked up at the night sky to look at them but your whole world came to a crashing halt when your eye went down to see Yoongi kissing Flair. His arms wrapped around her waist as he pulled her closer to him, her arms wrapped around his neck as she let out a small whine. A noise left your throat as you tried not to cry but the tears were already beginning to stream down your cheeks as you turned to leave before either of them could see you up there. You needed to get out of the building before he could question where you were.

"Fuck," You croaked as you made it into the elevator on the floor where the party was, you smashed against the buttons trying to get it to move faster before sinking onto the floor. Drawing your knees in against your chest as you sobbed into them, wanting nothing more than to get home to your apartment and be left alone to cry the night away. There was nothing reasonably for you to be upset or jealous over but Flair knew what she was doing. She'd heard Yoongi was your date and decided to go against it all and kiss him anyway. Then there was Yoongi. Kissing someone you viewed as your enemy, someone he knew you didn't get along with. Your heart was starting to clench every time you thought about them kissing the scene on the roof was something you were never going to be able to erase from your memory no matter how hard you tried to get it out. Tears continued to roll down your cheeks as you reached the bottom floor, couples were making out everywhere you turned so you walked around with your head hanging low.

The walk home from the building wasn't that far so you didn't have to worry about a long journey but you just worried about how dark and late it was. You'd tried to get a cab but since it was New Year's Eve everything was pretty much booked out leaving you to walk home in the dark.

The whole way home you felt as though you were being watched, someone following behind you in the shadows but you put it down to being paranoid over it being a holiday. But something didn't sit right with you, there was a pit in your stomach but not the same kind you'd gotten when seeing Yoongi with Flair this one was different. It was like you knew there was something wrong but you didn't know what it was or had any idea what it could have been so you just picked up the pace of your walk. Trying not to jump every time a firework would go off or a drunken idiot would scream at you from across the road. You did your best to keep your composure as you reached your street.

The nagging feeling inside of you didn't stop when you got to your apartment but that was because when you reached your place the door was ajar.

"For fuck sake Yoongi," You muttered to yourself as you pushed the door all the way open and kicked off your heels. He was always the last one out of the apartment and always forgot to shut it and lock it properly. Putting you both at risk, tonight you didn't have it in you to ring him and tell him how much he fucked up.

"Fucking idiot-" You stopped whispering to yourself as soon as you walked into the living room, it was now clear what the nagging feeling inside of you was. The apartment was completely trashed, it was clear that someone had broken in and was looking for something. The TV was missing, the coffee table and mirror were completely smashed up along with a bunch of other stuff from the kitchen. Taking out your phone you walked through to the kitchen to see if anything had been taken and a bunch of kitchen appliances were missing. The drawers and cupboards open and everything inside smashed against the floor, you tiptoed back to the living room calling the police trying not to step on any of the glass that was on the floor.

"Hi, I need to report a robbery," You spoke into the phone as you worriedly looked around the living room.

"Can I take your name and address, please? Are you alone in the house or is someone still there?" The thought of whoever had done this to your apartment being inside hadn't crossed your mind until now and your anxiety began to pick up. Your heart raced against your chest as you glanced around not knowing if you were alone, surely if someone was in the house they would have made their presence known by now.

"I don't think so, I-I think they left-" There was a floorboard upstairs that creaked so you began to whisper to the lady on the phone telling her the address and name for the house while you tried to make your way out of the apartment without whoever it was that had broken in finding you.

Before you even made it to the front door someone came up behind you and grabbed you causing you to squeal and drop your phone on the floor. The operator began yelling but you couldn't hear what she was saying,

"LET GO OF ME!" You screamed out kicking back as hard as you could but whoever it was had the strongest grip imaginable on you as you tried to fight them off of you but it was useless.

"Fucking bitch!" A low voice growled as they dropped you onto the living room floor into the pile of glass that was below you after you bit their hand that had been covering your mouth.

"HELP!" You screamed out hoping that one of your neighbours would hear your cries and come to your rescue. You began crawling to get out of the way but the voice boomed out,

"Fucking come here!" Their voice was as deep as thunder which was scary enough, they grabbed onto your ankle as you tried to crawl away from them, you screamed as they dragged you along the class and into their grasp before they hit you over the side of your head-turning everything around you into black.

When you finally came to again there was a police officer calling out your name as they helped you up from the floor,

"You're Y/n, you made the police call?" You glanced at the officer and nodded slowly, your head felt as though it was on fire and the entire room was beginning to spin. A medic on-site began cleaning up your head, applying a cold compress to your skin.

"Yeah I made the call," You stared at his name badge and then back up at him. Officer Jimin. He had blonde hair and was writing down something in a small pad. The medic left you alone and went outside of the apartment.

"We found you on the floor, did the person who did this attack you? Did you get a good look at them?" You shook your head, whining out as you did so not wanting to move your head any more than you had to.

"Headache?" You hummed in response to his question and he sighed not wanting to put you through more any stress than you'd already been through.

"Do you have anyone you can call to go and stay with?" The thought of calling your mother terrified you, she'd told you not to move into the city with Yoongi so calling her and telling her the place was broken into wasn't an option. Yoongi was no doubt busy with Flair so you shook your head softly,

"No, my roommate isn't available." You mumbled as you got up from the sofa and looked around the whole place was a mess, you didn't know if you would be allowed to stay here or not.

"Well we're still doing some investigating but I can take you back to the station and have you in police custody for now. It won't go on your record, just somewhere to keep you warm and safe for the night," You didn't have the energy to fight him on it nor did you have anywhere else to go so you agreed to go with him to the police station. Provided you could grab some clothes to change into first.

The next morning Yoongi finally woke up in Flair's apartment with one of the biggest hangovers he'd ever had to nurse back to health but he bolted out of her place and headed for the nearest shop. Grabbing the largest fizzy drink he could find and began walking back to your apartment, all he wanted to do was get into the apartment and have a bubble bath but when he got to the street people were staring down at his apartment.

"Yoongi dear! You're okay?!" He frowned when one of his neighbours, an elderly lady Mrs Park, asked if he was okay. Of course, he was why wouldn't he be?

"I'm fine, I went to a party. What's going on? Where's Y/n?" The small lady began shaking her head as they watched a police car drive down into the driveway. The whole world seemed to slow down as he saw another cop car making his way onto the scene.

"Not sure, I woke up this morning to sirens and police tape, when I asked what happened they just told me to move." Another van passed by them and this time Yoongi could see the words "crime scene investigation" written across the side of it. His heart sank as he began racing towards the tape, dropping his bag onto the floor as he just sprinted ignoring the police yelling at him to stop.

"You can't be in here," An officer said as he looked up from the floor, Yoongi stared down at where he'd been looking to see blood on the floor. Bits of your dress was shredded everywhere,

"W-What happened?! Where's Y/n?!" His voice was cracking and going up in pitch as he stared around for you, you would have called him if something had happened right?

"Relax. Y/n is fine, she's in police custody while we investigate what happened here. You are the roommate that was busy last night?" The way the officer said that he was "busy" annoyed him but he grit his teeth and nodded along with him not wanting to get into trouble with the officer,

"Yeah, I'm Yoongi. Can I see her?" The officer shook his head,

"I need to ask you some questions before I take you down to see her. Where were you last night?" He rolled his eyes, he knew that it was their job to investigate every leady possible but what was the point in questioning Yoongi when he already had an alibi.

As soon as Yoongi walked into the precinct his heart sank and he began to feel heavy with guilt as he realised none of this would have happened if he had been with you like he was supposed to have been. You were sitting at a desk with a female police officer going over everything that had happened the night before, there was a bruise on your lower eye and a huge band-aid on your forehead that looked as though it needed changing since it had blood on it.

"Y/n!?" He yelled out, you glanced up at him and without smiling, you went back to talking to the police officer in front of you ignoring Yoongi as if he wasn't even there right now you didn't want to look in his direction.

"What happened to her?" Yoongi questioned Jimin as he was walked over to a separate desk.

"She walked home alone, found her apartment broken into and the assailant knocked her out after finding her in the house. You're lucky she isn't hurt worse than she is," Jimin grumbled as he began to write down Yoongi's night, taking note of every name he was giving to him. Yoongi did he best to remember exactly what time he got to Flair's apartment and what time he woke up so he could be in the clear.

"Y/n..." You glanced at Yoongi who was now sitting beside you in one of the staff rooms of the precinct.

"How was the party?" You asked him as you looked into the cup of coffee you were drinking, it tasted worse than anything you could imagine at this moment in time but it was the only coffee they had.

"How's your head? Did you see them?" You shook your head at him as you looked down at your hands, trying not to tear up at the thought of whoever it was being in the same house as you and hurting you.

"I should have been with you, I'm sorry." He dragged you into his arms but you didn't fight it. You rested your head against his chest as you sobbed silently into his ribs, listening to the way his heart thumped against his rib cage.

"I never should have left you alone at the party." Thoughts of where he'd been all night began to creep into your mind and you felt yourself getting jealous all over again but you bit down on your tongue as you fought the urge to say something about Flair.

"D-Did you go to Flair's?" You questioned, pulling away from him and getting up from the small sofa to bin the crappy cup of coffee you were drinking.

"Yeah. Nothing happened." He told you quickly, you looked over your shoulder at him.

"Not that it has anything to do with me. You're an adult Yoongi you can do what you want." You turned back in front of you and began looking into the vending machine for something to eat,

"Y/n..." Yoongi breathed out as he got up from the sofa and made his way over to you, his hand was resting on your waist. Tears welled up in your eyes at the thought of him touching Flair the same way the night before.

"We're not a couple Yoongi, it doesn't matter to me who you go home with or who you make out with on the rooftop of my office building." You turned around to face him to continue your rant when his lips were on yours. Finally, after 5 years in college and then another two in your apartment, he was kissing you deeply. Your arms naturally wrapped around his neck pulling yourself closer to him while he smirked against your lips,

"I went back to her apartment to cool down...I'd been drinking a lot since I wanted to kiss you at midnight...I kissed her on the roof because I was too intoxicated to try and find you." It was a dumb excuse he knew that and he could tell by the look on your face that you were thinking the same thing.

"I never should have left you alone...If you give me another chance and let me take you out on a real date. I'll make it up to you." You bit down on your lip as you stared into his eyes,

"I don't know..." You lied, trailing off your voice as you pretended to think about his office. He growled pulling you closer by the arms wrapped around your waist.

"You still owe me favours, this is me cashing them all in to take you out on a date." He whispered to you as he leant down to kiss your lips again.

"After we get the apartment back...A-and get new locks and a security system." You whispered to him as you kissed his nose, he nodded at you. Leaning forward and leaving a gentle kiss on your lips.

"Deal," He whispered against you lips before kissing you deeply once again.

Tagline: @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @fan-ati--c @rjsmochii @kneel-begyourpardon @taestannie @bisexualmess007 @innersooya @sw33tnight @sweeneyblue1 @jin-from-the-block

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starksvixen · 3 years

Text

Part 2 - Two Makes Three

Masterlist

Summary: The Child wasn’t the first time Mando broke a contract to save someone. You were the first, presumed dead thanks to help after he was supposed to capture you. Now, you work under a false name with Mando to pay off your dues. However, as time drags on and he breaks another Guild contract, buried feelings between you two bubble to the surface.

Warnings: More (Y/N) and Mando bickering/sarcasm, some sexual themes, obvious violence

A/N - Sorry for the hiatus! I was having a hard time figuring out what to write about for this chapter. So enjoy the extra long one ahead of you!

-~-

Your and Mando’s latest bounty had gone...awry, to say the least. Little did the two of you expect to have a baby on your hands. You let the 50 year old label deceive you into thinking this was easy. Now you were co - piloting the Razer Crest with a small youngling in your lap. You had to admit, the small green child had begun to grow on you.

“What are you doing you little womp rat?” you whisper softly as you look down at him, receiving a small coo in return.

“(Y/N)...” Mando warns.

“Calm down, metal head. I’m not getting attached, I’m being nice. Look it up sometime,”

A soft breath through the reverberator of the Mandalorian’s helmet is heard in place of his human chuckle. You smirk in return, turning away from your control station to play with the Child.

It had been close to 5 years with Mando, joining him on his bounties. Throughout your time together, you grew closer then some partners might. You trusted each other greatly, watching out for the other every step during a bounty. Sometimes you would watch his six outside of missions, the same being said for the warrior on your behalf. Even though you had never seen his face, never heard his name, you trusted him with your life. You did technically owe your freedom to the ice cold warrior seated to your left.

However, your feelings had quickly changed for him. You couldn’t tell if it was because he was the only guy you had spoken too in depth for a while, or if there was something else attracting you to him. But your feelings almost went to far when the Mudhorn attacked him, threatening his life in the process. You quickly stepped in front of the fallen Mando, only to be saved by the tiny green child with his magic hands.

Mando continually asked why you didn’t listen to him and escape with the bounty. Each time, you refused to respond.

“We’re here,” Mando says as he turns off the main controls to the ship.

Your gut hits the floor as you are forced to place the innocent child in his bassinet, closing the lid. Something about this deal was unbelievably fishy. And you didn’t trust it, the people that wanted the Child, their supposed intentions you weren’t allowed to speak about.

Navigating through the streets of Navarro, the Child’s bassinet in tow, you made your way to the agreed upon rendezvous. Every damn bounty hunter in the vicinity trailed your curvy frame with their hungry eyes. With each wolf whistle and cat call, Mando’s shoulders squared up in their intensity. You assumed it to be protectiveness as that of a sibling, quickly pushing off any thought that it could be jealousy.

You guarded the entrance of the building as Mando disappeared inside with the Child. Keeping your head tilted to the ground so that none of the nearby stormtroopers could see your face. However, through the small space you had given yourself, you could clearly see them, keeping a tight hand on the blaster resting on your hip.

Mando quickly exited the building, payment in hand as you followed him into the crowded city streets. Looking up a bit more now, you looked towards his darkened visor, wishing you could read his facial expressions at the time.

“We did what we had to do,” Mando says, obviously sensing your apprehension.

“Doesn’t mean it was right, Mando,”

He doesn’t respond.

“Meet you back at the ship?” you sigh.

“Yes, ma’am,”

“Stay safe, Mando,”

“You too, Dar’manda,”

With that, you tug your hood further down your head and disappear into the crowd, leaving Mando to his people.

You would never admit it, but you already missed the little squirt. His soft cooing and presence was much like your Mandalorian’s, quiet yet comforting. Now all you do is guard the ship, casually flipping your blade in hand with your ears on patrol for any noise.

A soft hiss followed by the soft clanking of boots against metal alerts you to someone’s return. The blade’s handle sits nicely in your palm as you grip it tightly, listening for any clue to who had arrived.

“(Y/N)!” Mando, yells up to you.

“Yeah?!” you yell back, sighing a soft one in relief at his presence and not someone’s ass you had to kick.

No response.

“For the love of-” you mumble to yourself, getting ready to rise from your seat when the familiar Mandalorian mask peeks it’s way through the hole in the wall.

When Mando is fully on board and turns towards you, he freezes, like he’s stunned to see you’ve taken off your top layers. It was a usual thing for you, but you would quickly get it back on before he ever saw you. Through your embarrassment at him seeing...everything, you put on a confident facade.

“If your jaw is open in that tin can you can shut it,” you smirk.

“I thought I told you to guard the ship,”

“And I did, I just got comfortable while doing it”

You grab your vest that lay nearby and slip it on, slipping it over your breast band with ease.

“What’s the next bounty?” you ask as your green leather jacket slips on with ease.

“Some Prince that escaped his bounty,” he sits in his seat, flipping a few switches that bring the control board to life.

You simply nod, helping him with the pre-flight checklist, flipping switches on your end, when you see something out of the corner of your eye. The kid’s ball in Mando’s hand. He gently twists it back onto the lever, getting ready to push off into flight. Your bottom lip traps itself between your teeth, hoping Mando will change his mind.

And he did.

In the blink of an eye, he turns the ship back off. You follow suit, quickly grabbing onto the army green jacket that lay on the seat behind you.

“Joined the Dark side have we, Mando?” you slip the jacket on with ease, securing the weapons within it’s pockets.

“That’s a horrible joke,” he replies, the soft puffs of air that make it through to be translated alerting you to his chuckles.

“But it made you laugh,”

You had him stumped, making Mando choose silence as he stands and grabs his weapons. As he secures them in place, his visor points towards you.

“Let’s go get the kid,”

Within a matter of minutes, you and Mando were quickly making your way through Nevarro’s streets once again. Gently slipping his hand into yours, he pulls you down a dark alleyway, probably leading to some secret entrance you weren’t aware of. You would be lying if you said you didn’t have goosebumps spreading like wildfire up your arms, that you weren’t squeezing his hand to give you a modicum of comfort. But when you turn the last corner, and peer upon a small trash bin your heart plummets.

The Child’s bassinet lay abandoned in the heaps of garbage.

“C’mon,” a static filled voice fills your ears, his hand squeezing yours as he continues to lead you down the alley.

Mando abandons your hand once you stop at a building with roof top access. Without a word said between you, you stand guard of the building while he formulates a plan of what to do. He knew the place best, you trusted him.

Once he returns, he points you in the direction of a door, a small slot for a camera droid completely covered by not abandoned.

“Think you can work your magic?” he whispers just loud enough for his modulator to translate.

“Looks easy enough,”

You walk over to the door as Mando find a place to hide. Once you place yourself in front of the door, you grab your knife just in case and knock on the door. As the droid comes out to scan you, you quickly rip it off it’s base and walk away with grace but speed.

A couple stormtroopers quickly flood the scene but you were already back in the safety of Mando’s presence as you both maneuvered in the alleys once more. He leads you to a small opening, a blank wall to your right that you knew was his focus. Keeping a steady hand hovered over your blaster, you listen for any disturbances coming your way.

Once the beeping began, Mando gently wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you into his chest as he took cover behind another wall. In a matter of seconds, the wall was blasted open and you were thankful for the orange hues surrounding you to hide your imminent blush.

As he released you from his grip, you readjusted your clothes and you both headed in. The entire way as you searched for the child, you protected each other. He had your back and you had his. And you couldn’t deny, watching him fight like that made you a bit flustered from the distraction.

You fight your way to a lab, blasting the door open to see a weaselly looking doctor and a drone with a needle you didn’t trust. From behind Mando, you lifted your blaster and shot the droid down without a second thought. His helmet turned towards you slightly, and you could tell he was annoyed at how close the shot was to his head. All you could do was offer him a weak smile.

Focusing back on your mission, Mando advanced towards the doctor with his blaster raised as you rushed towards the Child. He was sleeping soundly, god knows what had happened to the little guy. Your heart hurt for him, knowing what it was like to be pushed to your limits and used. Searching the lab, you find a small blanket that you grab quickly. You gently pull him from the machine he was under, wrapping him up to keep him safe and warm.

“What did you do to him?!” you hear Mando yell at the fearful doctor.

“Mando, it doesn’t matter! We got him so let’s go.”

You listened as the man repeated the word ‘please’ like a prayer. Walking over, you gently lay a hand on the outstretched arm of the warrior, giving it a reassuring squeeze to bring him back to you.

Blaster still in hand but arm now relaxed, Mando quickly walks out with you trailing behind, your own blaster at the ready.

You make your way through the base once more, running into more stormtroopers on your way out. The Mandalorian quickly shoots out the lights, gently laying his hand on your lower back to escort you to the cover of shipping boxes that littered the room. As you crouched under them, you looked up at his visor for your next move. A finger to where his lips would be, his hand moving downwards. Stay quiet, stay low. You nod in response.

Without warning, Mando quickly leaves you to protect the sleeping infant in your arms. Peering over the boxes, you watch him quickly shoot down the stormtroopers searching for you in the room. Goddamn, he’s hot when he does that...

“Hey!” a stormtrooper says from behind you.

Quickly, you pull out your knife and stab him in the arm to make him drop his blaster. Before you could do anymore damage, Mando’s spear appears from above you and electrocutes the trooper where he stands.

“You okay?” he asks quickly once the trooper collapsed.

“Yeah, I got distracted by the kid sorry,” you lie.

“It’s fine, let’s just get out of here.”

He holds out a hand which you gratefully take, standing up and continuing to try and escape the maze of a base. As you walk down a hallway, you hear the signature hiss of a door opening behind you. On reflex, you grip your blaster tightly and twist on the heel of your foot. After a few well aimed shots, the stormtrooper falls dead. You hear Mando’s flame thrower cooking another alive. But as you look down, a pair of big brown eyes meets yours drowsy from sleep.

“Shh, it’s okay little one,” you coo.

You run your pointer finger down his small cheek, coaxing him back to sleep as you wait for the sound of collapse from behind you. Once it comes, you quickly turn and resume following Mando.

You’re quickly cornered by some very angry stormtroopers in a larger room. All you can do is hold the Child protectively against your chest, hoping they don’t see your face well beneath your hood. You follow his lead, kneeling to the ground, releasing your weapon.

You knew it wasn’t surrender, rather it was Mando using yet another one of his elaborate weapons to help you escape. For once, you were thankful for all the tricks he had up his sleeve. Quickly returning to your feet, blaster in hand, you make your well deserved escape from the base.

Of course they alerted all the hunters in Navarro. You just wished you had more time to escape. Everyone must have been here to corner you, and you knew your time had come. Gently, you switch the Child into his arms, your free hand dropping to your side.

“(Y/N)...”

“Just get the kid back to the ship, I’ll be right behind you,” you whisper.

Before either of you had the chance, however, you were completely surrounded, Greef Karga at the head of the pack. You zone out for most of their conversation, focusing on how many bounty hunters there were instead and how to kill them. There was no way you could take them all down, not on your own. You become desperate, facing the crowd before you.

“Let us pass!”

“I can’t do that Dar’Manda,”

Looking towards Mando, the nod of his head told you of the long battle ahead. Quickly taking refuge in the speeder, you both take many shots at the hunters before you. A few go down before you crash and your partner is forced to use one of his more...formidable weapons. All of it still wasn’t enough, and you were eventually surrounded by gunfire.

You try to ward them off, give Mando time to think a plan through. But as you peek over the slightest bit to get a better shot, someone else’s wizzes by your face, searing the skin close to your eye. Blood pours down your face as you collapse to the ground, holding your face from the pain.

“Cyar’ika!” you hear Mando exclaim in Mando’a over the gunfire, your brain to fuzzy to process the translation.

All you feel beside you is the Child and above you your masked partner as the shootout continues. Looking to your side and above the lip of the speeder, many more warriors that resemble Mando join the fight. But instead of fighting against you, they were fighting for you.

“Is this them?” you ask, your lips trembling from the pain.

“Yes, (Y/N), they’re Mandalorian. Just like you.”

Besides your Mando, you had never met another of your kind that you could remember. Your brain was in awe, your heart swelled at the thought of belonging.

You shakily sit back up, still protected by Mando above you, and grab your blaster once more. With your one good eye, you fire at the other hunters to aid the Mandalorians in their fight to help you.

“Get out of here! We’ll cover you!” one of the warriors spoke to Mando.

“You’ll have to relocate the Covert!”

“This is the Way.”

Looking down towards you, Mando gave you silent permission to follow suit. With a soft nod towards the heavily armored warrior beside the two of you, you reply:

“This is the Way.”

Mando helps you to your feet as you scoop the Child into your arms. Slipping away from the fight, you quickly run into the Razer Crest with him, your mind racing with all that needed to be done to get the hell out of there.

He quickly disappeared into the cockpit as you turned to close the doors, only to be met with Greef Karga and a blaster.

“Hold it, Dar’Manda.”

You glare at him, something he probably couldn’t see from beneath the one side of your hood that hadn’t been burnt to a fringe. For a moment, you realized it didn’t matter if Karga saw who you were. So Dar’Manda took off the hood, the pain of the cloth tearing from your fresh wound making you grit your teeth. (Y/N) (Y/L/N), the assassin that many bounty hunters sought after looked at him now.

And he knew he was in trouble.

“Leave...don’t make this any harder then it needs to be,” you say, your grip on the Child tightening.

“I can’t just leave, you broke the Code!”

“You see, you’re wrong. That’s Mando you’re talking about. But I...” you wildly gesture, slowly moving your blade concealed from beneath your sleeve closer to your hand. “I never took the Code,”

With the flick of your wrist, you send the knife flying to the control panel, making a gas fill the area quite fast. Backing up quickly to make your way to Mando, you bump into his metal frame. With his arm raised in the air, he shoots Karga off the ship and quickly closes the door.

“Let’s the get the hell out of here,” you sigh, climbing into the cockpit, settling into your co - pilot chair with the still sleeping Child in your arms.

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sanstropfremir · 3 years

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episode 9 baby!!! dear lord that was a lot!!

frankly, i'm still in shock that i full on manifested an opera stage, AND it was a rock opera stage at that! plus i got a jazz stage AND a taemin stage??? if they’re pulling out all my favourites now then what on earth are they gonna do in the finale??? this was a very overwhelming crop of stages, i thought i was going to be prepared, but oh no i was not prepared. i'm just going to get right into it because this one is gonna be long and i have many words. i'll discuss in airing order first, and then put my personal rankings for this round at the end.

btob

costume

changsub, you absolute king. spectacular. stunning. incredible. zoot suit riot playing in my brain on repeat. will i finally get the zoot suit revival of my fucking dreams instead of this current drab ill-fitting suit trend? for those who are wondering why in the fuck changsub is dressed like that and what on earth i’m talking about, the specific cut of suit that he’s wearing is called a zoot suit, which were popular in mexican, black and italian american communities in the 30s and 40s, until they were outlawed by the united states war production board as a fabric rationing method as part of the war effort in 1942. there was a huge amount of mob violence surrrounding the wearing of them (there were actual zoot suit riots) as they were direct counter culture fashion to the predominant drab trends of white americans at the time. i'm actually very impressed they got a proper (modernized) cut of zoot suit instead of just putting him in an oversized one; there are actually specific structural differences. the pegged trouser legs, large should pads, and knee length single breasted jacket are key features, and they were often in much more flashy fabrics than a pinstripe, but they get points for effort. i wish they had put all of them in zoot suits but he’s playing the ‘lead’ actor so i will begrudgingly forgive them.

eunkwang those are the stupidest sleeve garters ive ever seen i love them never take them off. they’re like someone decided to repurpose a suspender in the worst way. excellent. i do love that they’ve got three of them in oxford saddle shoes, another great touch.

love the three piece and the fedora* on peniel. it's also in a relatively close period cut; waistcoasts (vests) were generally cut much higher in the neck pre-war, we only start seeing the neckline slide down in the 60s (i think? i don’t remember when exactly). also love to see a proper sleeve and jacket length, it's good practice to have at least a finger’s width of sleeve cuff visible ahead of the jacket sleeve when hanging at rest. also looks like there’s french cuffs on everyone, which is also great.

minhyuk in his slutty lowneck shirt....thank you. in addition to the zoot suit revival i would also like a revival of those ultra low necklines on mens’ shirts from like 2010-2011. i don’t think those are the same boots from the backdoor stage but those are some beautifully cut boots. i also loved the little details of his crewmember look, especially the chunky watch and the string bracelets; those are super realistic, i know so many crew with them and i had several for many years. and who doesn’t love a visible button fly?

none of any of the other costumes are period in any way shape or form but i’m forgiving it because there’s several layers of meta in this stage, and they explicitly based it on la la land, even though we don’t respect la la land in this house. do i wish they had gone more strictly period with at least the jazz club ‘actors’ a little more? absolutely, but i'm not mad about it.

set

again we’ve got a good delineation of the two different ‘stages,’ there’s the club itself in the smaller stage and the soundstage set in the larger space. you can pretty clearly see all the ‘pieces’ of the set on the soundstage, especially the obvious set painting techniques on false prosc frame and the window facade from that first little scene. also the you can see the castors (wheels) on all the setpieces too, which is another nice little versimilitudinous** (triple word score!) touch, as old hollywood movies were made still using theatre stagecraft techniques.

i love how the visual shorthand for ‘this is a set wink wonk’ is just...leaving a ladder on stage. i see it all the time and it's so funny. it doesn’t always make sense because as soon as there’s actors on set the ladders are the first thing cleared because actors cannot be trusted, but yes there are always ladders, so. also psa ladder safety is no joke, please be careful on ladders.

nice streamline of the mnet deco into the club. i’m consistently surprised at how well the designers have been able to mask it or use it to their advantage, because in the normal kingdom stage lighting it is SO obvious and stylistic that it always sticks out.

i'm going to ignore the fact that they implied changsub and miyeon were drinking wine out of martini glasses.

lighting

no complaints, it does its job. everything is visible and super clear. love that the ‘scene’ changes are made through the lighting, it's a really simple and effective device to change atmosphere. purple/blue/amber are the most flattering colours on human skin and that’s why you see it so commonly in stage lighting. also blue/lavendar is the best way to show nighttime/moonlight.

really nice and subtle projection work, especially with the billboard bit and the blue moon sign in the club. despite being obviously meta/’world breaking’ it’s actually very seamless and fits well into the flow of the stage.

sound

i love love love the big band feel in the intro, combined with the piano lead. very duke ellington, as all things should be.

no complaints. i love big band. i love eunkwang’s voice. i have nothing else to say.

staging

i LOVE this movie within a movie within a performance meta nonsense! it's such a fun concept and it is exactly what i wanted ikon’s first round stage to be! i also love to see btob consistently coming up with concepts that are inventive and fun and allow them to showcase their technical performance skills without the aerobics the younger groups are putting themselves through. it provides a really lovely variety and it just goes to show that you can make impressive, dramatic stages without having to be serious or ‘dark.’

i do wish they had leaned into the band director/lead singer with eunkwang a bit more; this could have been a really excellent place for a tap number a la the nicholas brothers or an homage to cab calloway. i know i know this was meant to be la la land themed but la la land is a cheap and whitewashed version of jazz and look me right in the eyes and tell me this isn’t the greatest tap routine of all time. i know i’ve typed this out somewhere before but la la land is just a conglomeration of old hollywood tropes and so stylistically cheap that this would have such a better visual core if they had actually looked back at the real old hollywood musicals like stormy weather. even singing in the rain and an american in paris have such phenomenal visuals and are really beautiful examples of the scope you can pull off with a limited technical capacity and sticking to these old techniques.

now that i'm thinking about it, oh my GOD i would DIE for a lindy hop routine in kpop PLEASE. i know it would never happen because kpop doesn’t like partner dancing and not a single kpop boy has the chops but oh you think fourth gen has too many acrobatics?

this got off track but i think you see my point.

---

ateez

costume

these are really sharply cut suits. and the detail work on the beading??? so beautiful. i'm disappointed that they gave me a rock opera stage without the true ridiculousness of rock opera costuming, because they could have pushed this a lot farther if they really wanted. a tragic lack of gay little outfits, seonghwa’s lace choker is just not enough! two favourite suits: hongjoong’s and yunho’s.

that being said i do actually really like these. this stage is actually very modern opera with a kpop twist and i'm a little surprised by that? i continue to be impressed by the ateez team who are clearly doing their research.

i'm absolutely not going back through their stages to check all the choreography but i wonder if you can track all the ‘wound’ placements to places they’ve been ‘hit.’ i wouldn’t put it past them to have put that thought in but also i’m not expecting that much either.

who is this white grim reaper bdsm executioner chain arm man. where did he come from. i have no idea and i love it.

why is honjoong blindfolded. it was such a fast beat, if youre gonna blindfold someone give it a little longer and some more obvious narrative weight!

seonghwa does that quickchange, runs across that massive stage to the smaller set, and gets into places in like 45 seconds. it's not the hardest quickchange in the world but still, under a minute is fast for any quickchange, especially when there’s travel time involved. i think the fastest, most complex quickchange i ever did was in university which was a 50s cocktail dress into a flannel and culottes with a shoe, hair, and jewelry change in 35 seconds. and that took three dressers. quickchanges are always impressive. the added bonus of this review being later is that i can specifically reference that you can see him book it the fuck off stage in the full cam!

cute moment with the backup dancers dressed in costumes from the previous stages. i'm assuming this is a time travel reference? i'll get more into my thoughts on this in the staging section. regardless, love to see that iconic seonghwa moment again.

set

this is such a restricted space! they really pared down their dancing space with those staircases and ....arms? honestly i have NO clue what these are supposed to be. the only thing i can maybe think of is flying buttresses??? but why?? i mean, i'm 90% sure theyre just there for drama and i agree but i do still have questions.

there’s a lot of moving parts in this set? the buttresses, and the upstage centre staircase. i don’t think the staircase is totally automated because i spotted some dancers securing it in place, but it’s still a moving part. i do really like that we get that expanding upwards energy, because it's really tough to get functional level movement in this kind of a performance, mostly because of its length and because it moves so quickly. so seeing the downward vertical movement and then the upward movement was actually a really nice visual contrast that made use of how tall those fucking ceilings are, and the fact that they had less horizontal space. in sort of similar way to sf9’s jealousy stage, using long, narrow vertical lines really makes it feel like a castle space. the interiors of castles, especially the really old ones, are a lot smaller than you think they would be.

i’ve actually seen that type of small house/tent/thing several times in various types of performances before, but i think this is the first time i’ve seen it used as a time travel device (other than in the say my name mv). aesthetically it's a bit incongruent but i dont really mind because i'm used to watching rock operas that look a lot weirder than this.

lighting

there is so much happening. i have NO clue what the projections are doing. i dont hate it though, so that’s a plus? there’s a clear-ish colour arc even if it does get a bit funky in the middle, which is why the projections dont feel as insanely distracting as some of the other stages we’ve seen.

the climax is a perfect example of how to light a busy stage with primarily red but still maintain clarity on the performers. a little bit of red goes a long way; the spark stage from last week would have looked so much better if they had done what the ateez designers did here.

sound

i know it's only ode to joy, but answer already gets my motor running and then i get so gassed by the guitars and then by the time those vocals come in i'm inconsolable. i don’t know why i wasn’t expecting a rock opera stage but i'm so glad i got that surprise because i genuinely love rock operas so much. it's two of the most dramatic genres in music, what more could you possibly want?

staging

the choreo for answer is so goofy that I'm kinda glad this was mostly terrible mnet boom shots. i love it, but you can't deny that it's goofy. i spotted a couple of moves from their other choreos as well?

choreographing dance fights is just as difficult as choreographing real fights and i think they did a fairly good job here. i think it was a solid mix of dance and conflict that erred on the side of dramatic rather than accurate and i prefer that over trying to be ‘realistic.’ i’ve only ever seen one truly realistic fight scene on stage and that was for a deeply naturalist play (boring and a waste of the medium), but the best fight scene i’ve ever seen was in the prague national ballet’s adaptation of kafka’s the trial where three ballet dancers beat the absolute snot out of the main character with the most beautiful leg extensions. that whole show was probably one of the best pieces of dance i’ve ever seen, holy fuck it was so good.

despite how insane the music and the visuals were going, i actually really liked how sedate this was, on the part of ateez’s performance. there was a really sophisticated and resigned energy from them that is very different from what we’ve previously seen and i think that was a pretty admirable risk to take. reaching the top and then throwing away the crown? especially in a competition where every other stage has involved stealing crowns or royalty and there’s a group competing that got here through that very concept? that shows a real maturity, peace of mind, and foresight that i did not at all expect from a bunch of 22 year olds.

here we come to a very interesting comparison. both ateez and tbz are very heavily leaning on previously established group lore. we all know my thoughts on why it isn’t working for tbz, but here’s why i think it is working for ateez: it's because it doesn’t matter to the audience’s understanding of the stage. i had absolutely no fucking clue what was going on the first time i watched this, but that didn’t stop me from enjoying the music and all the weird shit they were doing. i totally believed that they understood what was going on. there’s a loose enough established conflict right at the beginning that draws us in, and really it doesn’t matter who they're fighting because they win in the end. the key here is that they’re so earnest. they believe 100% in every move they make on that stage. there’s no winks to camera, there’s not a drop of irony. they really deeply care about the ridiculousness of it all and that’s what makes it work. i sure as fuck dont know what’s going on, but i can see that they do, and i trust that. this is what i meant when i talked about convincing the audience you belong on stage in my stage presence post. i’ve never once believed that juyeon was anything other than an idol. he’s talented and very beautiful and he may occasionally stand on that stage like he owns it but it's always as juyeon. as an idol. but when hongjoong flaps around in that gigantic fur coat i 100% believe he’s a pirate captain. I believe he’s a punk rebel leader. i believe him a resigned king. there’s always a level of irony you have to fight as a performer because we all start from a place of disbelief. acting is not just lying to the audience, it's lying to yourself too. and if you succeed in convincing yourself? well, you’re already halfway to convincing us.

i checked it out because i wanted to see if they did the blindfold how i expected them to and was genuinely surprised by hongjoong’s fancam. the boy is EMOTING even when he knew the camera wasn’t on him; that’s a real dedication to craft.

ok i'm finished talking about this stage, this is over two pages in my document, there’s so many things i have not covered here but that’s fine, i'm quite sure any further thoughts will end up out there at some point.

---

sf9

costume

let’s get it out of the way......crop top. crop top? crop top. crop top.

ok, besides the crop top, i think i might actually like the backup dancer outfits more...? i find mannequin adjacent looks really fascinating and i thought there was a lot more they could have done here in connecting the two thematically. i actually think a change of costume on the boys would have been very interesting, especially because there was a lot of inference and direct reference to changes of colour.

ALL the backup dancers are wearing the same wig and i LOVE that.

special mention zuho’s.....jacket? the right idea but it absolutely should have been one of those extreme french cut bodysuits, you COWARDS. don’t come at me with this ‘male version of venus’ if you don’t have your whole torso out! come on!

set

not sure if this is meant to be a department store, a factory, or a white cube gallery. honestly you could make the case that they’re all the same place anyways. more on this later.

i loved the movator and wish they had used it more! that sequence was so good and they could have done some more interesting repetition sequences to further highlight the ‘sameness’/the breaking of that sameness.

i feel like the set could have been used more as a whole? i would have loved to see some mannequin interactions with those boxes, because all they did was dump colour everywhere.

....why did they feel the need to include the rain bit? i know it's likely because it's in the mv and at the 2018 dream concert taemin does perform move in the rain, but with the standing still and the box walls with the words it just looks like a department store ad. which i...dont think is what they were intending?

lighting

nothing really to say here. it has a similar feel to the mayfly rap stage, which is fine because the lighting for that was good. i could tell what was going on all the time and that’s the most important part. notable standouts are the lips sequence, that's fun use of pop iconography and very effective, and the scanning lasers at the beginning.

the repeating sequence in the edm dance break is actually done pretty simply, it's just what happens when you point a camera that’s livestreaming to a monitor directly at that monitor. it's a very cool effect and it was neat to see it used intentionally, especially with the handheld leds.

actually i also really liked the lightbox tables, those were cool.

sound

the remix was fine for the most part, it was about what i expected it to sound like. i did however greatly dislike that unnecessary edm break in the middle. what was the point of that? it didn’t add anything to the overall sound or arc of the stage because it was SO out of place. there was no connective tissue around it.

oh i was also not a fan of the effect on zuho’s mic. no one else had a discernible vocal effect so it felt a little out of place. also for some reason his cadence and tone right at the end made me think of some of the voices that bo burnam uses for his vocal masque sketches/songs, especially repeat stuff, weirdly? took me right the fuck out of it. i listened to it again after i slept and i’m still getting it, so maybe i’m just going insane so best ignore this part.

staging

loved the mannequin tree, not a clue why it was there.

do actually think this is a successful cover because it does what i was hoping it would, which is take move completely out of the taemin context and put it into an entirely new one. however, i’m really struggling to figure out what exactly that new context is? and what theyre trying to say with it?

obviously they went for a ‘show your own colours/individuality’ vibe, like i said in the set section, where exactly is this supposed to be? from the start i get factory/mechanized environment, which is fine and grand because mannequins and making repetitive motions and products and all that, makes sense. but then there’s stacked shelving type units happening and curtains and that combined with the mannequins give me pretty big department store vibes, which is also fine, because that’s still a comment on commercialization and the mass production of product. but then we get to the movator and the repetitive movements of the dancers say pretty clearly factory, but the lighting and projections are very pop art referential, plus combining that with the white set, just makes me think of an art gallery. so now is this a comment on the commercialization and commidification of contemporary art? are they making a statement about being ‘real’ artists among the others who have lost the critical understanding of why pop art was even a thing in the first place? and then the rain bit at the end literally looks like a department store ad, so are they then making another statement that they still are that packaged product? maybe the episode has more clarity in it but i’m genuinely a bit baffled by what the underlying statement is here.

i suspect it is not as deep as i'm making it, but i did say that i was likely to be hyper critical of this stage AND i am a grad student, so here we are.

---

tbz

costume

ok of all the ‘fourth gen’ style costumes we’ve seen, i actually like these ones more than most. i'm not entirely clear on the theme but i'm assuming it's meant to be post apocalyptic, and i'll take that.

backup dancers in black!!! we’re beyond this!!!

this will be a running theme with this stage, but i’m disappointed these don’t have more depth.

set

compared to every other stage, the set here seems especially plain. there’s so little set dec that it's disappointing. i do like the movement of the pieces themselves combined with the blocking; that first slide underneath the arches was slick and i would have liked to have seen more of that.

yea ok the big snake was cool and also a fairly complex build, but the transitions around it were a bit awkward for my tastes. especially the turn around, why did they even show that at all? you have control over what the audience sees, you can totally not show scenic transitions. skz were super smart about hiding theirs in last week’s episode.

also if you have a bigass puppet like that, i wanna see some more movement from it! it doesn’t have to be complex, we literally just saw a kraken balloon arm wave around aimlessly, but at least there was movement! that snake had a long ass body, why didn’t they at least take a pseudo dragon dance movement with it, that would have been such fun to watch with the iridescent scales. there was a lot of opportunity here!

lighting

i don’t hate it but also.... not a lot to say about it on the whole.

there were two really smart ideas here, the first being the front projection section, which i was SO glad to see! i explained in a previous review, but the projections in kingdom are not actually projections per se, because they’re actually massive led screens. there are two common types of projections in performance, rear projection and front projection. rear projection is when the projector is behind the screen, and front projection is ‘normal’ projection. rear projection can produce a crisper image because you have full control of the light values, because the projector is in a separate room from the performance space. but the downsides are that the projector has to be in a separate room from the performance space. so if you’re short on real estate, it's not ideal. front projection is much more common, because the tech is a lot cheaper and easier to access, especially now, and it requires less real estate because you can ceiling mount about the audience (you can move a projector wherever, this is just the most common spot in commercial theatres). but! in order to get an actually crisp image, you have to be really careful with your light bounce. it’s exactly the same principle as how you kinda can't see a projected screen when you have all the lights turned on, but when you turn them off it's a lot clearer. front projection works best in pitch dark, so when you use it in a theatre you gotta be smart about it. i use front projection a lot in my personal art practice as a singular light source, and that’s what tbz did here in that traveling/snake intro sequence. it’s a really fun technique that they used as a good gimmick because it’s not something we’ve seen before, and you get some great shadow effects because the projector is throwing light directionally at the performers (they have it set up close to the floor, it’s probably on a wheeled cart of some kind). however i did not like the snake intro. a bit too cheesy and out of place, especially because the asset quality didn’t match the rest of landscapes that we have been seeing.

the second smart idea, which is partially also a set and blocking thing but whatever, was that final image of the eclipse within the circle architecture with all the members standing in front of it. it was a great shot and a great ending pose, but it felt like a concept photo. like someone had that image as the idea that they then built the stage around, instead of a narrative first and then imagery after.

sound

this remix had SO much promise! those first two minutes were SO GOOD. i love that dirty discordant strings bit, it's gross and right up my alley. but it really fell off in the back half and i'm sad about that.

staging

i'm sorry tbz but.....what did you actually do differently than exo here? with the exception of the continual game of thrones references? nothing here felt transcendentally different from the original monster. and especially coming RIGHT after sf9’s move, which did go beyond its original context. this feels more like an awards show stage cover than a stage at the level of the others we’ve seen just this episode.

again like with the skz stage, there’s no conflict here. no tension. yes they do a great job covering the dance but it just isn’t enough! this is obviously personal preference and i'm sure lots of people liked the fact that it was uncomplicated, but even just a hint of narrative tension could have pushed this into more engaging territory. and if they didn’t want to do that, i would have loved to see them make up for that with extra visual spectacle. this is the no limits round! ikon is putting a full jungle on stage and these are grey cubes!

i think this is a perfect example of what i talked about at the end of my tbz section in my episode four review; this is a good performance, there are good elements at play and good ideas at their genesis, but the core of the issue is that nothing about this is transformative. all of the ideas here are just exaggerations of the original song. fuck, the snake was even IN the mv! and they didn’t even include the best part which is the lip chains! ive said before and i'll say it again; being a good artist has two steps, the first is understanding the material and its context, and the second is elevating the material from that context and synthesizing something new. tbz are really good at the first step, but terrible at the second.

---

ranking

btob - the cleanest and the most fun of the round. everything i wanted.

sf9 - fun and a good cover, despite being conceptually baffling.

ateez - very extra dramatic nonsense with an unexpected dose of sincerity. and it’s rock opera, of course i love it.

skz - fun, with some good thematic devices but generally lacking in arc. also australian accents, that’s an automatic ding.

tbz - honestly the first two minutes of the remix and the costume are holding this above 6th. it just wasn’t fully formed.

ikon - aesthetically this is a great set design and although i do love the opening and closing moments, everything else scrapes me the wrong way. super personal preference here, i’m not expecting anyone else to agree with me.

i feel like my rankings were probably pretty easy to guess if you’ve been around reading the reviews for long enough. i do have very specific tastes after all. i know sf9 ranked first in the episode but i have no idea what the other slots are. i’ll find out when i watch the episode in a couple of days, but i think yea a first for sf9 is fair. i do think its mostly because it’s a taemin song and you have to do something horrendous in order to fuck up a taemin song, but there is a lot of thought and work that went into that stage.

ok i'm done now, sorry this was later than usual, but i was busier and there were four stages that i had to review. also technical difficulties because tumblr is a garbage platform and nothing works properly. comments/questions/opinions always welcome, i know i didn't expand on a couple of points that i could have so hopefully y'all have some thoughts too!

* the type of hat that ~society~ has told you is a fedora is actually a trilby. what peniel is wearing is a real fedora, i felt the need to correct this unjust hat malignment.

** meaning ‘the appearance of being true or real.’ you do sometimes hear it used by normal people, but it’s more commonly used as a descriptor in film and theatre. it’s also one of the five rules of neoclassical theatre, which are: versimilitude, purity of form, five act structure, decorum, and purpose. the most prominent playwrights from that era are moliere and racine if youre interested in what those look like in an actual text.

#kingdom #kingdom review #btob #ateez #stray kids #the boyz #sf9 #tumblr is so broken it would NOT let me save this as a draft #does my constant hyperlinking make you angry tumblr? too bad im gonna keep doing it #i played in a jazz band in school for seven years #which is another indicator as to why i am like this #one of the first songs i remember learning was zoot suit riot #i have very strong memories of yelling RIOT during performances #i will however forever question the logic of our band teacher making us learn a song written by 'the cherry poppin daddies'#christ on a bicycle this is TEN pages #and it took a full eight hours last night and then i did like two hours of editing after i woke up #maybe i should go back to bed #ah i forgot to tag ikon again lmao #ikon #kpop analysis #text #if there are any spelling errrors do not tell me im tired of reading this #im pretty sure this is my longest review so far i decided to hate myself and did a wordcount #its 5.2K you're welcome you better get a snack for this one #i hope this is an interesting read for people ive lost all objectivity at this point #pls enjoy my semi-comprehensible word vomit!

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ironhusband · 3 years

Note

writing kiss meme prompt thing: pleaaseeee no.35 for rhodeytony. plz plz

I love this prompt so much thank you!!!

~~~

35: An awkward kiss given after a first date.

Tony and Rhodey have been friends for two years. Kindred souls in a sea of adults sneering at their age and blinking when astonished by their intelligence, they met as roommates, and found in one another something they found in no one else. They slowly became friends and learned to understand one another, coming to respect and eventually befriend one another. Tony had probably had a crush on the slightly older student since the first time Rhodey bought an extra pack of ramen for him. Rhodey had probably come to realize how infatuated with Tony he was ever since his best friend licked batter off his cheek when they were spending their summer in Rhodey’s childhood home. It has taken them four months before Rhodey, nearly shuffling his feet from his nerves, had asked Tony out on a date.

“Dinner and a movie...” Tony repeated slowly and then snorted, “you’d think you were asking me on a date.”

“Um, yes,” Rhodey answered, holding himself back from taking the opportunity to back down, “I am.”

Tony blinked, clearly surprised by Rhodey’s offer. “Oh. Um. Ok.”

“Is that a yes?” Rhodey asked nervously.

Tony nodded, “uh, yeah. It’s a yes. I mean- yes. Absolutely yes.”

Rhodey grinned, pleased at Tony’s enthusiasm, “okay. Then be ready at about seven-ish.”

“Okay. Yeah, okay.”

~~~

Tony and Rhodey made awkward conversation at their dinner, trying to get their bearings around the idea of dating. Tony and Rhodey usually had a lot to discuss with one another, but every time a banal subject they could have discussed outside of dating had occurred to them, they bit their tongues, trying to find a subject more... romantic. Less of an everyday topic. They both finished eating quickly, finding their mouths to be unoccupied with words, and Tony only spilled his water once. They were both too scared to try anything romantic yet, afraid the awkwardness would deprive them of a future they so desperately wanted.

The movie was easier. Tony and Rhodey both liked making fun of new releases and attempting anything that crossed the line of friendship seemed more comfortable under the cloak of darkness. Tony made a joke about the effects in the movie and when Rhodey slipped his hand into his, Tony hoped his momentary pause went unnoticed. But it was better than the dinner. Rhodey’s hand was warm, Rhodey’s borrowed jacket (they switched between their jackets since Rhodey’s wore lighter layers and Tony somehow got hot in the theater) smelt nice and the snarks they made at the movies turned into flirts that seemed natural but also new.

Tony and Rhodey decided to walk home hand in hand, and as they walked together they slowly orbited closer and closer until they were nearly shoulder to shoulder. Tony decided mid walk to switch the positions of their hand holding and threaded their fingers together. Rhodey smiled at the gesture and brought Tony’s hand to brush against his lips. Tony only rolled his eyes at the gentlemen-y kiss but his cheeks heated.

When they got to their apartment, they paused at the door, unsure of what to do next. They couldn’t very much say goodbye at the door, that would be ridiculous. But...

“I can escort you to your room,” Rhodey teased.

Tony snorted, “why would you be escorting me to my room?”

“Because your room is closer.”

“It’s an equal distance from the door!”

“Wanna bet?”

“Sure, bring the measuring tape!”

Rhodey laughed and Tony’s heart fluttered, “I’m kinda beat. Maybe we should measure tomorrow. For our next date.”

Tony’s stomach did summer salutes at the idea of another date, but he tried to school his expression, “I guess so. For tonight maybe we should probably say our goodnights here.”

“Okay,” Rhodey said and then leaned gave Tony’s hand one more kiss, before letting go, “goodnight, Tony.”

Tony’s heart started beating in his chest, thinking of how he wanted to say his goodnight. He closed his eyes and started counting. 1... Tony leaned forward.... 2... “Goodnight, Rhodey,” he said... and 3... he pressed forward and kissed Rhodey on the lips.

The kiss had only lasted a moment, and their lips didn’t naturally mesh together as Tony imagined they would. Tony had memorized the movement lips made when kissing, but the kiss felt as if he was making it against Rhodey’s lips and not in between them. If he gave time for Rhodey to reciprocate, the kiss would have been better, but Tony pulled away after no longer than three seconds.

When Tony pulled away, Rhodey was staring at him.

Then, Rhodey gave him a smug grin and it was as if they have found their balance. The balance between friends who tease each other and lovers who kiss one another. “Was that your first kiss?”

Tony made a choked noise of disagreement, “uh, of course not! You think of yourself too highly!”

“Oh my god, yes, it was, I am your first kiss. That’s so sweet. I’m Tony Stark’s first kiss!”

“I’m telling you, you are not!”

Rhodey grinned, “you are a terrible liar.”

Tony huffed. There would be no use denying it. Tony was only sixteen. He had always been around people older than him. And he’d been smitten for Rhodey since he was fourteen, making little to no other friends and getting no other crushes. Of course Rhodey was his first kiss. Who else could it be? In a small voice, though, he whispered, “was it that bad?”

Rhodey gave him a sympathetic look, “yes. It was awful.”

Tony looked down. He had wished he was just immediately good at kissing so he could give Rhodey the best kiss of his life on the first try, however unattainable the goal may be. But they were going on another date, though. He had time to do that. ...Right?

“Hey, genius,” Rhodey put a finger under his chin and a hand on his waist, gentle and fond in his words and touches. Tony looked up at his beautiful brown eyes. “Everyone’s first kiss is bad,” Rhodey assured. “Kissing is a skill. Sometimes...” Rhodey pulled him closer, their faces so close their breaths were mingling together, “you just need a good teacher.” Rhodey touched their lips together.

50 types of kisses

#asks #druwrites #ironhusbands #rhodeytony #jame rhodes #tony stark #tonyrhodey #rhfe #james rhodey rhodes #rhodey #iron husbands #ironhusbands fic #rhodeytony fic

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sunset-telepath · 3 years

Text

Why I hate Ro

So, I was asked to explain why I hate Ro. And I’ve been compilating several arguments that I’ve heard and written myself. And I’d like to put a disclaimer here - it’s not because she’s this “sokeefe idol.” It’ just... her character and what she does in support of sokeefe.

Disclaimer: I’m condensing several conversations that I, JaxTheShade, and [Redacted due to them not wanting to be credited] had on the wiki about a month ago. Around 40% of these ideas are mine, 40% are Jax’s, and 20% are [Redacted]’s.

Right off the bat, she’s a misandrist. She quite literally calls boys as stupid as amoeba in Legacy. You can say that that was a joke, but it’s not funny. It’s not okay to blatantly call anyone or generalize any group stupid. It’s not ok. It’s the exact same thing as saying that women belong in the kitchen or that blacks are criminals. It’s not ok. It’s disgusting, despicable, and repugnant behavior.

In the Flashback Short Story, she objectifies Sophie as a prize for Fitz and Keefe to fight over. What the actual f***. That is not acceptable behavior under any circumstances. It’s repugnant, disgusting, detestable, and f****** evil. Treating any person as a prize to fight over is textbook objectification and it is blatantly evil. It is not ok. And it’s disgusting that this narrative has leaked into some of the fanfics that I’ve read. THIS IS NOT ACCEPTABLE UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES. IT IS NOT EXCUSABLE. IT IS EVIL.

She flat out bullies Fitz. She alludes to him being a nasty microbe in Legacy. She ridicules his desire to perfect himself. There is nothing wrong with being or trying to be perfect. Don’t push yourself too hard trying to be perfect, but if you should always strive to be better (and if you’re naturally talented like Fitz is, achieve your dreams. Fulfill your potential. Ignore the haters). She mocks and bullies him, calling him names and ridiculing his desire to be perfect. Newsflash: There’s nothing wrong with trying to be perfect. Who the hell is Ro to decide how perfect someone can be? Who the hell does Ro think she is? As a perfectionist myself, I despise Ro and her adversity to perfection. It’s not her place to decide how perfect a person can be. I admire Fitz simply shrugging her off and not letting her flat-out abuse get to him. It’s the proper way to deal with people like her.

Her entire character can be summed up as a chronic-complainer who ships Sokeefe. Shannon basically turned the Instagram Fandom into a character and made it Keefe’s Bodyguard. She never confesses to making mistakes and she’s never humbled or knocked down a peg. 30% of her dialogue can be attributed to complaining about sparkles or “elf-land,” 20% of it can be attributed to her flat-out bulling Fitz, and 50% of it can be attributed to her pushing Sophie and Keefe together. None of the characters like her. The other bodyguards detest her, Bo wants to kill her, Fitz thinks that she’s awful, Sophie is embarrassed by her, and Keefe wants her to shut her mouth.

She’s blunt, she’s rude, and she’s just awful. She interferes with a relationship that is none of her business. She has no regard for the emotional abuse that she inflicts. Ro and Keefe are very similar, and clash often. Ro always wins, however, either because she’s stronger than him or because she can emotionally manipulate him. (These sound like big claims now, but they’re backed up later)

Ro dismisses Sophie by saying that “blondie doesn’t know what she feels.” And it’s disgusting. She’s objectified by “blondie” - a term focused on Sophie’s appearance rather than by her personality. She’s Sophie Elizabeth Foster, not “blondie.” She dismisses Sophie as naïve and disregards her feelings by saying that Sophie’s doesn’t know what Sophie feels.

~The Following Section was directly quoted from JaxTheShade because he summarized it so well~

Well...no, Ro. She does have an idea of what she feels. In fact, she was ecstatic and perfectly fine with dating and eventually sorting out her issues with Fitz until you started "hinting" about Keefe. Sophie does understand her feelings - and those feelings led her to Fitz. And even if she does have some underlying issue about who she likes (which has admittedly been hinted at), it's up to her to figure it out. Not a brash ogre bodyguard who scoffs at the notion of the Elvin culture and thinks she has a right to intrude in a teenage relationship she isn't apart of.

And Fitz...well, I'm sure Ro doesn't hate him. But she's pretty close to--that's not hard to deduce. Because Ro has ever bothered to pay attention to and sympathize with Keefe ( and yet she still finds a way to neglect his feelings ), she hasn't the slightest inclination of who Fitz is. So, like most people, she decides to consider him "the opposing candidate" in the love triangle and never look past the surface of Fitz, just calling him "Captain Perfect" and thinking that he could never be right for Sophie because he's competing against Keefe.

Sometimes I wish someone, anyone, would call Ro out for amount of sheer insults she layers on Fitz, whether he's there or not. Although most of the time it's done behind his back--what a surprise.

I mean, look at this:

She slyly calls him a 'nasty microbe'. And while some have argued that she wasn't calling Fitz this, she was very clearly expressing her disdain for Sophie's favourite colour being teal--and, by proxy, calls teal things 'nasty'.

“[...] But I thought it was only right to save your imp from being sparkle-fied—and I was going to be nice and turn him your favorite color. But apparently your favorite color is teal—and yeah, yeah, we all know why. But, um, do you realize how many of the nastiest little microbes are that color?” She shuddered. “I couldn’t do that to you—or the little dude. [...]”

Ro also calls him "Captain Perfectpants" and openly admits that Fitz would have problems with all the time Sophie is spending with Keefe. Essentially admitted but disregarding how upset Fitz would be--because who cares about Fitz's feelings when Keefe is having emotional turmoil? And as a little bonus, she also pulls her classic, "I can't take this anymore! I simply have to intervene in this situation of which I'm not apart of!

"Ro snorted. “Of course he would! He’d be super, super jealous!”

“Don’t,” Keefe told her.

“No—I can’t take it anymore!” Ro stalked toward Sophie and tapped her on the nose with a calloused fingertip. “I repeat: Yes, your Captain Perfectpants would be jealous! He scraped together the courage to get all share-y about his feelings, and now you’re ignoring him, and being all mysterious about why, and telling everyone who asks that you’re not dating him. And I’m not saying that’s a bad call. Trust your instincts! Hopefully they’ll lead you out of the oblivion. But in the meantime, count on your teal-eyed Wonderboy feeling a little insecure, particularly if he finds out you’re spending lots of quality time with other dudes. And you know what? That’s good for him. We all know that boy could use a little help in the humility department. So make him sweat a little. And you”—she spun back toward Keefe—“need to stop being so afraid.”

And those are just two instances, of which I can search for plenty more.

Ro is not a good person. She's a rebellious princess who ultimately works for her own gain. She thinks she's got it all figured out with Keefe, and decides that, since he shared his story of liking Sophie, she'll take it upon herself to get them together no matter what.

And I mean 'no matter what'. She has put down Sophie for liking Fitz, interrupted conversations so she can drop hints about Keefe's feelings against his will, and made fun of Sophie for being oblivious--even going to the extent of getting fed up with and blaming Sophie for her oblivion "becoming less and less cute".

She's also tried to actively break up Sophitz and push together Sophie and Keefe. She's insulted Fitz and holds a very hostile disposition towards him simply because he's "perfect boy" who's against the Saint Also Known As Keefe. Ro tries to subtly force Sophie's feelings for Fitz out of her while dropping in some "isn't Hunkyhair so great?". I wouldn't for a second put it past her to succeed in shutting down as many Sophitz moments as possible all so she can continue to ignore the pleas to stop and the embarrassed faces surrounding her.

And her excuse?

"It's the only fun she gets to have here in Elf Land".

She isn't apart of this relationship. She isn't affected by this relationship. She's only seen one side of this relationship, and uses that to base her opinions of the other two. Which is a terrible idea considering that leads to opinions like "Okay, well that other boy is awful because he's the competitor, and that girl must like the boy because the boy likes her, and sometimes she acts shy around him, and that's totally how relationships work".

Ro has absolutely no excuse for the amount of hurt she's inflicted on all three of these teenagers.

And yet she's regarded as a saint amongst all, while people like...say, Alden ( who made mistakes, but ultimately went about it in a calmer, gentler, and more well meaning way--as well as having much more justification and reasoning behind his actions ) are seen as evil and deserving of death. So what's the difference? Is it just because Ro is all for Sokeefe and Alden is really pushing for Sophitz? Have we really sunk low enough to the point where we can adore one character and hate another--despite performing the same actions--simply because of shipping preferences?

Everyone has decided to hate Alden because he showed up to speak with Keefe, ended up getting sidetracked and talking about relationships ( because of Ro, go figure ), sympathized with Keefe and shared meaningful advice from personal identical experiences, and then making sure Keefe knew that he considered him apart of the family.

That was what Alden did. And we have absolutely no reason to believe that Alden was anything but genuine when he stated that he "long considered him part of the family".

And yet Ro is the one who starts ranting about how "he didn't mean it" ( and saying something like that to a teenage boy who never felt loved by his father means a lot--but Ro has to ruin it and say that Alden's words were "a stinking load of garbage" ). Ro is the one whose objectification of the triangle by saying that Keefe being there for his friends is "sabotage" is what sparks Keefe to tell her that Sophie's feelings do matter. Ro is the one who interrupts every conversation by either stating her obnoxious opinion that nobody asked for, or calling a time out so she can bash on Fitz again. Ro is the one who has spent every waking moment since she arrived in the series either making Keefe's desire to be happy for his friends feel invalid, insulting Sophie because she's her own person with her own feelings for someone else, and coming up with every insult under the sun to throw at Fitz. Ro is the one who has no justification for her actions, seeing as she a) is not apart of this triangle, and b) has minimal relationship experience considering both her boyfriends hate her, and one was an arranged marriage.

But...Ro is also the loved and appreciated one.” - JaxTheShade (I’ve been paraphrasing some of the things that he’s said all ready, but I’m directly quoting him for this. His statement is direct and gets to the point)

~End of direct Quote~

I'd like to make one thing clear though - the point of selfishness. There's a stigma to the word that I'd like to clear up, because there are two types of selfishness, rational self-interest, and sacrificing others for yourself.

Fitz is the first type - he has a rational self-interest, he's looking out for himself and his own long-term happiness first. There is nothing wrong with that, if you won't look out for yourself, who will? It's why I completely supported Fitz yelling and breaking up with Sophie - if a relationship is making you unhappy long-term, it is in your best interest to break up with them. It's why Fitz was so adamant about finding Sophie's biological parents, he wanted to avoid future stigma, gossiping, and heckling. Fitz knows how horrible these things are to experience, and so sought to avoid them in the future. This is why Fitz is my favorite character - the others are reactive, Fitz seems to be the only proactive one. (One of the few characters in any literature to be proactive, in fact). While Sophie and the others look at the now and the immediate future, Fitz is concerned with the long-term future, a trait I share with him and one that I rarely see in literature whatsoever, to my vast disappointment.

Ro isn't selfish at all. She's much, much worse - she doesn't meddle in other's affairs for her own happiness, she just does because she can. She has no respect for other's privacy, and throws out insults towards Fitz and Sophie because she just does. She has no motive, impetus, or drive, she just does, and it sickens me.

The second type of selfishness is similar to a bully bullying others because they're miserable and it makes them feel good about themselves. It's horrible and malicious, and I'm not condoning it in any way, but its far more innocent (if bullying can be called innocent) then what Ro does.

Ro is malevolent, she doesn't do it because it makes her feel good, she just does it, with no regard with the relationships and lives she destroys in the process. She's a toxic radioactive waste dump of a person. A toxic waste dump doesn't make people sick and die for their own gain - it just does. That's how Ro is as a person.

Another reason is that she has no regard for what she says or does. She constantly tears Fitz down just because she can (I want Alden to be there next time she tries that. I want Alden to step in and tell her that what she is doing is not okay, because no other character has recognized this so far). I want Alden to be there next time she calls his son a nasty little microbe. I'd like to finally see Ro get some comeuppance for her terrible behavior.

Let's be honest with ourselves - Ro hates Fitz. She hates and complains and whines about how perfect he is. Since when has perfection been a crime? Since when is it up to her to decide the maximum amount of talent a person can have? As a perfectionist myself, I strive for perfection just as Fitz does. There is nothing wrong with striving to perfect yourself - there is if you are actively hurting yourself, but if you're naturally gifted like Fitz is, and you want to be the best you can possibly be, go ahead! Make the most of your innate talent and use it to seek your happiest future. Build & write your own happy ending.

She isn't a part of this relationship. She isn't affected by this relationship. She's actively impeding their ability to seek their own happiness, and not even for her own happiness (which is still horrid), she just does because she's "bored". Her repugnant behavior sickens me.

Ro is a textbook abuser. Let's go over a list of things an abuser does, and see to which characters she applies them to:

Name-Calling: The abuser will blatantly call the abused derogatory adjectives, like stupid or oblivious

We know she does this to Sophie, calling her oblivious. She also twists being perfect into a derogatory adjective, throwing it at Fitz. She also called Fitz a horrible little microbe, along with calling him & Keefe as stupid as amoeba.

Character Assassination: The abuser will use the word "always". You're always oblivious, stupid, late, wrong, etc.

She does this to Sophie, and also somewhat Fitz.

Patronizing: The abuser will be patronizing towards the abused

She does this to Sophie, Fitz, and Keefe.

Belittling: The abuser will belittle the abused

I'm pretty sure she does this to Sophie, Fitz, and Keefe.

Pushing Buttons: Once the abuser finds out what annoys the abused, they will do it nonstop.

Oh boy, does she do this to Keefe and Sophie. (Fitz just gets out of his way to ignore her and avoid her. It's why she's irritated by him, he hasn't opened himself to her and doesn't show flaws allowing her to find ways to sink her nasty manipulating fingers into him)

These are only a few signs of someone being an abuser, and yet Ro manages to hit pretty much all of them.

She gaslights Keefe into believing that Alden is only looking out for himself and his children - something we know to be completely wrong. She's driving a wedge between Keefe and Alden, one of the few other people Keefe respects and thinks looks out for him. The only other parental individual in Keefe's life, in fact, giving Ro total access to Keefe's psyche and making herself the only "true" source of information Keefe can trust. She is a horrible, horrible abuser.

Ro doesn't have benign intentions at heart. She doesn't even have selfish intentions at heart. She just meddles just because she can.

Ro isn’t selfish. She’s just a bad person - for a lack of a better term that would describe her repulsive behavior.

She constantly complains about the elves. Yes, elven culture is a little weird, but you don’t have to complain about it constantly and in-front of the elves.

Ro is also clearly not afraid to gaslight. She forces Keefe to believe that her opinions are the only valid ones. How does she do this? She says that "Blondie doesn't know what she feels," making Keefe think that any emotions he picks up from her are wrong. She says that Fitz is just "Captain Perfect" who doesn't really care about Sophie - that Keefe "deserves" her. She says that Alden's advice is just made up, and that he doesn't really care about him. She’s established herself as the only source of information that Keefe can trust. She’s removed Alden (the one other parental figure Keefe had) and established herself as the only person Keefe can trust. And that is very dangerous and highly abusive.

She even invalidates Keefe's emotions. Every time Keefe stands up to her and says something like "I'm just being a good friend," Ro responds (like any of this is her business) with something snarky. Or, she tells him to "stop being so afraid." And that forces Keefe to believe that his desire to help his friends isn't valid enough. That he isn't valid enough. So he comes crawling back to Ro.

She’s a terrible bodyguard. She threatens to not protect Keefe in Legacy if Sophie doesn’t share her secret with her. THAT IS NOT OK UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES. SOPHIE DID NOT TRUST KEEFE WITH HER SECRET OF BEING UNMATCHABLE. RO EXTORTED IT OUT OF HER, USING KEEFE AS A LIE DETECTOR. THAT IS NOT OK; IT IS EVIL.

If you re-read the portion in Legacy where she does this, it reveals some truly horrible behavior.

Here’s another direct quote from JaxTheShade explaining why this part is so disgusting:

“Essentially, Ro is blackmailing Sophie.

Sophie just found out that if Keefe goes anywhere near the Neverseen, he will probably die. ( Because at this point, they just thought the legacy thing would kill him ). So she's desperately trying to get Keefe to make a promise and stay away from Gisela. Keefe, in typical fashion, adamantly states that he's not going to be locked up.

This is where Ro steps in.

She says that she will be the one to protect him and make sure he doesn't run off. ( Since she is his bodyguard ). But instead of just...doing her job...she decides that she can exploit the situation. She can get something out of this.

She figured out that Sophie is hiding something. And from the way she hasn't told anyone yet, Ro can assume that she's trying to keep it a secret. But she also knows that Keefe's safety is important to all of them.

So she threatens Keefe's life--yes, threatens--unless Sophie spills her secret. The situation becomes, "I have all the power here, so unless you tell me a confidential secret, I'll let my charge run off into danger, which you can't have. So I know that I've put you into a corner. I know that I've won here."

If this doesn't scream "manipulative abuser", then I don't know what does.

It's disgusting, really. Ro's behaviour is despicable.

And while her blatant blackmail is clearly the worst offense, she also sprinkled in several other "I'm a bad person" actions.

1) She said that the reason Keefe gets away with things is because she "doesn't care enough to fight him" on them. Well, if you don't care, then why don't you just go back to Ravagog? Because Keefe is the second most threatened person their group, and he needs an actual bodyguard, not a manipulative princess who makes him feel even worse about himself. If Keefe gets hurt when he runs off, did he get hurt because you "didn't care enough to bother"?

2) Ro says that she doesn't care that much about him. Well, thanks, Ro. I'm sure that really makes Keefe sleep soundly at night, knowing that you don't really care about him.

3) And why does she not really care about him? Because she only bothers with Keefe as long as he doesn't make her "look bad". She says that the reason she's stopping him this time is because it'll damage her reputation if he dies. You know, instead of being worried about his life.

4) She says "I enjoy meddling". And that's her excuse for blackmailing Sophie into spilling a confidential secret. And yet she has the audacity to accuse Alden of "meddling" while here she sits, admitting it to everyone and acting like it's not a big deal.

5) Her very last line in the quote just further proves that she's just doing this to get Sokeefe to happen. Instead of feeling remorse for Sophie, who is trying not to look at them and clearly uncomfortable, she just brushes off the secret that she just forced out of her by saying that "it should do the trick". The trick being 'getting Fitz to break up with her'.

This is probably Ro's most egregious act yet.

And yet nobody ever seems to call her out for it or even think that...it's a little weird that she would do this.

But I guess it really isn't weird at all, seeing as we've have evidence in the past that proves she would stoop to this level.” - JaxTheShade

That part in Unlocked where Shannon said that (deeeeeeeeeeeep down) Ro cares about Keefe? Well, it’s ooc. Look what Ro says in Legacy: "I may not care that much about what happens to you, but if you get yourself killed on my watch, it makes me look bad—especially if I had advance notice. So, I can’t have that."

Re-read that portion in Legacy. Alarm bells should be going off in your head.

She reminds me of the villain Ellsworth Monkton Toohey from The Fountainhead. Do you know what he did? He turned people into slaves by establishing psychological power over them and making them miserable. By killing their wants, needs, desires, and happiness, he turned people into miserable slaves who would obey his every order. And the scary part? Ro uses the exact. same. tactics. that he does (not going to list them here, that would take far too long) on Fitz, Sophie, and Keefe. And Keefe almost perfectly resembles the characters who fall for his manipulations and tactics, while Sophie and Fitz resemble the characters who ignored him and went about their business. It’s really unnerving.

Everyone is entitled to seek their own happiness - as long as their actions don't impede others from seeking their own happiness.

Ro actively impedes Sophie, Fitz, and Keefe's pursuit of their own happiness, doing it for no other reason than the fact that she's bored. It sickens me.

And the fact that Fitz is basically demonized and hated by the fandom while praising Ro is what sickens me the most.

Ro manipulates, gaslights, and abuses Sophie, Keefe, and Fitz for her own fun. She doesn't have any long term goal, just destroying their psyche and impeding their ability to find their own happiness for short term amusement. She mocks Fitz for being trying to be perfect (since when has that been a crime?), she gaslights and Objectifies Sophie, mocks Keefe and openly abuses him, and interferes with their relationships because she finds it funny. She's also a misandrist. She calls Fitz a nasty little microbe (I want Alden and Della there next time she does that). She objectifies Sophie as a trophy for Fitz and Sophie to fight over. She constantly tears down Fitz and Sophie, and uses a number of tactics abusers use in real life on Fitz, Sophie, and Keefe. She is a radioactive toxic waste-dump of a person, ruining their lives and psyches not even for her own gain, but just for her own amusement. Her further abuse of Keefe is repugnant, her objectification of Sophie is disgusting, and her mocking and bullying of Fitz makes me want to puke. She's a terrible, terrible person.

And that is why I hate Ro.

#kotlc #kotlc ro #ugh I hate Ro #Ro Hate #kotlc discourse

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quintessencea · 3 years

Text

Hey, so what if I throw Sans on an auction block to be sold as a slave? I think that could be fun. He's not gonna like it much though >:)

~~~

"And now," Grillby said loudly to the assembled crowd, "we have the main event. A true rarity beyond all the other monsters offered today. A living, breathing skeleton!"

The crowd cheered, and Sans resisted the urge to look at them. He'd rather not know how many people had stuck around for the offer to "buy" him.

The door swung open on Sans' cage. He tried to shrink back into the corner, but there was no where to run. Grillby's hand wrapped around his arm, dragging him out as he kicked and fought.

"Let me go, you bastard!" he yelled, landing punches on the monsters arm without effect. With only 1 point of ATK to his name, Sans' resistance was meaningless. He knew he should conserve his strength, but as he was pulled bare boned onto the stage he couldn't hold back the self preservation instinct that demanded he fight back.

"Not very well trained, is he?" A voice called, and the crowd laughed. There were dozens. Far more than Sans expected.

Grillby reached out with his other hand and grabbed Sans around the throat, turning him and forcing him to stand upright on his toes as he was presented to the crowd with no more consideration than he'd give a dead goose offered for sale. Sans' fingers grabbed uselessly at the Grillby's fingers, unable to find purchase in the swirling magic that made up the elemental's form. The crowd cheered, and Grillby chuckled behind him.

"Why, that simply means he doesn't have any bad habits and can be taught as you please." Grillby laughed, dropping his voice to a stage whisper. "Or he can be taught -to- please."

Sans wished he was facing Grillby so that he could spit in his stupid, flickering face.

"Why is he so short?" Another voice called and a rumble of laughter rolled through the crowd. "He looks so small!" Someone else shouted.

Grillby let out a booming laugh of his own, patting Sans on the head like a beloved yet stupid dog. Seething, Sans resisted the urge to growl like one.

"I assure you, he's a full grown monster. Why, haven't you heard that good things come in small packages?" Grillby moved as he spoke, forcing Sans to walk where he was lead on the tips of his toes. "True, he's small. And yes, weak. But get a little magic running through these bones and you'll see how truly unique skeletons can be."

Sans could feel the eyes of the crowd on him, see the excited faces illuminated by the lamps that lit the courtyard and smelled the anticipation in the air. He'd never felt more exposed in his life. He'd never -been- more exposed in his life, presented bare boned for the pleasure and curiosity of others.

He wanted nothing more than to kill them all. If he had his way, he'd slaughter the entire city and wipe this place off the map. Just for the satisfaction of killing every last monster in the city that took his brother from him.

"Let me go, you son of a bitch!" He hissed, as Grillby continued to frog march him around the platform to the jibes and insulting praise of the assembled audience.

"Now," Grillby called, and the crowd fell silent. "Shall we start the bidding at three hundred gold pieces?"

A murmured sound of disbelief swept through the watchers, and Sans could hardly blame them for it. One hundred was standard. Two hundred was exceptional. Sans had been sure Grillby would low ball him for 50 or less, if no reason other than to add insult to injury.

"What makes him worth that much?" A spider woman asked skeptically from the front row as she crossed two pairs of arms in front of her chest.

"Ah, Miss Muffet, ma cherie," Grillby said, pulling on a accent so sweetly fake it made Sans' teeth itch. "Why, he's a skeleton! You'll never see another like him!"

Muffet looked less than impressed, until another monster spoke up from behind her.

"Variable magic," the new monster said. He was tall, taller even than Grillby. He was barely watching Sans and the auction at all, looking bored as he scanned the crowd with only a single good eye, the other shut from old damage. "He can be what you want him to be."

"You're quite right! Why, Doctor Gaster," Grillby said, loud enough for everyone to hear. "I didn't realize you were here! What a surprise!"

It was a lie, as without a doubt Grillby would have noticed and categorized every possible mark present. Nonetheless Sans went still, his Soul stuttering at the name.

Gaster.

The Royal Scientist, the monster responsible for untold wonders of technology and magic, who made life possible throughout the Underground. The monster who created the dampening bracelet currently locked around Sans' wrist and sealing his magic away. Whose dark appetites were the things of whispered nightmares among some of of the enslaved he'd been store with, because those purchased by Gaster were never seen again.

Rumors said he liked to make them scream before they dusted.

And he was here.

As if drawn by Sans' sudden fear, the tall monster's gaze turned from the crowd to look directly at Sans. He looked almost bored, but Sans could see the intelligence in that eye, a coldness behind the carefully impassive mask.

"And what does that mean?" Muffet demanded, and the monster with one eye tilted his head slightly.

"As I said, he can be what you want him to be. Or, perhaps you don't know how to handle a slave with the potential of as much power as this one likely has?"

The monster's voice was smooth, rich and warm, and it reminded Sans of dark, black coffee. It made his locked magic prickle warningly in his fingertips even as it sent a shiver down his spine.

Muffet reddened slightly, anger flashing through each of her many eyes before she locked it back down, covering it with a smile. When the smile turned to a smirk, she raised a hand in a mockery of coyness.

"And, what about you?" She asked, voice layered with contempt thick enough to be heard under all of her false sweetness. "An old monster like you? What would you possibly want from a slave like this?"

"I'm merely here to observe the bidding process," The Royal Scientist said. "It is quite fascinating to see how much value you all place in a creature that you clearly only intend to use for... Common pleasures." He turned back to Sans, an intensity in his gaze that hadn't been there before. "He's wasted on a monster like you."

Muffet bristled, but before she could speak again Grillby interrupted.

"Now, now, Muffet. There's no need for such hostility. And Doctor, please, this little skeleton is anything but common. Perhaps a demonstration of some of his… more unique talents is in order?"

Sans felt his marrow run cold in his bones. He could practically feel the weight of Gaster's one working eye upon him, heavier than the gaze of everyone in the courtyard combined. Staring at him, and only him, the curiosity apparent. So much for only observing. With Gaster here, Sans could already see the future unfolding, the way it would go. If there was one thing he was certain of, it was that he couldn't leave with Gaster.

"Don't you fucking dare," he snarled at Grillby, doing his best to kick him with his weak, stupidly ineffective legs as the elemental drew him close, wrapping an arm around his chest to hold him still. Having the weight taken off his throat was nice, but he was determined to be as difficult as possible.

"I'm not a toy," he growled, the words feeling sick coming from his own mouth. "And I won't be your fucking entertainment."

"Now, now," Grillby whispered, barely loud enough for Sans to hear. "The crowd was promised a skeleton. If it's not you…"

Grillby let the sentence hang but the message was clear. If Sans didn't cooperate, it will be Papyrus on the block instead.

"It's your choice."

Sans had no choice. He rather rip his arms off than sell himself away like this, but he had no choice. He stilled.

"Fuck you," he growled, but Grillby only smiled wider. He knew he'd won.

"Are you going to behave now?" Grillby asked, his breath hot against the side of Sans' skull. "Put on a good show for us?"

Sans said nothing, grinding his teeth together.

With a condescending chuckled that nearly set Sans back to fighting, Grillby whispered, "I trust that will be a 'yes'."

The crowd was watching closely, curiosity reflected on every face. But there was one face was watching more intently than the rest. Sans didn't dare look at the monster, but it was almost as if Sans could specifically feel Gaster's gaze on his body. As if he were cataloguing every inch of bone, and Sans didn't want to consider the reason, though he couldn't hold back a shudder at the thought.

The elemental led him closer to the crowd and then let him go, leaving Sans standing by himself on the edge of the stage.

"So," Grillby called to the crowd, voice back at full volume. "As you all can see, he is only bones! Lovely bones, to be sure, but still not exactly useful for our needs here. But with the right intent… Well, let's let the crowd decide! Cock, or pussy?"

The monster's tone was light, joking almost. It made the crowd of deviants laugh, but made Sans seeth anew with anger and hate.

"Cock!" Someone called.

"Pussy!" Cried another.

He saw Gaster lean towards Muffet, saying something Sans couldn't hear. She looked distrustful, but then all of her eyes went wide with sudden surprise before narrowing again in delight.

"Both!" Muffet shouted, cupping her hands around her mouth to better project her voice above the rest.

A few members of the crowd laughed, but Sans' Soul dropped like a stone.

"Both?" Grillby echoed, amused.

"Why not?" Muffet shrugged, smiling sweetly. "After all, you said he is a monster of many talents."

Sans could taste sour magic rise up in his throat as the crowd cheered and hollered their approval.

"Yes, why not?" The elemental laughed. "Not one or the other, but both! Go on, Sans, give the crowd what they want."

"You've got to be kidding," he growled. "I'm not doing that."

"Look, he's shy!" Grillby called. "Seems he needs some motivation, what do you say my fine monsters? Give him some encouragement!"

As the crowd's voice rose in cheers, Grillby leaned in again. "Is that your final answer, Sans? Say the word, and your debt will go to your brother."

He wanted to refuse. He wanted to turn and run from the stage, blasting away anyone that dared to stop him. But even if he'd had his magic in his control he knew he couldn't. Not while they still had Papyrus.

"I hate you so much."

Grillby's grin held all the comfort of burning alive. "I know. Now, be a good boy and give the people what they want."

Humiliation burned across his face as he closed his eyes. If he had to do this the least he could do was not look at them.

Hesitantly, Sans reached for his pelvis, resting his fingers against his public symphysis as he tried to call enough intent to summon the little bit of his magic he was allowed. His hands trembled as he lightly stroked the shallow notch, his own touch feeling coarse and uncomfortable.

"Harder!"

"Look at him shake!"

It was mortifying. Try as he might, Sans couldn't make himself ignore the jeers and catcalls of the audience. From the way the tone of the calls shifted, he knew they could tell that he was failing.

"What's the matter, skeleton? Too tired?"

"Go on, do something!"

"I bet he can't even get it up!"

"Is he crying?"

To his utter horror and shame, Sans realized he was. This wasn't working. He couldn't arouse himself on command. It was impossible. Stars, he hated this. He hated every damn second of it.

"Maybe he needs a hand?" Muffet called, stepping forward and placing two hands onto the stage. Her dark eyes glittered with mirth as she reached a third hand up in offer.

"Maybe you're right," Grillby said, stepping up beside Sans. "Are you offering to assist him?" He reached down when she nodded, grabbing her hand and effortlessly lifting her on stage. "I think he can use all the help he can get. Good luck."

Sans shrank back as she approached.

"C'mon," she said, reaching out with her long arms to Sans. "I'll help you. You need it."

He shoved her hand away, not daring to say anything. With the way his throat clogged up with the horror of the situation he doubted he could get words to form even if he'd wanted to. Grillby cleared his throat in irritation, and Sans froze.

Muffet only smiled wider as her hands closed around both of Sans', guiding them both to his pelvis. She moved until she was behind him, nearly clutching him to her chest as she stroked the top of his skull with one of her other hands.

"Go on, now, there's a good pet."

Her chitinous fingers ran over the back of his hand, tracing idle circles on one wrist as she pressed the other harder against his symphysis, using his own hand to stroke himself. He wanted to yank his hands away, to scream at her until his voice gave out. Instead, just he let her touch him. Past his hatred for what she was doing to him, a small shudder of pleasure ran through him as he felt a tingling rise up in his bones.

Sans felt his magic build more as she curled his own fingers against his pubic arch. Another hand ghosted across his iliac crest to wrap around his lower spine, all the while petting the crown of his skull with soft, gentle strokes.

He felt her other hands moving along the rest of his body, touching everywhere. They ran over his ribs, his arms, his spine, the side of his face.

"That's it. You're doing fine, pet."

It felt good when she did it, and he hated it.

She stroked him until he was tingling all over. He let out a shudder as he felt his magic grow heavy, called by her intent. It was too warm, too wet to be comfortable.

"Yes, that's it," she cooed. "Very good."

He closed his eyes, and forced himself to breathe through it as she brought her fingers to swirl through the magic, drawing it forward with one hand as she pressed his own back, into the growing wetness. Sans' breath caught as the magic crackled around his fingers, trying to form, and he knew Muffet must be able to feel it too as she coaxed more outward, encouraging him to make a cock.

Murmurs filled the crowd, and he tried not to think of what he must look like, bare and exposed, magic glowing between his joints as the hands, too many hands, stroked and fondled him everywhere. His breath was uneven now, ragged at the edge.

"Do it," Muffet commanded suddenly, all of her hands tightening at once. Head, shoulders, ribs, spine, pelvis... The sensation was too much, and he shook, clenching his jaw to keep from crying out as his magic snapped solidly into place.

The murmuring turned into exclamations, some approving, some jeering and Muffet relaxed her hold on him, letting him pull his fingers out of himself. But she her hand remained wrapped around his cock, thumb stroking gently across the surface.

"Does he really got both?" Someone called.

Muffet giggled, lifting Sans' hand still trapped in her grip. He didn't have to open his eyes to know they were covered in his own blue slick. He could feel it. Shame burned hotter than ever as the jeering picked up a notch, mocking.

"Are you finished?" He snarled, his chest heaving. "If you all are done...." he broke off, realizing how pathetic he sounded even to his own ears. He took a breath, opened his eyes, and tried again. Putting on his best glare, he looked into the crowd. "As much as-"

His eyes met Gaster's, and he froze, immobilized by the look in the monster's eye.

Gone was the bored mask, replace by an exoression of pure hunger. His good eye was wide, and held the kind of darkness that threatened to swallow Sans alive. He couldn't move, not even with Muffet's hand still slowly stroking his dick, hands tickling bone and teasing the joints between them. He wished he could say the magic wasn't hard. He wished for a lot of things.

"We're not even close to done," Grillby said, his voice coming out as a pleased hiss.

Sans snapped out of his daze as Grillby grew near again, turning his glare on the arrogant elemental. "You got what you asked for," he said, pulling against Muffet's hold. She only giggled. "Let me go."

"Oh no, Sans. They need a show." Grillby looked over Sans' shoulder, asking pleasantly, "Just a bit more, if you would, Miss Muffet. You don't mind, do you?"

He might as well have been asking for a cup of sugar. Sans' panic began to rise in his chest again as he once again realized how utterly devoid of basic kindness this entire world had become.

"Of course not dearie."

"Fuck, no," Sans whispered, horrified. "Show some mercy, please."

Grillby's laugh this time was full of warmth, but none of it was for Sans. "That depends on the mood of the crowd." He looked over the assemblage, holding his hand out towards Sans like he was being offered up to the mob. "What do you say, my dear ladies and gentlemonsters? Would you care to show him Mercy?"

Grillby nodded to Muffet, and her hand tightened around his cock, another slipping back between his legs to pressing into the wet slick that had been steadily building.

"Or would you prefer we continue the show?"

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blackenedwhite97 · 3 years

Text

Trials ( An Erasermic x Reader Medieval AU Ch.7-8)

TABLE OF CONTENTS:

https://blackenedwhite97.tumblr.com/post/643722830321696769/trials-an-erasermic-x-reader-medieval-au

CHAPTER 7

Despite yourself you couldn't get the image of Shouta's body out of your mind, even as the two of you held your breath and rushed through the tall grasses of the farm hizashi had given you the directions to. You were meant to be focusing on being silent, being stealthy and blending in with your environment, but if you were honest the sight of Shouta, dripping in water, pants barely covering his manhood and smirking at you was currently running laps around your mind. Everytime the thought would fade away you would rejoice, happy to be able to focus on flattening the grass beneath your feet without making a sound or swatting branches from your face as you stalked through the woods surrounding the farm. But then, despite our best efforts the image would appear. Like an embarrassing memory from childhood that offered you no rest in your sleeping hours.

It felt wrong every time it happened, as if you were violating his privacy. It was his fault to begin with, you tried to reason halfway through the ride to the farm, he had been so blasé about being half clothed around you in the first place. After a certain point, it got so bad you had to start thinking about Hizashi to run a spike of guilt straight through you for even thinking about Shouta.

You shook your head free of the thought, instead looking towards the barn dark as the night sky above on the inside. If he was in there he certainly wasn't betraying himself to the outside world. As you and Shouta drew nearer it grew harder for you unsteady legs to keep up without stumbling over themselves but it also became easier for you to push the devilish thoughts of his body from your mind instead dwell on what lay beyond the barn door. What if Hizashi had been found by the farmer, or worse whoever he had alerted you to run from. What he was gone, already moved one unable to inform Shouta, how sour would the man's mood be then? What if, and you tried not to think about it, but with how panicked Shouta had been earlier you couldn't help yourself. What if you walked in and found blood soaked hay and Hizashi's cold body strewn across the floor. The image of your gnarled conjured blade sticking out from his chest appeared in your mind, after all it was the first time you'd seen a man freshly killed. Guilt rose up inside of you, and your steps faltered.

As if he'd been watching you Shouta paused when you did and looked back, his heavy brows knit together. He didn't dare say anything, not make any more noise then he had to, but his eyes asked the questions his lips could not. He was...worried.

You shocked your head and pointed to your foot as if allude having stepped in or on something then waved him off. He nodded, turned back towards the barn and started forward again. You shook the image from your mind, wishing whole heartedly that your mind would go back to bringing up your previous inappropriate thought instead, but the image that flashed across your mind made your stomach drop each time. That purple, gnarled blade running straight through Hizashi's chest, blood pooling around him soaking hay and staining raw wooden floors.

You swallowed hard and pushed forwards, trying to focus one your steps and the aches in your legs instead of what lay ahead for you. You did such a good job at focusing on your foot steps that you ran right into Shouta when he stopped in front of the barn's outer wall. He fell forward onto his knees from his crouching position, his arms reaching sideways and catching you before you toppled directly on top of him. You straightened yourself out and leaned against the barn wall, partially to obscure yourself from prying eyes and to blend in and also to help your weakened knees as you fought off the butterflies that were swarming the insides of your stomach. You tried to tell yourself the butterflies were nerves from almost toppling over Shouta and possibly making horrendous amounts of noise in the process but a small part of you knew it was simply his touch.

Shouta crept forward and waved you forwards with him, moving slow enough that you were able to keep quiet. You had no doubt that if you hadn't been with him he would have been ten times as fast and nearly silent. He held his hand up over his shoulder to stop you and turned just enough so you could see his mouth mimic the word "wait."

You did as you were told, that dread filled anticipation to see what shape Hizashi would be in if he was even still here, growing every second. Shouta inched forward until he could slide a hand in between the gap in the large barn doors, that despite their size swayed ever so slightly in the wind. In one smooth motion Shouta creaked open the door, looked inside then disappeared into the dark interior, leaving you alone in the field under the moonlight. The longer it took Shouta to reappear the more the cold seemed to bother you and the more exposed you felt.

You waited for what felt like ages, you had to lean heavily against the barn to give your legs a modicum of a break, creeping slower than a snail towards the door, wishing you could dive in after Shouta to escape the wide open field before you. Fighting that urge, you compromised and placed your ear against the wall to see if you could hear anything of the going ons inside the barn. At first there was nothing but the sound of your own breath filling your lungs and the dull thumps of your heart but then you heard some low whisperings. You couldn't be sure with how quiet it was but you were sure you could hear Hizashi murmuring something but it was cut short with a moan, it was a surprise sort of moan that sounded more like a subdued yelp.

The barn door squeaked open wider and Shouta's pale face appeared. You were facing him, ear pressed against the wall, so you smiled like a kid who'd gotten caught searching for sweets. He grinned and waved you in then disappeared again. You followed suit, slipping in before the door fell closed. The barn was even darker than outside, the only place moonlight was able to touch was the upper loft that held two windows on either end. You tried to blink away some of the darkness, hoping your eyes would define their human nature and suddenly be able to see in the pitch darkness. There was no need as a dull gold glow flared up in the middle of the barn, the source a small shattered lantern on the ground surrounded by walls of hay bales.

In the dim glow you could see Hizashi who was propped up against one of the bales and Shouta who was waving out a flint stick and scurrying towards the blond. You slowly pulled the barn door shut behind you trying to go slow enough that there wasn't enough force on the hinged to make them creak.

"Why didn't you tell me?" You heard Shouta huff quietly, trying to keep his volume down as his frustration increased.

"Because it's not a cause for worry, Sho." Hizashi whispered back. He sounded tired and relieved at the same time, as if he'd just been woken up.

You turned back around a crept forwards this time not taking quite as much care in your steps as you did out in the field. As you strode into the lantern light you could see what Shouta was upset about, Hizashi's leg was propped up on an overturned bucket and a set of bandages were sloppily wrapped around his shin.

"I'm going to worry." Shouta grumbled, his hands settling on both of Hizashi's shoulders. There was a pause and Hizashi opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by Shouta kissing him none too gently. Hizashi smiled into the kiss and buried his hands into Shouta's wild waves, closing his eyes. When the kiss finally broke the two men learnt into one another, foreheads pressed together, eyes closed, just breathing each other in.

"If I had said anything you wouldn't have waited and the farmer's been out there all day. He'd have seen you." Hizashi mumbled.

Shouta pulled away and opened his eyes, sending a somewhat frustrated glance at you. You shrugged and raised your eyebrows back, mouthing "told you."

"Let me see your leg." you smiled at Hizashi and knelt down next to his raised foot. "What happened?"

"Crossbow. It's just a graze but it's deep. Those Northern Dales Mercs are no joke, they hit me from over 50 yards away." Hizashi pulled his arm forward showing off a tear in his sleeve that was rimmed with dry blood. "This one's just a scratch."

You stopped your unravelling of Hizashi's terrible bandage job and pulled at the sides of the whole to confirm it was just a scratch. It was somewhat deeper than what the average man would call 'just a scratch' but it was scabbed over and there wasn't too much red around it so you had some time before you had to worry about infection.

"Sho?" Hizashi hissed as you pulled at the layer of bandage directly pressed to his skin. Shouta settled down next to him, lazily wrapping his arm around Hizashi. "The Northern Dales, they're either in league with House Noro or they are House Noro."

"W-what?" Shouta's face dropped, his whole body going frigid.

"I saw the crests on their horses." Hizashi explained, his free hand clasping over Shouta's. "Hey, it'll be al-"

"Why didn't you put that in the letter?" Shouta snapped, louder than even Hizasi had dared to get.

"Because you wouldn't have waited!" Now Hizashi was bordering on too loud.

Shouta scoffed and looked away, swallowing hard.

"W-who's House Noro?" You asked after an excruciating moment of silence. You didn't dare look up from Hizashi's leg lest you catch whatever cold glare must have been brewing in Shouta's eyes.

You unscrewed the top of your water skin and rustled around in your side bag for some of the spare bandages Hizashi had given you. You'd left the horse leashed in the forest surrounding the farmer's hand with a long tether, which meant you had to take as much supplies as you could care. You prioritized healing supplies while Shouta prioritizes food and drink. You were happy you'd brought the bag of herbs you'd collected in the marshes. You wetted a folded section of bandage and began blotting away at Hizashi's leg, trying to break through some dried blood and grime to get a better look at what the wound itself looked like.

"It's a very old and very wealthy family from the south." Hizashi started, attempting to ignore what was happening on his leg. He was in far too much pain for this to be as mild of a wound as he claimed. "Generations ago an entire branch of their family was apparently slaughtered by a coven of witches and sorcerers. Since then they've pledged their numbers and blades to eradicating people like us."

"They hunt us down and slaughter us because they can't reconcile that their family had bad blood with every neighboring town and clan and got themselves killed." Shouta growled, he was still looking away. "If you're lucky they'll kill you before they light you on fire."

Your hands froze millimeters away from hizashi's leg as fear gripped your heart. You had been lucky, you ralized two days into your time in the cage, that your town didn;t have a witch burning spire like many in the area did, not the resources to build one. It was a common sentence, to burn at the stake for witchcraft, and although the sun blistered your skin and made your whole body raw and red, the thought of literally burning to death terrified you. At least by the second night in the cage you had grown used to the hunger and started to feel less and less.

"Sho!" Hizashi scolded. He looked to you, one of his comforting smiles on his exhausted face. He was pale and Shouta and the purple blooming in the hollows around his eyes conveyed more than just lost sleep.

"What? She needs to know if they're here!" Shouta stood up suddenly, jostling Hizashi to the side who let out a strangled yelp. "Zash!"

"I'm fine." Hizashi breathed. His eyes were screwed shut and he tried, ever so gingerly to straighten himself up, his hand instinctively going to his side. Ah, the culprit. You shuffled towards his torso and pulled away his hand, much to his dismay. He tried to keep it clasped firmly down but Shouta peeled his fingers away and held both of his hands in vice grips.

"I need to take a peak." you gave Hizashi an apologetic smile as you unlaced the heavy leather outer tunic and rolled up the lighter cotton undershirt. You could see Hizashi trying to hide a smirk, which was an astounding feat, you realized, once you caught a glimpse of his ribcage. The left side of his ribcage was bruised to hell, broken blood vessels and murky patches of blue and black splattered his skin.

"Fuck, Zash." Shouta breathed.

In response Hizashi gave him an awkward grin and a set of big doe eyes.

"Something's definitely broken." You hummed, prodding any area that looked a little more recessed than it should be, earning a muffled yelp from Hizashi. "What did you do? Don't tell me a crossbow 'grazed' you again or I'm going you smack you."

"It did!" Hizashi said indignantly. "Then I fell- off my horse- and she gave a few farewell kicks to the ribcage."

"You got stomped on by your horse?" Shouta questioned, his frustration level rising.

"Not good with animals." Hizashi chuckled, groaning as he jostled his broken bones. "Kicked, not stomped."

Shouta let go of hizashi's hands and sat back against the hay bale and dropped his face into his hands, sighing loudly.

"How have you lived this long?" He growled into his palms.

Hizashi laughed and started listing off what you soon found out were all the silly ways Shouta had injured himself. You watched them squabble for a moment, Hizashi still as animated as ever despite his injury and Shouta smiling into his once despair filled hands. You took this brief moment of distraction to go back to working on Hizashi's leg, there was nothing you could do about the rib but possibly make some tea with the white flowers you have picked. You'd do that after you cleaned his leg.

True to his word, Hizashi's leg was grazed quite heavily but it hadn;t been as bad as you feared. Should it have been sewn shut? Probably but you didn't have anything to do with that so you'd have to settle for some tight bandages. One it was clean you draped some clean bandage over it to keep dirt and bugs away and rustled through your bag of herbs for the dark leaves. It was only once you had them in hand you realized that you had nothing to grind them up with. You huffed in annoyance and sat down to think.

By this point Hizashi had run out of injuries to shame Shouta with and Shouta had been quelmed by the wavering fire light and Hizashi's soothing ramblings about someone back home. Hizashi sat straight back on the hay while Shouta slid closer and closer towards Hizashi's shoulder under his cheek squished against it and you were sure he was sleeping. Eventually Hizashi quieted once he'd noticed Shouta was snoring softly.

"Did he sleep at all?" Hizashi asked, his own voice tired.

"No." you shocked your head. "Pretty sure he wandered around the woods all night."

"Sounds like him." Hizashi snorted softly.

"You're both terrible." you muttered, looking down frustrated at the leaves in your hands trying to brainstorm a way for this to work.

"What's eating you?" Hizashi looked down at your hands.

"I need to grind these but short of doing back outside to go looking for two big rocks I've got nothing to do it with."

"Conjure something then." Hizashi shrugged. "Unless that's not how it works. Can you only summon blades?"

"N-no- I-," You hadn't tried summoning anything since you- since you killed a man. The image of him lying on the ground of your home, blood pooling from a wound caused by your blade making you sick to your stomach. "I haven't tried since..."

You trailed off not knowing how to explain yourself. Hizashi had just face death and no doubt, you were realizing face death regularly. The idea that you had been the one dealing out the death and not being threatened by it and yet you were rendered useless by the thought would have seemed ludicrous.

"Sorry," Hizashi muttered. "it must be hard. Thinking about it, I mean. I can see it in your eyes when you disappear into your mind sometimes."

"Yeah," you breathed, a lump forming in your throat. "I, uh, I haven't been able to conjure anything since then. It's just sort of...gone."

You had tried to conjure a few things in the cage but nothing ever formed but waves of intense guilt as the image of the dead man flooded your mind.

"That man," Hizashi shifted so he was sitting up straighter, much to Shouta's displeasure who grumbled fiercely in his sleep. "the one who died, he hurt you didn't he?"

"I- How-" You looked up at hizashi, tears falling now. "How did-?"

"That farmer, down the hill from you, he found a knife in his hand. He said it had blood on it." hizashi brushed the side of his face where the scratch from the man's knife was scabbed over on yours. "And the bruising on your arm."

"He didn't, not enough to warrant what I did!" You looked away from him shaking your head. You were trying to stay quiet, to stop the fear and guilt that was rising in your chest from spilling over but your voice cracked and you heard it echo through the barn.

Shoutas eyes opened and he sat up, alert. It took him a moment to register where he was and what was happening before he relaxed and slipped back against the hay bale.

"He would have." Hizashi's voice was low but clear, it was cooler than you'd ever heard it.

Shouta looked between the two of you and stood. He walked towards you and knelt down, his hands gently gripping each of your shoulders.

"What you did- had to do," Shouta's voice was soft and warm and made you want to believe what he was saying "doesn't make you a monster, Y/n."

You fell from your crouch to your knees, unable to hold yourself up any longer. You fell into Shouta, your tears water staining his tunic.

"Can you do something for me?" Shouta asked, his hands wrapping around your shoulders. You nodded into his chest not trusting your voice. "Think back to that night. When you opened the door, what did you see?"

You closed your eyes and breathed, trying to take yourself back. It was hazy, the adrenaline of the moment distorting your memories. "I-I can't."

"What were you doing before?"

"Cooking. I was making dinner." You sniffed.

"What did it smell like?" Shouta asked.

"Chicken broth. Roasting Vegetables." As you spoke you could imagine the smells flooding your sense and suddenly you were back there. You were back in your cottage, candles warming the interior with a golden glow, rain pattering away at the roof.

"You heard a knock."

A knock came at the door, once politely then again aggressively. You strode over, and opened it.

"What next, Y/n?"

"I-I answered it." You mumbled, barely there. "I answered it and he was there."

"What did he look like?" Shouta asked quietly.

"He was big, tall, intimidating. He was rich, I could see it in his clothes. They were expensive, velvet with fur." you mumbled as you picture him in your mind.

"Keep going." It was a soft request whispered into your hair.

"He had a crest embroidered into his cloak."

"A crest?" Shouta's head lifted from yours. "What did it look like?"

"Silver," you screwed your eyes shut even tighter and willed your mind to recall the crest. The crest stared you right in the face, shimmering in the candlelight as if it were real metal. "A hound, with something in its mouth, something black. There were twin blades crossed behind it, like a coat of arms."

You got no response, only an uneasy breath above your head. You opened your eyes, afraid you'd said something wrong. Shouta pulled away from you and placed a hand one either side of your face.

"Y/n, listen to me." Shouta looked directly into your eyes with a fierceness that forbade you from looking away. "That man would have hurt you, he was there to hurt you, then kill you."

"Y-you can't know-"

"He's a witch hunter, Y/n. That crest is of House Noro and that man wouldn't have just shown up on your doorstep unless he was there to kill you."

CHAPTER 8

"Th-then why didn't the others kill me, why did they drag me to the church?" you whimpered.

"It's hard to explain. It's a deep tradition in their family, a belief that only those of the main family branch can kill a practitioner of the occult." Shotua explained, letting off the sides of your face and grabbing your clenched hands instead. "They believe we reincarnate into another magic user when we die, that is if we aren't killed properly. While anyone can kill our mortal flesh, only a member of the main family bloodline can kill our souls."

"Is that true?" Your eyes grew with fear.

"No.' Hizashi chimed in. "We're human, Y/n."

"You're human." Shouta whispered to you. "You're not a monster, not on the way they think you are, not in the way that bastard clergyman condemned you to be and not in the way you think you are. You're human."

"I-he- he would have killed me." you told yourself. "He would have killed me."

It felt good, like you'd been freed from a weight beyond your capacity to carry. You told yourself again and again until you started to really believe it. Until anger burgeoned in your chest and you felt the familiar sensation of magic flaring from your fingertips. You looked down at your hands and saw a pale purple glow about them, as if the power had been waiting beneath your skin's surface for you to call upon it this whole time. It felt as if there had been a wall between you and your magic and it had suddenly come crashing down and now you could command it freely.

"There it is." Hizashi whispered.

You looked at him and suddenly realized that you'd left his leg half treated, and just like that the glow about your hands fizzled out.

"You're leg!" You squeaked. "I forgot what I was doing!"

"It's my fault," Hizashi laughed openly "I distracted you."

You looked at the pile of herbs you'd dropped in your lap, wiping the crusted tears from the corners of your eyes when an idea sparked in your mind. You pictured a stone bowl about the size of your hand and took a deep breath, willing the bowl to form in your hand from the rounded bottom to the curved lip. Sure enough a semi-translucent purple hued bowl appeared in your cupped palms, it was even cold against your palm like stone. That was new, you'd never been able to create anything with a different temperature than your own body before. You smiled to yourself, the bowl feeling more like a trophy then a hunk of stone to grind herbs in. Next you envisioned a pestle and willed it to appear in your other hand, it took you a little longer this time since you already have one item out but you finally managed to solidify the pair of items into existence.

"Well, shit." Shouta breathed next to you. "That's useful."

"Occasionally." you smiled at him.

"Can you, like, make bigger things?" Hizashi asked, leaning forward to get a better look.

"I'm not sure." You shrugged. "The largest item I made was a sword."

"Right." Hizasih nodded. "We'll need to experiment later, then."

"Experiment?" You asked to look up at him, he'd never looked so thoughtful.

"We are teachers, remember?" Shouta reminded you as he scooted back towards Hizashi to lean against him.

You got to work cleaning and disinfecting Hizashi's leg with the dark leaf ground up in some water to make a thin salve. He groaned and complained nearly the whole time, although you could tell it was more for dramatic flare than him not being able to handle the poking a prodding you were doing. You were learning very quickly that Hizashi liked to alleviate tension, even when the tension was surrounding him being injured. There were no pity parties allowed on his behalf, that was for sure.

"How's the pain?" You yawned as you finished bandaging Hizashi's leg. YOur eyes were beginning to burn with tiredness and your limbs felt heavy and slowed.

"I'll manage," Hizahsi murmured, his own eyelids drooping "get some sleep."

"That rib must be hurting something awful, Hizashi. Let me make you something."

He didn't put up too much of a fight, instead just burrowed farther into Shouta's shoulder and watched you conjure up a cup to bowl tea in. You plucked some of the white flowers from your medicine bundle and tossed them into the cut with water and let it slowly boil over what little heat the lantern gave. Eventually you ended up with a pain numbing tea, it was weaker than usual as you'd normally steep it for a few days until the tea was thicker like juice but this would at least take the edge off.

You handed the cup to Hizashi who shimmied into a less diagonal sitting position and sipped away at it until the tea cooled and became easier to drink. By this point you were exceptionally exhausted and found the hay bales looking relatively inviting, so you spread out the cloak Shouta discarded off to the side atop a bale of hay and laid down. Your eyes closed before you were fully settled in, and calm, dreamless sleep found you.

***

The barn was peaceful compared to sleeping outdoors, there were less bugs buzzing around, less branched snapping off in the distance and the hay was ten times more comfortable than a root sticking into Shouta back. While he didn't like the idea of staying somewhere another person frequented, he had to admit that just for tonight he was happy to be inside. Beside him Hizashi thumbed the handle of the spectral cup in his hand until it blinked from existence. Across the gap in hay bales from the pair you had begun to snore softly, little puffs of breath catching some stray hairs and blowing them around.

Shouta couldn't help but notice how much healthier you were beginning to look, the women he met a week ago was a shell of who he saw sleeping across from him. Life had returned to not only your skin and your body as it regained its strength but to your eyes. He'd been entirely unsettled about what he saw reflected back to him in your eyes. He saw a deep reassignment to the end, something he'd devoted his life to making sure he'd never feel nor allow anyone to feel again. It was pity that made him so set on saving you when Hizashi wasn't sure taking out the town's entire law force was worth the risk. Pity and empathy. He'd not been in such a different circumstance when Hizashi had found him in the stocks in Tartarus, courtesy of House Noro, all those years ago.

However, since having rescued you, Shouta found himself feeling less and less pity and more genuine fondness for you. He was a tough person to win the affections of, he'd kept it that way on purpose, knowing full well that his career was dangerous and put him and his partner in a certain amount of regularly endured mortal peril. He refused to grow too fond of others unless they weasled their way into his life like Hizashi had. Yet, despite that, he felt an undeniable attraction to you, one that he couldn't in his right mide indulge in. Especially under the circumstances of your meeting and current relationship, it would be amorale. And yet, in spite of everything he knew was right or wrong and had worked so hard to maintain, when Hizashi had let out the warning wail the other day in the woods, you were one of his first thoughts.

"You're creeping me out." Hizashi mumbled from Shouta's shoulder.

"Hm?" Shouta looked down at Hizashi who was looking back up at him, and crooked, sleepy, yet entertained grin pulling at his lips. Shouta laced his fingers through Hizashi and gave a small squeeze. "What do you mean?"

"You're staring." Hizashi informed him.

"I-I'm not staring."Shouta grumbled.

"Do you- like her?" Hizashi adjusted his position so his chin was resting atop Shouta's shoulder.

"She's uh- very kind." Shouta looked anywhere but at you or Hizashi.

"She put you in your place didn't she?" Shotu could feel the grin on Hizashi's face like it was a flame heating the side of his face.

"Yeah," Shouta laughed. "she's the one who made me wait for nightfall."

"You like-like her, don't you?" Hizashi's grin faltered, only a fraction.

Shouta cursed under his breath and looked at Hizashi who he could tell knew the answer to that question better than Shouta probably did himself. He wasn't sure what he was feeling, and even if he was he didn't know if it was right to feel it.

"Do you-" Hizashi pulled back, "still like-"

"Zash, I love you!" Shouta asserted a little too loudly, reaching to cup Hizashi's face with his hand.

"Good." Hizashi smiled, leaning into Shouta's hand. After a beat he continued, shooting you a somewhat nefarious glance. "She does clean up pretty well."

"I feel like it's inappropriate to be checking out our charge, Zash." Shouta sighed, attempting to seem disappointed in his partner's comment.

Shouta had known what it really meant, it was more than a simple observation of your attractiveness. It was a statement of mutual attraction and a declaration of acceptance of Shouta's feelings and urges.

"You said something first." Hizashi mumbled, his speech beginning to slur with sleep. "And you bathed with her!"

***

It couldn't have yet been morning when warm golden light hit your eyes and pulled you from your slumber. It felt as though you'd only just fallen asleep and your entire body screamed for more. You almost gave in until you noticed how hot the air had become and that that heat came in flickering waves and the arid smell of burning smoke washed over you. You sat straight up, your eyes flying open as flames wafted towards you from the far end of the barn.You looked panicked at the lantern that sat in between you and the boys who were still asleep, it had been extinguished and sat dark. This wasn't a fire of your party's making you realize with a sickening feeling.

You stumbled off of the hay bale bruising your knees painfully as you landed on them, grabbing fistfulls of items as you went. You scrambled over to Shouta and shook him awake. In an instant he was alert and assessing the situation,then on his feet hauling Hizashi up in the next. With a pained yelp Hizashi awoke, and attempted to stumble along with Shouta, the tea you had given him still coursing through his system keeping him slowed and groggy.

"The door!" Shouta shouted as you tried to help him carry Hizash's weight. You nodded and dashed toward the door, grabbing onto the edge and shoving it down it's track as hard as you could. In the stark contrast between the bright firefly light of the barn and the cool darkness of the outside world, you almost missed the line of men nestled in the grass as your eyes adjusted.

Time slowed for a split second and you were suddenly hideously aware of what the cause of the fire had been. You skidded to a halt as a voice in front of you shouted and, not but a sliver of a second, later a volley of arrows were hissing through the air towards you. Without thinking you threw up your hands, willing them to be enough against the onslaught. A bright purple light erupted before you, and for a stretch of time you saw nothing else. Shouta stopped in his tracks next to you, the dry loose soil beneath him puffing up into trailing clouds. He stared forward, just jaw slack as he took in the sight before him.

A great shield had emerged from your hands and planted itself firmly in the dirt, an eagle emblazoned across the front with its wings spread proudly. The shield must have been six feet wide and ten feet tall, arrows littered the ground in front of it, broken and chipped. Everything stood still, no one quite knew what to make out of what they were seeing, including yourself. You knew it was yours, you could feel that. There was a dull sense of the impact of arrows against your palms as if the shield was an extension of your outstretched hands.

"Drop it." Hizashi ordered, taking a deep breath.

Shouta jumped into action and wrapped his arms around your head and Hizashi threw himself forward onto uneasy legs. You did as he ordered and dropped the great shield. As soon as it blinked away the ground began to tremble and a high pitched wail shattered the wall of sound the crackling and dull growls of the fire had made. You squeezed your eyes shut, everything blurring and shaking, threatening to make you sick. And then silence, or rather the closest thing to it you could get with the ringing in your ears.

Shouta started shoving you sideways towards the forest and despite how off balance you felt you complied and joined him in the mad dash to the tree line, stopping to look back only when you'd made it under the canopies. Behind you the line of well armed men were in various stages of distress, some were on their knees and vomiting and others were clutching their ears and trying not to fall over. None, however, were even remotely concerned with you as you fled.

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liron-ao3 · 3 years

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Read on AO3 here.

Pie-ning

It's in the wee hours and the kitchen worktop looks like after a demon attack.

A thin layer of flour dusts the stainless steel, butter softened by being outside the fridge for too long slowly greases the surface. Scraps of clingfilm are stuck on the bench, and dough sticks to a rolling pin. Formerly ice-cold water reached room temperature a while ago.

Castiel sits at the wooden dining table, his arms folded underneath his head. "This is a disaster," he murmurs.

The plan started easy enough. Castiel waited until Dean, Sam, and Jack were fast asleep. Then he started with the filling, because the recipe said so.

Unfortunately he hadn't read it properly. It asked for ready made pie crusts and well, he hadn't had the time to go shopping and smuggling the apples inside had been difficult enough.

The filling was already cooling in the pot when Castiel started to search the internet for pie crust recipes. They sounded easy enough. Boy, was he wrong.

Cutting the dough with a fork was a drudgery and it took ages to produce something that looked even close to what the photos showed. Why for heaven's sake had a kitchen where Dean Winchester lived and breathed not a pastry cutter!?

The recipe mentioned to cool the dough for an hour, but Castiel was running out of time and hoped it wouldn't turn out too bad if he gave it just 15 minutes in the fridge.

Well, it did. Turn out bad, that is. About half an hour ago, Castiel declared defeat by carbohydrates and fat. Stupid molecules!

Right when he decides to rise and clean up the mess he made, the kitchen door swings open. In comes Dean, eyes still at halfmast, the open bathrobe showing his batman pyjamas. Castiel can't suppress a small smile at the sight. How can a grown man look so adorable?

When Dean catches his gaze, Castiel looks down at his wringing hands, not sure if he can hide the heat he sure feels crawling up his neck. Maybe it's just a phantom blush. He hopes it is just that.

"Whatcha doin', Cass?" Dean asks, looking around the kitchen. He scowls at the chaos.

Castiel diverts his gaze to the messy worktop and opens his mouth to say something, but his lips close again when he realises that the reason is a sure thing to turn into something he will be the butt of the joke of.

He gets up and walks over, scrapes the unsuccessful attempt of an apple pie into the wastebin.

Dean watches him in utter silence. He frowns at the scene as Castiel opens the fridge to save the rest of the butter, walks to the kitchen sink, does the dishes as if he hadn't heard the question still hanging between them.

Dean closes his eyes for a moment and shakes his still sleep-heavy head. This is too much before his first coffee of the day.

He contemplates to walk over to prepare a cup of liquid ambrosia, but the even for his own standards oddly acting angel deems him more important. Dean cocks an eyebrow at that thought. Must be the sleep deprivation talking.

Castiel concentrates on the cleaning. Maybe Dean will just walk away and leave him be. It's not as if he didn't already think him to be weird. Even after knowing each other for so long, Castiel is well aware of the fact that they might be friends, even family of some kind, but that Dean still doesn't see him as a normal man. He is always set apart, but who isn't in this strange, self-made family? They are all freaks in their own ways.

Dean's attempts to dress him up, to make him appear more human notwithstanding, Castiel thinks he still sees him as not really part of this world. Or maybe it's just Castiel's fear that whispers these thoughts into his ear. They've never been good at talking things out. That nearly broke their friendship more than once.

As Castiel pulls the plug and dries his hands on the white apron Dean loves to use, he feels a hand on his shoulder, warm and solid. He wishes it would ground him, but it doesn't. It stirs him up in a very confusing way. It's not exactly hurting. Castiel knows pain. He's a born soldier after all. But on the other hand, it kind of does, but in a more than physical way. Every touch outside a life and death situation sends tendrils through his body, interacts with his grace, lights up every synapse of the human body that is wholy his now. He feels like going up in flames, the heat spreading like a wildfire from his shoulder to every cell of his body.

The hand just stays where Dean put it, a silent question, just a few more unspoken words between them.

Castiel wishes he could just say out loud what it feels like to be touched by Dean. To finally see his reaction. At this point the outcome would be nearly all the same to him. His urge to make Dean happy, to help him with all the crap that is thrown at him won't go away anyway.

"Speak to me, buddy," Dean orders, his voice still rough from sleep, and Castiel huffs a tiny laugh in response.

"I wanted to surprise you."

Castiel can nearly hear Dean's frown now. He turns to look at the other man which is a mistake as they are standing way too close now. But they somehow always do, so what's the point in correcting it?

The soft titillation of Dean's breath dancing on Castiel's skin is a welcome distraction from the thoughts the angel allows himself to think only very rarely in Dean's presence.

The hunter's breath catches and he takes a step back. Of course.

"I thought it would be nice to have pie for the special occasion. I know traditionally it's a cake, but as you love pie, I thought ..."

Dean stares at him in confusion. "What are you talking about, man?"

"It's your birthday, Dean." Castiel shrugs his shoulders nearly apologetically. "Granted, I don’t know the traditions in the House of Winchester, as I never celebrated your birthdays with you before, but Sam didn't buy a cake and Jake won't know that ..."

"You baked me a birthday pie?" Dean asks with barely hidden delight in his voice. His face lights up in the most beautiful way. It takes Castiel's breath away for a long moment.

"Well, ... I tried," he says when he can breathe again. He gestures to the waste bin and presses his jaws together, "but it seems I failed."

Dean starts laughing, a whole body, full belly laugh. He slams his hands on the worktop and shakes his head. Castiel looks at him, a tiny smile forming on his lips. He could hear Dean laugh for all eternity. It's not often enough that he has a reason to do it. The lines around his eyes are at least 50 percent made of grief and pain. Castiel would give everything to let them grow deeper only from laughter from now on.

The sparkle in Dean's eyes catches him off guard. There was a time when Castiel had seen the beauty of Dean's soul, the goodness of his heart. He still sees all of this despite the things the hunter has done and what others did to him. But there is even more he sees now.

Maybe it's because he lived with humans for too long or it's just Dean, Castiel isn't quite sure. But what he is sure about is that Dean is beautiful on a purely physical level, scars, wrinkles, and all. It's the greenness of his eyes and the curl of his lips, the slight curve if his nose and the freckles dusting his cheeks. Castiel can barely keep himself from staring. Not that any of them is good at stopping themselves from doing that, again and again. It's awkward for everyone forced to watch.

Dean grins at him with that boyish look that makes him seem a decade younger and that turns Castiel's legs into jelly. Dean Winchester will be the death of him, most likely literally. The angel doesn't even care. It would be worth it, if he saved him instead.

"That's ...," Dean trails off and blushes a little. Adorable and beautiful shouldn't be looks that go hand in hand together, but the hunter somehow pulls it off. "I don't know what to say, buddy ... Thank you."

"There's nothing to thank for. Filling doesn't make a pie." Castiel waves his hand into the stove's direction and Dean straightens to walk over. He sticks his finger into the mixture and stuffs a piece of apple into his mouth.

Cinnamon explodes on his tounge, the tartness of the apple perfectly balanced with brown sugar. "That stuff is good. I tell ya, I could eat it with a spoon."

The mere thought that Castiel put into this warms Dean's heart in ways that he couldn't admit to anybody. He wished he could speak his thruth out loud just once. How these little gestures keep him from falling apart, how Castiel's kindness rubbs off on him, and how thankfull he is that the angel somehow manages it to keep him human. But that's not possible, not without risking to let even deeper things out. "This is friggin' awesome!" he says instead.

Castiel smiles mildly at the praise. He watches Dean beam at him as if he hang the moon and his heart threatens to leap out of his chest. Human bodies are weird.

"As I see it, we have two options here," Dean says matter-of-factly.

Castiel raises a questioning eyebrow, amusement clearly tugging on the corners of his lips. "Is that so?"

"Mmh," Dean says around another fingerful of filling. "A - We pull out the spoons and share it just between us; the others will never know. Or B - I show you how to make a proper crust."

Castiel's face turns into a countenance of surprise. "You know how to do that?"

"Yeah. It's not as easy as pie. The folk saying is wrong about that. But it's no witchcraft either."

Dean raises his hand to motion Castiel to stay put and returns just a few minutes later with an old notebook in his hand. A women's handwriting says 'Recipes' on the front and Dean browses the pages until he finds what he was looking for.

Castiel watches him in silence, his eyes tightening in concentration. Dean appears almost bubbly. The angel hasn't seen him like that often. It only occurs when the hunter lets his guard down and that's barely happening.

"There it is. My grandma's pie recipe. That's how my mum baked it."

Pain flickers over Dean's face for a second before he schools it. He walks to the fridge and pulls a fresh block of butter from the back of it, then collects the other ingredients.

"It's important to work quickly and then give it a good, cool rest," he says and starts working as if he had done this a hundred times before. Maybe he did. Castiel watches him with awe.

"Help me with the water and the vinegar," the hunter says and Castiel obliges with a soft smile, watching as Dean uses a wooden spoon to incorporate the liquids and then switches to using his hands to form the dough.

"I didn't know you were a baker," Castiel states.

Dean chuckles. "Well, I haven't done proper baking until we moved into the bunker. I used cake mixes before that. One year I stole cupcakes from the store for Sammy's birthday."

Dean's smile falters at the memory. "We aren't really great at celebrations. I tried to give Sammy the holiday and birthday experience, but ... I guess it fell short on what other people have."

Castiel looks at him with sad eyes. "I'm sure Sam appreciated your efforts."

Dean shrugs it off. There is no use in dwelling too long on his fucked up childhood. He clears his throat. "Where is the plastic wrap?"

Castiel reaches under the table and hands it over, their fingers brushing against each other when Dean takes it. The hunter looks at him from beneath his long eyelashes. Castiel remembers when he recreated every single one of them, not knowing what a gaze thrown through them would be able to do to him one day.

He swallows the sudden lump in his throat. Maybe he should just say it, get over with it, see Dean's disgust or delight or even indifference. But, no. That could destroy everything between them. It's enough to be allowed to be in Dean's orbit. It has to.

Dean busies himself to put the dough into the fridge and cleans the surface of the worktop. He dries his hands at a rag and leans against the kitchen island. Castiel's gaze is as unreadable as it is inescapable now and Dean feels a rush of something running through his body.

The softness of Castiel's eyes is warming him from inside out and the feeling is highly disturbing. He can't have these kind of emotions for his best friend who isn't even a real human being.

Dean rolls his eyes inwardly at himself. As if that would be the main problem here. He interrupts his train of thought and walks over to the coffee maker, brewing two cups.

"I wish I could have taken the pain away," Castiel says seemingly apropos of nothing.

Dean sits down at the table, putting one mug in front of him and one on the opposite side of the table. He stays silent for a long moment. "Care to elaborate?"

"When I rebuilt you. My order was to pull you out of hell and put you back into the exact state you were before, past injuries, bad memories, and all. I wish I had known you well enough then to spare you at least some of them."

Dean purses his lips and shruggs. "It's what made me who I am today."

Castiel nods and sits down. "That's true. A righteous man, loyal and caring. The best friend someone could ask for."

Dean blushes under the praise. "Come on, man. Don't turn this into a chick flick moment."

Castiel tilts his head to the side and his eyes tighten in concentration when he scrutinises the other man. "I wish you could see yourself the way that I do, Dean," he finally sighs, well knowing that the stubborn hunter would rather leave than listen to the truth. The truth that he is worthy to be saved, worthy to be loved, worthy to die for.

Dean takes a big gulp of his coffee, burning his tongue in the process. The pain is a welcome feeling. It eases the sadness and melancholy inside him that swarms his guts like an unwanted colony of bees. He can't handle Castiel looking at him like that, so open and warm as if he were the most precious gem in God's vast creation.

No, it can't be that. Castiel could never look at him like this. He knows his very soul, he knows how broken he is inside, how ugly his dark spots are and how rare the light ones. There's no way that he looks at him in adoration.

Dean wriggles about on his chair. He doesn't know what to make of it, of this look, of the way the angel always comes back no matter how often he chases him away. And he doesn't know what to make of the feeling of pure relief every time he sees his angel again, well and alive.

Fuck, this shouldn't be so difficult, right? He is just a friend, his best friend. Dean would bake him a cake too, if the angel had a birthday. Or maybe not. Without Castiel Dean wouldn't even know that it is his birthday, today. Calendars kind of lose their meaning if you're hunting monsters and fighting God 24/7, 365 days a year.

No, celebrations and anniversaries are for normal people, and the Winchesters and their chosen family are anything but.

The two men drink their coffee in silence until Dean starts chuckling. Castiel raises a questioning eyebrow.

"One year, I bought a cheap cake mix for my birthday. I used margarine to make it, butter was too expensive. The cake tasted awful," he chuckles. "But Sammy had the idea to coat it and we built little towers of thin sliced cake and jelly layers. My old man was drunk in front of the tv. I had been so happy that he wasn't gone for once that I brought him the tower I had built and he looked at me in this way, where your insides get all twisted and you think you will throw up."

Dean's fingers run over the rim of his now empty mug. He shakes his head to clear it from the memory. Why is every good one always attached to one tainting it?

He feels Castiel's hand nudging on his own, giving it a squeeze when he lets go of the cup without resistance. They keep the contact, loose and soft. It should bug Dean, but he can't make himself pull away. Castiel's hand is like an anchor pinning him to the presence. It's way too easy to get lost in memories if there isn't something or someone to hold on to.

Dean doesn't know how long they are sitting like this. It doesn't matter. He is so starved of human touch. When did he stop to pick up women for that? Maybe at the same time he started to feel comfortable in the rare hugs he and Castiel are sharing.

The timer pulls him out of his unhelpful musing. "Time to rock'n'roll," he exclaims a little too enthusiastically as he pulls his hand away, missing the touch instantly.

Castiel follows him and watches as he dusts the worktop with flour, much more lightly than the angel did a few hours earlier.

"C’mere," Dean says. "I'll teach you how to roll it out properly."

Castiel walks around the kitchen island and stands in front of the two balls of dough, squinting at them suspiciously.

Dean chuckles. "They won't bite. Flour the rolling pin and roll it over it. Not too timidly and not too slow. If it cracks in some places, we can fix it later."

Castiel does as he's told, but the dough doesn't cooperate. Dean laughs at his failing attempts and the angel swears unholy curses, the scale of his embarrassment rising steadily. For heaven's sake. He should be able to do such a mundane task with ease.

He's just short of giving up when he feels Dean moving around him, his hands gliding past him on either side.

Castiel holds his breath when Dean puts his hands on top of his own and guides his movements. The hunter's breath tickles his ear and the closeness of their bodies is nearly unbearable.

If Castiel just knew that Dean is feeling the same. That he's wavering between joy and dread, that the fear to overstep any boundaries nearly overwhelms him. But it feels too good to lightly press into the angel's body and it would be awkward if he pulled back now. So he decides to enjoy it, a little birthday present that's harming no-one but him.

When they managed to roll both crust out, Dean steps back and prepares the baking tin. It's only when the decorated pie is in the oven that his mind goes fully back to Castiel who just finished the cleanup.

Dean should make fun of his appearance, the apron powdered with flour just like the coat the angel is still wearing underneath. But he can't find it in himself to tease him. Because honestly? Castiel without his trenchcoat would border on nudity and Dean knows better than to let his thoughts go astray. It's too risky. It might make him blurt out how much he loves him, that he wants him to stay. Forever.

But no good would come out of it. Are angels even capable of romantic love? Physical attraction, sure. He had that with Anna. Obsession, clearly, as Ishim showed. But true love? Dean swallows at his own thoughts. He knows by now of what nature his feelings for Castiel are. It's not as if he didn't try not to fall in love with the angel. But he can't help it. Damn it, Elvis, shut up!

"What is it?" Castiel asks softly, his low voice vibrating through Dean's very soul.

"Nothing." Yeah, that sounded totally convincing. He clears his throat. "Thank you. For the idea to make me pie and for spending the time with me to finish it."

That sounded more cheezy than wanted, but Castiel doesn't get that. It's little mercies like these that keep Dean from forming puddles of embarrassment ever so often.

"You're welcome," Castiel says, forrowing his brows in a way Dean wants to kiss away. "I liked spending time with you. Although I still wish I would have managed to do it on my own."

Dean chuckles. "I baked our birthday cakes every year, but the only time I remember is the one with the jelly towers. It's memories like that that will stay with us, Cass. Not the picture perfect ones. Not that I had plenty of experience with those. Anyway." Dean clears his throat again. Why is it so dry?

Castiel nods. "You are a remarkable man and I hope to make many more beautiful memories like this with you."

Dean swallows around the lump in his throat with no success. How can the angel just say something like that? As if it was the most natural thing to say. Maybe it is. Or Castiel is just insane. Dean doesn't know what's normal anymore. Maybe he doesn't want to if it means having the angel at his side.

"Yeah," he agrees tersely, too worried that the truth might spill out otherwise. How Castiel's sheer presence makes his life more beautiful, that he would be happy to just look into his eyes and forget the world as he does right now. But he keeps it inside, neatly packed away next to all the other things he holds on tightly, never to see the light of day. His love is poison. He knows that. It had been for Sam, for Lisa and Ben, and even for Castiel way too many times to count.

He wasn't aware that he was staring again when Castiel moves into his personal space and cups his face tenderly with both hands. It would be easy to just lean in a little, to brush his lips over the angel's.

"Happy birthday, Dean," Castiel says reverently and Dean closes his eyes. It's too much and way too little. And still the best birthday present of his life.

#happy birthday dean #happy birthday dean winchester #dean winchester #fanfiction #destiel #deancas #I miss Dean #Dean deserved better

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official-weasley · 3 years

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The Irreplaceable Charlie Weasley: Pt. 2, Ch. 3

PART 2: THE YEAR OF MISCHIEF AND SNEAKING AROUND Chapter 3 - Tonks' Explosion

Charlie

Second Year wasn't as bad as I thought it would be when I first saw our packed schedule. It did mean that I had less time to spend with my friends something Bill was rather happy about as he could keep an eye on me as I did my homework in the Great Hall or the Common Room.

I thought the Second Year was going to be bad as I failed at Quidditch tryouts but I have to say that Nova and Hagrid cheered me up quite nicely. There's always next year and I promised myself I would practice so much over the Summer that there won't be anyone better than me. Of course, I was already the best. At least that's what one of the Gryffindor's Chasers told me. She said that I only wasn't picked because the Captain wanted his little brother on the Team. A bunch of rubbish if you ask me.

In November, some good news came at least when Nova and I were at Hagrid's, questioning him when will he allow us to go to the Forbidden Forest with him and he finally gave in and promised us he was going to take us after Christmas Holidays.

Of course, that was a mistake since from that moment on that was all Nova and I could talk about. The first couple of nights after that I was so excited that I couldn't sleep. Bill started to worry about me as I usually walked out of my dormitory looking as if I just rose from the dead. As they just made a Sleeping Draught potion in class he gave me some and that night I slept better than probably when I was a baby.

I mostly saw and spent time with Jae when we had classes together because on every other occasion he was spending his time with Tulip and Tonks. What those 3 were doing to the Castle I had no idea. I was just hoping that the enchantments on the walls were strong enough to resist their damage.

I never thought I was going to say that but Transfiguration was one of my favorite classes. Like last year, I was sitting next to Nova and even though I failed to transfigure half of the objects it was just so wonderful to watch her have so much fun and see just how talented she is in class.

Penny, of course, insisted that this year we should start studying for our exams earlier and that we should practice our spell work immediately when we learned the spells, that way we would have more time for our theoretical parts of exams. As we all laughed at her that morning at breakfast when she came up with the idea, she put it to rest, which didn't stop her from studying every chance she got.

As much as I thought she lost her marbles by doing so, I couldn't help but admire her but at the same time wonder what the O.W.L.s will do to her if she is panicking about the end of the year exams in November in our Second Year.

—

One Thursday, I was late to Potions class as I ran down to Hagrid's for some tea and I wanted to say hi to Nova and the girls who had Potions before Gryffindors and Slytherins.

I heard them talking in front of the classroom when I walked through the dark corridor of the Dungeons. Nova spotted me and I waved at her, smiling back at me.

“Hi ladies, how...” But before I could finish my question something exploded in my face. I started to cough as I couldn't breathe through the thick layer of green gas. I took a few steps backward hoping it would help but didn't.

As my eyes started to water, I heard a voice.

“Bloody hell. Not another one! I wish I wasn't so clumsy.” I heard Tonks say.

“Tonks if you...don't stop it with...the Dungbombs...you are going to kill...all of your friends.” I heard Penny cough.

“What is the meaning of this?!” I heard Snape yell as a door, which I assumed was that of the Potions classroom creaked open.

“Run!” I heard Tulip shout and as I opened my eyes halfway I saw 4 figures running towards me.

Nova noticed me at once, grabbed my elbow, and dragged me after Penny, Tonks, and Tulip. We finally came to the part of the corridor where the stench didn't spread yet. Penny and Tulip were still coughing. Nova was rubbing her eyes and I grabbed a handkerchief out of my robes to blow my nose that stang due to the toxicity of the Dungbomb.

“That was close!” Tonks was still panting.

“Tonks are you trying to murder us?!” Penny scolded her.

“Where are you getting all these bombs from, Tonks?” Nova asked, her eyes still in tears.

“I befriended a Third Year and gave him some money. He is getting them for me from Zonko's.” Tonks' lips curled.

Tulip was the first one that started to laugh. She accidentally inhaled too deeply while doing so and started coughing again. Nova and I laughed now. And even though Penny didn't want to admit that the accident was funny, she couldn't help her lips curl a little.

“At least we got away from Snape. Do you reckon he knows who the bomb was from?” Tonks questioned.

“I don't think he saw us.” Nova reassured her. “However, Tonks you have to practice your balance and work on your clumsiness, or sooner or later the whole school will be filled with Dungbomb smell.” She laughed again.

“An innocent prank here or there is fine, Tonks.” Said Penny much to our surprise. “However, why couldn't you slip outside and not in front of Potions classroom?”

“Indeed.” We heard a sluggish voice say. We turned around and Snape was standing behind us, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes filled with fury.

“Uh, Professor Snape, sir. Is there any way you didn't catch anything we were just saying?” Said Tonks rather optimistically.

“Fortunately for me,” Snape started with a smirk on his face, “I didn't only hear that you were the culprit for this 'accident' you've called it, Miss Tonks. I also heard Miss Karasu, Miss Haywood, Miss Blackwood, and Mr. Weasley laugh, amused at your little joke so I think it's only fair they get detention as well.” He was rather calm about the whole situation, which meant nothing good.

“Firstly...” he started, “50 points from Hufflepuff, 50 from Ravenclaw, and 25 from Gryffindor, meaning 25 points each, won't you agree?” He bestowed us with an evil-looking smile.

We just stood there as none of us dared to speak.

“I am glad you do.” He put his hands behind his back. “Now, Miss Tonks you will stay in this corridor and clean it from top to bottom and you will do the same for my classroom.”

“Easy!” The word escaped Tonks' mouth and she knew at that moment that she was going to regret it.

“Without...using...magic.” Hissed Snape as he came so close to her face that I thought his nose was going to touch Tonks'.

This time she just nodded, even though I knew very well she wanted to complain.

Then he looked at Penny and Tulip, who were standing on Tonks' left side.

“Miss Haywood, I expected better from you and as much as it does pain me,” he said sarcastically, “to give you detention, I have learned my lesson last year when you rather enjoyed yourself organizing my potions shelf.” He smirked.

“So, I was thinking you could accompany Miss Karasu here to Filch's Office this evening as I am sure he would be delighted to have some help polishing the trophies in the Trophy Room.” He waited if they were going to say anything. Penny just gulped. “Without using magic, of course.” He added quickly.

“Ah, Miss Blackwood and Mister Weasley.” He now looked at me and Nova on Tonks' right side. “Adventurous creature lovers.” I stared at him, forgetting to blink.

“Don't look at me like that Mister Weasley! Do you think I don't know you are reading books about Dragons during my class!” He said half through his teeth.

“Since you both love to look at pretty ol' pictures of cute little animals, how about you spend an entire night in the Forbidden Forest with nothing but Hagrid and that silly little dog he owns.” He grinned victoriously.

“I would like to see the look on your faces when you get out the next morning. I bet you will put away all your silly books and finally start thinking about a real career.” His grin grew larger.

As we didn't say anything and all stood as still as statues, he crossed his arms on his chest one more time.

“Well...” he almost whispered to us. “What are you still doing in my Dungeons?!” He shouted.

I grabbed Nova by her sleeve and we ran up the stairs and didn't stop running until we reached the Courtyard. We knew we probably shouldn't but we still burst out laughing as we had to keep a straight face in front of Snape for such a long time.

“What a bunch of rubbish!” Said Tulip as she wiped a tear from her face, laughing so hard.

“What do you mean?” Penny looked puzzled.

“I understand that Tonks has to clean the corridor as the Dungbomb was hers and I understand that we all get detention and I guess one night with Filch won't be that bad. We will come up with something.” Tulip reassured Penny. “But he gave Nova and Charlie an early Christmas present! Sending them into the Forest to 'scare' them! Doesn't he know them at all?” At first, I thought she was really mad but then she started laughing again.

“I would like to see the look on your faces when you get out the next morning...” Tulip imitated him. “What does he think you are looking at in those books of yours, Kneazles and Crup puppies?” She was holding her stomach now, trying to catch her breath, laughing so hard.

“Yeah, that's a bit unfair. Perhaps, we should go back down and tell Snape to give you a worse punishment.” Penny giggled. I knew she was kidding because of the way she looked at us, I knew she was happy we were finally going to the Forest.

Nova and I exchanged looks. I turned to her and we both shrieked at once. “We're going to the Forbidden Forest!” We clapped our hands together and started to jump around the Courtyard.

I didn't want to jinx anything but at that moment Snape was my favorite professor.

As Nova and I were preparing to go to the Forbidden Forest the next day, we had to remind ourselves that if Snape asked us how it was we have to act as if it was the worst punishment ever. For the first time, we were giving Tonks and Tulip's love for pranks a second thought. If Snape would send us to the Forest with Hagrid and Fang every time, we would want to be in detention all the time.

I didn't sleep that night again, as I couldn't believe we were going into the Forest before Hagrid promised us and as I finally did drift into dreamland, I couldn't help but hope we find a Dragon in there.

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troop-scoop · 4 years

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Mistakes & Regrets III

Summary: When a trip to your Dad’s hometown of Hawkins goes wrong, you end up in the year 1983, and have to learn how to cope with being stuck in the past.

Pairing: Steve Harrington / Future!Reader (Slow Burn)

A/n: N/a

•••

How were you supposed to explain the real reason you wanted to help Jonathan? How were you supposed to say that, yes, you would be helping anyway, even if you didn’t have such a connection to what was happening.

You were terrified, because what if whatever got you here, is the reason Will went missing? If something bad happened to him-

No, you couldn’t think like that. That’s what caused anxiety to spike. Thinking too much. You couldn’t do that, you’d have a panic attack, and have to ask Jonathan to pull over so you could fall out of the car onto the side of the road while struggling to find the correct breathing pattern you’d been taught by your friends, one that your dad helped you with every time they saw that you were close to that point.

“Where do you want to be dropped off?” Jonathan asked quietly, turning down the music which was already low so you could hear him.

“Oh um… The motel. On Brawford.” You said equally as quietly as Jonathan had asked. But this was all too close to home. You were supposed to be going on the seventh grade field trip to the bowling alley with your little brother in April, and it was supposed to be exciting, With just enough money to go on a road trip through Hawkins, with your dads, and your little brother. But now you were here, and your dads were left in Hawkins, probably also carrying around missing person posters of you face on them. You wondered what picture they used, how they spoke of you. How broken up your dad had to be.

Dad had been the one to take off work after they had you, he showed up to every school event, took you back to school shopping, and when you hit puberty, no matter how awkward it had to have been, he took you to get a training bra. It was clear that your dad was the one more attached to you than pa. You knew they both loved you, but you were your dad’s baby. He nearly had a breakdown when they couldn’t find you after school one day, announcing over the P.A system for you to go to the front to get picked up because it was lunch, but you hadn’t heard it.

He was always anxious that something terrible would happen to you.

“You’re in the motel? I thought you were emancipated? That’s the word around school anyway.”

“Yeah? Maybe I’m just a kid who’s living in a motel cause I have no where else to go, so please, just take me back to my motel room.”

He listened, driving you to the motel, where in the parking lot you could see a familiar face, waiting by the trunk of his car, holding a thin book in hand. “Harrington knows you’re staying here?” He questioned, pulling into the parking lot.

“He’s not supposed to.” you breathed, reaching into the back seat, grabbing his shoulder bag. Pulling out a short stack of posters from the minimum of a hundred he had in the bag. “I’ll take these.” You pulled a pen out of the bag, ripping a corner off of one of the posters, and writing the number of the rotary phone you had in the motel room and handing the corner of the paper to Jonathan. “If you need help, call me. I’m serious.”

With that, you got out of the car, holding the stack of posters, intending on putting them up, and walking a few steps over to the BMW while Jonathan drove out of the parking lot and down the street.

“Your Majesty?”

Steve scoffed a bit, a smile on his face as he crossed his arms, holding what you could now tell was a black notebook, an angry red pen attached to the cover. He held it out to you, and you noticed the scribbles of ‘math’ on the front and back.

“Mrs. Jensen said to stop writing in red pen.” It was in an amused tone while you took the notebook and held it to you, putting the posters on top of the cover. He saw the papers and with curiosity, tilted down the notebook so it was parallel with the ground, letting the papers be within his eyesight. “You’re helping Jonathan? I thought that was about your project?”

You sighed a bit, pulling the notebook back, and shaking your head. Sometimes Steve didn’t understand anything. His lack of true social skills are lacking. He could be empathetic, and sympathetic, he could be kind, but you weren’t blind to the fact that he could be insensitive at times as well.

“His brother’s missing, Steven.” You used his full first name which made him shift uncomfortably. “No one at school is in his corner. Someone needs to tell him he’s not alone. And Will needs to come home.”

“He’s a bit weird, don’t you think? I mean, I’ve known him since we were in preschool, he’s odd-”

“Jonathan’s socially awkward, I wish people would actually understand that, also, his brother’s missing. I’d help if you went missing, begrudgingly.”

Steve shook his head, chuckling. “You know, every once in a while, I think you’re okay, and then you say stuff like that. and it hurts.” He mocked, pointing to his chest. “Right here.”

It got a genuine laugh out of you. Your Pa did similar things to mock you, and you always found it funny when others tried to do it, because they didn’t know she was better at it.

“Oh, am I, an interloper in this town, warming up your cold, frostbitten heart, King Steven of the house Harrington?”

His shoulders dropped a bit as he looked at you, he looked defeated. He hated when you called him any of those, but he looked down right exasperated when you said all of it in one go.

“Okay, you win.”

You smiled and nodded. “I knew I would. How did you find out I lived here?” You asked quietly, a smile fading as you looked up at him, walking over to be next to him, setting the notebook and posters down on the top of the trunk and hefting yourself up to sit on it.

No one knew you’d been living in the motel ever since you ‘came to town’ you always tried to get out of telling people. Putting down the P.O box address you’d gotten at the post office so not even the school administration would know.

“Nance said she saw you coming here a few days ago.” He spoke as if it was nothing, just something that was normal for her own personal business being seen and then spread to a guy she barely knew yet still considered a friend.

Before you could respond he’d moved to the driver’s side and opened the door, pulling a bag out from the passenger seat. The Radio Shack logo on it. “What is that?”

Steve gave a shrug, handing the bag to you when he’d gotten back. You had instantly looked in it, only to find the packaging for a Walkman, and many cases of cassette tapes.

“Steve-”

“Don’t, you do this every time I try to do something nice for you-”

“Oh yeah? Like what, buying me lunch the time I didn’t have money? I didn’t want you to, but I told I would pay you back, eventually… now I owe you like 50 billion dollars.” You chuckled a bit, the real reason for you even being here slipping from your mind for now.

You knew that Walkmans used to be expensive, and you knew he’d offered, but you thought it was a joke, you didn’t think he’d actually do it.

“No. I’m not gonna accept your money. Go enjoy your music. Consider it a housewarming gift.” He teased, giving your shoulder a gentle shove while you pulled out a Queen cassette.

“Okay, but I’m gonna sneak you your money somehow, go have fun at your party asshole.”

•••

You’d been sleeping soundly for the first time in months, having fallen asleep with the headphones of the cassette player on, Blondie playing softly into your ears, no memorable dreams occurring, just such a good time sleeping that the folds of your pillow left soft marks on your face. But something had woken you up in the late night, maybe early morning.

The lamp beside your bed flickered. The paranoia makes you pull your head up from the pillow, vision blurry from sleep watching as the light disappeared, leaving in mostly darkness. A small sliver of moonlight being allowed in from the window whose drapes you hadn’t pulled closed.

A mumble about needing to go to the motel closer to the school being uttered as you flopped onto the other side of the bed, hugging the pillow to your head before you saw a flash of red through your closed eyelids. The kind you get when light is shining on the thin layer of skin.

Suddenly, all sleep was gone from you and you were sitting up, staring at the lamp. You tried to be rational, say it was just because the power outage a few days ago. It had to be aftershocks, right?

But you were sure aftershocks didn’t happen two times in a row. But when the bathroom light quickly flicked on, the sound of electricity going through the room. You were sure aftershocks didn’t happen three times in a row.

Carefully, as thought you were five, and were going to get caught for getting out of bed, you pushed the blankets off of your body, and slowly slid off the too tall of a bed. You were going to take a step towards the light switch for the overhead but it turned on itself.

The feeling of being on a never ending drop on a rollercoaster came, settling deep down in the pit of your stomach, while you stared at the overhead, watching as it dimmed and got brighter for a few seconds before it flipped off again.

A shiver ran up your spine making you shiver and make a low and uncomfortable ‘ah’ noise, taking quick and quiet strides to the switch, turning on the overhead light for good, but that feeling was still there.

But a loud ring made you jump back, and into the wall, the switch digging into your back for a split second, making you give a low cry of pain, quickly getting away from it, a hand coming to rub the now sensitive spot through the old and stained MCR t-shirt you’d come to 1983 in.

But that was all it was. A small ring that left you terrified and standing in the middle of the room.

•••

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

@disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @songofcosplay @jxnehxpper

#steve harrington #steve x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things x reader

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randomrosewrites · 4 years

Text

H. A. W. K. S.

“There’s a certain kind of pain that follows denying your pleasures in life.”

A brief abstract piece on Hawks as a character.

Words: 2179

Rating: Mature

Read it on ao3

// Possible manga spoilers. No events in the manga are mentioned outright, but some things and aspects of Hawk’s past are alluded to.

Warnings: Blood + killing mention.

Enjoy.

H. A. W. K. S.

Act 1: Heights.

It’s raining tonight.

He’s always liked the rain. Maybe it made sense, with his quirk and all, but something about water streaming from the heavens soothed him.

He’s crouched on an arm of a crane, at the top right where the hook hangs 50 meters below him. His wings are hunched up, rain cascading down them like they’re made of glass, his coat and hair are lightly misted with a thin layer of water. Cupped between his gloved hands is a room-temperature can of instant coffee. He takes sips from it whenever he remembers to.

It’s a quiet night on patrol. The city has, graciously, decided it was going to be quiet for the night. He gazes out over the world, city lights flaring against the plastic of his visor. He pushes it up onto his hair. Rubs his eyes. Blinks. Drinks some coffee.

Nights like these were what he - in theory - enjoyed. Quiet. Serene. No one around to disturb or ask him anything. Perched at the top of the world, weightless and free.

But every time those graveyard shifts rolled around, without fail, an extreme sense of disappointment settled in.

He knows he should be happy. He should be savoring the precious moments of peace whenever he could, as they were such a rarity. But he couldn’t help but feel a sense of emptiness, a hole where he was expecting joy to fill it. Instead of feeling free, he just felt tethered to the ground, an invisible chain wrapped around his ankle.

He stares up in the air, being met with pitch blackness. He can’t tell the difference between cloud and sky.

Being alone meant there was...nothing. Nothing to do. No one to talk to. Nothing he had to be. He didn’t have to be anything - no one but himself.

Himself… who even is that person, if they even exist? The line between his hero persona and who he truly is blurs with every passing day that now he thinks - fears - there’s no difference. It’s just one blur, like the clouds in the night sky.

After the curtains shut (if they ever shut at all…) and he takes his final bow as Hawks, who is he?

He gazes out over the city, burying the multitude of thoughts he doesn’t have answers for far away from his mind.

Act 2: Apathy.

He never wanted to be in the top ten. But as most things in his life, fate had a different plan for him.

He doesn’t understand why he’s so popular. Ok, well, that’s a lie, he does partly. But he doesn’t understand what makes him good enough for the top of the pyramid. He’s not like All-might or Endeavor, who became famous for their pure strength. His wings are powerful, sure, but not that powerful.

If he had to take a guess, he’d bet the appearance of his feathered appendages were a big contributor to his fame. That and a mix between his speech and his looks (don’t even ASK him what his fans see in him, he has no idea. ) But in the end, the why isn’t important, but how he handles that fame.

He smiles politely at the people crowded around him. Sign this for him. Nod at that person. Take a photo with her. Thank this person. Laugh at this one’s joke. Let the kids tug on his wings. It’s all standard stuff he’s been trained to know how to do. Simple.

The hardest part is figuring out what people want. How much effort to invest in the conversations, how much he has to smile to make them satisfied, but not enough for them to get too confident. People and their emotions are easy things to figure out. It’s a formula. A pattern. Once you know what they like, it’s just a matter of providing that euphoria again and again.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spots a person who wriggles through the crowd, coming close to him. They appear nervous, maybe hopeful, wringing their hands out in front of them.

“Excuse me?” They ask.

Hawks finishes up signing something for a kid and turns to them.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“I…” As they pause, Hawk’s eyes trail lower. A red feathered charm hangs from a metal chain around their neck, resembling the feathers on his back.

He recognizes it. It’s one of his merch products from the latest jewelry line that came out. He showed it off in a recent photo shoot he did. The necklaces have been very popular, from what he’s heard.

The fan clears their throat and finds their voice. “I just wanted to say thank you for all that you do. I love you so much and I think you’re amazing.”

A confession? He feels like laughing. Wow. It’s not the first time he’s had one of those, and it certainly won’t be the last.

He smiles good-naturedly at them. “Thanks! I’m grateful for all the support my fans give me.”

They flush, just happy to be able to talk to him. He wishes he could feel bad. Or feel anything for all these people fawning over him.

But he doesn’t. He feels nothing.

You don’t love me, he thinks, you love the idea of me.

Act 3: Wings.

“What a great quirk you have! I bet you’ll be able to become a super-strong hero with it!”

“You’re so lucky to have a powerful quirk!”

“I’m so jealous of you!”

“Wow...look at them!”

...things like that were what people told him all the time as a kid. How lucky he was, how blessed he was, blah blah blah.

He’s lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling of his apartment. He’s shooed most of the feathers out of his wings, leaving just little whisps on his back. It’s still a bit uncomfortable and feels a tad annoying when they press against the sheets of his bed, but he doesn’t mind. Sometimes that ache is good.

The rest of his feathers flit about the room. Some stick to the walls or ceilings, others hover around, suspended in midair. A few zoom around, disturbing the others, but most just kinda lay around.

Mighty wings. That’s the name they gave his quirk. A more accurate term would be mighty feathers, but it’s not like he cares about the technicalities.

He rubs a dead one between his fingers. The barbs are frayed and the edges are bunched together.

It was always his quirk that got him attention. It was always the wings that people noticed and remembered - not the man who controlled them. Without them, would anyone even recognize him? Or was he just a pretty face that went along with them?

He glares at the feather in hand, crushing it carelessly between his fingers. The crack of the stem as it breaks echoes through the room.

So yes, what a great quirk he was born with! It was so good, they decided his life for him.

Act 4: Kill.

His wings always felt heavier when wet. Sadly, he found out it didn’t need to always be because of water. Blood also weighed them down.

It was his first time in a mock battle. Back when he was...7...8? Something like that.

Well, anyway, he’d been up against an opponent that was a lot stronger than he was in terms of physical strength. It wasn’t an important fight, it was just a casual sparing match. But they’d both fought like their lives were at stake. At the time, his feathers weren’t as strong or large as they are now, so he didn’t have much to work with.

During some point in the fight, though, he remembers getting a nice cut on his opponent. Right along the arm on the meaty part of the tricep. The feather jerked through the skin, cutting a jagged, wobbly line into the muscle.

When he felt it, he shivered.

Afterwards, he cleaned himself up in the bathroom, washing away his own blood from the cuts and scrapes he gained. When it came time to do his feathers, he’d thrown away the bloodied one, taking an hour to carefully preen and scrub the rest of his dirtied feathers.

Back then, it felt easy to get the blood off of him.

Now, things are much different.

How long do you have to wash your hands before the blood goes away entirely? He ponders to himself one night. Does it really ever go away? Or does some of it stay behind permanently in microscopic percentages?

He stands over his sink, shoulders hunched, head hanging. The faucet is on, sending a gush of water down the sink. Wasteful, he chastises himself.

Blood trickles from his nose in slow, steady drops, twirling down the drain. He’d gotten careless, a bit too sloppy, and the consequence had been him landing face-first into the ground. It wasn’t broken, thankfully, it just hurt like hell.

He stares at his hands, gripping the edges of the sink. They’re spotless - not a drop of blood or a spec of dirt on them. He’d worn gloves after all. It made cleanup easier.

The wings on his back twitch. They’re red. Even though he can tell when there’s blood on them (it’s always just a bit darker) who knows for certain if they’re entirely clean? Maybe the blood just stains them, slowly changing the colour of them, layer by layer.

He stands there for a minute, before pumping a few squirts of soap into his hands, and viciously scrubbing them together.

No guilt. Just the need to be clean. Though he knows that it’s pointless to think he’ll ever be it.

Act 5: Sorrow.

There’s a certain kind of pain that follows denying your pleasures in life. It’s not a sharp pain but a slow scrape, like someone is tearing your heart apart tissue by tissue, leaving behind nothing but a cold pit. It creeps up on you, seeping into your body, sucking the life out of you.

Most people hated Mondays. They're the first day of the business week, always the hardest to come back from after celebrating the weekend. For Hawks, it’s always the opposite. Fridays are the hardest for him.

All around him, he sees people living their lives. Excited students going for karaoke, exhausted business owners going for a relaxing night in, clusters of friend groups going out to eat at a restaurant.

Everyone is having fun, they’re existing, relishing in the pleasures of life.

But for Hawks, those weren’t things he could take part in. He’s always busy, tied up with one thing or another that the higher ups needed to be done. An endless, to-do-list that only lengthens the faster he tries to go.

Sometimes he wants to scream. Or cry. Or slam his fists into the ground. Rip his throat raw until he can't speak. He felt the need to do something to ground himself, something to treasure himself that he was alive. Because half of the time, he feels like he’s not really living.

Every day is the same. Different day, sure, and different tasks, but the same routine. Like a loop. He gets up, works, goes to bed exhausted, wakes up exhausted, and repeat.

Over and over and over.

And what is the point of it all? He’s only...what, twenty-two? And yet, he feels like he’s lived enough for a lifetime and not long enough simultaneously.

He wants to go out and see the world. He wants to curl back up in bed and sleep for a solid three months. How can two oxymorons both be true?

He tears his gaze away from the window and the people walking in the streets of Tokyo, shutting the blinds and taking a seat at his desk.

Even on his darkest days, even when he feels like he can’t handle being himself for another second, he always calms down. Without fail, he always picks himself back up, piece by broken piece, and looks forward to the future.

It’s the only thing he can do.

H. A. W. K. S.

He’s barreling forward in life, flying faster than his wings can take him.

One of these days, he’s going to trip and fall. Maybe he’ll slip further than he can catch his mistakes, or maybe he’ll reach his nonexistent limit and throw in the towel, but inevitably, one of these days he’s going to come down.

“Hawks.” A woman in a plain black suit and dark sunglasses says to him. “The meeting is starting now. Are you fully prepared?”

When that does happen, there’s no doubt it’ll be painful and ugly and hurt like all hell. He’ll fall through the sky, crashing and burning, hurtling towards the ground where he’ll collapse in a trembling, pathetic mess.

But until that point, he’ll keep flying on. Because it’s the only thing he knows how to do.

He smiles, ready to compromise himself over and over again.

“Yup.”

Hawks. A man who’s too fast for his own good.

#hawks #bnha #keigo takami #its not exactly the most cannon hawks imo but ehh #hes hard to write for #writing #my writing #fanfiction #bnha fanfiction

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takara-kaneko · 4 years

Text

Fluffweek Day 2: Nightmare

To Continue with our Sevian fluff, @deijnar and I present you with our next story, only slightly late for Day 2 of @mmfluffweek

Without further ado, I hope you enjoy it!

Sevian Day 2: the Princess’ Problem

A scream dies in my throat as I startle up from my bed. On my neck there’s a cold layer of sweat, my breathing is ragged and my hands are shaking. To no surprise, I find my cheeks being wet as I touch them.

But the dream, the nightmare, that has shaken me so greatly, is escaping me. Not that I want to remember the pictures that made me cry in my sleep but it feels… kind of worse to not know. Like I am missing something important, like I have to know, like I should know…

I feel terrible. My skin is tingling in an unpleasant way, I am freezing and sweating at the same time. Before I can really think about it, I grab my phone and type a message.

WizardPrincess, 02:47

Are you still up by any chance?

SpaceKnight, 02:47

The Defender of Justice always hears the cries of those in need of him!

WizardPrincess, 02:48

That’s good because I really need you…

SpaceKnight, 02:48

What’s wrong? How can I help?

WizardPrincess, 02:50

Ah, actually I’m not sure, I just had a really bad nightmare I think and I just… really wanted to talk to you, is all ^^;; what is the Defender of Justice doing at this time of night?

SpaceKnight, 02:51

Do you want me to call you?

WizardPrincess, 02:52

That… would be wonderful but I don’t want to stop you from doing whatever you’re up to.

Incoming call…

SpaceKnight

The littlest hint of a smile appears on my face as my phone starts ringing in my hand immediately. “Hey there…”

Hearing his voice already calms down my frantically beating heart. “Hey, cutie. My godly senses tell me that my Wizard Princess had a nightmare tonight.”

A very short, weak chuckle escapes my lips as I slowly lay back down. “As always, your godly senses are perfectly right.”

There are some rummaging and rustling in the background but I only concentrate on his voice and try to calm down my breathing. At least my hands aren’t shaking anymore.

“Just hold on a little bit longer and your knight will be there.”

My eyes widen and I sit up straight again. “What? No! I’m sure you’re doing something important, you really don’t need to drive all the way over here just for this! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you…”

The answer is immediate and it causes my heart to skip a beat. “There’s nothing more important than making sure you’re okay, Viv.”

So much for getting it to beat calmly again…

I need a moment to let his words sink in before I take a deep breath and smile. “Okay. Drive safely.”

“My dear madame, the Defender of Justice always drives with the utmost safety.” The stern tone of his voice makes me laugh and I stifle it with my hand. As always, I decide to play along with his funny and, admittedly very cute, antics.

“But of course, how could I have forgotten this universally-known fact? Hopefully, you can forgive my sloppiness.” I’m so much into the act that I actually do a little bow despite the fact that he can’t see it.

“You are forgiven this time because you are in a compromised condition. It’s not the duty of a princess to know all of her humble servant’s qualities.” Although he is still talking in a playful manner to try to cheer me up, there is a deep, underlying softness in his voice that fills my chest with warmth and makes me feel a bit dizzy. And maybe that dizziness causes me to say something I normally wouldn’t dare to say out loud.

“But you’re not only my favorite servant, you’re my overall favorite person. I want to remember all the little, random facts about you!”

After realizing what I’ve just said, my eyes widen and I purse my lips. For a split second, I consider hanging up, feeling my cheeks heating up like crazy. But if I did, I wouldn’t be able to listen to him anymore… So I’ll just have to bear this awkwardness I’ve just caused.

The soft laugh that echoes through the speaker is more than enough to make it worth living through any kind of awkwardness as it speeds my heartbeat up again in the best possible way.

“Then tell me, what is it you want to know about your loyal knight, my princess?”

As I realize that this is a true chance to get to know something special about him, I take a moment to come up with a good question. So, first, I have to buy some time for myself. “Hmm, let’s start with something easy. When is your birthday and how old are you?” I should probably know these things but it’s 3 a.m. and I really can’t remember right now...

“It was the bright morning of June 11th when I was born. My mother was a simple milkmaid back in the 8th century, but she knew from that moment, I would be a knight.” His voice is giving away how much he dives into his own story and it causes the smile on my lips to grow. Texting him was obviously the best choice I could have possibly made. “Of course, it’s been over a century since then… So, to keep my identity hidden, I just claim to be 21.” Weirdly enough, the mysterious tone of his voice truly makes this silly story kind of intriguing. “But because you ask, I shall tell you the truth. My true age is 1,320! I look surprisingly young, wouldn’t you agree?”

To stay in character, I gasp dramatically. “1,320?? You truly don’t look your age! I can only imagine how many people you have saved in all those years!” As I say this, I make sure to separate the real information from his jokes in my head. I really want to remember this…

“I could tell you about the duke I heroically rescued. But none of my tasks so far have been nearly as important as the one to keep you safe.”

This statement makes me close my eyes and causes me to place a hand over my mouth to not let out the squeal that is trying to let him know how flustered and unique his words make me feel. It’s probably stupid but… I guess I just want to know.

“Have you ever protected a princess like me before?”

As soon as I’ve asked the question, I feel dumb for doing so. Even if he said yes… What exactly would that mean? And what do I expect to gain from this knowledge? Would I seem even more stupid if I took the question back…?

The longer the silence on the other end goes on, despite it being just a few seconds, the more nervous I get. “I’ve never gotten to protect a princess before. You’re my first, my lady.”

My breath hitches in my throat and once again, my cheeks heat up as my heart hammers against my chest. The butterflies in my stomach dance with each other and whirl around, causing an excited tingling in me that I have never felt before. This feeling is exactly like I’ve read so many times in my novels before.

“I’m really glad it was you who first found out I’m a princess so you’re also the first and only one to be my knight.” Hopefully, he can even understand what I’m saying, my voice is barely more than a whisper anymore.

According to the sigh of relief that reaches my ear, he did. “And I’m glad I found you too.” I take in a sharp breath, hoping he overhears it due to the dull noise in the background. “By the way, you want to let me in?”

Prompted by the soft knock on the door that accompanies his question, I jump out of bed so quickly that the room around me starts to spin for a short moment. Impatiently, I hurry to the door and end the call, eager to be able to not only hear his soothing, lighthearted voice but also see his sparkling eyes.

Without a second of hesitation, I tear open the door. But as soon as my eyes lock with his, I freeze in place. There’s nothing I want more at this moment than to wrap my arms around him but… would that be weird?

When his gaze lands on me, he lowers his phone from his ear. “I said I’d always be here for you, Vivian.” And as if these words weren’t enough to fulfill my dearest wish, he also takes the one step forward that is needed to close the distance between us and he embraces me in the most heartfelt, tight hug I have ever had.

Unable to put the simply inexplicable feeling that is surging through me at this moment into words that would even slightly do it justice, I lean into his touch and hide my face in his neck, holding him as close as possible. “Thank you.”

“And if the magical powers of this hug aren’t enough, I also brought you some mochi.” Maybe the light kiss he places on the top of my head would have caused my brain to stop working entirely only hours ago but right now it fills me with nothing but happiness and I fully relish in the sensation of his lips against my skin.

“I doubt I need anything but you right here to feel fine but the mochi is still greatly appreciated.” With a chuckle, I reluctantly let go of him. “Come in, I can’t leave my knight standing in the hallway!”

His chuckle makes me feel even more at peace. “I’ll follow wherever you want me to go. And we can share the mochi!!”

With a grin on my face, I motion for him to step inside. “In that case, I want you to follow me to the living room so we can share the mochi and the couch!”

We enter the room together and he prepares the couch for us, placing and fluffing up the pillows to create a perfect, comfortable nest while I bring my fluffiest blanket. By the time we are seated on the couch, I’ve calmed down completely and my eyes keep falling shut. Too sleepy to be shy about it, I snuggle against him and lean my head against his shoulder as he puts his arm around me. But before I drift off to sleep, I still get to take a little bite of the mochi he offers to me.

“This is really sweet…” I mumble with a content smile, my eyes closing as I wrap my arms around him too.

***

I stroke her hair until she falls back asleep. And while I never have had much good luck, I wish with all the power in me, that her dreams this time around will be pleasant.

Maybe it's because it is so late, or maybe because she's so warm and soothing, sleeping next to me; but I feel comfort that I never have before.

With my eyelids getting heavy, I stop to look at Vivian. Her small body is resting comfortably. It's impossible for me to feel anything but at ease with her, apparently, even in her sleep.

Careful not to stir her, I place my hand over my lips, catching the kiss I want to give her. And with trembling fingers, I gingerly place my hand-caught kiss to her lips. Gliding my hand to stroke her cheek, a sudden wave of exhaustion falls over me.

My eyes fall shut and my mind is being lulled to the rhythmic sounds of her breathing. Maybe sleep like this would be better for both of us.

#mysme #mystic messenger #mystic messenger fanfiction #707 #mysme fanfiction #mystic messenger fanfic #mysme fanfic #mystic messenger 707 #mm 707 #mysme fluff #mmfluffweek2020

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racingtowardsaredlight · 5 years

Text

Joe Mazzello NSFW Alphabet

Warning: This contains SMUT and like a lot of it so be v v prepared

Y’all thirsty for this but so am I so let’s do it

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Joe might be 50% chaos but he’s also 50% cuteness so you bet his goofy ass is snuggling you while also cracking jokes. I also get the feeling that he’s the type who likes to make jokes with you about the sex you just previously had like maybe you make fun of him for being so sensitive (ticklish) on his thighs and he’s just like “yeah okay but at least I don’t like getting choked ya kinky fuck” and then you guys just roast each other and snuggle until you eventually fall asleep

B = Body Part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

So when it comes to sex, Joe definitely loves his arms. He doesn’t spend multiple days in the gym during the week working his arms just so he looks good in leather jackets no no no, he spends all that time getting built so he can pin you down while he eats you out or hold you up against the wall while he takes you just about anywhere and anytime he wants. He used to like his hips the most (mostly because of the noises he’d get out of you when he slammed into you from behind) but one somewhat drunken night you went on for a solid hour about how turned on you got when you saw his arms and then they just became his favorite since you loved them so much.

His favorite body part of yours was definitely your tits. Speaking of drunken confessions, Joe once slurred out how much he wanted fuck your tits - which would be super sexy except for the fact that it was at a very public bar and in front of Ben and Gwil (who were too drunk to care at the time but definitely brought it up again). You did eventually let him have his way with your chest days later, but not without a proper scolding and then poking fun at him.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically... I’m a disgusting person) (i am so sorry for the FILTH that is this paragraph like w o w )

We already know Joe loves your boobs so obviously he loves to finish on them. Especially after you’ve blown him, his cum hitting your chest is just icing on the cake for him. However, when it came to taking your relationship to the next level (i.e. wanting kids/ baby making time), Joe loved to cum inside of you. He loved when you’d ride him, his orgasm hitting him like a ton of bricks and then watching as you pulled off of him while his cum dripped out of you. If he wasn’t already fucked out, that did him in.

D = Dirty Secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Clothed sex. The man may be 36 but damn it if he doesn’t love to feel like a horny teenager again, fooling around with you whenever he could. The fact that you can rile him up without ever shedding a layer both stunned him and made him want to fuck you even more. The very few times you made him cum in his pants, Joe was pretty sure he was 18 all over again and also thought he might have seen heaven with how hard and fast you could make him cum and mess his very expensive trousers. He wishes it happened more often but he’d never say a word to you (bc dirt secret duh)

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

You take one look at that man and you try and TELL ME he doesn’t know what he’s doing. He could make you cum in SECONDS if he wanted to.

F = Favorite Position (this goes without saying)

If he’s feeling fast and freaky: Joe loved to either bend you over any surface he could find (he’d settle for holding you against the wall if a counter or tabletop didn’t see fit to his requirements) OR he’d lie back and let you ride him and have your way with him.

If he’s feeling in love/soft: Joey boy loves some vanilla sex. Missionary. Hand holding. Eye contacts. I love you’s. All the mushy gushy stuff. He eats that up and he knows you do too. The man loves to love so he does it right.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

It doesn’t matter what kind of sex your having, fast, slow, quickie, or all-day long, Joe will always be a goofball. The first time you guys had sex, he was so nervous that he tried to crack a joke just to ease the tension and it made the both of you laugh so hard that you had to take a break. Needless to say, Joe’s humor in bed kept you guys grounded, and it just made you love your chaotic, goofy boy even more.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc)

He’s well-groomed. Nothing too crazy and he isn’t completely stripped either. Just nicely trimmed.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment, romantic aspect...)

As mentioned in F, Joe likes a mushy gushy moment, but every sexual moment had some sort of soft intimacy at some point just like it had some type of goofy moment. Joe adores you and he never wants to let you forget it, so even if he’s railing you against a bathroom counter at some fancy LA party, he’ll still look you in the eyes and tell you how much he loves you before and after you both cum.

J = Jack Off (masturbation headcanon)

Whenever Joe had to go away for work, he’d always FaceTime call you so you could lend him a virtual hand. On the days you were anticipating the calls (he’d text you a pic of his not so little problem tenting his boxers with the caption “FaceTime?” and like ten prayer emojis) you’d get out a little lingerie and something to cover up with. Some days you’d throw a big tshirt over yourself to look like you weren’t all dolled up underneath while other days you’d opt for a silky robe or one of Joe’s Yankees jerseys, the latter of which drove him absolutely wild. While he loved to watch you get off while he did too, you always insisted that he was more stressed out so he should be the one who comes first. This was always a relief for Joe as he’d be incredibly worked up before he called you so just seeing your face had him nearly cumming on the spot. On days he couldn’t FaceTime you, he’d pull out the polaroids you took of the two of you during one of your all night escapades and envision that you were there with him, touching him the ways you always did so perfectly.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Joe is a chaotic being so of course he’d be quite... adventurous. He loved the idea of public sex/ getting you off whenever and wherever he could. The fancier the place, the quicker he’d be trying to get his hands up your dress or have your mouth on his cock in whatever bathroom or hallway he could find.

He’s also big on nicknames. He preferred giving you them but he never complained when “Joey” passed your lips. His favorites for you were “princess”, “darling”, and “baby” though when you two were getting especially frisky “you little minx” might pop out.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

While he was adventurous, Joe still thinks nothing beats good ole fashioned bedroom sex. The way you looked sprawled out on his bed sheets, hair splayed around your face, the soft light of his nightstand lamp making you look ethereal - yeah, there was no greater sight to Joe. Nothing else could compare to the absolute bliss that came from taking you in his bed and then holding you close, never having to switch locations from love-making to cuddling.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Cliche as it sounds, everything you do gets him hard. Joe sometimes thinks he has a real problem, seeing as just the sight of you bending over to pick up something has him adjusting himself or taking you right then and there. But what really gets his cock hard is when you tease him, soft caresses over his jeans, whispering dirty things in his ear, anything you could do to allude to what was to come later got him harder than a rock and usually ended in him whimpering to you and begging for you to touch him.

N = NO (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Joe would never do anything to hurt you or degrade you. Aside from some light mid-sex spanking, Joe would never hurt you on purpose or call you any type of name that was less than your character.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

I think it’s a toss up for which he prefers more. You mouth on his cock, sucking him dry while he moans like a goddamn pornstar was always top notch; but hearing you cry out his name and tug on his hair while he gives you as many orgasms with his mouth as he could managed have even brought him over the edge quite a few times. So Joe sees these as pretty evenly stacked bets, but he thinks if he really had to choose, your pleasure would beat his in the end.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc)

Joe’s default setting on sex was always and will always be set to soft and sweet. Not too slow, not too fast, just the right pace to have you to both losing your minds while also feeling incredibly intimate. These setting changed of course based on his and your moods. Stressful days called for fast and rough while morning sex was reserved was slow and sweet loving.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc)

Quickies for Joe were like grabbing a bag of chips instead of eating the full meal. Yes they were delicious and satisfying enough to tide him over, but they were never the real deal and thus he always craved something more substantial.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc)

Joe’s game to experiment but only after talking it over and making sure there was mutual want and consent for the experiments in question. As you relationship progressed, he’d get bolder and definitely be more spontaneous as long as you were down too.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for, how long do they last...)

Joe usually surprised you with just how long he could last. While there were quite a few occasions in which Joe came sooner than expected (what can he say? you knew how to work him up), he almost always held out until he was fully inside of you and you were on the brink of your final orgasm. On the nights where he was too worked up and came much sooner than expected, giving himself a few extra minutes of working you up and hearing you beg him for more usually got him going again. Needless to say, his stamina was pretty damn good.

T = Toy (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Joe didn’t own any toys himself but when he found out how fast you could lose control with a vibrator on your clit, well, Joe made sure to grab a few different kinds for future use. He mostly used them on you, but he’d be lying if he said he’d never used them on himself (See W for more details...)

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Joe is a pretty straight to the point kind of guy so he’s not one teasing. He leaves that job to you since you seemed to do it so well. There were moments when he’d lightly tease you, usually when he went down on you. He’d run his beard along your thighs, plant open mouth kisses on your lower stomach, and - his favorite form of teasing - he’d leave hickies just about anywhere he could before finally allowing his mouth to touch where you needed it most.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make)

Joe is LOUD and I will take no arguments on the matter. (note that one borhap interview where he just openly fucking whimpered like hi sir where is your self control) He loved to make noise and let you know just how goddamn good you made him feel. His noises could range from whimpers to moans of your name, and he’d always have some string of cuss words to accompany ever grunt and groan that fell from his lips.

W = Wild Card (get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Joe knew just how much you loved your vibrator so one day he decided to try it for himself. In his defense, you left it in his suitcase from your last weekend getaway and Joe happened to find it just as he was getting ready for bed while away for filming. Knowing you couldn’t FaceTime that night, he made himself comfy in his bed, pulled your pictures out to rile himself up and went to town. The absolute euphoria he felt when he let the vibrator, set to its lowest level, graze the head of his cock was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. It only took him a few minutes of stroking himself while he pressed the vibrator to the base of his dick just above his balls before he was cumming hard and fast, eyes closed and whimpering your name. It was almost too much for him and Joe decided that he’d store that option away for when he was really desperate and needed to get off quick (or just when you were there and could help him feel even more risky).

X = X-Ray (let’s see what’s going on in those pants)

I have been waiting to talk about this because there is just a way that Joe carries himself and speaks that have had me saying on many occasions “WE GET IT JOE YOU HAVE A BIG DICK” and I firmly believe the man is packing some serious heat. I understand the use of cups and their way of accentuating things but if you look at him in Undrafted, like, that’s a pretty big cup my guy and those things are meant to fit a certain way and like hug so... I’m just saying... *insert the eyes emoji like six times*

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

I think he’s got a pretty moderate sex drive. He’s always down when you are but there are plenty of other things he like to do besides dick you down. Joe’s got the biggest boner for domestic bliss so even if you’re not jumping each other’s bones he’s still perfectly happy. He has his moments when he absolutely aches for your touch but those are usually when he’s been gone filming too long or when you’ve been teasing him relentlessly.

Z = ZZZ (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He’s not one to pass out immediately afterwards, but he’s definitely a tired boy. Joe makes sure to take proper care of you, cleaning you up and making sure you’ve peed and that both of you have what you need before you pulls you in close and snuggles you. Sleeping isn’t the first thing on his mind after you two are done, in fact it might even be the last. He loves to hold you close and talk to you about anything and everything, all the while tracing patterns on your skin with his fingers or playing with your hair. Anything to have you close to him physically, emotionally, and mentally before you both finally drift off to sleep.

I HOPE THIS WAS OKAY ALSO I FEEL LIKE SIN SO I AM SO SORRY FOR THE FILTH THAT JUST TOOK PLACE

Tagging people who responded to my post about this so they can see it:

@spunky-town @michael-is-bae @fallinlovewhenitsdone @deanscroissant @mrsjosephmazzello @givemeunicornsorgivemedeath

#jm smut #jm fic #joseph mazzello #joe mazzello #joe mazzello smut #joe mazzello hc #joe mazzello headcanon #joe mazzello x reader #joe mazzello alphabet #my shit #my writing

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