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#it is truly astonishing how gentle he is with animals
markscherz · 5 months
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In which my not-yet-two-year-old son catches a gecko for the first time, and I barely keep it together.
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aquietwritingcorner · 2 months
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No... Not Like This
Title: No… Not Like This Day: Febuwhump 2024, Day 28 Prompt: No… Not Like This  Fandom:  TMNT 2003 Word Count: 691  Author: aquietwritingcorner/realitybreakgirl Rating:  M Characters:  Donatello, April O’Neil Warning: SAINW, Major Character Death Summary: April O’Neil knew that the Shredder was a twisted, vile person. But she had never expected to find this, and part of her wished she never had.    Notes: I’m once again using one of Peter Laird’s original SAINW ideas, this time the “stuffed Donatello” one. This is not a happy story, and the implications are kind of disturbing, so please, read at your own risk.    ff.net || AO3
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No… Not Like This
April stared in astonishment trophy room that Angel had discovered. They all knew that Shredder had kept prizes, but they hadn’t understood the depths to which he would go until they started going through his stronghold. Some of what they had found had truly sickened them, although April could say that she wasn’t terribly surprised at just how far his depravity could go.
But still. She had never expected this.
April trembled as she stared at the find—as she stared at the body of her friend, her brother, Donatello, perfectly taxidermized and on display. Bile rose in her throat, and her stomach heaved, yet she couldn’t look away. He was young, the same age he was when he disappeared, and he’d been arranged in a fighting position, his highly polished bo held in his hands. His expression was fierce and determined, so similar to one that she had seen on his face a thousand times, although it rang hollow, as if whoever had set it didn’t know how to set it right.
And they probably didn’t. Whoever it was probably didn’t know Don, and probably hadn’t cared as he or she killed Donatello, and tore him apart, removing organs and—
April turned and threw up. She fell to her knees, and heaved, the little food she had eaten being violently expelled from her body, and after it, whatever bile she had.
Oh. Oh God. Oh, God in Heaven. Oh God. Donatello had been stuffed. He’d been taken, captured, held, killed, and stuffed like he was some kind of animal, a trophy, as if from a prize hunt. And then he was displayed there for anyone that Shredder wanted to see, to see. He hadn’t even hid the fact that he was more than an animal, not with the stance and expression, but it hadn’t mattered to him, he hadn’t cared.
It was too much, and suddenly all those years of repressed grieving reared up. A sob tore out of her, and April wept where she was, grief and horror pouring out of her.
She had always wondered what had happened to Donatello. She’d hoped that one day he would come back, or that they’d find something of him. She had always hoped that one day she would find out. But not like this. No… Not like this.
That he had died like this, probably in terror and pain, all alone, without any hope. That her gentle, intelligent friend had died in such a gruesome, degrading way, treated as little more than an animal even after death—No. Of all the ways that Donatello could have died, not like this. No… Not like this. The horror of it all was too much, and April felt like she could barely breathe as she wept.
It felt like hours before April stopped weeping, although the tears still fell from her eyes. As much as she didn’t want to, April turned around to face the body of her friend, of her brother, once again.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice shaking. She could still see the undercurrent of fear in his face, something that they couldn’t get rid of. “I’m so, so sorry, Donnie. I promise you, we’ll give you a proper burial, like you should have had all those years ago, right next to your brothers, next to Splinter. But I am so, so sorry, that you died a death like this. No one should have this happen to them, but especially not you. No… Not like this.”
April took a shaky breath, and tried to compose herself, at least a little bit. She wasn’t going to hide her grief. In this time, there was no shame in it, and besides, she didn’t think she could. But she still had duties to take care of them, and chief among them, now, was arranging for a proper burial for Donatello.
After all, it was the last thing that she could do for him. And do it she would, even as she grieved the way that he had died. He didn’t deserve to die like that. No… no, not like that.
Never like that.
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heyyy~ can I request some headcanons of Nanashi with a s/o that’s like really strong but tender at the same time???
idk how to explain it but it’s like [insert character here] just mauled an entire army but will cradle a lamb like it’s a baby kinda thing ^^
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Hi!
Thank you for requesting!
Let me know what you think!
Tsuki's note: No Worried i gotcha! Mostly... Did you mean physical strength or .... just strong in general? at took it both ways, kind of?
Tsuki's note 2 : I meshed two requests together because they were kinda similar, hope that's ok?
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When Nanashi met you, you were playing with kittens.
To be more exact, it was when one of these kittens ran towards him and you went after the little one.
Nanashi caught him upon hearing you asking for aid.
You held the kitten so gently and tenderly as you thanked him.
Nanashi scolded you for not watching out over the kitten.
You were a bit embarassed, but apologized and bid farewell to the man.
A few moments later a few demons attacked the village you lived.
Nanashi was around and when he followed the screams and noises of destruction, he saw you.
He recognized you. The one with the kitten.
A demon was about to squash you.
The man started to yell so you could get to safety, but he stopped mid sentence.
You swiftly got a pair of daggers and cut through the demon's fingers, gracefully avoiding the gigantic hand.
Nanashi was astonished. To cut a demon with daggers... it took alot more than just a sharp blade.
Even though you seemed to be very strong, you had to work with Nanashi to defeat the demons - as more appeared.
After the battle he stared at you for a bit.
You didn't look like or behaved like someone that could easily win against a demon - you spoke politely and kindly, you were gentle and had a sweet smile.
Needless to say you got a bit.... Shy? Awkward? upon noticing he was staring at you.
He didn't explain himself, but he did apologize for staring.
Nanashi came back more often around the village, he found you very interesting.
And that led you to be invited to a few fights against demons by Nanashi, but only when a swarm of them was around.
You two were a nice team together!
But you didn't just fight, you also took care of his wounds.
And oddly enough ( for him) you were so gentle and careful.
Your touch felt like feathers.
The man got lowkey addicted to your light and tender touch, not only when it was about him, but also watching you gently taking care of the previous kitten, that now was a full grown cat, and other animals.
Even though you were strong, just as powerful as him, if not more, he did not like taking you to the battlefield.
Only when extremely needed.
He wanted to keep seeing your gentle side safe and sound, he feared the battles and anguish would make it disappear.
That means Nanashi often shot down any offer of help you had.
Were you mad? Yes. Did you go anyway? also yes.
He was capable, sure, but he could not stop you from fighting at all.
Don't get him wrong though, he appreciated your strength, but the idea of you getting hurt... was annoying.
Nanashi did not feel inferior to you or anything negative. He actually admired you.
Your strength and fighting prowess was truly amazing! You were the perfect fighting buddy - no need to worry about you on the battlefield, no need to keep his guard up all the time.
Yes, that means he trusted you with his life.
Not only because you were strong, but because you were gentle and kind.
So it wasn't weird to see a relaxed Nanashi around you, maybe even napping.
Or getting back to back with you during a battle.
All in all, he loved to see you tender and gentle nature in action just as much as he loved fighting with you, despite being against the idea.
Contraditory yes? But that is how he felt.
He trusts you with his life in and out of combat. He trusts you enough to be napping around you.
You are the kindest, brightest and strongest soul he has ever met.
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Carved Love
Unaware of the illusions that quietly tormented Eclipse, Voyd felt an overwhelming surge of empathy as he stood before her cottage. The faint sounds of her stifled sobs and whispered apologies tugged at his heartstrings, compelling him to take action.
Summoning his courage, Voyd gently knocked on the door, his voice carrying a soothing tone as he asked, "Eclipse? Um, may I come in?"
Inside the cottage, Eclipse's heart raced like a startled rabbit at the sound of his voice. She hesitated for a moment, caught between the instinct to isolate herself and the unfamiliar comfort that Voyd's presence seemed to offer. After what felt like an eternity, she managed to reply, her voice soft and tinged with a hint of awkwardness, "Oh, um, just a moment."
As the door swung open, revealing Eclipse's tear-streaked face, a wave of shyness washed over her. She fumbled for words, her gaze briefly darting to the ground before settling on Voyd's concerned expression. In that fleeting moment, her vulnerability was palpable, and Voyd's presence seemed to be the only anchor holding her steady.
Voyd's kind and understanding eyes met hers, an unspoken reassurance that seemed to say, "It's okay." Eclipse stepped back, allowing him to enter her sanctuary. The air inside felt charged with a mix of tension and uncertainty, as if the weight of their unspoken emotions hung in the air.
Voyd's gaze lingered on Eclipse, his eyes capturing every nuance of her demeanor. He could sense her discomfort, her struggle to find her footing amidst the whirlwind of emotions. With a warm yet slightly hesitant smile, he gestured toward the wooden owl carving he had brought earlier. "I thought this might, you know, help a bit," he said, his words punctuated by a brief pause.
Eclipse's gaze flickered to the carving, and she accepted it with a grateful yet slightly awkward nod. She turned it over in her hands, her fingers tracing the delicate lines as if searching for words. "Thank you," she mumbled softly, her voice carrying a hint of bashfulness.
In the quiet intimacy of the cottage, Voyd's presence seemed to fill the room, casting a gentle spell that eased the edges of Eclipse's unease. He carefully chose his words, his voice a careful melody meant to bridge the gap between them. "I just wanted you to know... you don't have to go through this alone, Eclipse."
Eclipse's cheeks flushed slightly, her gaze briefly darting away before meeting his once more. She nibbled on her lower lip, her awkwardness making her feel like a fumbling novice in a dance she wasn't quite sure how to lead. "I mean, um, thank you. Your kindness, it means a lot," she stammered, her words a clumsy attempt to express her gratitude.
Their eyes locked, a shared moment of understanding passing between them. Eclipse's vulnerability seemed to melt the ice around her heart, and a shy smile tugged at the corners of her lips. Unbeknownst to her, the wooden carving she held in her hands was not the first gift Voyd had given her.
In a corner of the cottage, on a weathered shelf, rested a collection of small wooden carvings – intricate animals, each a labor of love from a stranger she had yet to truly know. These gifts had arrived, one by one, long before their paths had crossed.
As the evening sun cast a warm glow through the window, Eclipse's gaze drifted to the carvings, and her curiosity grew. "You know," she began, her voice tentative, "there have been these wooden carvings... little animals. They've been arriving for years, but I never knew who they were from."
Voyd's eyes softened, a bittersweet smile gracing his lips. "Those were from me," he admitted, his voice carrying a depth of emotion. "I wanted to reach out, to let you know you weren't alone."
Eclipse's eyes widened in surprise, her heart skipping a beat. She stared at him, a mixture of astonishment and realization dawning on her. "You're... you're the one who sent them?"
Voyd nodded, his gaze unwavering. "Yes, Eclipse. It was my way of letting you know that there was someone out there who cared."
Tears welled up in Eclipse's eyes, and she looked back at the carvings, seeing them in a whole new light. "I've kept every single one of them," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "They meant more to me than you could have imagined."
As the evening breeze carried their words, an ephemeral shadow seemed to flicker through the room. Whispers, as elusive as ghosts, slithered into the spaces between their breaths. "Your other father didn't want you," the shadows taunted, their words laced with malice.
Eclipse's grip on the carving tightened, her composure wavering for a moment. She closed her eyes, as if trying to shield herself from the darkness that threatened to seep in. "It's just... my thoughts," she murmured, her voice quivering.
The shadows persisted, weaving illusions that teased and tormented her. Her younger self and the enigmatic D3 Atlas appeared before her, haunting reminders of her internal struggles. "If only you had used your powers, everything would be alright," the illusions sneered.
Eclipse's gaze flicked to the illusions, a mix of pain and determination in her eyes. She took a deep breath, redirecting her focus to Voyd, her determination to maintain a façade of normalcy masking the turmoil beneath.
And then, as if guided by an invisible thread woven through the tapestry of their lives, Voyd gently revealed the truth that had remained hidden for so long. "Eclipse, I…I am your father."
The weight of those words hung in the air, a revelation that shifted the course of their journey in ways they couldn't foresee. As they stood in the cottage, surrounded by the remnants of their separate lives, a new chapter began to unfold – a chapter where their destinies would be woven together in a way neither of them could have imagined.
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monomorphilogical · 1 year
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The list
Good lord, how I am unable to admit some things to myself.
This morning, it was merely I, who stared into the bathroom mirror; no soul around but my own haggard one. The mirror, partially fogged, did not even show the fullness of me, and yet, yet I could not make myself say the words to my own reflection.
Lord, I was barely able to think them clearly; only a mere concept floating around my head with a notion of truth, not whole and not untrue. I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood, and I clamped my teeth together hard enough to ache even now, deep into the afternoon.
So hereby; the list of everything I cannot say, but I will force myself to do so anyhow. For the sake of honesty, bravery and spite.
I have been staring at this empty list for twenty-five minutes, hand covering my mouth, astonished, that I cannot even write down the truths on paper. This is because I am terrified of admitting that which makes me vulnerable.
Vulnerability makes me believe I am one of the weak, not because I am better than those vulnerable, but because it opens up the possibility of getting harmed, ridiculed, ignored.
I often get the urge to bury a knife in the middle of my thigh, as a protest, perhaps as a distraction, or punishment.
A gentle touch wakes up a starving animal within me; and it screams to be beaten into a pulp until it cannot growl any longer.
I do not know what love-making truly is, I have never experienced it, and a sick part of me would rather be beaten and gutted than find out.
I understand pain, I do not understand those who do not.
I am writing down these truths first to avoid the ones I am struggling to admit.
I am more comfortable talking about the act of abuse than about the yearning of care.
Sex makes me want to scream out for them to 'tear me apart' because I cannot handle a hand laid upon my skin any longer. No matter the heavy-handedness, nor gentleness (which may be worse).
I think I am very sensitive.
I experience thought, emotion, and art quite deeply; it is like a wound that cannot close.
I feel like a small girl still, and it is bothersome to look into the mirror and see someone so very grown up.
I dislike my mother, and her tendency to manipulate my convictions and emotions, it took me far too long to understand what were her opinions and what were my own.
I wish I had a father who cared for me, and I wish he was one to keep me safe; instead of the source of danger.
I was just a little girl, and I needed my father to hold me, and I needed my mother to listen to me.
I still need my father to hold me, and my mother to be kind to me. (though I will never have this, for this is not something they can ever offer me; nor can I ever accept any form of care from them)
I am fairly certain that I do not know what love is, precisely.
I do not know how to possibly love, but also I do not know how to hate.
I am terrified of being less than someone deserves; or being bothersome.
I am also fairly certain I will make many mistakes in any relationship, and though I will try my hardest; it is up to them to decide if I am worth it. That terrifies me.
I do not believe I am worth it.
I do not believe I am worth anything to anyone but myself.
Intimacy, in any form, is my greatest enemy, and I fear I will fight it until my knuckles crack and bleed.
I am vulnerable.
I want to be cared for.
I am tired of being responsible of care, I want someone to take it off my hands every once in a while.
I crave to be held.
I crave someone to tell me it is all well. No matter the truth in it.
I wish I had someone to look out for me.
I spend all my pastime in my own head; reading books, listing to music, imagining some other version of my life, anything to escape the crushing weight that are my horrid memories.
I am afraid I will not be able to escape in this way were I to be in a relationship.
I am afraid that will make life dull, since all that lives in my head is the horror and grotesque and dramatics, and I have gotten very much used to the intensity of it all.
Almost none of my scars are because of accidents, clumsiness or the cat. I am good at making them look like they are.
I tell people all of them are from my teenage years. It’s only a half-truth.
Were I not afraid of its consequences, I would slash open the entirety of my body.
I often get the inexplicable urge to sink my teeth into my own skin. I do not know why. It makes my teeth ache with want. I suspect it is a form of self destruction.
I am afraid that when I cry to be torn apart, I am really crying to be held gently. I suspect you have to restrain me first, for I will try to kick and scream as you do so.
I want someone to be strong enough to restrain me until I can be held with gentle hands.
I do not know how to ask for anything.
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angelictrl · 3 years
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Hi! Can I request some hcs for the brothers + undateables taking care of a gn!MC while they're in hospital? (I'll leave the reason they're in hospital up to you) Thanks!!
DEMON BROS TAKING CARE OF AN MC IN THE HOSPITAL.
ofc !! i'm going to write the undateable ver. and link it here later since this got longer than i thought it would if you don't mind <3
LUCIFER
tries to be there for you but can't stop himself from drowning in his work.
don't get me wrong - he most certainly is attentive to your needs and visits you often - but he still puts all the blame on himself no matter the cause for you being put in the hospital.
this is because it reminds him of when he and his brothers fell.
not only did he have to get accustomed to the devildom, but he had to suffer the loss of his sister, deal with his new demonic form, and raise satan all while being diavolo's righthand man.
so naturally, being the eldest and also the one who started the great celestial war, he always felt at fault for how things turned out; although he'd rather die than say it aloud.
you being put in the hospital makes him feel like he failed you, he failed to save you, failed to protect you, even if he hides it with a poker face and instead drowns in his work.
please - this is one of the only times you'll see a vulnerable luci.
cupping his face tenderly with your hands as he sits by your bedside late at night, he refuses to cry, but definently has a gloomy expression.
he can't lose you too. he cant fail you.
as soon as you're discharged though, he makes sure to keep you by his side more often.
late night office dates, anyone?
he'll hold you close and try to be slightly more affectionate in public.
this whole scenario has reminded him just how mortal you are, and he hates that someone who's just as angelic as you is trapped inside of a fragile and weak body.
MAMMON
clingy asf
probably the first one to find out mc's in the hospital.
he's downright upset at first. normally he's attached to your hip, so the one time he leaves you alone, ya wind up in the hospital? he knew you were too much of a fragile human to be left alone!
he refuses to let anyone near you as you recover - besides the doctors and nurses, of course, but even then he eyeballs them to make sure they're being gentle with you.
he goes on a rant/lecture about how you're just some weak human who needs him by your side and how you shouldn't have gone off on your own, but as soon as you frown or pout while averting your gaze, his whole demeanor flips.
he's just really worried about you.
he's a big tsundere, yes, but he cares so much about you and he's not sure how to convey his emotions as he's never felt this way about anyone before.
"h-hey, i'm not mad at ya. just... i'm your first. no, i don't care if i'm in the middle of a scheme, i'll always make time for ya... so don't go off alone, okay?!"
buys you tons of gifts before and after you've left the hospital
definitely won't leave you alone for the first few weeks of being discharged
really, he's clinging onto you like you have more value than goldie
and truly, he wouldn't admit it, but you do.
LEVIATHAN
probably gets told by one of his brothers since he's hiding out in his room as per usual.
first, he almost summons lotan in anger to get revenge for mc if they got hurt by someone, but whether that is or isn't the case, he soon calms down once he recognizes something.
this is just like the 78th episode of TSL he was watching when the lord of shadows returns the favor to henry for helping him through his familial problems by taking care of him!!
well then. now levi's been inspired to be the best lord of shadows he can for his henry.
oh, and i guess he'll do it anyways because he cares about mc's wellbeing to begin with or wtv... /s
nonetheless, snek boi brings a bunch of games, movies, and mangas to mc as he camps out in their hospital room with them.
you better be prepared to binge watch all of TSL and fall asleep to whatever sounds are coming from his game beside your bed - not that you have much of a choice, anyways.
his brothers probably try to pull him away from you as he's clingy boy #2 and staying up having gaming marathons can't be good for your recovery, so you can bet your little human butt you're going to find yourself staying in levi's room for a couple of days after you've left the hospital.
definently places ruri-chan or any other anime-related stickers on your casts (if you have any) or cheeks to cheer you up.
bonus: he totally tries to sneak in henry 2.0 to keep you company when he can't be there and if he succeeds, he relies on henry to give him reports of your health.
SATAN
pissed if someone else landed you in the hospital. nearly goes on a rampage and his brothers just barely manage to stop him.
probably one of the best people to keep you company once he calms down, though.
definitely visits you at the same hour everyday to bring you books he suggests you read.
if you're not up for reading any, he'll suggest reading them to you, or suggest something else entirely different.
stays overnight a couple times with an audiobook playing in the background or with an open book on his chest.
doesn't mind falling asleep in weird positions anyways considering the way his room is set up.
watches detective dramas late at night when you're asleep like a dork lol
definitely watches cute cat compilations with you if you're feeling down for any particular reason and will stroke your hair to calm you down.
10/10, soft satan is best satan <3
ASMODEUS
probably screams tbh
that can't be good for your skin!! all that stress on top of being sick/hurt is going to make you break out!!
practically dashes to visit you with skin care & beauty products although you're advised not to use them by your doctors atm
asmodeus has never been so salty.
though, he is concerned about your overrall being.
it honestly scares him how much he cares about you. especially in this state because he's never cared so much for anyone else other than his brothers or himself in a long time.
most likely to cry (besides mammon) if you cry since he already has tears stinging his eyes.
he starts neglecting his own nightly routines to stay overnight with you.
if you start to point it out or ask him why he's doing this, he'll just sit there in astonishment processing your words.
you matter so much to him? like, duh, of course he's going to be here, why wouldn't he? he doesn't care about anything else other than you and your recovery right now and-
oh.
you matter... more than him... to him...?
...ya broke him.
when you're asleep, he watches you silently for a change, caressing your cheek delicately with soft eyes focused on your relaxed features.
he gets a strange feeling in his chest - and not like the ones he gets from excitement over his quick hookups - no, no, this one is a foreign feeling. it's, dare he say, euphoric.
BEELZEBUB
just like lucifer, he feels guilty.
he already lost lilith. he can't lose you too.
he probably needs more reassuring that you're going to be okay than you do, honestly.
he plops down onto the couch in your room and intensely stares at your sleeping form as he stress eats.
on a funnier note, he has the nurses doing laps around the hospital bringing him food and he says "it's for mc" to them, but we all know who it's really for.
he's the softest he's ever been with you.
you thought he was a teddy bear before? he's practically made of stuffing by now.
when you're sad, he wants to reassure you, but you look so sickly and frail that he holds you like your glass.
please reassure this behemoth of a man that you're going to be okay, he really loves you and wouldn't forgive himself if he made things worse.
most definitely takes you out to a restaurant to treat you once you've fully recovered.
BELPHEGOR
he already beats himself up over the attic thing, so if anyone had hurt you enough to put you into the hospital, his anger would probably rival the avatar of wrath and they'd go missing.
squeezes himself onto your bed to cuddle you while being mindful of your iv.
if that doesn't work, well, then he just drapes himself over your legs. he's gonna find a way to be with you, and you can't stop him (y'know, unless you flat out tell him or look like you're uncomfortable).
if all else fails, he settles for mushing his cheek against one arm propped against your bedside as his other hand is occupied holding yours.
he's pretty much like one of those therapy cats LMAO
lots n lots of sleepy cuddling. after all, rest is essential for your recovery, right?
when you two can't sleep, you have movie nights bingewatching the worst rated movies and shows in the devildom and the two of you go cinema sins on them.
v clingy after you get discharged and holds you noticeably tighter to his chest.
"stop doing stupid things that could kill you, you idiot."
obey me masterlist. | undateables version.
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fortune-fool02 · 3 years
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A Dangerous Path
Loki Laufeyson x Servant, male reader
Summary: Pathways often paved with good intentions left bloody footprints in their wake, and [Name] feared that the blood on Loki’s shoes will spill further as the young prince learned of his true roots. 
Guess who has been watching the Thor movies for best boy. 
Warning: Light angst, fluff and comfort 
Also, I am really upset we don’t learn more of Loki’s frost-giant heritage. Please enjoy. 
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It was a story many knew of, stories of valiant warriors willing to do absolutely anything to ensure the safety of their people, their kingdom or another object of desire, no matter the cost. Some referred to it as corruption. A never-ending hunger to see others fall at their feet by their blade or hammer. To see their blood stain the stone beneath the piles of corpses that would only grow. 
And one thing that these stories always had in common was the source. Misjudgment. Belittlement. Shaming and humiliation. These little sparks would be the keys to igniting ravenous flames that knew no bounds, no restraints. The first who would come to mind of this, in true honesty, was Thor. [Name] may have been but a servant to the Great Odin and his sons, but he had grown to become friends with the two boys, and he could see that hunger in Thor. And yet, he was blind to see that hunger in Loki, the man knew how to hide things well indeed. 
A mask that would constantly twist and change, ever-changing expressions that never once gave away a sliver of what he was thinking, feeling. It was this air of mystery that originally plucked at [Name]’s attention and curiosity. He wanted to know Loki, truly know him. It started as nothing serious, the two spending time together in Asgard’s great library talking and discussing topics for amusement. The young trickster showing the servant his capabilities of his magic, something that had completely enraptured [Name]. 
The look of astonishment and awe in his [Eye colour] when he made a small glowing orb form in his hand and float around him was something that Loki treasured in his memory. How praise spilled from his lips at his talent, making the dark haired man feel special. Little seeds would plant themselves in the pair of them without their knowledge, each interaction making them sprout and grow further. Each conversation, each passing glance, each sneaky glance from across the hall or room, all of it continued until the plants flourished within them. 
Love. A beautiful flower that could put any other plant to shame with a mere glance of its petals. And the two young males curious and eager to explore this new feeling in private, knowing that the idea of a prince with a lowly servant was nothing but a joke. [Name] could easily recall the time Loki had told him to meet him in his private bedchambers, and the night that had followed was one neither would forget any time soon. Soft touches growing hungry, wanting more, to explore each other’s body. Gentle kisses trailed along their skin, tasting more of them. Delicate words spoken, whispered between the soft moans as the world around them no longer mattered. What did matter was them two together. 
Sadly, [Name] feared it may not last given the dark path Loki began to walk down. The bitterness within him grew, adding fuel to a flame that knew no end. Always being compared to Thor, always being second place no matter what. Odin always favouring his first born and not once considering Loki to be the one to sit upon the Throne of Asgard. Especially after the incident that resulted in Odin falling into his slumber.
[Name] stood outside of Loki’s private chambers, just having been given news of what happened to Odin, and was concerned for his beloved. Plucking up the courage and steeling himself, the [Hair colour] servant knocked. 
“Loki. It’s me, [Name]. Can...can I come in?” He asked, his voice a gentle tone like he was trying to calm a scared, frightened animal. No sound was heard from behind the door or in the room, tugging and twisting the knot of concern in [Name]’s stomach further. Slowly, he pushed the handle and entered the room and was welcomed by a coldness in the air. Nipping, biting, scratching at his skin like the breeze on a bitter cold day. “Loki? Are-” The question was cut off by a flicker of movement from the corner of his eye and a figure rushing at him. 
An ice cold grip latching onto his neck and pinning him to the wall behind him with force, holding him in place. Bright crimson eyes glared through the darkness before they took in the appearance of the servant, then growing softer. “Loki? What happened?” The words left [Name]’s lips with concern, one hand moving up to touch his lover’s cheek but Loki twisted, coiling back like a snake. 
“No! Don’t-Don’t touch me!” He hissed, moving away from [Name] as if he was a monstrous being. [Name] made no attempt to move from his spot, giving Loki the space and control of the situation in a way. 
“Loki, shh, shh. It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you, I would never do so.” [Name] took the moment to examine his lover, noticing the coldness of his touch, the ice blue on his skin that was far from Asgardian. And those eyes. Those crimson eyes that burned with a raging, cold fire. Frost-Giant. But this wasn’t just any frost-giant, this was still Loki. His Loki. 
Taking a second attempt, [Name] slowly reached out his hand to Loki, patient and gentle; concern swirling in his [Eye colour] eyes as he looked at him. Loki’s eyes remained locked on him for a moment before a warmth began to grow in the room, wiping away the coldness and brushing over [Name]’s skin again. [Name] took a small, slow step towards Loki, slowly reaching for his hand and gently interlocking it with his, ignoring the nipping coldness of his touch but he did notice the growing warmth as the blue faded from his skin. 
A soft smile lifted the [Hair colour] male’s lips at this, bringing his hand up to his lips and gently kissing the knuckles before pulling him close. “Shh, it’s okay, Loki. It’s okay.” Loki closed his now pale blue eyes, leaning into the touches and security of his lover. The only place he felt at peace and belonging. 
It all made so much more sense now to him, like a fog lifted from everything he had ever been told before, and those words haunting him. Frost-Giant. Monster. Abomination. Laufeyson. 
Laufeyson. He was never Odinson, no, he was merely a stolen relic. He needed to....he needed to do something. With Thor gone, he could find a way to do something. To gain his father’s favour, to show that he was the superior child. He could put this right.
He had to destroy Jotunheim.
It was the only way.
154 notes · View notes
bnhatrashcanons · 3 years
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bnha boys with a chubby/plus size partner
w/ shoto todoroki, katsuki bakugou, eijiro kirishima, hiryu rin, and kosei tsuburaba
genre: pure unadulterated pluff
a.n. i love class b thanks bye
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shoto todoroki
doesn’t really have a preference with a partners looks, he really cares about personality, goals, and drive and ambition. but he finds everything about you pretty and beautiful even when you don’t.
he’s careful to not squeeze or push on your softer parts if he thinks it will make you insecure but somedays he can’t help it. you’re so soft, warm, and inviting
loves snuggling with you, especially with you on his right side when he gets a little too cold.
likes to buy you clothes that accentuate your hips and thighs. he’s not slick about staring at you. the slight smile pulling at the sides of his lips while he watches you walk. 
he understands you have your insecure moments, and he’s not good with words but shows through his actions how astonishing he finds you.
leaves hickeys and kisses on your thighs and stomach. those spots are just for him. so he’s gonna love and kiss all the spots shown only for him.
katsuki bakugou
someone who would probably prefer a thicker partner, but doesn’t really care. but the thought of you choking him with your thighs makes him a little weak.
doesn’t understand your insecurities? you’re so sexy and hot to him so like you can’t be ugly why do you have days you feel like that? doesn’t understand it genuinely.
and he voices those opinions to you. he doesn’t mean to sound callous and rude he’s just being as honest as he knows how to be. you get offended when he dismisses your insecurities but he genuinely loves the way you look. and it took a few arguments for you to realize that but it makes you smile.
squeezes your thighs with enough force to bruise. doesn’t mean it. really doesn’t mean to hurt you. he just loves feeling it.
please let him use those thighs as earmuffs. 
likes to press kisses onto your thighs.
ass smacks. he will send you forward with the force. you won’t be able to sit good luck with that
is the type to bark and bite people who even breathe at you wrong
eijiro kirishima
definitely wants thicker person. won’t turn anyone down if you aren’t on the chubbier side of things. but he loves it. he wants to continuously squeeze and love on his partner, a firm believer of the heavier partner means there’s more to love.
tells you how beautiful you are every day, you can’t be insecure with eijiro around. he loves you so much and he wants you to know it every second of every hour 
his favorite part of your body is your tummy. kisses it consistently, gives it gentle pats and rubs. also loves your ass. likes to lay his head on it when you snuggle. 
also loves snuggling with you consistently. he needs you in his arms. always.
is your biggest hype man. the moment you come out in an outfit you were not so sure about he will scream and cheer when you walk out in it, hands roaming all over your body, kissing your cheeks and lips letting you know you’re the most gorgeous person he’s ever laid his eyes on. 
hiryu rin
this!!!! is all he’s ever asked for!!! please he’s dying for a chubby partner he wants one so badly. you’re so warm and soft and thats what he needs.
especially during the winter time. he’ll be stuck to you like a leech. you’re warm and hes shaky and chilly but you, his lovely partner, warm him up within an instant. he’s so content laying in your arms, between or on your thighs, on your stomach, he’s flooded with so much warmth.
your softness is such a nice change from the roughness of his skin and quirk. he appreciates it. 
loves making traditional chinese food for you to try :)
tummy pats/rubs whenever you eat because he knows it can get difficult for you and he just wants to show you hes proud of you 
still slept with a stuffed animal until he started seeing you and its the same thing and he feels so comfortable falling asleep around you
you never feel less than beautiful around him, and he makes sure of that. reassures you everyday that you’re the most ethereal being he’s ever laid eyes on.
if you try to argue he counters with “well i’m one of the smartest in the class so i know better than you.” with a little poke of his tongue
kosei tsuburaba
listen he’s just happy someone wants him okay he’s happy to be included. doesn’t have a preference for body type either, he just wants someone who really and truly loves him
he knows you get insecure days, he does too, but he does his best to cheer you up. he tries to never let you get too down. he’s got a 5/6 for got your back for a reason. 
loves to try new foods with you, your dates consist mostly of trying new places
healthy relationship weight is absolutely a thing with kosei, and he doesn’t mind and hopes you don’t either.
crush him with your thighs please.
let him go out in his dream way
he wants it so bad.
suffocate him.
220 notes · View notes
grigori77 · 3 years
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2020 in Movies - My Top 30 Fave Movies (Part 3)
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10.  WOLFWALKERS – eleven years ago, Irish director Tomm Moore exploded onto the animated cinema scene with The Secret of Kells, a spellbinding feature debut which captivated audiences the world over and even garnered an Oscar nomination.  Admittedly I didn’t actually even know about it until I discovered his work through his astonishing follow-up, Song of the Sea (another Academy Award nominee), in 2015, so when I finally caught it I was already a fan of Moore’s work.  It’s been a similarly long wait for his third feature, but he’s genuinely pulled off a hat-trick, delivering a third flawless film in a row which OF COURSE means that his latest feature is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, my top animated feature of 2020.  I could even be tempted to say it’s his best work to date … this is an ASTONISHING film, a work of such breath-taking, spell-binding beauty that I spent its entire hour and three-quarters glued to the screen, simple mesmerised by the wonder and majesty of this latest iteration of the characteristically stylised “Cartoon Saloon” look.  It’s also liberally steeped in Moore’s trademark Celtic vibe and atmosphere, once again delving deep into his homeland’s rich and evocative cultural history and mythology while also bringing us something far more original and personal – this time the titular supernatural beings are magical near-human beings whose own subconscious can assume the form of very real wolves.  Set in a particularly dark time in Irish history – namely 1650, when Oliver Cromwell was Lord Protector – the story follows Robyn (Honor Kneafsey, probably best known for the Christmas Prince films), the impetuous and spirited young daughter of English hunter Bill Goodfellowe (Sean Bean), brought in by the Protectorate to rid the city of Kilkenny of the wolves plaguing the area.  One day fate intervenes and Robyn meets Mebh Og MacTire (The Girl at the End of the Garden‘s Eve Whittaker), a wild girl living in the woods, whose accidental bite gives her strange dreams in which she becomes a wolf – turns out Mebh is a wolfwalker, and now so is Robyn … every aspect of this film is an utter triumph for Moore and co, who have crafted a work of living, breathing cinematic art that’s easily the equal to (if not even better than) the best that Disney, Dreamworks or any of the other animation studios could create.  Then there’s the excellent voice cast – Bean brings fatherly warmth and compassion to the role that belies his character’s intimidating size, while Kneafsey and Whittaker make for a sweet and sassy pair as they bond in spite of powerful cultural differences, and the masterful Simon McBurney (Harry Potter, Mission: Impossible – Rogue Nation, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy) brings cool, understated menace to the role of Cromwell himself.  This is a film with plenty of emotional heft to go with its marvels, and once again displays the welcome dark side which added particular spice to Moore’s previous films, but ultimately this is still a gentle and heartfelt work of wonder that makes for equally suitable viewing for children as for those who are still kids at heart – ultimately, then, this is another triumph for one of the most singularly original filmmakers working in animation today, and if Wolfwalkers doesn’t make it third time lucky come Oscars-time then there’s no justice in the world …
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9.  WONDER WOMAN 1984 – probably the biggest change for 2020 compared to pretty much all of the past decade is how different the fortunes of superhero cinema turned out to be.  A year earlier the Marvel Cinematic Universe had dominated all, but the DC Extended Universe still got a good hit in with big surprise hit Shazam!  Fast-forward to now and things are VERY different – DC suddenly came out in the lead, but only because Marvel’s intended heavy-hitters (two MCU movies, the first Venom sequel and potential hot-shit new franchise starter Morbius: the Living Vampire) found themselves continuously pushed back thanks to (back then) unforeseen circumstances which continue to shit all over our theatre-going slate for the immediate future.  In the end DC’s only SERIOUS competition turned out to be NETFLIX … never mind, at least we got ONE big established superhero blockbuster into the cinemas before the end of the year that the whole family could enjoy, and who better to headline it than DC’s “newest” big screen megastar, Diana Prince? Back in 2017 Monster’s Ball director Patty Jenkins’ monumental DCEU standalone spectacularly realigned the trajectory of a cinematic franchise that was visibly flagging, redesigning the template for the series’ future which has since led to some (mostly) consistently impressive subsequent offerings.  Needless to say it was a damn tough act to follow, but Jenkins and co-writers Geoff Johns (Arrow and The Flash) and David Callaham (The Expendables, Zombieland: Double Tap, future MCU entry Shang-Chi & the Legend of the Ten Rings) have risen to the challenge in fine style, delivering something which pretty much equals that spectacular franchise debut … as has Gal Gadot, who’s now OFFICIALLY made the role her own thanks to yet another showstopping and definitive performance as the unstoppable Amazonian goddess living amongst us.  She’s older and wiser than in the first film, but still hasn’t lost that forthright honesty and wonderfully pure heart we’ve come to love ever since her introduction in Zack Snyder’s troublesome but ultimately underrated Batman V Superman: Dawn of Justice (yes, that’s right, I said it!), and Gadot’s clear, overwhelming commitment to the role continues to pay off magnificently as she once again proves that Diana is THE VERY BEST superhero in the DCEU cinematic pantheon.  Although it takes place several decades after its predecessor, WW84 is, obviously, still very much a period piece, Jenkins and co this time perfectly capturing the sheer opulent and over-the-top tastelessness of the 1980s in all its big-haired, bad-suited, oversized shoulder-padded glory while telling a story that encapsulates the greedy excessiveness of the Reagan era, perfectly embodied in the film’s nominal villain, Max Lord (The Mandalorian himself, Pedro Pascal), a wishy-washy wannabe oil tycoon conman who chances upon a supercharged wish-rock and unleashes a devastating supernatural “monkey’s paw” upon the world. To say any more would give away a whole raft of spectacular twists and turns that deserve to be enjoyed good and cold, although they did spoil one major surprise in the trailer when they teased the return of Diana’s first love, Steve Trevor (Chris Pine) … needless to say this is another big blockbuster bursting with big characters, big action and BIG IDEAS, just what we’ve come to expect after Wonder Woman’s first triumphant big screen adventure.  Interestingly, the film starts out feeling like it’s going to be a bubbly, light, frothy affair – after a particularly stunning all-action opening flashback to Diana’s childhood on Themyscira, the film proper kicks off with a bright and breezy atmosphere that feels a bit like the kind of Saturday morning cartoon action the consistently impressive set-pieces take such unfettered joy in parodying, but as the stakes are raised the tone grows darker and more emotionally potent, the storm clouds gathering for a spectacularly epic climax that, for once, doesn’t feel too overblown or weighed down by its visual effects, while the intelligent script has unfathomable hidden depths to it, making us think far more than these kinds of blockbusters usually do.  It’s really great to see Chris Pine return since he was one of the best things about the first movie, and his lovably childlike wide-eyed wonder at this brave new world perfectly echoes Diana’s own last time round; Kristen Wiig, meanwhile, is pretty phenomenal throughout as Dr Barbara Minerva, the initially geeky and timid nerd who discovers an impressive inner strength but ultimately turns into a superpowered apex predator as she becomes one of Wonder Woman’s most infamous foes, the Cheetah; Pascal, of course, is clearly having the time of his life hamming it up to the hilt as Lord, playing gloriously against his effortlessly cool, charismatic action hero image to deliver a compellingly troubling examination of the monstrous corrupting influence of absolute power.  Once again, though, the film truly belongs to Gadot – she looks amazing, acts her socks off magnificently, and totally rules the movie.  After this, a second sequel is a no-brainer, because Wonder Woman remains the one DC superhero who’s truly capable of bearing the weight of this particular cinematic franchise on her powerful shoulders – needless to say, it’s already been greenlit, and with both Jenkins and Gadot onboard, I’m happy to sign up for more too …
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8.  LOVE & MONSTERS – with the cinemas continuing their frustrating habit of opening for a little while and then closing while the pandemic ebbed and flowed in the months after the summer season, it was starting to look like there might not have been ANY big budget blockbusters to enjoy before year’s end as heavyweights like Black Widow, No Time To Die and Dune pulled back to potentially more certain release slots into 2021 (with only WW84 remaining stubbornly in place for Christmas).  Then Paramount decided to throw us a bone, opting to release this post-apocalyptic horror comedy on-demand in October instead, thus giving me the perfect little present to tie me over during the darkening days of autumn. The end result was a stone-cold gem that came out of nowhere to completely blow critics away, a spectacular sleeper hit that ultimately proved one of the year’s biggest and most brilliant surprises.  Director Michael Matthews may only have had South African indie thriller Five Fingers for Marseilles under his belt prior to this, but he proves he’s definitely a solid talent to watch in the future, crafting a fun and effective thrill-ride that, like all the best horror comedies, is consistently as funny as it is scary, sharing much of the same DNA as this particular mash-up genre’s classics like Tremors and Zombieland and standing up impressively well to such comparisons.  The story, penned by rising star Brian Duffield (who has TWO other entries on this list, Underwater and Spontaneous) and Matthew Robinson (The Invention of Lying, Dora & the Lost City of Gold), is also pretty ingenious and surprisingly original – a meteorite strike has unleashed weird mutagenic pathogens that warp various creepy crawly critters into gigantic monstrosities that have slaughter most of the world’s human population, leaving only a beleaguered, dwindling few to eke out a precarious living in underground colonies. Living in one such makeshift community is Joel Dawson (The Maze Runner’s Dylan O’Brien), a smart and likeable geek who really isn’t very adventurous, is extremely awkward and uncoordinated, and has a problem with freezing if threatened … which makes it all the more inexplicable when he decides, entirely against the advice of everyone he knows, to venture onto the surface so he can make the incredibly dangerous week-long trek to the neighbouring colony where his girlfriend Aimee (Iron Fist’s Jessica Henwick) has ended up.  Joel is, without a doubt, the best role that O’Brien has EVER had, a total dork who’s completely unsuited to this kind of adventure and, in the real world, sure to be eaten alive in the first five minutes, but he’s also such a fantastically believable, fallible everyman that every one of us desperate, pathetic omega-males and females can instantly put ourselves in his place, making it elementarily easy to root for him.  He’s also hilariously funny, his winningly self-deprecating sass and pitch perfect talent for physical comedy making it all the more rewarding watching each gloriously anarchic life-and-death encounter mould him into the year’s most unlikely action hero.  Henwick, meanwhile, once again impresses in a well-written role where she’s able to make a big impression despite her decidedly short screen time, as do the legendary Michael Rooker and brilliant newcomer Ariana Greenblatt as Clyde and Minnow, the adorably jaded, seen-it-all-before pair of “professional survivors” Joel meets en-route, who teach him to survive on the surface.  The action is fast, frenetic and potently visceral, the impressively realistic digital creature effects bringing a motley crew of bloodthirsty beasties to suitably blood-curdling life for the film’s consistently terrifying set-pieces, while the world-building is intricately thought-out and skilfully executed.  Altogether, this was an absolute joy from start to finish, and a film I enthusiastically endorsed to everyone I knew was looking for something fun to enjoy during the frustrating lockdown nights-in.  One of the cinematic year’s best kept secrets then, and a compelling sign of things to come for its up-and-coming director.
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7.  PARASITE – I’ve been a fan of master Korean filmmaker Bong Joon-ho ever since I stumbled across his deeply weird but also thoroughly brilliant breakthrough feature The Host, and it’s a love that’s deepened since thanks to truly magnificent sci-fi actioner Snowpiercer, so I was looking forward to his latest feature as much as any movie geek, but even I wasn’t prepared for just what a runaway juggernaut of a hit this one turned out to be, from the insane box office to all that award-season glory (especially that undeniable clean-sweep at the Oscars). I’ll just come out and say it, this film deserves it all.  It’s EASILY Bong’s best film to date (which is really saying something), a masterful social satire and jet black comedy that raises some genuinely intriguing questions before delivering deeply troubling answers.  Straddling the ever-widening gulf between a disaffected idle rich upper class and impoverished, struggling lower class in modern-day Seoul, it tells the story of the Kim family – father Ki-taek (Bong’s good luck charm, Song Kang-ho), mother Chung-sook (Jang Hye-jin), son Ki-woo (Train to Busan’s Choi Woo-shik) and daughter Ki-jung (The Silenced’s Park So-dam) – a poor family living in a run-down basement apartment who live hand-to-mouth in minimum wage jobs and can barely rub two pennies together, until they’re presented with an intriguing opportunity.  Through happy chance, Ki-woon is hired as an English tutor for Park Da-hye (Jung Ji-so), the daughter of a wealthy family, which offers him the chance to recommend Ki-jung as an art tutor to the Parks’ troubled young son, Da-song (Jung Hyeon-jun). Soon the rest of the Kims are getting in on the act, the kids contriving opportunities for their father to replace Mr Park’s chauffeur and their mother to oust the family’s long-serving housekeeper, Gook Moon-gwang (Lee Jung-eun), and before long their situation has improved dramatically.  But as they two families become more deeply entwined, cracks begin to show in their supposed blissful harmony as the natural prejudices of their respective classes start to take hold, and as events spiral out of control a terrible confrontation looms on the horizon.  This is social commentary at its most scathing, Bong drawing on personal experiences from his youth to inform the razor-sharp script (co-written by his production assistant Han Jin-won), while he weaves a palpable atmosphere of knife-edged tension throughout to add spice to the perfectly observed dark humour of the situation, all the while throwing intriguing twists and turns at us before suddenly dropping such a massive jaw-dropper of a gear-change that the film completely turns on its head to stunning effect.  The cast are all thoroughly astounding, Song once again dominating the film with a turn at once sloppy and dishevelled but also poignant and heartfelt, while there are particularly noteworthy turns from Lee Sun-kyun as the Parks’ self-absorbed patriarch Dong-ik and Choi Yeo-jeong (The Concubine) as his flighty, easily-led wife Choi Yeon-gyo, as well as a fantastically weird appearance in the latter half from Park Myung-hoon.  This is heady stuff, dangerously seductive even as it becomes increasingly uncomfortable viewing, so that even as the screws tighten and everything goes to hell it’s simply impossible to look away.  Bong Joon-ho really has surpassed himself this time, delivering an existential mind-scrambler that lingers long after the credits have rolled and might even have you questioning your place in society once you’ve thought about it some. It deserves every single award and every ounce of praise it’s been lavished with, and looks set to go down as one of the true cinematic greats of this new decade.  Trust me, if this was a purely critical best-of list it’d be RIGHT AT THE TOP …
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6.  THE OLD GUARD – Netflix’ undisputable TOP OFFERING of the summer came damn close to bagging the whole season, and I can’t help thinking that even if some of the stiffer competition had still been present it may well have still finished this high. Gina Prince-Blythewood (Love & Basketball, the Secret Life of Bees) directs comics legend Greg Rucka’s adaptation of his own popular series with uncanny skill and laser-focused visual flair considering there’s nothing on her previous CV to suggest she’d be THIS good at mounting a stomping great ultraviolent action thriller, ushering in a thoroughly engrossing tale of four ancient, invulnerable immortal warriors – Andy AKA Andromache of Scythia (Charlize Theron), Booker AKA Sebastian de Livre (Matthias Schoenaerts), Joe AKA Yusuf Al-Kaysani (Wolf’s Marwan Kenzari) and Nicky AKA Niccolo di Ginova (Trust’s Luca Marinelli) – who’ve been around forever, hiring out their services as mercenaries for righteous causes while jealously guarding their identities for fear of horrific experimentation and exploitation should their true natures ever be discovered.  Their anonymity is threatened, however, when they’re uncovered by former CIA operative James Copley (Chiwetel Ejiofor), who’s working for the decidedly dodgy pharmaceutical conglomerate run by sociopathic billionaire Steven Merrick (Harry Melling, formerly Dudley in the Harry Potter movies), who want to capture these immortals so they can patent whatever it is that makes them keep on ticking … just as a fifth immortal, US Marine Nile Freeman (If Beale Street Could Talk’s KiKi Layne), awakens after being “killed” on deployment in Afghanistan.  The supporting players are excellent, particularly Ejiofor, smart and driven but ultimately principled and deeply conflicted about what he’s doing, even if he does have the best of intentions, and Melling, the kind of loathsome, reptilian scumbag you just love to hate, but the film REALLY DOES belong to the Old Guard themselves – Schoenaerts is a master brooder, spot-on casting as the group’s relative newcomer, only immortal since the Napoleonic Wars but clearly one seriously old soul who’s already VERY tired of the lifestyle, while Joe and Nicky (who met on opposing sides of the Crusades) are simply ADORABLE, an unapologetically matter-of-fact gay couple who are sweet, sassy and incredibly kind, the absolute emotional heart of the film; it’s the ladies, however, that are most memorable here.  Layne is exceptional, investing Nile with a steely intensity that puts her in good stead as her new existence threatens to overwhelm her and MORE THAN qualified to bust heads alongside her elders … but it’s ancient Greek warrior Andy who steals the film, Theron building on the astounding work she did in Atomic Blonde to prove, once and for all, that there’s no woman on Earth who looks better kicking arse than her (as Booker puts it, “that woman has forgotten more ways to kill than entire armies will ever learn”); in her hands, Andy truly is a goddess of death, tough as tungsten alloy and unflappable even in the face of hell itself, but underneath it all she hides a heart as big as any of her friends’.  They’re an impossibly lovable bunch and you feel you could follow them on another TEN adventures like this one, which is just as well, because Prince-Blythewood and Rucka certainly put them through their paces here – the drama is high (but frequently laced with a gentle, knowing sense of humour, particularly whenever Joe and Nicky are onscreen), as are the stakes, and the frequent action sequences are top-notch, executed with rare skill and bone-crunching zest, but also ALWAYS in service to the story.  Altogether this is an astounding film, a genuine victory for its makers and, it seems, for Netflix themselves – it’s become one of the platform’s biggest hits to date, earning well-deserved critical acclaim and great respect and genuine geek love from the fanbase at large.  After this, a sequel is not only inevitable, it’s ESSENTIAL …
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5.  MANK – it’s always nice when David Fincher, one of my TOP FIVE ALL TIME FAVOURITE DIRECTORS, drops a new movie, because it can be GUARANTEED to place good and high in my rundown for that year.  The man is a frickin’ GENIUS, a true master of the craft, genuinely one of the auteur’s auteurs.  I’ve NEVER seen him deliver a bad film – even a misfiring Fincher (see The Curious Case of Benjamin Button or Alien 3) is still capable of creating GREAT CINEMA.  How? Why?  It’s because he genuinely LOVES the art form, it’s been his obsession all his life, and he’s spent every day of it becoming the best possible filmmaker he can be.  Who better to tell the story of the creation of one of the ULTIMATE cinematic masterpieces, then?  Benjamin Ross’ acclaimed biopic RKO 281 covered similar ground, presenting a compelling look into the making Citizen Kane, the timeless masterpiece of Hollywood’s ULTIMATE auteur, Orson Welles, but Fincher’s film is more interested in the original inspiration for the story, how it was written and, most importantly, the man who wrote it – Herman J. Mankiewicz, known to his friends as Mank. One of my favourite actors of all time, Gary Oldman, delivers yet another of his career best performances in the lead role, once a man of vision and incredible storytelling skill whose talents have largely been squandered through professional difficulties and personal vices, a burned out one-time great fallen on hard times whom Welles picks up out of the trash, dusts off and offers a chance to create something truly great again.  The only catch?  The subject of their film (albeit dressed up in the guise of fictional newspaper magnate Charles Foster Kane) is to be real-life publisher, politico and tycoon William Randolph Hurst (Charles Dance), once Mank’s friend and patron before they had a very public and messy falling out which partly led to his current circumstances.  As he toils away in seclusion on what is destined to become his true masterwork, flashbacks reveal to us the fascinating, moving and ultimately tragic tale of his rise and fall from grace in the movie business, set against the backdrop of one of the most tumultuous periods in American history.  Shooting a script that his own journalist and screenwriter father, Jack, crafted and then failed to bring to the screen himself before his death in 2003, Fincher has been working for almost a quarter century to make this film, and all that passion and drive is writ large on the screen – this is a glorious film ABOUT film, the art of it, the creation of it, and all the dirty little secrets of what the industry itself has always really been like, especially in that most glamorous and illusory of times.  The fact that Fincher shot in black and white and intentionally made it look like it was made in the early 1940s (the “golden age of the Silver Screen”, if you will) may seem like a gimmick, but instead it’s a very shrewd choice that expertly captures the gloss and moodiness of the age, almost looking like a contemporary companion piece to Kane itself, and it’s the perfect way to frame all the sharp-witted observation, subtly subversive character development and murky behind-the-scenes machinations that tell the story.  Oldman is in every way the star here, holding the screen with all the consummate skill and flair we’ve come to expect from him, but there’s no denying the uniformly excellent supporting cast are equal to the task here – Dance is at his regal, charismatic best as Hearst, while Amanda Seyfried is icily classy on the surface but mischievous and lovably grounded underneath as Hearst’s mistress, Marion Davies, who formed the basis for Kane’s most controversial character, Arliss Howard (Full Metal Jacket, The Lost World: Jurassic Park, Moneyball) brings nuance and complexity to the role of MGM founder Louis B. Mayer, Tom Pelphrey (Banshee, Ozark) is understated but compelling as Mank’s younger screenwriter brother Joseph, and Lily Collins and Tuppence Middleton exude class and long-suffering stubbornness as the two main women in Mank’s life (his secretary and platonic muse, Rita Alexander, and his wife, Sara), while The Musketeers’ Tom Burke’s periodic but potent appearances as Orson Welles help to drive the story in the “present”.  Another Netflix release which I was (thankfully) able to catch on the big screen during one of the brief lulls between British lockdowns, this was a decidedly meta cinematic experience that perfectly encapsulated not only what is truly required for the creation of a screen epic, but also the latest pinnacle in the career of one of the greatest filmmakers working in the business today, powerful, stirring, intriguing and surprising in equal measure. Certainly it’s one of the most important films ABOUT so far film this century, but is it as good as Citizen Kane?  Boy, that’s a tough one …
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4.  ENOLA HOLMES – ultimately, my top film for the autumn/winter movie season was also the film which finally topped my Netflix Original features list, as well as beating all other streaming offerings for the entire year (which is saying something, as you should know by now).  Had things been different, this would have been one of Warner Bros’ BIGGEST releases for the year in the cinema, of that I have no doubt, a surprise sleeper hit which would have taken the world by storm – as it is it’s STILL become a sensation, albeit in a much more mid-pandemic, lockdown home-viewing kind of way.  Before you start crying oh God no, not another Sherlock Holmes adaptation, this is a very different beast from either the Guy Ritchie take or the modernized BBC show, instead side-lining the great literary sleuth in favour of a delicious new AU version, based on The Case of the Missing Marquess, the first novel in the Enola Holmes Mysteries literary series from American YA author Nancy Springer.  Positing that Sherlock Holmes (Henry Cavill) and his elder brother Mycroft (Sam Claflin) had an equally ingenious and precocious baby sister, the film introduces us to Enola (Stranger Things’ Millie Bobby Brown), who’s been raised at home by their strong-willed mother Eudoria (Helena Bonham Carter) to be just as intelligent, well-read and intellectually skilled as her far more advantageously masculine elder siblings.  Then, on the morning of her sixteenth birthday, Enola awakens to find her mother has vanished, putting her in a pretty pickle since this leaves her a ward of Mycroft, a self-absorbed social peacock who finds her to be wilfully free-spirited and completely ill equipped to face the world, concluding that the only solution is sending her to boarding school where she’ll learn to become a proper lady.  Needless to say she’s horrified by the prospect, deciding to run away and search for her mother instead … this is about as perfect a family adventure film as you could wish for, following a vital, capable and compelling teen detective-in-the-making as she embarks on her very first investigation, as well as winding up tangled in a second to boot involving a young runaway noble, Viscount Tewkesbury, the Marquess of Basilwether (Medici’s Louis Partridge), and the film is a breezy, swift-paced and rewardingly entertaining romp that feels like a welcome breath of fresh air for a literary property which, beloved as it may be, has been adapted to death over the years.  Enola Holmes a brilliant young hero who’s perfectly crafted to carry the franchise forward in fresh new directions, and Brown brings her to life with effervescent charm, boisterous energy and mischievous irreverence that are entirely irresistible; Cavill and Claflin, meanwhile, are perfectly cast as the two very different brothers – this Sherlock is much less louche and world-weary than most previous versions, still razor sharp and intellectually restless but with a comfortable ease and a youthful spring in his step that perfectly suits the actor, while Mycroft is as superior and arrogant as ever, a preening arse we derive huge enjoyment watching Enola consistently get the best of; Bonham Carter doesn’t get a lot of screen-time but as we’d expect she does a lot with what she has to make the practical, eccentric and unapologetically modern Eudoria thoroughly memorable, while Partridge is carefree and likeable as the naïve but irresistible Tewkesbury, and there are strong supporting turns from Frances de la Tour as his stately grandmother, the Dowager, Susie Wokoma (Crazyhead, Truth Seekers) as Emily, a feisty suffragette who runs a jujitsu studio, Burn Gorman as dastardly thug-for-hire Linthorn, and Four Lions’ Adeel Akhtar as a particularly scuzzy Inspector Lestrade.  Seasoned TV director Harry Bradbeer (Fleabag, Killing Eve) makes his feature debut with an impressive splash, unfolding the action at a brisk pace while keeping the narrative firmly focused on an intricate mystery plot that throws in plenty of ingenious twists and turns before a suitably atmospheric climax and pleasing denouement which nonetheless artfully sets up more to come in the future, while screenwriter Jack Thorne (His Dark Materials, The Scouting Book for Boys, Wonder) delivers strong character work and liberally peppers the dialogue with a veritable cavalcade of witty zingers.  Boisterous, compelling, amusing, affecting and exciting in equal measure, this is a spirited and appealing slice of cinematic escapism that flatters its viewers and never talks down to them, a perfect little period adventure for a cosy Sunday afternoon.  Obviously there’s plenty of potential for more, and with further books to adapt there’s more than enough material for a pile of sequels – Neflix would be barmy indeed to turn their nose up at this opportunity …
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3.  1917 – it’s a rare thing for a film to leave me truly shell-shocked by its sheer awesomeness, for me to walk out of a cinema in a genuine daze, unable to talk or even really think about much of anything for a few hours because I’m simply marvelling at what I’ve just witnessed.  Needless to say, when I do find a film like that (Fight Club, Inception, Mad Max: Fury Road) it usually earns a place very close to my heart indeed.  The latest tour-de-force from Sam Mendes is one of those films – an epic World War I thriller that plays out ENTIRELY in one shot, which doesn’t simply feel like a glorified gimmick or stunt but instead is a genuine MASTERPIECE of film, a mesmerising journey of emotion and imagination in a shockingly real environment that’s impossible to tear your eyes away from.  Sure, Mendes has impressed us before – his first film, American Beauty, is a GREAT movie, one of the most impressive feature debuts of the 2000s, while Skyfall is, in my opinion, quite simply THE BEST BOND FILM EVER MADE – but this is in a whole other league.  It’s an astounding achievement, made all the more impressive when you realise that there’s very little trickery at play here, no clever digital magic (just some augmentation here and there), it’s all real locations and sets, filmed in long, elaborately choreographed takes blended together with clever edits to make it as seamless as possible – it’s not the first film to try to do this (remember Birdman? Bushwick?), but I’ve never seen it done better, or with greater skill. But it’s not just a clever cinematic exercise, there’s a genuine story here, told with guts and urgency, and populated by real flesh and blood characters – the heart of the film is True History of the Kelly Gang’s George MacKay and Dean Chapman (probably best known as Tommen Baratheon in Game of Thrones) as Lance Corporals Will Schofield and Tom Blake, the two young tommies sent out across enemy territory on a desperate mission to stop a British regiment from rushing headlong into a German trap (Tom himself has a personal stake in this because his brother is an officer in the attack).  They’re a likeable pair, very human and relatable throughout, brave and true but never so overtly heroic that they stretch credibility, so when tragedy strikes along the way it’s particularly devastating; both deliver exceptional performances that effortlessly carry us through the film, and they’re given sterling support from a selection of top-drawer British talent, from Sherlock stars Andrew Scott and Benedict Cumberbatch to Mark Strong and Colin Firth, each delivering magnificently in small but potent cameos.  That said, the cinematography and art department are the BIGGEST stars here, masterful veteran DOP Roger Deakins (The Shawshank Redemption, Blade Runner 2049 and pretty much the Coen Brothers’ entire back catalogue among MANY others) making every frame sing with beauty, horror, tension or tragedy as the need arises, and the environments are SO REAL it feels less like production design than that someone simply sent the cast and crew back in time to film in the real Northern France circa 1917 – from a nightmarish trek across No Man’s Land to a desperate chase through a ruined French village lit only by dancing flare-light in the darkness before dawn, every scene is utterly immersive and simply STUNNING.  I don’t think it’s possible for Mendes to make a film better than this, but I sure hope he gives it a go all the same.  Either way, this was the most incredible, exhausting, truly AWESOME experience I had at the cinema all year – it’s a film that DESERVES to be seen on the big screen, and I feel truly sorry for those who missed the chance …
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2.  BIRDS OF PREY & THE FANTABULOUS EMANCIPATION OF ONE HARLEY QUINN – the only reason 1917 isn’t at number two is because Warner Bros.’ cinematic DC Extended Universe project FINALLY got round to bringing my favourite DC Comics title to the big screen.  It was been the biggest pleasure of my cinematic year getting to see my top DC superheroines brought to life on the big screen, and it was done in high style, in my opinion THE BEST of the DCEU films to date (yup, I loved it EVEN MORE than the Wonder Woman movies).  It was also great seeing Harley Quinn return after her show-stealing turn in David Ayer’s clunky but ultimately still hugely enjoyable Suicide Squad, better still that they got her SPOT ON this time – this is the Harley I’ve always loved in the comics, unpredictable, irreverent and entirely without regard for what anyone else thinks of her, as well as one talented psychiatrist.  Margot Robbie once more excels in the role she was basically BORN to play, clearly relishing the chance to finally do Harley TRUE justice, and she’s a total riot from start to finish, infectiously lovable no matter what crazy, sometimes downright REPRIHENSIBLE antics she gets up to.  Needless to say she’s the nominal star here, her latest ill-advised adventure driving the story – finally done with the Joker and itching to make her emancipation official, Harley publicly announces their breakup by blowing up Ace Chemicals (their love spot, basically), inadvertently painting a target on her back in the process since she’s no longer under the assumed protection of Gotham’s feared Clown Prince of Crime – but that doesn’t mean she eclipses the other main players the movie’s REALLY supposed to be about.  Each member of the Birds of Prey is beautifully written and brought to vivid, arse-kicking life by what had to be 2020’s most exciting cast – Helena Bertinelli, the Huntress, is the perfect character for Mary Elizabeth Winstead to finally pay off on that action hero potential she showed in Scott Pilgrim Vs. the World, but this is a MUCH more enjoyable role outside of the fight choreography because while Helena may be a world-class dark avenger, socially she’s a total dork, which just makes her thoroughly adorable; Rosie Perez is similarly perfect casting as Renee Montoya, the uncompromising pint-sized Gotham PD detective who kicks against the corrupt system no matter what kind of trouble it gets her into, and just gets angrier all the time, paradoxically making us like her even more; and then there’s the film’s major controversy, at least as far as the fans are concerned, namely one Cassandra Cain.  Sure, this take is VERY different from the comics’ version (a nearly mute master assassin who went on to become the second woman to wear the mask of Batgirl before assuming her own crime-fighting mantle as Black Bat and now Orphan), but personally I like to think this is simply Cass at THE VERY START of her origin story, leaving plenty of time for her to discover her warrior origins when the DCEU finally gets around to introducing her mum, Lady Shiva (personally I want Michelle Yeoh to play her, but that’s just me) – anyways, here she’s a skilled child pickpocket whose latest theft inadvertently sets off the larger central plot, and newcomer Ella Jay Basco brings a fantastic pre-teen irreverence and spiky charm to the role, beautifully playing against Robbie’s mercurial energy.  My favourite here BY FAR, however, is Dinah Lance, aka the Black Canary (not only my favourite Bird of Prey but my very favourite DC superheroine PERIOD), the choice of up-and-comer Jurnee Smollet-Bell (Friday Night Lights, Underground) proving to be the film’s most inspired casting – a club singer with the metahuman ability to emit piercing supersonic screams, she’s also a ferocious martial artist (in the comics she’s one of the very best fighters IN THE WORLD), as well as a wonderfully pure soul you just can’t help loving, and it made me SO UNBELIEVABLY HAPPY that they got my Canary EXACTLY RIGHT.  Altogether they’re a fantastic bunch of badass ladies, basically my perfect superhero team, and the way they’re all brought together (along with Harley, of course) is beautifully thought out and perfectly executed … they’ve also got one hell of a threat to overcome, namely Gotham crime boss Roman Sionis, the Black Mask, one of the Joker’s chief rivals – Ewan McGregor brings his A-game in a frustratingly rare villainous turn (my number one bad guy for the movie year), a monstrously narcissistic, woman-hating control freak with a penchant for peeling off the faces of those who displease him, sharing some exquisitely creepy chemistry with Chris Messina (The Mindy Project) as Sionis’ nihilistic lieutenant Victor Zsasz.  This is about as good as superhero cinema gets, a perfect example of the sheer brilliance you get when you switch up the formula to create something new, an ultra-violent, unapologetically R-rated middle finger to the classic tropes, a fantastic black comedy thrill ride that’s got to be the most full-on feminist blockbuster ever made – it’s helmed by a woman (Dead Pigs director Cathy Yan), written by a woman (Bumblebee’s Christina Hodson), produced by more women and ABOUT a bunch of badass women magnificently triumphing over toxic masculinity in all its forms.  It’s also simply BRILLIANT – the cast are all clearly having a blast, the action sequences are first rate (the spectacular GCPD evidence room fight in which Harley gets to REALLY cut loose is the undisputable highlight), it has a gleefully anarchic sense of humour and is simply BURSTING with phenomenal homages, references and in-jokes for the fans (Bruce the hyena! Stuffed beaver! Roller derby!).  It’s also got a killer soundtrack, populated almost exclusively by numbers from female artists.  Altogether, then, this is the VERY BEST the DCEU has to offer to date, and VERY NEARLY my absolute FAVOURITE film of 2020.  Give it all the love you can, it sure as hell deserves it.
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1.  TENET – granted, the streaming platforms (particularly Netflix and Amazon) certainly saved our cinematic summer, but I’m still IMMEASURABLY glad that my ultimate top-spot winner FOR THE WHOLE YEAR was one I got to experience on THE BIG SCREEN. You gotta hand it to Christopher Nolan, he sure hung in there, stubbornly determined that his latest cinematic masterpiece WOULD be released in cinemas in the summer (albeit ultimately landing JUST inside the line in the final week of August and ultimately taking the bite at the box office because of the still shaky atmosphere), and it was worth all the fuss because, for me, this was THE PERFECT MOVIE for me to get return to cinemas with.  I mean, okay, in the end it WASN’T the FIRST new movie I saw after the first reopening, that honour went to Unhinged, but THIS was my first real Saturday night-out big screen EXPERIENCE since March.  Needless to say, Nolan didn’t disappoint this time any more than he has on any of his consistently spectacular previous releases, delivering another twisted, mind-boggling headfuck of a full-blooded experiential sensory overload that comes perilously close to toppling his long-standing auteur-peak, Inception (itself second only by fractions to The Dark Knight as far as I’m concerned). To say much at all about the plot would give away major spoilers – personally I’d recommend just going in as cold as possible, indeed you really should just stop reading this right now and just GO SEE IT.  Still with us?  Okay … the VERY abridged version is that it’s about a secret war being waged between the present and the future by people capable of “inverting” time in substances, objects, people, whatever, into which the Protagonist (BlacKkKlansman’s John David Washington), an unnamed CIA agent, has been dispatched in order to prevent a potential coming apocalypse. Washington is once again on top form, crafting a robust and compelling morally complex heroic lead who’s just as comfortable negotiating the minefields of black market intrigue as he is breaking into places or dispatching heavies, Kenneth Branagh delivers one of his most interesting and memorable performances in years as brutal Russian oligarch Andrei Sator, a genuinely nasty piece of work who was ALMOST the year’s very best screen villain, Elizabeth Debicki (The Night Manager, Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2, Widows) brings strength, poise and wounded integrity to the role of Sator’s estranged wife, Kat, and Aaron Taylor-Johnson gets to use his own accent for once as tough-as-nails British Intelligence officer Ives, while there are brief but consistently notable supporting turns and cameos from Martin Donovan, Yesterday’s Himesh Patel, Dirk Gently’s Fiona Dourif and, of course, Nolan’s good luck charm, Michael Caine.  The cast’s biggest surprise, however, is Robert Pattinson, truly a revelation in what has to be, HANDS DOWN, his best role to date, Neil, the Protagonist’s mysterious handler – he’s by turns cheeky, slick, duplicitous and thoroughly badass, delivering an enjoyably multi-layered, chameleonic performance which proves what I’ve long maintained, that the former Twilight star is actually a fucking amazing actor, and on the basis of this, even if that amazing new teaser trailer wasn’t making the rounds, I think the debate about whether or not he’s the right choice for the new Batman is now academic.  As we’ve come to expect from Nolan, this is a TRUE tour-de-force experience, a visual triumph and an endlessly engrossing head-scratcher, Nolan’s screenplay bringing in seriously big ideas and throwing us some major narrative knots and loopholes, constantly wrong-footing the viewer while also setting up truly revelatory payoffs from seemingly low-key, unimportant beginnings – this is a film you need to be awake and attentive for or you could miss something pretty vital. The action sequences are, as ever, second to none, some of the year’s very best set-pieces coming thick and fast and executed with some of the most accomplished skill in the business, while Nolan-regular cinematographer Hoyte van Hoytema (Interstellar and Dunkirk, as well as the heady likes of Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, SPECTRE and Ad Astra) once again shows he’s one of the best camera-wizards in the business today by delivering some absolutely mesmerising visuals.  Notably, Nolan’s other regular collaborator, composer Hans Zimmer, is absent here (although he had good reason, since he was working on his dream project at the time, the fast-approaching screen adaptation of Dune), but Ludwig Göransson (best known for his collaborations with Ryan Coogler Fruitvale Station, Creed and Black Panther, as well as career-best work on The Mandalorian) is a fine replacement, crafting an intriguingly internalised, post-modern musical landscape that thrums and pulses in time with the story and emotions of the characters rather than the action itself. Interestingly it’s on the subject of sound that some of the film’s rare detractions have been levelled, and I can see some of the points – the soundtrack mix is an all-encompassing thing, and there are times when the dialogue can be overwhelmed, but in Nolan’s defence this film is a heady, immersive experience, something you really need to concentrate on, so these potential flaws are easily forgiven.  As a work of filmmaking art, this is another flawless wonder from one of the true masters of the craft working in cinema today, but it’s art with palpable substance, a rewarding whole that proved truly unbeatable in 2020 …
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snowbellewells · 3 years
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Self-Promo Sunday: “A Litter More Than They Bargained For”
Hey there friends and shipmates! I’ve taken a couple of weeks off on the Self-Promo Sunday posts, but I was looking back through some of my older pieces and found this fluffy one shot offering from a couple years ago. (It was part of the amazing @cspupstravaganza event in 2019.) I didn’t make it any cover art before, so I’ve added that to it as well. Taking place sometime post- season six; Hope is present and a toddler, but Henry is still there as well. That makes it canon divergent future fluff, I guess? Apologies if you’ve read this one before, but maybe you’ll get a little smile from revisiting it.
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Also available on both AO3 HERE and on ff.net HERE
“A Litter More Than They Bargained For”
One pet she could have handled. One pet would have been perfectly manageable. A single, sweet-natured, reasonably well-behaved small pet - maybe a cat or a rabbit or even a hamster - wouldn’t have really changed anything about their lives in the seaside house or their daily routine that much. In fact, she and Killian had already been discussing a surprise for Hope in the form of a kitten from the litter her mom and dad’s barn cat had recently birthed, completely charming their pre-schooler upon her first visit to them at her grandparents’ farm.
Somehow, instead, all of Emma’s best-laid plans had been inverted and overturned, as so often seemed to happen in their chaotic magical town. When they had gone into the station that particular morning, they had found a large, mud-caked, burr-riddled dog tied to the bike rack and whining pitifully upon first sight of them. Emma was too disgruntled at the culprit for figuring out that their whole three person department were soft touches for strays as she charged foward to untie the poor beast, to even realize that the critter was already rooting into her affection. Needless to say, rather than their intended adoption, they had managed to take in a shaggy, slobbery mixed breed almost as large as a Shetland pony, with at least some Irish Wolfhound in its ancestry, according to the shelter attendant.
Gleefully mimicking that last declaration in her toddler voice, Hope had leaned over out of Killian’s arms to reach for where the huge hound lounged panting on the exam table, tongue lolling and tail thumping happily as she babbled, “Wolfie! Wolfie!” and patted along the dog’s back and shoulders as well as she could.
The thick, scruffy grey fur covering the animal’s lanky form did indeed resemble a wolf to some degree, and Kililan chuckled good naturedly at the easy moniker their daughter had seemingly bestowed. “Well, it would seem our little love has already christened her, Swan,” he commented lightly.
Emma wasn’t fooled by the casual demeanor covering her True Love’s words. She felt her last chance of finding a more suitable home for a dog of that size outside the town limits (preferably with acres for it to run) fade as she realized that her husband, as well as her little girl, was already attached. Killian wanted this dog more than he would admit.
Reaching out to stroke the gentle giant’s head resignedly, Emma reluctantly admitted to herself that the poor stray really was a sweet dog, despite her astonishing proportions and the amount of extra responsibility she herself would no doubt be taking on. “Hear that, Wolfie?” she questioned, looking the dog in the eyes rather than either member of her family, whom she could feel nearly vibrating with excitement beside her, “I guess you’re as good as ours.”
Henry only confirmed the permanence of the decision when he got home from the high school after his editors’ meeting for the school paper. Though a dog had never been something he had particularly asked for - they had spent so many of his growing up years being flung from one realm to another, either trying to rescue some member of their family, or seeking the needed magic item to fight some new villain, that it hadn’t left a lot of time for house training puppies or taking one for leisurely evening strolls. Still, as Henry came up the walk and saw Wolfie stretched out on the porch, Hope cuddled against her side and Emma and Killian curled together on the porch swing, the way her nearly adult son’s face had lit up and he’d rushed forward in excitement had shown Emma that kids didn’t really grow out of loving dogs, no matter their age.
Ruby, or perhaps the irrepressible brunette’s inner wild animal, seemed to find their new addition, and the rather obvious name Hope had latched onto, especially entertaining. Due to Wolfie’s size, the Jones clan now ate outside at the patio tables when they stopped for breakfast on the way to drop Hope off at Ashley Hermann’s Pumpkin Seeds Daycare, and before Henry took off for class and they headed on for the station. Her mother’s best friend didn’t even try to hide the fact that she saved back either bacon, sausage, or ham especially for Emma’s pet each day, laughing when after about a week Wolfie came to her the moment she exited the diner’s front entrance, before she could even reach their table, and began nosing at her pockets for the expected bounty.
However, it was Granny herself who startled them with a matter of fact question about a month after Wolfie had joined their family. The diner’s proprietress had come out to wait on them herself that morning, a real nip in the air as November neared, and explaining that Ruby was lying in for a while after the full moon the night before. Her half-spectacles perched on the very end of her nose, eyes sparkling with every bit as much pep and mischief as her exuberant granddaughter when she neared their table, sleeves rolled up to her elbows despite the chill and a pencil tucked behind one ear.
“The usual, Captain?” Widow Lucas asked with a playful nod to Killian, “or are you and your crew feeling adventurous this morning?” While awaiting their answer, she reached into her apron for her order pad, also pulling out a juicy ham bone for Wolfie.
“Here you are, darlin’ girl,” she continued, bending to offer it to their canine companion, much to Wolfie’s approving delight as she barked a ‘thank you’ and took the treat into her drooling jowls with an almost humorous care, then immediately dropped to hold it between her massive paws and began gnawing away.
When Granny stood to face them again however, a knowing smirk was painted across her face, taking their breakfast order seemingly long forgotten. “You don’t have a clue that dog is carrying a litter of pups, do you?” she asked, shaking her head at what she seemed to think was their dense naivete.
Crossing her arms, Granny watched a variety of reactions cross the four faces before her. Henry looked awed and curious, while Hope practically bounced on Killian’s knee asking, “Puppy? Puppy! We having a puppy?” 
Killian’s brows rose in surprise, and Emma was already shaking her head in disgruntled exasperation. “Really?” she sputtered, narrowly eying the diner owner as if she might be playing some sort of elaborate joke at her expense.
Then, plunking her head down to rest on her arms crossed on the table, she sighed as her daughter contiuned to chortle in delight and Henry and Hook laughed heartily, in spite of their manful efforts to hold back for her sake. “Why am I even surprised?” Emma muttered. “Of course, she is.”
***
From there, they learned that apparently the shelter owner did not have it out for them, but that it can be genuinely hard to tell when a dog is expecting until they are quite close to their due date. It also turned out that Granny’s lupine sixth sense had been right on the money. Within another couple weeks, they could see for themselves that Wolfie’s stomach was rounding and she was nesting in corners throughout the house, particularly favoring the warmth of the laundry room between the dryer and the wall. Seeing as how canine gestation was only eight or nine weeks from start to finish, and their mother-to-be was already showing, it was a bit of a scramble to prepare, knowing the litter of pups would soon be on its way.
As had become typical since Wolfie’s arrival, this too went well beyond what they had expected. On the night they returned from Hope’s Thanksgiving Play at the preschool to tiny yips and whimpers greeting them the second the door opened, the entire Jones family was stunned to discover eight small wriggling bodies jostling for place against Wolfie’s exhausted form where she lay curled into the mound of old blankets and towels they had created for her once her fixation on her laundry room nest become plain. Various rather wetly bedraggled and squirming balls of grey, black, white and mottled mixes of those three colors in coat greeted their eyes, prompting Killian to comment rather drily, “Well, now there are nearly enough of us to crew a pirate ship.” He chuckled, shaking his head, as he added, “Mayhap we can give them proper nautical names this time, rather than letting Hope call them the first word that pops from her mouth.”
“Paaa-pa!” their daughter protested indignantly, stomping her little foot on the linoleum tile and placing chubby fists on her hips. “I did not!” In her two braids, beaded headband, and fringed brown “Indian” dress from the play, she made more an adorable than a threatening sight as she intended, but Killian nodded to their daughter dutifully all the same. “My apologies, little lass. Of course you didn’t. I must have been mistaken.”
Emma rolled her eyes and shook her head at his mannered playfulness with Hope, though her heart warmed inside her as well, loving that their little girl had never known anything but a devoted, adoring, present father, who might have to be pulled back from spoiling Hope at times, but would never let her down or abandon her. The two of them could melt her every defense, just as Henry had always done. Even if it did sometimes leave her trying to be the voice of reason, Emma didn’t truly mind.
Henry, for his part, snorted inelegantly at their nonsense, crouching to pet a nervous-looking Wolfie on the head and scritch under her chin the way she liked. “Don’t worry, girl,” he mumured soothingly. “We won’t hurt them. You’re all safe here.”
Her son grew thoughtful for a moment, mulling something over, then looked up when he asked excitedly. “What if we did pick nautical names for them all? Like Jack and Jib and Scurvy?” He was grinning from ear-to-ear now, as his Author’s love of wordplay awakened - an expression Killian quickly mirrored.
“Aye, lad, those are great! And perhaps Scoundrel and Buccaneer as well?”
“Hey, hey, guys,” Emma broke in, trying to stop their now-steaming train before they got any more carried away. “Let’s not get too into naming them. The families who adopt them may not be looking for pirate dogs.”
But her husband and son were already on a roll, adding Barrie (in a nod to the Englishman who had created Killian’s literary counterpart) and Doubloon to the list of potential puppy monikers, and not paying her words the slightest bit of attention.
***
Finding homes for their doggie brood proved more difficult than Emma had hoped. If nothing else, it had worked out that they were being weaned just in time to join a family for the perfect child’s Christmas present. And, much as she had intended for them to have a quiet little tabby kitten padding after her through the house rather than a train of panting, yipping, running and tumbling balls of shedding fluff, the pups were sweet and incredibly cute. So she couldn’t understand how every time she thought she had someone poised to take one home, it fell through at the last moment.
With a sigh, she turned away from the sidewalk where old lady Hubbard was walking away. Still cradling Cutlass and Matey to her chest, one in each arm, Emma crossed the porch to sink onto the porch swing with a dejected air. She bent to press a kiss into each of their soft, fuzzy foreheads, murmuring what good babies they were and that it wasn’t their fault. Intellectually, Emma knew it was rather ridiculous to be trying to comfort two puppies who were now playfully rolling and tumbling in her lap, not the least bit concerned at the interview’s outcome. They really had been particularly good as their potential new owner had arrived to meet them; sitting calmly without barking or jumping up, sweetly licking the elderly woman’s fingers affectionately when she offered them, and looking even more adorable than usual with their coats freshly bathed and brushed, so black and silky that their fur nearly shone. All their neighbor had seemed able to focus on though was that they might get under her feet and cause her to fall. When Emma had spoken to her before, the older lady had seemed so anxious for some company now that the last of her many children had left the house, but once she had arrived to see the puppies, all she kept saying was, “I’m all alone out there. If I fell, I might lie for days, unable to get up, and no one would know.”
Emma shrugged her shoulders and ruffled the pups’ fur once again; annoyed, but not sure what to make of the situation. Standing, she was about to take the two little rascals back inside when Killian arrived home for the evening.
“They’re both still here?” he asked curiously, one eyebrow arched in question.
Something niggled at the back of Emma’s mind with his question, whispering that he didn’t seem especially suprised. Shaking her head in silent answer, Emma ushered man and dogs back into the house and headed toward the kitchen, where she still had all of the dog dishes to fill.
“Ah well, Love,” Killian replied, something about his voice just a shade too nonchalant. “Perhaps it’s for the best. As energetic as these scalliwags sometimes get,” he laughed and scratched Matey’s belly when she rolled over to bare it in supplication, “they might have proven a walking hazard to one of advanced years.”
Emma was about to question him further, shocked that Killian had hit on exactly what had stopped the potential adoption, but at that moment Wolfie and the other six of her offspring burst into the kitchen and set up a chorus of barks and howls for their dinner, toenails clicking on the floor and tails thunking against the cabinets. So it wasn’t until later that night, as she was speaking to her mother on the phone, bemoaning yet one more failed attempt at finding the pups permanent homes, that the niggling puzzle piece at last slid into place.
“Well,” Snow offered hesitantly, “I’m sorry it fell through, Sweetie, but you know Mrs. Hubbard isn’t all that steady on her feet these days…”
Suddenly, it all added up: Mrs. Hubbard’s unexpected concern with puppies tripping her up around the house, how Ashley had at first thought they might take one of the puppies, only to be convinced by someone that mice would be much more fitting for class pets at Cinderella’s daycare, and how Aurora and Philip’s second child, Hope’s little friend Rory, had suddenly decided she wanted a white Persian kitten whose hair she could put a pink bow in, “like ‘Rie from ‘Ristocats” Aurora had explained in her daughter’s own words when she’d called to tell Emma.
“Oh my word!” Emma shouted, startling her husband, kids, and the pile of dogs sprawled over them in the living room where they were watching tv. “It was you all, wasn’t it? My whole family has been working against me this entire time!”
Looking sheepishly guilty, Killian and Henry both wordlessly shook their heads in denial. Her mother floundered for a defense for a few seconds and then simply fled by ending the call. But when Emma’s eyes came to rest on her daughter, Hope merely grinned widely, a shameless glint of mischief in her green eyes, and nodded her head in confirmation.
“Why?” Emma sputtered.
“Then the puppies are all ours!” her toddler chirped happily, falling back against Wolfie’s shoulder with a giggle, to which Wolfie merely huffed at the impact, then nosed Hope a bit further from the edge of the couch, as if she had one extra pup to watch out for and was making sure the child didn’t fall.
“We’ll see about that,” Emma grumbled, staring each of them down in turn. But, when she flopped down on the armchair in the corner, trying to hold onto her righteous indignation, and Scoundrel came over to check on her, pawing at her leg until she picked him up, and then nudging his grey snout flecked with white patches into her armpit as he stretched out across her chest and promptly fell asleep, Emma was smart enough to know when she had lost the fight.
They were the family with nine dogs now - an entire seaworthy crew.
Tagging a few who may enjoy (or enjoy again!): @searchingwardrobes @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @thisonesatellite @artistic-writer @hollyethecurious @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @thislassishooked @therooksshiningknight @spartanguard @shireness-says @ohmightydevviepuu @ohmakemeahercules @scientificapricot @gingerchangeling @teamhook @revanmeetra87@resident-of-storybrooke @elizabeethan @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @xsajx @donteattheappleshook @darkcolinodonorgasm @winterbaby89
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Do you have any headcanons for Makoto interacting with class 77??
oh bOY DO I-
Makoto interacting with class 77
(AH i started typing out his interaction with the remnants + post sdr2, but then I thought maybe you meant something more like the literal class + their school days/pre-despair? so here's that, sorry if it's not what you meant-)
(Also I got a bit excited and this ended up being less so headcanons and more like- how Makoto befriended the entirety of Class 77-B and then some, and because it’s long af, I decided to put it under the cut for the sake of both mine and your sanity, anon)
Makoto Naegi and class 77 (and Hajime Hinata because I just want to include him ok-)
• Chiaki Nanami- honestly I think him and Chiaki would get along well. She wants to make friends, and he's extremely good at it- I can imagine him walking up to her one day whilst she's alone and shyly asking if she'd want some company. I think he'd probably be a big help in her trying to befriend the rest of her class, and I think she'd probably come to him for advice/to complain. She'd probably look up to his outgoing and extroverted nature, and try to apply that to herself. He probably gives her some suggestions on how to get everyone closer. I also like to think she'd come to him when she needs a break from the rest of them too- she loves them, but they're a handful, and Makoto is sweet and soothing to be around, he's very open and easy to read, which can be comforting. Makoto and Chiaki are the “glue” of their friends, they help keep everyone connected (after all, it’s only when those two ‘die’, that everyone completely falls into despair). Whilst I think they enjoy and are proud of that responsibility, the expectations might get a bit much sometimes, understandably so, and they’d need to let it out to someone who feels the same. They both cherish their friends a LOT, and it’s sweet to imagine them gushing about it how awesome everyone is and how much fun they have spending time together. Chiaki and Makoto will be seen playing video games together to blow off steam from time to time.
• Hajime Hinata- he probably gets introduced to Makoto through Chiaki, and the two bond, if not instantaneously. Hajime and Makoto are VERY similar, in that they're both "normal". Hajime straight up doesn't have a talent, and Makoto only kind of does? He got into the main course through a lottery, and his luck is nowhere on the level of Nagito's- he's just as "ordinary". I think Hajime would be jealous of Makoto at first (after all, they're not that different, and yet it was Makoto who got to be part of the "special" group), but that would quickly turn into being comforted by him. Makoto also believes in everyone's potential, and whilst he admires talent and Hope's Peak, he doesn't believe that only the talented are worthy or capable of producing hope. I like to think Makoto harbours a little bit of an inferiority complex, being surrounded by talent all the time, and Hajime can definitely understand that. I think the two of them could form a strong bond, and a close friendship, due to their similarity. It's one thing to hear about your worth from someone 'better' then you, it's another when they're on your level. Makoto is very humble, and that's what Hajime needs- someone on his level to get real with him and be a friend. Additionally, Hajime is someone Makoto could maybe confide in about his own insecurity- lord knows he couldn't with his own class, or any of the other Ultimates really, but Hajime gets it. The two could bounce off each other well. I know a lot of people joke about them being ‘brothers’, but I can really see them forming a close, caring bond. Hajime doesn’t really have friends, and whilst he might be prone to bitterness and agression, he’s also got a good heart and cares about doing what he feels is right (dr3, when he tries to befriend the Kuzuryu sister and demands to see Mahiru (I believe it was). They both have an advocacy for justice, but a self-sacrificing nature too. They’re similar but yet also opposites in a way. They’re perfect as each other’s support and as their mirror perspective. 
• Nagito Komaeda- oooohhh boy. We all know how Nagito thinks of his own talent *wheeze*, let's just say at first he's not- the kindest to Makoto. He doesn't understand why Makoto is so carefree and friendly when he's so 'worthless'. He sees Makoto as being overly confident and cocky (when the opposite is true), and almost finds it insulting that he can just casually walk up to the others and act like they’re ‘equals’. However, as time goes on, he comes to realise that Makoto's attitude and approach to life is truly extraordinary, and that he has a way of inspiring hope in others that Nagito has simply never seen before. I think Makoto would be a little hurt at first by the harsh treatment, but would continue in his endeavour to reach out to and connect with Nagito (and Nagito would find that persistence astonishing- no one has ever tried that hard with him). Unlike the others who either ignore or are irritated by Nagito's continuous self-deprecation, I think Makoto would instead be primarily concerned and do what he always does- try to help. Makoto is an excellent people-reader, and he'd be able to tell that Nagito's hostile and antagonistic attitude towards him (and other "normal" people) comes from a place of self-loathing and a twisted admiration for hope (a feeling he's admitted isn't entirely foreign to him). I think Makoto could grow close with Nagito, and maybe help him to see his own worth. After all, if someone as "talentless" as Makoto could be (what Nagito considers) the Ultimate Hope, what's to say Nagito doesn't also have worth? I think Nagito would go fanboy once he figures out Makoto's true talent though (maybe not as hardcore as dr3 lmao) and Makoto maaay have to reel him in a little (it's definitely jarring to see Nagito jump from disdain to total adoration towards him in the span of like- half a week). Makoto probably wouldn't like being idolised (he's definitely not used to it), but he wouldn't put Nagito down or push him away because of it either- he recognises that it's not, well, the healthiest, but he also knows it's not from a place of malice or impure intent. He thinks that Komaeda's outlook on life is similar but different to his own, and respects him for making him consider hope from a new viewpoint- and the same for Nagito. Makoto admires that Nagito chose to turn to hope instead of despair, despite the hardships he's endured. I also like to think Makoto (alongside Chiaki, probably) would play a pretty important part in getting Nagito to interact more with his classmates (he has a tendency to just... watch from afar), and open up more to people in general.
• Also on the note of Nagito- I've seen people suggest that Makoto could cancel out Nagito's super luck with his own- making them both just average. It's definitely interesting to consider! I believe somewhere Nagito stated that he just wanted a normal life and that he resents his luck for making him endure such suffering? (His poor dog ;-;). I'm going off into my own little Komaegi world at this point I'm sorry sjjdjssjdh but if that's the case then Nagito would be extremely comforted in Makoto's presence, finally not having not worry about something extremely bad happening to someone else due to his luck. He gets to feel what it is to be "talentless", and to his surprise- he enjoys it. It’s not so bad being ‘normal’. (secretly it’s all he’s ever wanted).
• Kazuichi Soda- Kazuichi seems to really crave friendship and connection with others. (I don't know a lot about him, but apparently he had a real tough/abusive childhood, and a bad experience with his peers lead to him developing trust issues) He puts on a façade, but we all know he's really soft underneath. I think someone like Makoto, who's very open with his feelings, honest, and naturally friendly, is the kind of person Kazuichi would appreciate. Makoto has a LOT of patience, and he could deal with Kazuichi's antics and goofiness a lot better then the others. Kazuichi is one of the more "normal" characters (personality wise anyway), as he acts a lot like you'd expect from a teenage boy. He's relatively carefree, he's talkative, he likes girls, etc- Kazuichi and Makoto would have a very typical "bromance"- they both offer a bit more of a typical friendship then their classmates. Kazuichi can be pretty clingy, but I don't think Makoto would mind too much. It probably feels nice having someone actively seek out his company and companionship instead of the other way around. Kazuichi could also teach him some stuff about mechanics- which comes in usual for anyone, really. (Once Kazuichi finds out about Makoto cancelling out Nagito’s luck, he insists that Makoto accompany him whenever he knows he has to be close to him for too long- he always seems to get the brunt of it around that guy...)
• Gundham Tanaka- Gundham can be very... enthusiastic, sure, but Makoto is used to the overabundance of energy from his own classmates already. At this point I feel like he's started to be able to read in between the lines when people talk to him, and he'd be able to see Gundham's gentle and caring nature, espeically when it comes to his furry friends. He'd see that Gundham probably craves company and connection, but due to his fear of intimacy, covers that up with an appearance of self-grandeur. In actuality, Gundham appreciates the time Makoto spends with him. I feel like Makoto understands that Gundham struggles with conveying his emotions and thoughts, and instead communicates his own feelings of friendship through Gundham's own love language- his animals. Makoto probably even goes out of his way to learn more about hamsters just so he can show he's made an effort- something Gundham is extremely grateful for. Makoto helps him with coming out of his shell a little, and Gundham helps Makoto learn to appreciate life a lot more when he's not cleaning up animal poop haha.
• Peko Pekoyama- Makoto is definitely no stranger to strong female fighters, especially the quiet and reserved type, so he'd be able to click with Peko. Whilst I think he’d be a little intimidated at first, he'd soon see past that icy exterior and realise that Peko isn't necessarily cold or emotionless- she just doesn't show her emotions visibly much. He'd learn to recognize that she speaks more with her actions then her words or even her face- as she often will do subtle things (such as buy him a drink or offer up her own time to talk with him) to communicate their friendship, something people don't realise at first. Peko has a lot of trouble communicating her feelings to Fuyuhiko in particular, and thus Makoto is more then happy to help her "practice" her communication, not just for Fuyuhiko's, but for her classmates' sake too. (Also it's mentioned that she likes cute animals and I just- imagine her struggling so hard not to reach out and ruffle his hair because omg he’s literally just a pupPY-)
• Akane Owari- Akane is a basically the lovechild of Sakura and Hina lmao. She's this wonderful mix of Sakura's strength and Hina's personality- I think Makoto might be a little intimidated by her (especially as she can be... aggressive at times), but he'd quickly warm up to her and vice versa. I think it was mentioned that Akane likes "small hungry things"? She'd definitely feel protective when it comes to Makoto, since he's so small and sweet- and not outwardly the strongest. I like to think he might remind her of her little siblings, who she adores and almost misses looking after. Whenever they hang out, it's normally at lunch, and Makoto will always make an effort to bring her some kind of food or snack if he knows he'll see her, a gesture she's extremely grateful for. Akane is great company on days where Makoto wants to be active, since she's like a big ball of energy. She's also laid back and carefree, and sometimes they'll sit in the grass and just eat and talk about stuff. Akane doesn't like to bother herself with complicated thoughts and feelings, so she's great to spend lazy days with too.
• Nekomaru Nidai- (apologies I don't know a lot about him but-) like Akane, Nekomaru is quite protective over Makoto. We've seen that he's got a righteous heart and strong protective streak, and he's unafraid to show his emotions, even if it gets him mocked by others. He's very passionate, much like Makoto. Makoto is very honest too, and I think the two of them would click over that. Nekomaru could act as support and encouragement for Makoto, as well as help him with organisation (he IS the ultimate (team) manager after all). I think Nekomaru would recognise that Makoto's talents lie elsewhere then his physicality, and instead of mock or belittle him for it, acknowledge that proudly.
• Teruteru Hanamura- ah yes, the little perv. Much like everyone, Makoto would probably be annoyed by Teruteru's... suggestive-ness at first, but I think after they spent some time together, Teruteru would ease up on the perviness, and treat Makoto with a bit more respect. Seeing as he's bi as hell, I can definitely see him developing a little crush or infatuation with Makoto (at the very least find him hot lmao). Makoto definitely wouldn't be used to someone expressing their attraction towards him so forwardly, and he'd be a little flattered (if not also rather disturbed-). Teruteru has been shown to have a real soft spot for his mama, and him and Makoto could definitely bond over their deep love for their families (the Naegi sibling relationship is so cute gah-). Makoto would learn to see past Teruteru's persona and recognise that underneath, is a boy who loves him mama and cooking food for people to enjoy more then anything. (Teruteru will complain at him for his "trash junk food" prefences, but Makoto will pretend not to notice when he secretly sneaks a bite because he knows it reminds him of his mom's cooking).
• Sonia Nevermind- Sonia is definitely a bit overwhelming at first. Makoto struggles a bit to not treat her as an figure of authority (she is royalty after all, it feels weird to treat her like a close friend right off the bat), but he soon gets over it. Sonia has expressed she wants to live like a "normal Japanese highschool girl", and I think Makoto would understand that, doing what he can to make her feel comfortable. He might find her obsession with Japanese culture and general misunderstanding things a tad off-putting (having her stare at him for 15 minutes straight while he slurped up some instant ramen was... an experience) but he understands it comes from a place of curiosity, and chalks it up to her being a foreigner. He actually finds it very sweet that she's trying to learn about different cultures and educate herself, and he's the last person to judge for it. He doesn't mind sitting and explaining things to her, and it's also interesting to learn about her life too, as vastly different as it may be from his own. She doesn't have to worry about him treating her badly or trying to take advantage of her occasional naivety. (He also recognises that she's a lot smarter then she may first appear, having in-depth knowledge of warfare, economics, and the complex hell that is international politics-). Her love for the occult and spooky stuff would remind him of Komaru- he makes a note to set up a ouija board session for the two of them someday.
• Ibuki Mioda- Ibuki is definitely an interesting person! She's very upbeat and friendly, and whilst it throws Makoto off a little at first ("M-m-makoto-chan?!") he gets used to it. After all, it's not like the others aren't also... quirky. It's stated that Makoto likes pop music (probably a result of his friendship and early feelings for Sayaka), so he'd probably be pretty fond of/interested in Ibuki, being a musician. She'd probably help him branch out into some more...*ahem* niche music tastes, and to his surprise, he actually ends up liking some of it (the absolute whiplash his own classmates get when one of them accidentally rips out his earphones and intense heavy metal comes blaring out-). Ibuki isn't exactly book smart, but she has a lot of emotional intelligence, like Makoto. Unlike Makoto, whose empathetic (or I suppose sympathetic) and caring nature is pretty obvious at a first glance, Ibuki isn't as much so, which is why Makoto finds it interesting how her outward punk appearance doesn't match her inward very caring side. She really values individualism, and encourages him to be himself, thinking it's dumb that he feels inferior for his "talent"- she thinks it's cool that he doesn't have an obvious focus or persona like everyone else puts on, that he gets to explore his personality and expression for himself, and she tells him as such. Makoto is grateful for this- he worries that he's too bland or doesn't have a ‘real’ personality and isn't special, and Ibuki is quick to refute him, pointing out all the little quirks and aspects of his personality she finds super duper cute (to his embarrassment)! Like with her music, Ibuki is able to find the beauty in places one typically wouldn't look, and Makoto admires that about her. Ibuki is pretty good at reading the mood, and if she senses something is off, will do her best to lift up Makoto's spirits without needing to outright confront him about it- similarly, Makoto will happily listen to her rant or gush about things without judgement- she knows that her interest and personality isn't what people typically expect from her, and he doesn't care. She doesn't feel like she has to hide her emotions or put on a mask to make him feel better, like she might with others. She knows her negative feelings won't bring him down, so she feels comfortable expressing herself around him, even when it's not always happy. They appreciate each other's honesty in being who they are. They bounce off each other's energy well, being such optimistic and enthusiastic people.
• Mikan Tsumiki- Mikan is a very, very vulnerable person. She's nervous and insecure and has some very obvious self-esteem issues. Unlike Komaeda however, she isn't *confident*, and is therefore very meek and timid and easy to take advantage of. Girl's got a lotta issues (i just read through her page on the fandom wiki and- man-), and someone gentle and understanding like Makoto would be really good for her to form a healthy relationship with (hopefully just the start of one of many). Unlike others, Makoto wouldn't want to take advantage of Mikan, and I think he'd genuinely want to help her improve herself, both in becoming more assertive and also in learning to have a little more faith in people, not always assuming the worst from them. He'd help teach her that there are good people in the world too, and that by learning to view herself with more respect, it will be easier for her to (rightfully) demand respect from others too. I honestly don't want to go into the more *unhealthy* sides of Mikan's potential for obsession, but as with Nagito, I can see her developing a bit of a crush on Makoto. (Whether or not that goes anywhere is up to you of course.) I think Makoto, whilst understanding that it stems from an unfortunate past, would appreciate Mikan's sweet and helpful personality. Makoto is very clumsy, partly due to his fickle luck, so I can see him getting bruises and minor cuts and stuff often due to it- Mikan ends up being the first person he goes to when this happens, and she doesn't say it to his face, far too shy, but he knows she's grateful to be considered a help to him.
• Hiyoko Saionji- Hiyoko is definitely... a tough one. She's very openly hostile and aloof, and she has no problems bullying others. I think a lot of Makoto's experience from dealing with Byakuya, Toko and Celeste would come into play here, as he's used to dealing with the openly mean, dismissive and arrogant types. A lot of Hiyoko's hostility comes from her past, and being treated cruelly herself, leading her to develop a harsh exterior as a coping mechanism. I think she'd be kind of jealous of how Makoto can roll with the punches so easily- I think she'd start to feel kind of bad about saying mean things to him. He would be patient with her, but would also call her out on her behaviour (without being dismissive or cruel himself) something I'm sure she didn't have people do before. She might not consider him to be like an "older" brother, but she'd respect him as an equal (since she deeply loves her father, I think she'd want a genuinely kind, good male figure in her life). Makoto is an older brother to a younger sister- I'm sure he's had to deal with Komaru being a bit of a brat before haha (am older sibling myself, can confirm). Hiyoko really appreciates traditionalism, and knowing this, Makoto might try to learn more or engage with that side of her- she acknowledges that her interests and attitudes are out-of-fashion, so she'd appreciate the effort made to understand her. Makoto might help to get her to be more sympathetic towards others. She'd offer a different perspective of their country and it's beauty to him.
• Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu- ah yes, the irl boss baby- as with everyone, Fuyuhiko would be short-tempered and aggressive towards Makoto. He'd eventually come around though. Makoto is pretty used to dealing with tsunderes, and takes it all in stride. It's a little to surprising to Fuyuhiko at first to see someone who isn't as easily deterred by his attitude as the others, and he admires that. Fuyuhiko has quite the inferiority complex, and part of that comes from his short height and youthful appearance (babyface-). It's nice to see someone like Makoto who isn't really that affected by his own appearance, and doesn't let it affect how he sees himself (Fuyuhiko is actually a little shorter even pfft). Fuyuhiko seems to want company, but has trouble initiating friendships and conversations (think back to the party from chapter 1), due to keeping up his lone wolf persona. Makoto recognises this, and will instead take on the role of instigator, which Fuyuhiko is thankful for. Though you wouldn’t expect it, he's actually also a Good Boi, and has a certain respect for rules and order (he's against underage drinking, smoking and sex, can you believe it?). Because of that, he'd respect Makoto for being the obedient student he is. I think Fuyuhiko would like Makoto's sincere and honest nature, especially considering he's not someone who's easily trusting- the Yakuza don't take friendship lightly, and once Fuyuhiko takes a liking to someone, he'll become fiercely defensive, protective of, and loyal to them to a fault (of course that doesn't entirely stop the jabs or insults- hey, he's trying). I think eventually Fuyuhiko would confide in Makoto about his own feelings of inadequacy and insecurity when it comes to honouring his family name- Makoto would be able to relate. He'd be able to reassure Fuyuhiko of his strengths, whilst also providing him with chance to experience a more typical, playful highschool boy's life. (He'll drag Fuyuhiko along with him to hang out, and although the other will complain and scoff at him, he'll enjoy it). He gets to be a bit more laid back and amiable, and less snappy or snarky. Makoto won't judge or embarrass him for letting loose a little, and vice versa.
• Mahiru Koizumi- Mahiru and Makoto are very similar, in that they both take on a friendly and optimistic attitude. They both tend to be the "caretakers" of their groups, and like to help others. Mahiru is the closest thing to a "makoto" class 77 has. They're both very kind and caring, and don't hesitate to offer their assistance and support. At the same time, they aren't doormats (well, Makoto is a bit of a pushover, but not to the level of characters like Mikan or Hifumi). Whilst I feel like Makoto is a bit more- restrained (he's seriously sarcastic and sassy, he just keeps it to himself most of the time), both he and Mahiru won't hesitate to point out when they don't agree with something. Mahiru's treatment of him due to him being a "boy" might be a little irritating, but it's not like he hasn't heard it before- (kyoko's "after all, you are a boy, aren't you?" comes to mind). He understands that she's probably had to deal with a lot of crap from guys, and doesn't take it to heart. It's been mentioned that Mahiru likes to take pictures of smiling faces? Well, I think Makoto would find that beautiful. Whereas others chastise her for it, and urge her to take pictures of other things, like objects for example, he instead encourages her to pursue what she's passionate about- after all, a talent is a gift, and you deserve to enjoy it. So what if it's "generic"? If it's what she likes, he sees no reason why she shouldn't continue to do it. He thinks her work is lovely regardless. (This is more of a personal interpretation, but Makoto gives off very foresty, natural imagery, and I think he'd maybe like that kind of thing, so maybe she'd find inspiration through his likeness to it?) Due to his innocence and pure nature, she starts to see a bit more of the appeal in nature. His smiling face is one of the first pictures of a boy she genuinely likes (though, it's not as if she'd ever tell him that).
• Ryota/Imposter- well, Imposter would probably act the same way around Makoto as whoever they were impersonating, though Makoto would probably be able to tell something was... off (though he just wouldn't be able to put his finger on what, exactly). If Imposter ever did reveal themself to him, he'd make sure to let them know that it was ok, and that he'd support their journey to reclaiming their identity however they wanted. Ryota (if he ever left his room and actually made connections with his classmates hsshhsh) would probably be the same as he was in dr3? He'd probably be a little inspired by and hold admiration towards Makoto, seeing him befriend all of his classmates, before that started to slowly turn into resentment and envy- animation is a wonderful thing, I'll be the first to defend, but Ryouta basically uses it to fill the hole in his heart that really, can only be filled with genuine human connection. Makoto could act as a stepping stone for this, much like Imposter, and act as support- him and Ryota are similar in firmly believing in and wanting to spread hope more then anything. Makoto would also genuinely take an interest in and admire Ryota's talent, giving him well-deserved validation for his efforts.
BONUS-
• Chisa Yukizome- news of the remarkable underclassman who managed to miraculously befriend all her beloved students reaches her, and she can't be more ecstatic! She takes whatever opportunities she can to invite Makoto into her classroom, under the guise of "important faculty stuff". Makoto's talent (luck, as they haven't yet fully realised his potential of hope) is a lot harder to cultivate then the norm (they're almost scared to experiment- the LAST thing they need is another Komaeda incident), so it's best to just- let him be most of the time. His schedule is a lot more flexible because of this, and you BET Chisa takes advantage of this whenever she can. She's extremely grateful to the young boy for uniting her class, and finds it simply wonderful how so much potential- so much hope can reside in someone so young. She makes sure to let Makoto know how much she appreciates his help, and will often leave him little gifts, like sweets and handmade arrangements, to show her gratitude. (Makoto doesn't really understand why this one teacher in particular seems to have taken a shine to him, but he doesn't mind- he finds he actually really likes having people place their trust in him- he enjoys spending time with class 77, and finds it both extraordinary and humbling that they seem to reciprocate the feeling).
• Izuru Kamukura- he doesn't understand why Makoto Naegi has had such an effect on the others. He's so unremarkable it's almost special. His talent is hardly enough to be considered "ultimate", especially not compared to someone like him, who has more talent then all of them combined (which isn't arrogance, merely undeniable fact). Someone like him, the 'ultimate hope', should be utterly bored and disinterested to the brink of tears with someone as mind-numbingly normal as Makoto Naegi and yet-
He isn't.
Perhaphs because unlike everyone else, Makoto doesn't consider him any more "worthy" then the rest of them. Unlike everything Izuru had been taught, had understood as soon as he'd opened his eyes for the first time, had known since the moment of his conception, Makoto didn't believe talent was all that was needed for hope. He believed everyone and anyone was equally capable of it, of becoming hope-
Makoto Naegi is-
Very interesting.
_
Aaaand there you have it, anon! ahdgjdsfhs I’m sorry it took so long. It kind of turned into more potential relationship analysis then actual headcanons oops- I might make a follow up to this that’s a bit more general-hcs style haha. I hope if anyone actually read this they enjoyed it! lemme know what you think!
tl;dr makoto is an angel and class 77 will happily steal him away hehe
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https://www.zerochan.net/2046777#full
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epithmia-moved · 2 years
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@hamartio​​​​ :        "hey, mana—you can deck me if i'm being insensitive, okay, but tell me, is there any reason why you don't like horses?" it's not a question asked as a tease or even mean-spirited. sylvain gautier can often be tactless but this time, he seems to be curious not to tickle his fancy but because he cares for the other. a shocker, truly, coming from the faerghan debonair heartbreaker, but considering their friendship... should that be that much of a surprise?
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      hands  outstretch  with  patience  and  a  grip  that  relieves  him  of  the  first  saddle  so  that  it  may  be  put  back  where  it  belongs  .    existence  relives  the  last  forty  minutes  in  forehead  -  pressed  -  upon  -  leather  disdain  against  the  rack  .    any  further  and  it  would  read  as  if  they’d  collapsed  in  a  heap,  only  lacking  the  heavy  skirts  to  match  .    that  ,    or  the  possibility  that  mana  was  smelling  it  .
      the  lesson  had  begun  fine  if  one  could  intentionally  and  deliberately  ignore two  exceptionally  important  facts  .    one  being  that  mana  did  not  in  truth  really  need  the  lessons  ,    and  in  a  past  conversation  had  mid-spoken   (  an  occurrence  growing  in  slow  consistency  around  the  last  born  gautier  )  and  lacked  the  outstanding  backbone  to  correct  the  subsequent  misunderstanding  .    two  being  that  from  the  exact  moment  the  both  of  them  had  stepped  foot  outside  the  stables  ,    mana  had  begun  a  very  engaging  ,    and  a  very  multilayered  plan  of  sabotage  to  give  credence  to  said  lie  .    and  sylvain  ,    to  the  astonishment  and  joy  kept  masterfully  muted  lest  cover  be  blown  ,    provided  to  be  an  apt  and  rather  encouraging  teacher  in  his  own  direct  forms  of  attentiveness  towards  horse  and  person  .    it  made  lying  feel  all  the  worse  and  further  justified  .
      mana  spent  agonizing  minutes  in  pretending  to  be  nervous  on  a  natural  level  —  racked  their  mind  and  to  try  to  recall  how  it  first  was  when  they  began  riding  lessons  in  earnest  ,    the  exact  feelings  ,    their  exact  actions  and  thoughts  .    pulling  on  those  remnants  until  it  became  the  unintentional   ( and  successful  )   act  of  psyching  themself  out  .    at  one  point  a  genuine  mistake  had  become  a  little  too  unnerving  .    fingers  grasped  the  reins  too  loose  ,    and  when  the  horse  shifts  it’s  gait  while  mana  is  not  prepared  for  it  ,    it  almost  sends  them  sliding  right  off  —  though  they  quickly  readjust  ,    reigns  clasped  knuckle  white  now  between  identical  fists  .    back  rigid  and  eyes  boring  holes  into  the  animals  mane  as  tongue  runs  over  bottom  lip  and  an  all  too  clearly  rung    “  god  damnit  , ”    a  rare  display  in  and  of  itself:  mana  had  swore  .
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      he  attempts  to  recover  for  mana  and  animal  alike  ,    and  mana  attempts  to  smooth  talk  him  with  inarguable  reason  that  they  need  not  have  both  of  them  perfectly  skilled  in  equestrianism  to  win  a  campaign  .    tries  to  assure  sylvain  that  they  are  perfectly  fine  with  remaining  a  foot  soldier  and  he  has  been  ,    in  fact  ,    very  honorable  and  kind  in  taking  it  upon  himself  to  waste  his  time  like  this  .    regardless,  ,    however  well  worded  and  persuasive  it  may  have  been  ,    the  truth  of  it  in  the  grand  scheme  of  things  is  that  there  would  be  more  merit  in  mana  ‘ learning ’  rather  than  not  .    and  so  the  lesson  went  on  —  for  at  least  another  good  twenty  or  so  minutes  .    it  comes  to  an  official  end  when  the  horse  decides  its  had  enough  ,    surely  at  this  point  aware  of  and  tired  of  the  acting  drawing  out  instruction  for  the  entire  party  ,    no  longer  amenable  to  gentle  calming  and  urging  ,    and  begins  its  pacing  in  place  .    a  prelude  to  violence  —  so  to  speak  ,    as  the  roundness  in  dawning  realization  takes  peony  hued  optics  with  an  urgency  relayed  in  nigh  begging  tones  ,    “  sylvain  ,    help  .    sylvain  !  ”         do  not  let  it  kick  me  off  .
       so  understandably  ,    one  has  to  ask  ,    is  it  ever  possible  to  fail  so  spectacularly  ?    partly  because  of  purposeful  ministrations  ,    and  then  near  humiliating  and  karmic  seeming  consequences  ?    mana  can  hear  it  in  their  own  voice  now  ,    act  stupid  and  you  get  stupid  .    something  they  might  have  bitingly  thrown  into  the  face  of  another  and  that  they  now  have  to  stomach  on  their  own  .         “  i  was  only  ever  comfortable  with  my  father’s  ,  ”         they  cannot  recall  the  breed  ,    but  they  remember  how  pretty  it  was  ,    how  envious  they  were  at  the  time  that  they  did  not  have  their  own  ,    but  also  how  excited  they  were  to  interact  with  it  up  close  .    hilarious  really  ,    when  the  first  six  or  so  lessons  were  split  between  joint  locking  nervousness  every  time  the  horse  moved  a  little  too  suddenly  for  them  or  turned  sharply  and  the  exhilaration  when  finally  in  full  gallop  and  the  unceremonious  commands  to  slow  down  and  return  (  all  of  which  quickly  returned  to  the  distinctive  ,    well  meaning  ‘ oh  no ’  when  it  came  to  breaking;  and  mana  was  promptly  guided  back  with  the  reigns  no  longer  between  their  own  fingers  )  .         “  then  the  one  he  took  me  to  have  for  my  own  after  a  while  .  ”         its  coat  formed  of  at  least  two  rich  shades  of  well  melded  brown  —  one  light  ,    one  dark  and  an  even  darker  mane  that  seemed  to  fade  black  outside  of  the  light  .
       each  of  them  unruly  ,    and  mana’s  stubbornness  to  remain  with  the  steed  came  from  multiple  avenues  .    of  pride  —  how  embarrassing  it  would  be  ,    how  shameful  ,    to  not  be  able  to  ride  the  horse  specifically  picked  out  for  them  .    but  how  amazing  it  could  be  ,    if  they  would  tame  the  horse  that  some  deemed  to  require  too  much  effort  .    that  beautiful  ,    wonderful  thing  .    what  mana  is  saying  ,    they  guess  ,    is  that  it’s  due  to  a  gaping  void  of  unfamiliarity  .    they  are  uncomfortable  and  disinterested  with  the  prospect  of  any  horse  they  do  not  have  the  proper  time  to  get  to  know  —  let  alone  if  they  already  belong  proper  to  someone  else  .
“  there’s  always  the  concern  with  being  kicked  .  ”         the  thought  sends  an  almost  shiver  down  their  spine  .         “  i  don’t  stick  with  things  unfamiliar  to  me  unless  absolutely  necessary  —  people  and  some  animals  included  .  ”
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pines-troz · 3 years
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Weekend With The Warners: Chapter Seven
Summary: When the CEO assigns Pinky and The Brain with the important task of watching over the Warners for the weekend, Brain is prepared for any antics that the children have in store. What he didn’t take into account was forming a familial bond with the kids. 
Warning: This chapter has some intimate content between the mice, but nothing lewd or explicit. 
Word Count: 4,895
AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27849962/chapters/72272373
Ten minutes had passed and Brain was starting to grow impatient. The mouse was exhausted after a long and busy day tending to the needs of the Warners and all he wanted was to relax in the comfortable queen bed. Whatever Pinky was planning had better be the surprise of the century. 
The grunts from the bathroom ceased and were quickly replaced with the soft pitter-pattering of Pinky’s feet. 
“Okay Brain!” Pinky chirped from the floor while bouncing up and down. “It’s ready!” 
Brain rubbed his eyes and forced himself to get out of the comfortable bed. “This surprise of yours better be worth the wait,” He mentioned. As he pondered about what exactly Pinky had in store in the bathroom, he raised an eyebrow when he addressed another issue. “And sanitary as well.” 
Once Brain landed on the floor, Pinky gently took his paw and led them down a trail of rose petals towards the bathroom. The chubby mouse was admittedly impressed with Pinky’s keen eye in regards to tasteful displays of romance. He assumed that Pinky must have made a few additional purchases with the golden credit card while on his shopping spree with Yakko and Wakko.  
When they entered the dimly-lit restroom, Pinky swiftly scooped Brain up in his arms, causing the smaller mouse to let out a short gasp. The lanky mouse carried his partner bridal style towards the tape measure. With a swift kick, they ascended their makeshift elevator and arrived on the counter. The moment Pinky stepped off the tape measure, Brain couldn’t believe his eyes. 
In between the sinks, there was a white cereal bowl filled to the brim with hot water, surrounded by rose petals and the wafting aroma of vanilla-scented air-fresheners.  
“Poit! I almost forgot about the bubbles,” Pinky said as he gently lowered Brain onto the counter.  The taller mouse ran over to the Alka Seltzer box and retrieved two tablets. Heaving the small tablets over his head, he dropped them straight into the tub. Within seconds, the bathwater was coated with large bubbles. “I just love the bubbles!” Pinky gushed as he hugged himself.  
Brain stared at the tub in astonishment. Pinky took the time to prepare a nice bath he intended to share with him. It was a particularly nice way to wind down after a long and busy day.
The taller mouse looked over at Brain and dramatically presented his jazz hands. “Ta-Da!!” 
Brain looked into his partner’s twinkling blue eyes. “You did all this…for me?” He softly inquired. 
“Well, of course, Brain!” Pinky replied. “You must be tired after such a hectic day. So I decided to draw us a bath. Zort!” 
The taller mouse picked up an empty box of animal crackers and placed it in front of the cereal bowl as a makeshift step ladder to access the tub. “I was originally gonna buy scented candles, but Yakko reminded me of the hotel’s no-candle policy.” 
Brain was stunned that Pinky would take the time and effort to prepare such a marvelous display of intimacy. 
“Why Pinky, I’m impressed by this romantic gesture.” Brain complimented.
“Looks like my years of watching soap operas and romantic comedies have finally paid off! Zort!” Pinky said confidently. 
“Indeed it did.” Brain agreed. He looked over at Pinky and felt a pang of guilt. Pinky went through all this effort for him and Brain was initially skeptical of what his partner had in store for him. Pinky was simply too good for him. 
“I don’t know what I did to deserve this.” Brain muttered. 
Pinky’s ears perked upwards when he heard Brain doubt himself. The taller mouse marched over to his partner’s side. With his arms crossed, he stared down the smaller mouse with a hardened frown. “Brain, now what did Dr. Scratchinsniff say to you about having a self-deprecating outlook on things?” He gently reprimanded. 
Brain looked into Pinky’s hardened stare and sighed. He was still working on improving his sense of self. Years of being fodder for science at Acme Labs combined with the countless failed schemes to take over the world had drilled the terrible idea that Brain didn’t deserve anything good and decent in this world, which stemmed from the conditioning from the traumatic experiment during his youth. But Pinky proved him otherwise. He still stood by his side all these years and supported him and was more than willing to give affection. And with the additional help from his therapist, Brain was working on bolstering his self-esteem and learning to love himself. 
“You’re right, Pinky. I deserve nice things.” Brain softly admitted. 
“Yes, you do!” Pinky exclaimed. His goofy smile returned as he pulled Brain into a hug, nuzzling his cheek. Once they broke apart from the embrace, Pinky stared at him with sultry eyes. “Now why don’t you hop in the tub, where we can relax and admire each other.”
Brian lightly chuckled at his partner’s innuendo. Oh, he looked forward to admiring Pinky all right. The Warners were already fast asleep, so there was no issue with the two of them spending some alone time together, doing some rather adult activities. 
“Yes Pinky, there’s nothing I want more than to admire you all night long…” Brain said in a husky voice, trying his best to sound flirty. Pinky’s cheeks turned pink at Brain’s suggestive comment and pressed his paws to conceal his blush. 
The smaller mouse carefully took off his plush robe, folded it, and placed it next to the towels. He climbed up the animal cracker box, approaching the edge of the tub. He dipped his toe in the water and was content that it was a suitable temperature. Hot, but not boiling. Brain slowly entered the tub and submerged himself into the heated water. He closed his eyes and let out a blissful sigh. The hot water soaked through his ivory coat, soothing his tired muscles. After tending to the kids’ needs for the past two days, it was truly rewarding to be soaked in a hot bath lovingly prepared by his partner. 
“Ah, sweet euphoria.” Brain said. 
“Oh Braaain!” Pinky sang. 
The pudgy mouse opened his eyes and turned to Pinky, who flirtily batted his eyes. Brain noticed that Pinky purposefully exposed his right shoulder from the purple robe. The lanky mouse loosened the belt of his robe, swiftly yanked it off, and tossed it over to the side. With a seductive smile, Pinky dropped the robe onto the floor. Now only wearing his white fur, he placed his hands on his hips as he strutted over towards the tub. 
Brain couldn’t help but stare with saucer-sized eyes as he watched Pinky flirtatiously swish his hips, humming seductively. “Yeeesss!!” The eloquent mouse cried out. 
Pinky giggled as he looked at his awe-struck lover. As he ascended the makeshift step ladder, he accidentally tripped over his foot. Pinky waved his arms around in a feeble attempt to maintain his balance, but to no avail as he plunged into the water with a tremendous splash. 
Brain’s eyes widened with alarm. “Pinky!” He shouted, thrusting his arms through the bubbled water to get his grip on his partner so he could pull him up. Fortunately, the taller mouse broke through the surface with a silly grin and his hair shielding his eyesight.
“Oh, what a rush!” Pinky guffawed as he lifted up his hair tufts, his blue eyes gleaming with joy. 
Brain was overcome with relief that Pinky wasn’t seriously hurt from his fall. The smaller mouse placed his hands over his beau’s right hand, giving a gentle squeeze. “Please don’t scare me like that again.” 
“I won’t,” Pinky reassured as he gently placed his left paw on Brain’s shoulder. But the taller mouse immediately noticed how stiff it was and became concerned. “Oh dear,” He muttered. “I guess watching the little kiddies has worn you out?” 
“Yes,” Brain admitted. “While I certainly made many treasured memories bonding with the kids, it really did a number on my physical state.” 
With a gentle hand, Pinky tilted Brain’s chin upwards and gazed into his precious pink eyes. “Not to worry Brain, I know how to help.” 
Brain smiled gratefully at his lanky partner. Pinky was more than ready to shower his affection. Fortunately, the lanky mouse prided himself on being a skilled masseuse, well-versed in different techniques. 
Pinky brought himself closer to Brain’s side. With gentle arms, Pinky grabbed his partner’s waist and hoisted him onto his lap. The lanky mouse let his hands travel over to Brain’s soft belly, and he couldn’t help but playfully squish the folds of his fur. “Oh Brain, I just love your jiggly-wiggly tummy-tum!” 
Brain became a flustered, insecure mess at the mere mention of his potbelly and immediately yanked Pinky’s hands away. “Pinky, stop this foolishness at once.” He commanded, trying to conceal his self-consciousness over the one part of his body he saw as a blemish. 
Feeling guilty, Pinky pulled Brain closer and rested his chin underneath his chubby head. “Poit! I’m sorry Brain. But I love your tummy just as much as I love every part of you!” The eccentric mouse reassured as he placed his hands on the smaller mouse’s shoulders. 
“I know…” Brain admitted. He couldn’t bother to protest his partner, who only saw the beauty of everything, including his rotund belly. 
Pinky began to massage Brain’s shoulders. The eloquent mouse felt at ease as he allowed his partner to gently caress him. With deft hands, Pinky carefully applied an appropriate amount of pressure onto Brain’s shoulders. While working on his shoulders, Pinky peppered small kisses on the top of Brain’s head. 
Brain eased into the taller mouse’s hold and began to ponder. How could someone like Pinky, who likes to suck on his toes and watch those dreaded finger puppet videos on YouTube, be so knowledgeable in romantic manners such as this? 
The lanky mouse then let go and focused his attention on Brain’s chubby head. Gently placing his hands on his partner’s large cranium, he carefully kneaded his fingers in a soothing motion. 
Brain blissfully sighed as he felt Pinky’s tender paws work their magic. He always loved when Pinky massaged his head. The small mouse prided himself in his intellect, but his normally dim-witted partner knew exactly how to care for his abnormally large head. He closed his eyes as he felt Pinky’s fingers carefully caress through his fur. Such dexterity! What careful precision! 
“Yeeesss!!!” He exclaimed.  
Pinky smiled. He was glad to see Brain so happy after a long weekend. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, Brain. After watching the kiddies all weekend, it’s nice to relax in a nice bath.” He remarked. 
Brain opened his eyes the moment Pinky mentioned the Warners. “Yes, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.” He said as he carefully got off Pinky’s lap and moved over to face him. 
“I’ve been pondering a lot about parenthood.” The eloquent mouse began. “I’m sure you recall the fond memories we had with Roman.”
“Oh, watching our little Romy grow up was the best two weeks of my life!” Pinky crowed. “We should give him a call tomorrow night! I bet he’s doing wonderful with his career in ventriloquism.” 
“Absolutely.” Brain concurred. It’s been a while since they last conversed with their cloned son, and he was curious to hear how Romy would react to his and Pinky’s weekend shenanigans with the toon kids. 
“Oh, what I’d give to be a parent again.” Pinky sighed, his eyes gleaming with nostalgia and desire. 
Brain smiled, fully understanding his partner’s sentiment. He placed a paw on Pinky’s cheek, turning his head to face him. “Perhaps we could become fathers once more, dear Pinky.” 
Pinky’s eyes widened with excitement while he instinctively held Brain’s hand, which still rested on his cheek. He never thought that he would have more kids, after Romy and that brief time watching over that adorable alien baby. But balancing a family and a career proved to be too much of a challenge. But now that Brain was feeling more and more sure of himself after seeking professional help and their blossoming romantic relationship, the lanky mouse was eager to hear what Brain had to say. 
“Really Brain?” Pinky asked enthusiastically. Brain nodded as he carefully retracted his hand from his partner’s cheek and opted to hold his hand instead. 
“When we first accepted the babysitting job from the CEO, I initially did not think much of it, besides an obstacle that interrupted my plans for world domination. But after spending some time with the Warners, I found myself growing emotionally attached to the children. And, much to my surprise, they seem to reciprocate those feelings.” 
“I know Wakko and Dot are on board!” Pinky eagerly interjected. But a small frown slowly crossed his face. “Poit. Although Yakko was having trouble seeing us as parent material since he’s been looking after his siblings for so long without any help.” 
Brain pondered as he looked over to the slowly dispersing bath bubbles. “I can understand why he would feel that way…” The mouse returned his gaze at Pinky, who stared at him with a worried expression. “However, I believe that Yakko will eventually warm up to us after some time.” 
“You really think so?” Pinky softly inquired, his voice filled with hope. 
Brain gave his partner a confident nod. “I’m certain of it.” 
If the Warners still wanted to have him and Pinky around after the weekend, then he would be able to provide them with parental affection. If it came down to being a mere lab mouse or the guardian of three wacky children, then Brain would be more than happy to leave his days at Acme Labs behind. 
Brain looked back at his beau. “You know, Pinky. I think I’m ready to get back on the saddle again.” 
Pinky’s eyes lit up. “Oh, goodie!” He clapped, but then a sad frown crossed his face. “Oh, but wait! No, no…”
Brain’s ears drooped, feeling crestfallen by Pinky’s sudden refusal. He showered unconditional love to the Warners, even gushing over becoming a parent again. What was going on in that strange head of his? 
“What is it?” Brain asked worriedly. 
“I forgot my saddle at the lab,” Pinky explained forlornly. “Had I known that you wanted to play horsie over the weekend, then I would have had it packed in my suitcase.” But the mouse’s eyes widened when he thought of something and gave Brain a flirty smile. “Although, we could make it work without a saddle!” 
Brain blushed furiously as he massaged his forehead. “I wasn’t referring to one of our roleplaying sessions, Pinky!” He splashed his hand into the water to get his partner’s attention. “I was talking about becoming a father again!”
“Ohh…” Pinky muttered in realization. But then he became excited by Brain’s admission. “You really want to be a dad again!?” 
“Absolutely,” Brain replied. “Not to mention how Wakko and Dot already referred to us as their fathers. But the more I think about it, there are several benefits to adopting the Warners.” 
“Like what?” Pinky eagerly inquired. 
“Well, for one thing, we would no longer have to reside in the lab and go through the rigorous experiments that take a tremendous toll on our physical and emotional well-being.” Brain explained. “Granted, the only downside is that the water tower doesn’t have the necessary lab equipment or other resources to aid my quest for world domination, but I’ll figure something out.” 
Pinky’s eyes lit up at the idea of moving into the water tower. “You mean I can finally live out my dreams of being a homemaker?” 
“Absolutely, dear Pinky.” Brain fondly replied, his ears contentedly flattened. “And we can apply the lessons we learned from raising Roman to the Warners. I won’t make any attempts to force my desire of world domination onto the kids, and you won’t overly smother them with affection.”
“I can’t make any promises, but I’ll try my best,” Pinky mentioned. “Oh! And Romy can finally have younger siblings to play with! Narf! And the four of them will have such a fun-fun, silly-willy time together!” 
Brain chuckled. He had to admit that they were getting ahead of themselves, pondering over the possibilities of returning to fatherhood. Of course, it all came down to whether the Warners wanted to have them back in their lives, and the consensus is that they have a two-out-of-three approval rating. But the smaller mouse was desperate to make sure that everyone was on board before making any life-changing decisions. 
The small mouse cleared his throat. “Tell you what, we’ll take the kids out for a nice brunch at a fancy restaurant, and then spend the afternoon at the park.” He explained while rubbing the back of his head. “But before we return to the Warner movie lot, we’ll ask the children how they feel about being adopted. And, if they say yes, then we’ll kiss Acme Labs goodbye and start a new home with the Warners!”
Pinky’s blue eyes glistened with joy. “Egad, brilliant Brain!” He cheered, clasping his paws together and letting out a contented sigh. “But do we have to kiss the lab?” 
Brian rolled his eyes at his partner’s ludicrous statement. “No Pinky, that’s just a figure of speech.”
“Ohh,” Pinky uttered. 
Brain allowed himself to smile at his clueless partner. “You know, I’m actually glad that we took this babysitting gig this weekend, Pinky.” He said as he moved closer to Pinky with the intention of giving him a passionate kiss. 
“Me too.” Pinky agreed. Pinky leaned closer to Brain, who had his eyes closed in preparation to lock lips with his partner. But before Pinky could seal the deal, he remembered something incredibly important he wanted to share. 
“Oh, I almost forgot!” Pinky exclaimed, startling Brain. 
“About what?” The smaller mouse inquired. 
“Since we were talking about saddles earlier, we should buy one of those dad saddles for the man-suit and we could take turns riding the kids around as they pretend to be cowboys and pirates! Narf!” 
“Pinky, I am not stooping so low as to purchase a degrading joke toy that would chip away at my dignity!” Brain argued. 
“But just imagine how much fun the kids would have! And since we would be giving them horse rides with the suit, we wouldn’t have to worry about back pain, and-”
In an effort to shut Pinky up, Brain propped himself across his partner’s lap, cupped his face, and proceeded to kiss him. Pinky’s eyes widened in surprise. Normally he would be the one to make the first move. But in a subversive turn of events, Brain was the one initiating the intimate moment. Pinky closed his eyes and savored the kiss. 
Once they parted lips, Pinky saw Brain’s cheeks flushed. The lanky mouse smiled warmly at his pudgy partner, gazing into his pretty pink eyes. He leaned in, kissing his partner back. 
Pinky tenderly placed his paw on the smaller mouse’s right cheek as their lips collided. Brain immediately wrapped his arms around Pinky’s neck, bring himself closer. Feeling rather frisky, Brain inserted his tongue into Pinky’s mouth, causing his partner to elicit a contented moan. 
Both mice were in bliss. 
But the intimate moment was broken the moment they heard the door open. The couple broke away from their kiss and turned around, only to find Wakko waiting by the doorway and staring at them with wide eyes. 
The mice and the middle child proceed to scream at each other. 
Wakko pointed at the mice as he stared at the terrifying sight of two grown-ups doing very grown-up things. Brain clung onto Pinky’s chest, while the taller mouse grabbed a handful of bubbles to cover his modesty, not taking into account that the bubbles were now roughly the size of his fingertips. 
Just when things couldn’t possibly get any worse for the mice, they heard a pair of shuffling feet approaching the doorway. 
“Wakko, what’s wrong?” Yakko asked as he rushed towards his sibling’s side with Dot following his trail. But the eldest sibling was surprised to see the mice sharing a tub together. “Woah there!” He exclaimed in a disbelieving smile. 
The mice stared at the three children like deer in headlights. Brain felt his cheeks burn at the thought of Yakko constantly bringing up this moment in private conversations (though Yakko was a chatterbox, he would never intentionally spread malicious gossip about his co-workers). The mortified mouse was never going to hear the end of it!
Dot also appeared by the doorway and was immediately overjoyed by what she saw. “Aww, you two are sharing a romantic moment together!” She inquired, her eyes sparkling like gemstones. 
Before Brain could make a sardonic response, Pinky lifted his hands and gathered another small pile of bubbles. “No, we weren’t!” He lied with a nervous chuckle. “We were just having a foam party!” 
“A foam party? Well how come we weren’t invited?” Wakko questioned, feeling a little sad at the thought of being left out of a fun party. 
“Oh dear,” Pinky mumbled, for he didn’t think this through. Snapping his fingers, he came up with a fib on the fly. “Well, this foam party is exclusive, and uh, only adult mice are allowed! Troz!” He explained while flashing a guilty smile. Brain smacked his paw against his forehead and groaned. 
Dot knew that Pinky was lying, but couldn’t help but joke. “Well, shame on the party planners for holding such segregationist attitudes.” She replied, feigning offense. 
Yakko smirked at the two mice. “So, what kinda party games were you two playing? Seven minutes in heaven?” He inquired with bouncing eyebrows. 
“As a matter of fact, we were.” Brain retorted. He turned his direction over to the middle child, seeing that their overreaction alerted their siblings, which led to this awkward and mortifying mess. “So Wakko, is there anything you need?” 
“I only need to use the potty,” Wakko answered their older brother’s question before turning his attention back to the mice. “But I can wait if you need some extra time alone.” 
The mice exchanged worried looks and decided to put an end to their romantic time in the tub. 
“There’s no need for you to wait on our behalf,” Brain assured as he quickly emerged from the makeshift tub. “Just give us a moment to leave and we will allow you to do your business.” 
The moment Brain stepped off of the animal cracker box, he noticed how sopping wet his fur was. Pinky quickly followed as he hastily exited the tub and tripped onto the counter. Brain took a towel and wrapped it around his waist, while Pinky wrapped his towel around his chest. The smaller mouse retrieved the plush robes and grasped his partner’s hand. Dot offered her hands out and the mice quickly jumped onto her palms. Once she carried the beaus from the bathroom, Wakko immediately ran in and slammed the door shut. 
After a moment, Yakko was the first to break into a fit of laughter. He collapsed on the bed, kicking his legs and clutching his stomach as cackled. Dot and Pinky couldn’t help but join in as well while Brain stood in her palm with an irate frown. 
“This is most undignified.” He grumbled. 
“Aw Brain,” Pinky comforted as he pulled his partner into a side hug. “You have to admit, that was pretty funny!” 
At this point, Yakko’s laughter had died down and after hearing Brain’s complaint, he felt a little sorry for unexpectedly invading their personal space. 
“Hey now, we didn’t mean to cause any trouble,” Yakko assured. 
“Even if you two looked adorable in your moment of intimacy.” Dot added. 
At that moment, they heard the toilet flush and the sink going off. Brain was thankful that Wakko had the decency to wash their hands. The bathroom door swung open and Wakko leaped onto the bed, joining their siblings. 
“I’m sorry for interrupting your foam party…” Wakko apologized in earnest. 
“Not to worry dear!” Pinky acknowledged. 
Despite his embarrassment, Brain couldn’t help but smile at the middle child’s sincerity. “There’s no need for you to apologize, Wakko. Pinky and I should have been more thoughtful about using the bathroom for our own selfish purposes.” 
“Like making out?” Yakko asked with a mischievous grin. 
“Yes, always.” Brain responded sarcastically with flushed cheeks. “Now Dot, would you be so kind as to put Pinky and me back in our beds?”
Dot wordlessly nodded and gently placed the mice back on their mattress. 
Brain turned over to the three children. “Now I want you all to get some sleep. Pinky and I are going to be taking you out to an exquisite brunch tomorrow morning and I expect you all to get up at a decent hour.” 
“Okay!” The Warners chorused. 
Brain nodded, pleased that the rambunctious children understood the game plan for the following day. He and Pinky tossed aside their towels and dressed in their plush robes. Once the mice were comfortable, they tucked themselves under the covers. Wakko leaned over the nightstand and turned off the light once more. 
Brain laid awake. Even after such a romantic moment spent with Pinky, only to be accidentally spoiled by the Warners, it was going to be difficult to fall asleep after that incident. 
On the other mattress, Yakko himself was also having trouble trying to sleep. Nights were usually the hardest for the teen because he had a lot on his mind. The well-being of his siblings, the state of his career, the very nature of his existence as a toon. It was a lot for a youngster like him to take in, even if he had been the same age for decades. He wished that there was something to take his mind off of such dreadful topics. 
“Hey Brain,” He heard Wakko loudly whisper. “Are you up.” 
“Yes,” The mouse groggily answered. “Is there anything you need?”
“Well,” Wakko began, sounding rather sheepish. “Could you sing me to sleep? I can’t go to sleep and I don’t wanna wake Yakko up.” 
Yakko was stunned to hear his sibling be considerate of his feelings. Yakko wanted to swoop in and tend to Wakko’s needs, but he tossed that idea aside because he wanted to see where this situation was going. 
“Very well. I’ll make sure it’s extra boring so you could fall asleep faster.” Brain humored. 
“Yes!” Dot quietly interjected. 
Yakko was surprised to hear his little sister pipe up. Usually, she was out like a light within ten minutes. He supposed that Dot was curious to hear Brain singing once more. And the oldest Warner couldn’t blame her. He too was interested in hearing the usually serious mouse lull his siblings to sleep. 
Brain knew one particular song that would do the trick. Although the tune of ‘Camptown Races’ wasn’t the typical song one would use for a lullaby (Brain had a strong preference for Brahms’s ‘Wiegenlied’), he knew that his own set of lyrics would make Wakko and Dot fall asleep. 
“Pinky, would you care to join me as I sing about the parts of the brain?” 
“Narf! Absolutely!” The lanky mouse cheered, a bit too loudly for his partner’s liking. 
Brain tugged at Pinky’s ear. “Now I understand your enthusiasm, Pinky, but the objective is to lull the little tykes to sleep.” He commanded in a hushed voice. 
Fortunately, Pinky seemed to understand. “Right-o!” He whispered. 
Brain began to hum the opening melody to ‘Camptown Races’ to get into the mood before singing about the various parts that make up the human brain. 
 Neo-cortex, frontal lobe. Brainstem! Brainstem!
Hippocampus, neural node. Right hemisphere. 
 Pons and cortex visual. Brainstem! Brainstem!
Sylvian fissure, pineal. Left hemisphere.
 Cerebellum left! Cerebellum right! 
Synapse, hypothalamus, Striatum, dendrite.
 As the Brain hummed the chorus, Wakko and Dot were entranced by the mouse’s soothing voice. Even Yakko was starting to feel tired. He struggled to keep his eyelids open as he heard the eloquent mouse’s little ditty. 
 Axon fibers, matter gray. Brainstem! Brainstem!
Central tegmental pathway. Temporal lobe. 
White core matter, forebrain, skull. Brainstem! Brainstem!
Central fissure, cord spinal. Parietal. 
Pia mater! Meningeal vein! Medulla oblongata and lobe limbic. 
Micro-electrodes…Naaarf!
The Brain!!!
Once the mice finished their quiet rendition of ‘Brainstem’, they were pleased to hear three distinct snores coming from the other bed. 
Brain smiled, satisfied that his little tune did the trick. “That ought to keep the little squirts happy.” He said smugly. 
He turned over to see Pinky quietly clapping with that big silly grin of his. “Egad, Brain! Brilliant!” He whispered, trying very hard to contain his enthusiasm under control. 
“Yes, Pinky. Perhaps it’s time that we turn in, so to speak.” Brain mentioned. 
“Into what?” Pinky asked, but then figured out an answer right away. “Oh, are we gonna turn into a big spoon and little spoon?” 
“Yes, we are, Pinky.” Brain answered. Despite their romantic moment in the makeshift tub was unintentionally spoiled, he was certain that he and Pinky can still share some more intimacy together in the bed without worrying about the curious eyes of the Warners. “But on one condition.” 
“What’s that, Brain?” 
“I get to be the big spoon.” 
AN: Hey y’all! Here is a little romantic chapter for Valentine’s Day weekend! I wanted to have a Brinky-centric chapter, but I was initially worried about this chapter being too risque and out of place, but my friend @shuunthenonbeliever (cheeserollcall on AO3) mentioned that it would make sense for Pinky and Brain to want to spend some alone time together to do some intimate couples things (and the ‘foam party’ explanation Pinky gives was also borrowed from shuun)
The tub sharing was based off of two issues in the Pinky and The Brain comics. From Issue #19 the AWPWIP exchange where Pinky replies “I think so Brain! You draw the bath and I’ll fetch the Alka-Seltzers and candles.” to which Brain responds “Maybe later, Pinky.”, as well as the moment from Issue #26 where Brain closes his eyes while taking a bath. Pinky leans in as if he’s about to kiss him, Brain opens his eyes, and they both scream. Brain yells “What are you looking at?!”, Pinky responds “I’m not looking, I’m admiring” whilst staring at him with sultry eyes, and Brain replies “Oh, that’s reassuring!” 
The moment where Brain goes a little further with his kiss was inspired by the clip of Rob Paulsen and Maurice LaMarche attending a convention, and Rob yelling “Egad, Brain! Put your tongue in my mouth!” 
The moment where Pinky tries to lie about having a bath by saying it was a foam party was borrowed from my friend shuun over on discord. 
I was having trouble coming up with a lullaby and was originally gonna use the Brownian Motion lullaby Brain sings in the reboot, but I thought it was too short. So I decided to have him and Pinky sing a quieter rendition of Brainstem because it’s longer and has more sciency words. 
The next chapter will feature some more mice and Warners bonding, and some major angst, so I’ll do my best to finish it as soon as possible. 
Thanks for reading!
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10kiaoi · 4 years
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For the 007 Fest Anon prompts: Magical realism
Scav hunt item #55: Create art using a prompt from the MI6Cafe Weekly Art Prompts + “Mayday”
Notes: Unbetaed as always. Canon typical violence.
"Mayday, mayday, mayday-!"
The city is caught in a deluge when he arrives. 
Traffic is backed up for miles, vehicle after vehicle trapped in complete  frustrating gridlock. 
He's walked the two miles to his destination, leaving behind an irate cab driver with a generous tip for his trouble.
Along the way, a young nymph looking to be no more than 10 summers old, offers a flower garland weaved of fresh white Heather from the shelter of a narrow porch. He eyes the fresh cut hanging over the front door. 
He purchases two, to the girl's cheery delight. 
----
“We've lost three engines! Requesting immediate vectors to the nearest airfield! Mayday, mayday, mayday! Shit, Number 4's go-"
----
One mile in, he stumbles across a heavily flooded street.
Earsplittingly loud lighting cracks overhead, an occasional flash that lights the street up. 
The flood waters are ice cold. With the water level at thigh height, his wellies do nothing to keep them from gushing around his equally frozen feet. He resigns himself to a hot bath later.
Here, no cars are able to pass through at all. 
Despite the hazards, there are people out and about in front of their buildings. There are merchants desperately hauling their merchandise to higher ground, attempting to salvage what they can from the havoc. Some are putting up brightly coloured banners and decorative displays. At every door, a stalk of white Heather hangs, children gleefully arranging whole seashells in intriguing patterns around them. 
The mood, though dampened by the terrible weather, borders on festive. 
There are neighbours exchanging sweet breads, a friendly trade of roasted poultry, a shared fish or two in covered dishes to shield the food from the downpour. 
Their joy is a distant consideration in comparison to his inner disquiet. 
An elderly man catches sight of him standing and staring openly at the activities. He glances down to his hand, to the two Heather garlands cradled protectively.  The old man tuts reprovingly and wades through the waters towards him. 
"Shells," the old man tuts as he offers two perfect clam shells, canine tail wagging, "Intention means nothing without it."
He crosses the street, with his gifts in hand. 
----
"Mayday, mayday, mayday! We've lost all four engines- Christ, we're not going to make it back to land-!" 
----
He hears the adolescents well before he sees them. 
In a deserted street, dull with old street lamps and filthy storefronts, the hooded teens giggle with cruel delight as they rip down fabric banners and shatter the crystal glass figurines of various marine creatures. The lovely shells and stalks of white Heather meet the same dismal fate.
Amidst their destruction, one of the teens happens to look up, forked tongue flickering out to taste the wind. Their eyes drop to his arms and they elbow their companions. The group sneers, wisely backing off momentarily and not doing anything as foolish as engage him in a fight. 
Given his state of mind, it is more than likely that the teens will not come out the other end of the fight unscathed despite the protection of armoured scales. 
"The sea witch's a fucking sham anyways!" the kid yells over their retreating backs, "ya'll nuts for believing that shit!" 
When the last teen disappears round the street corner, he sighs, taking the moment to sweep the glass shards to the side with his foot instead of leaving them in the middle of the pavement for some poor sod to injure themselves on later. The rising waters will take care of the mess soon enough anyways. 
The glint of light on glass draws his eye to the ledge, where several pristine figures lie untouched. He is irrepressibly drawn to one in particular- a carving not of an animal but a floating feather caressed by an invisible wind. 
His eyes surveys the street warily for a moment. The glass feather slips unnoticed into the depths of his jacket. 
In the distance, the sea churns with rage. 
----
"Mayday, mayday, may-"
----
There is little else he can do but scour the shores, buffeted by strong gusts and blinded by sea spray. 
The boats are all docked away, no skipper daring enough to take on the sea in her volatility. The worst of the storm is miles away from land, but its effects are felt all the same. 
A set of files arrives in his email courtesy of Q Branch and Tanner- maps and coordinates and prediction models, all of which he studies intensively in the comfort of his temporary safe house. The glass feather sits prominently besides his laptop, a silent but steadfast companion to his activities. 
It, along with the Heather garlands and clam shells, bear witness to him smashing his ceramic mug in a fit of fury. 
The lone image glares accusingly at him from his laptop screen, a low quality shot worsened by the movement of the camera it was shot with. 
The object is a blurry mess, details rendered indistinct by the rolling waves and heavy rainfall. But enough of the form remains for the item to be identified- its implications are what trigger his episode of temper. 
A lone tail fin, ripped from its place at the rear of an aircraft, is a death sentence. 
----
He's on his fifth bottle, drowning his sorrows with a vengeance. Outside, the deluge lets up a little into a light patter against the balcony. 
The helplessness weighs heavily like an albatross around his neck. 
Squeals waft up from the street below, a pod of local mers grasping the opportunity the flood waters present and taking the chance to explore streets they have never traversed before. Their melodious cries of astonishment and wonder, once music to his ears, prove too much for the dark cloud hanging over him. 
He throws back his head against the couch and guzzles down more bitter ale. 
----
He comes to in his tiled bathroom, curled over the toilet seat with acidic sick stinking up his nose. It's no gentle thing, he wakes up with a jerk, disorientated and without memory of how he has gotten to the bathroom in the first place. Adrenaline rushes through his veins. 
With the fog in his head clearing up, he notices the rattling coming from his balcony, accompanied by quiet curses. 
He gets up, hand curling around the walther under his arm. He creeps towards the source of the commotion, feet as light as a cat's paws. Whatever and whomever the intruder is, he's of no mood to be gracious. 
The rattling pauses, an indignant squawk of frustration follows it. 
It speaks volumes of his training, both military and 00 that he does not drop his piece from shock. 
There on his balcony, his Quartermaster scowls angrily at the offending lock while looking like a drowned rat. 
In his chest, his heart leaps. 
His movement draws Q's attention and it's then he's hollered at to "open the bloody doors before I kick them down!" 
There's no word vast enough, deep enough to encompass the depth of his emotions as he swiftly undoes the lock and throws the double doors open. Heather and shells are sent flying but all he cares for is pulling Q into a bone crushing embrace. 
----
The rain picks up, droplets soaking through the cotton of his shirt. The front is already soaked through, thoroughly pressed against a sopping wet Quartermaster as he is. 
He pulls them inside, away from the storm, away from the windows. Disbelief and hope war within his chest as he studies Q with an anxious eye, warm towels in his hand to replace soaked clothes. 
He says nothing of the massive bruising on Q's torso, a large swath that belies the extent of physical trauma its owner has gone through. 
Belatedly, he registers the noticeable lack of glasses, the raw scrapes and bruising over pale cheeks and knuckles. 
The hulking set of white wings tipped with black and dusty grey. 
"Albatross," he breathes reverently.
He'd assumed from Q's presence in the tunnels of Q Branch, the way he draws comfort from his underground haven, that his Quartermaster is a member of an underground species of sorts- a Null even, rare as truly non-magical folk are amongst the general population. The personnel file certainly hasn’t provided much insight either given their propensity for obfuscation when executive members of staff are involved.  
"Yes, well, turns out I was just a late bloomer" Q sniffs, squinting at a dust speck on the wall through the conspicuous lack of glasses, "you're not on the water all the time either." 
Bond smiles indulgently though offers no contest. 
With his parents and kin long gone, there was simply no incentive to remain near his family’s seat of power all the time. The murky depths of the loch holds no interest, lacking in the thrill and constant entertainment cities like London offer. Besides-
First M, a hawk, now Q, an albatross - he's always been drawn to the sky much more than his peers. 
He feels out Q's wings carefully, stretching one out to examine the feathers and bone. The appendage trembles under his tentative scrutiny, morphing into a full body shiver that goes right down to Q's toes. The first wing passes muster, so he moves on to the other. 
Q yelps loudly as his fingers prod a particular sore spot. 
It has him relaxing his fingers immediately, though he does not cease supporting the injured wing. 
"I don't think it's broken," Q whimpers, fingers twisting anxiously. 
Like a dam, Q's hard won composure crumbles. "Couldn't get them out," Q sobs, "They were too far forward, I barely got myself out-" The frantic babble dies away into hitched sobs. 
He croons lightly in response, a soothing rumble he's heard mers sing to their fry. He runs his fingers through mussed curls, letting the grief and guilt run its course. 
The kit he has isn't stocked for treating winged individuals or traumatised ones for that matter, but he's a witch- he'll make the best with what he has. He'll get them both home. 
---
In the distance, the sea finally calms.
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gureishi · 3 years
Text
Hi hello hi.
I’ve got a bunch of wonderful prompts sitting in my inbox but I was feeling anxious af yesterday and today I had to go to a freakin Zoom funeral and my anxiety brain instead spewed out...this.
I was watching a playthrough of the Forgive ending to try and sort out the timeline for the Jihyun request I’m writing (which I should be posting tomorrow~ <3) and then I started thinking about the disturbing little hints that are in there about depressed Saeyoung and alcohol, and then my anxiety said I needed to write about it. So I transposed that thought into another timeline so my boy could have an mc cause god knows otherwise it would get way worse.
I know alcohol is a really sensitive topic when it pertains to the Choi twins because of their trauma relating specifically to alcohol and alcoholism. To be super super clear, drinking can be fine and okay and not harmful for lots of people, but that’s not the type of drinking I’m portraying here. 
YEESH, I’ll stop rambling. Cw for alcohol abuse; if Saeyoung drinking alcohol is gonna be triggering for you please skip this one. Take care of yourself I love you <3
wanna be ok
The bunker is dark when you get home, and that is your first sign that something is wrong. 
You’re off work a little early, and you fully expected to find the house bright and full of energy. Usually at this time, there would be at least one brother in the living room. There’d be a half-built robot croaking gibberish in a corner or an inexplicable mess from some overly enthusiastic project in the hall.
But when the door slides open (greeting you by name, of course), you’re met with darkness and a startling, eerie quiet. Could they both have fallen asleep…? You check your watch. It’s just after nine.
“Saeyoung…?” You slip off your shoes, calling quietly in case he really is asleep. He hasn’t been sleeping much since his father’s investigation began, waking up at night and pacing the house. Sometimes he does fall asleep at the computer, even these days…
No answer. You peek into the darkened living room. Nothing. No light from his office or the bedroom, either.
You hear a noise and spin, senses on high alert. All your instincts telling you that something is certainly off, you peer warily around the corner.
He’s in the kitchen.
“Babe?”
He’s perched precariously on one of the tall stools at the kitchen island. His arms are everywhere, splayed over the scrubbed wood; he’s slumped over, head in the crook of his elbow. His hair is mussed as though he’s been running his hands through it.
None of this surprises you too much—it’s much a difficult few days. But what does startle you is the stale, harsh smell in the air. There’s a bottle on the counter that looks suspiciously like…
Dread settles in your stomach like hot lead.
You call his name again, some foolishly optimistic part of your mind hopeful that this is an off-color prank. But this isn’t the kind of thing he jokes about.
At the sound of his name, he stirs, lifts his head. As he does, he slips to the side, almost falling off the stool—catching himself at the last minute on the island.
He blinks at you blearily, as if he’s trying to get you into focus, and you know in that moment that he’s not messing with you.
“Hiii, babe,” he slurs, his voice thick. He tries to say your name, stumbles over it. Laughs at himself.
“Honey.” You approach him cautiously. Closer up, the smell is unmistakable—it’s whiskey, mingling with his natural spicy-sweet scent in a way that you find particularly unsettling. “What did you do?”
He tries to spin around in the stool to face you and nearly falls again—you have to reach out an arm to grab him. He gazes at you dizzily, his eyes glazed over.
“Wha’ d’you mean?” he mumbles, his words running together. He sways dangerously on the stool and you put a hand on his shoulder, bracing him. Out of the corner of your eye, you peer at the bottle beside him—it’s one you’d gotten as a gift ages ago and put away in a closet. It’s more than half empty.
“Baby, why did you drink that?” You shift, taking his face in both your hands; he’s unstable again without your hand on his shoulder. You turn him, make him look you in the eye—and he tries, he tries, but his gaze slides over your face as though he can’t quite focus on it.
“You’re pretty,” he sings, and he leans forward as if to kiss you—and misses, his head falling onto your shoulder. “Missed,” he says, giggling. His hands reach clumsily for your waist.
It would be almost cute, you think, under other circumstances. If it weren’t Saeyoung, who doesn’t drink alcohol. Who’s promised himself never to drink alcohol—and for good reason.
He presses his lips against your neck, tilting sideways as he does so. Okay. Okay. One thing at a time. You know how to deal with drunk people, under normal circumstances. Just pretend it’s not Saeyoung. Just for now.
“Come with me, baby,” you say, expertly evading his grasp and offering him both your hands. “Let’s go sit somewhere a little more comfy, okay?”
“Don’wanna,” he mumbles, titling to the right. “Comfy here.”
“You’ll be comfier on the couch, I promise.” You keep your voice light. Taking both his hands, you give a gentle tug, and he obliges you, sliding off the stool without any of his usual grace or agility. He sways as he lands on his feet and you brace him with both hands again, waiting till his gaze clears. 
You lead him to the living room and he comes obediently, albeit stumblingly.
“…m’too drunk for this,” he mutters, laughing at himself as he narrowly avoids running face-first into the door frame.
“Too drunk to walk to the living room?” You guide him more carefully now. Most people would be well and truly messed up from the amount that he drank—based on your cursory assessment of the kitchen, anyway. For him—someone who has, to your knowledge, quite literally never consumed alcohol before—it’s astonishing he’s even still conscious.
You steer him to the couch. He hesitates and you turn to him—his face has gone pale, and he claps a hand over his mouth.
“M’gonna…never mind.” He shuts his eyes.
With some difficulty, you get him onto the couch. He slides sideways immediately and you slip a pillow under his head. He smiles a sloppy, lopsided grin.
“…galaxy,” he murmurs, sinking heavily into the pillow. You don’t question it.
Confident that he’s not going anywhere, you make your way back to the kitchen, fill a big glass with water. Now that you’re alone, your hands are shaking.
It’s not the end of the world to get drunk, but it’s certainly less than great to do it alone. It’s worse, though, so much worse, because it’s him—because of the promise he made to himself, because of the memories of his mother’s violence, because of the fear you know he has of those same genes manifesting in him.
You know that the last few days have been difficult, that the trial’s brought up memories he’d long repressed. But you wouldn’t ever have anticipated…this.
What could possibly have happened?
You take in the havoc in the kitchen: in addition to the whiskey bottle, there’s a glass knocked over on its side as well as the usual debris from chips and other junk food. One of the stools is on the ground.
And where, you think suddenly, is Saeran?
You take a deep, steadying breath—care now, you remind yourself. Figure out the rest later.
When you return to the living room with the water, he’s crying. 
His eyes are shut tight and he’s wrapped both arms around the pillow; there are tear tracks on his cheeks and as you approach he lets out a quiet, pitiful sob.
“Sweetheart…” You kneel beside him and he wriggles toward you like a wounded animal. You bring a hand to his face and wipe away the tears and he clumsily throws out one arm and dangles it over your body.
“Drink a little bit of this, please, love.” You tilt the cup toward his mouth and he opens his lips the tiniest bit. You get a little water in him; most of it ends up on the couch.
“…still hates me,” he mutters, pushing aside the cup, nuzzling his face into your chest. You stroke his messy, tangled hair with your free hand, pulling it off his forehead.
“Who does, baby?” 
“Saeran…does.”
You run your fingers over his feverish skin; his cheeks are flushed and his forehead is warm to the touch.
“Saeran doesn’t hate you, honey. I promise he doesn’t.” You try again with the water. It’s a little more successful this time.
“Does. We hadda…fight,” he slurs. “Gotta…find’m.” Defying all logic, he tries to sit up again, using your shoulders for leverage. Even in this state, he’s stubborn as hell.
“Where is he?” you ask, not sure if Saeyoung will even be able to tell you. You help him wriggle into a sitting position, thinking it’s perhaps safer than lying down after all.
“Walk,” he murmurs. He’s trying to look at you again, his eyes wandering over your face. “Babe! Your face’s…blurry.”
You sigh. It’s not out of the ordinary Saeyoung to push Saeran too far, or for Saeran to snap at him and go for a walk to clear his head. You wonder if the confluence of circumstances—the trial, both twins’ tensions running extra high, the memories Saeyoung associates with his family and raised voices and a dark, empty house—led to this turn of events.
One of the cameras near the door flickers to life—someone’s coming into the garage. You sit up stick straight. Saeran was just on a walk—he couldn’t have gone far. Which means…
“Baby, I’m so sorry, but I need you to move again.”
He groans and mutters something you don’t understand, but you have no time to waste. Glad you’ve already got him sitting, you slide your hands under both his arms and pull. He sags like a rag doll, but he doesn’t weigh a lot, and you’re strong—you tug him to a standing position and he sways dangerously in place, his face pale again.
“Can’t,” he moans, and you don’t have time to pity him. You simply can’t risk the consequences—for both brothers—of Saeran finding him like this.
“C’mon, sweetheart, please try to walk. For me.” You kiss him firmly on the cheek and he perks up a little, reaching for you. You take both his hands again and walk backwards, guiding him to the bedroom.
“No more…” he moans, but you get him down the hall and into the room, giving the corners a wider berth this time.
Panting, you deposit him on the bed.
“…spinning,” he mutters, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. 
“I swear I will be right back,” you gasp, and you run from the room before he can respond. You sprint to the kitchen, sweep the whiskey bottle into the cabinet under the sink. You dump the glass and throw it under there too for good measure. You right the stool, leaving the chips bags—that’s normal enough. 
But the smell…
You hastily grab your bag, which you’d dropped on the floor earlier when you’d found him here—pull out the little bottle of perfume you carry, spritz it liberally over the kitchen island. You inhale. It’s not perfect, but it’s better than nothing.
You throw open the big window over the sink and, bag under your arm, slink back to your bedroom. As the bedroom door is shutting behind you, you hear the security system beeping, the front door sliding open. Just in time.
You spin around. Now where is…?
A soft moan from the en suite bathroom answers your question. You peer through the dark—sure enough, he’s sprawled on the ground, head bent over the toilet. The fact that he’s managed to drag himself there is impressive. You sigh—this was inevitable and is probably for the best.
You sit with him there for a long time: pressing a cool, wet washcloth to his head, plying him with tiny sips of water when you can. He apologizes to you again and again in a raw, miserable voice; you stroke his hair and rub his back and promise him that he’s going to be okay.
Eventually he slumps into your lap and, almost incoherently, whispers the word “bed.” So you hoist him up again, arms around his torso; he tries valiantly to help you, stumbling through the doorway, over the carpeted floor. You guide him onto the bed and he practically melts into it, his breathing immediately slowing, deepening.
You get him as comfortable as you can—wresting his jeans off and casting them aside, tucking the blankets all the way around him. He murmurs groggily as you press a soft kiss to his forehead and then he’s out, chest moving slowly up and down, face peaceful.
You’d never know, you think.
You retrieve his glasses from the bathroom floor, fold them neatly on the bedside table. And then, steeling yourself, you slip through the bedroom door as quietly as you can, tiptoe down the hall. As you’d suspected, Saeran is still in the living room.
“Hey,” he says, lifting his eyes from the book he’s reading. He’s draped over the couch, white hair tousled. He’s turned on a lamp—the dim light illuminates the red roots that are just starting to grow in.
“Hi,” you say. For something to do, you fetch the cup of water you’d left on the floor earlier. Saeran doesn’t bat an eyelash.
“We had a fight,” he offers, unprompted. He drums his fingers on his book—the same nervous habit his brother has. “Did he tell you?”
“Um…sort of.” You put the cup on a side table. Nervously straighten one of the fluffy throw blankets.
“I was mean,” Saeran says bluntly. “I shouldn’t have been.”
You perch on the arm of the couch. Once, he would have flinched away from you; now, he watches you impassively, green eyes unreadable.
“Was it about the trial?” you ask, with some hesitation.
Saeran shrugs. “I guess. He keeps all the TVs in the house on all day. I can’t stand hearing our father’s voice anymore.”
“Right.” You know this—know that the ongoing trial is wearing on them both, know that they’re coping in their own ways.
“Is he…” Saeran looks down and back up at you; his eyes are bright. “Is he mad?”
You take a shaky breath. “No,” you say honestly. “But he feels bad that you fought.”
“Should I talk to him?”
He is still looking at you. You’re surprised—he’s never asked you for advice before.
“Maybe in the morning,” you say, perhaps a little too firmly—but Saeran is unfazed.
“I get it,” he says. “I’m gonna go back to reading now.”
You smile, grateful as always for Saeran’s manner. There’s no risk of overstaying your welcome, because he’ll always tell you when he’s done.
“Good night,” you say. He looks up at you again, gives you a tiny smile.
“Night.”
。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。。
You wake abruptly the next morning. Through the haze of half-dream, half-wakefulness, you hear an intrusive rustling sound—then clunk. Clunk. Clunk. Your eyes shoot open.
“Saeyoung…?” you murmur, the events of the previous night momentarily evading you. You blink the sleep out of your eyes, see a blur of red hair in your peripheral vision.
He’s…cleaning?
“Oh god.” His golden eyes go huge with panic as he sees that you’re awake. He drops the mop (why was it clunking?) and throws himself onto the bed, kneeling beside you. “Hi. Good morning. Um. I am. So, so, so, so, so, so, so sorry. I mean, I—uh. Gah. I practiced this. Hang on—”
“Shhh.” You put a finger to his lips, pushing yourself up in bed. He sits back on his heels like a guilty puppy, eyes huge, waiting for a scolding. “So you remember last night, huh?”
His cheeks match his hair. He lowers his gaze.
“I am so, so, so, so…”
“Hush.” You take his face in both hands again, just as you’d done the night before. Tilt it up, forcing him to meet your eyes. “You don’t need to apologize to me. But I would like to know how it happened.”
He hangs his head, one red curl falling into his eyes. You brush it away.
“I don’t know,” he mutters. “You know I’ve never done that before. Right?”
“Yes, I know.” You slip out of the blankets and sit cross-legged, facing him. “Do you remember why you did it? Why you went looking for the whiskey that I didn’t even think you knew was in the storage closet?”
“I’d known where it was for a while,” he says softly, shamefully. “I found it one day when I was looking for an old hard drive and I guess I thought, wow, glad I know that’s there in case I ever lose my mind.” 
This surprises you. You didn’t know he’d ever give it any thought at all.
“I wasn’t seriously thinking I was gonna drink it!” he says hurriedly, his cheeks growing—if it were possible—redder. “It was like a…weird, bad joke. Like, haha, what a great way to escape my mind if I ever hate myself that much. I…dunno.”
You make yourself take a deep breath. You hate it when he says things like this. “Okay, fine. So why did you…?”
“I fought with Saeran,” he says, still looking down. He twiddles his hands in his lap, fiddles with the blanket. “It was stupid. We were just tense about the trial. And then he left, and it got dark, and I was alone, and I just couldn’t…stop thinking about her.”
“Your mother.”
“Yeah.”
He taps a pattern on his thigh, too fast, too hard. You take his hand, wrapping up his fingers in yours. He shoots you a grateful glance.
“It’s hard to explain,” he mutters. “It was like I was possessed. It was this feeling, like if I could…get inside her head somehow, I’d understand.”
“Understand what?” You realize you’re squeezing his hand too hard and you make a conscious effort to loosen your grip.
“Why she didn’t love us,” he says simply. You look up; there are tears in his eyes again. Automatically you reach for him, catching a tear on your fingertip. You kiss it away.
“Did you?” you ask quietly. Slowly, he shakes his head.
“I don’t think I ever will.”
“Oh, Saeyoung…” You hold open your arms for him and he bows his head, falling into you. You cradle his head against your chest, kiss the tears from his eyelashes.
“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers.
“You are a wonderful man, and you deserve the world,” you say firmly. You wrap your arms all the way around his waist and squeeze him tight and he exhales, like he’s letting out breath he’s been holding for a long time.
“I’ll never do it again,” he says, his voice muffled by your shirt. “I promise. I mean it.”
You thoughtfully run your fingers through his curls, de-tangling them, pulling them apart one by one. “Can I ask you something I’ve asked you before?” you say tentatively. He nods; you can feel it. “Would it be okay if I just…got some names? My therapist offered to make a list for you before, you know, and you don’t need to commit to anything, but I just—”
“Yes.” He pulls back enough to peer up at you. There are tear tracks on his cheeks again but his expression is sure. “I’d like that.”
His eagerness takes you by surprise. You smile and kiss the tip of his nose.
“Thank you.”
He leans his forehead against yours. “I’m meant to be the one thanking you. You shouldn’t have had to take care of me last night. You should’ve just left me there.”
“Never.” You take a deep breath and he breathes with you, exhaling against your lips, tickling you. “Now would you please explain to me what the hell you were doing that woke me up this morning?”
He giggles, a little guiltily—still, you’re relieved to hear him laugh. “I felt like crap, both physically and emotionally. I thought I could start apologizing by…”
“Slamming the mop against the wall?”
“I don’t…actually know how to use a mop.”
That makes you laugh, and it feels good, like a release. You wrap your arms around his neck and he sighs against you.
“You’re gonna be okay?” you whisper. He nods, gazing at you reverently.
“Because of you,” he says. He strokes your hair with his long, thin fingers—cautiously, gently, like he needs reassurance that you’re still there. “I’m gonna be okay.”
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hyper-super-clover · 3 years
Text
Omoi yo Hitotsu no Nare
Feelings, become One
Part 2 of 2
find part one here
Writer's block is being rough on me, so the only thing I was able to create lately was a short story of my MC Clover and Leviathan. It shows their adorable friendship as they experience an idol live show together.
Enjoy 🧡
"Wooaah... I can't believe I'm really here..."
Her mouth opened wide, Clover looked at the Tokyo Dome with big, sparkling eyes. Taking in the astonishing view, her heart was beating fast already. "Look at how many people are here...!"
Levi gave a nod. "It's impressive, isn't it? Normally I would hate being surrounded by so many people, but it's different for such events. Everyone came for the one and same reason."
Clover's lips curled into a smile.
"To cherish what we love."
When making their way to the entrance for their seating section, the mass of people grew denser the closer they got to the Dome. Eventually, Clover had troubles staying next to Levi's side, which let anxiety to rise within her. She was afraid of getting separated, especially since she hasn't taken Solomon's translation potion yet. The sorcerer warned that the magic could wear off a little too soon, so Clover wanted to drink it right before the live would start.
Hence her panic, as suddenly it seemed like a literal train of people crossing their path would separate her from her demon friend.
"L-levi!!" she screamed on impulse while fiddling to grab his coat's sleeve.
"Uwah, Clover!" Levi huffed, turning towards her in irritation. Being used to go to events all alone, he had kind of forgot for a second that he should match his pace with Clover's.
But even now as he had slowed down, the girl wouldn't let go of his clothes.
"U-uhm... I panic when getting separated in places I've never been to..." Clover explained as she noticed Levi's confusion. "It calms me when I feel you're here by my side, so..." she gently tugged on his sleeve while unintentionally giving him her biggest pleading face. "Could we stay like this? Just until we're at our seats of course."
A little flustered, Levi played it cool and gave a shrug. "S-sure, if you feel safer that way..."
And so, the two continued their way, the demon hiding how soft this whole ordeal had made him inside, while Clover was following along like a mildly frightened puppy.
Once inside the hall, Levi and Clover had no troubles finding their seats. Thus, they were quickly established, and while the Otaku explained some insider facts about the Tokyo Dome (that he might have googled beforehand as he was afraid to sit there in awkward silence), the hall was steadily filling with more and more fans.
The anticipation was almost painful, Clover really had to put energy into calming herself down. Especially since Levi wasn't a help at all. He was a strong fan of idols, so naturally his hype was increasing at least as much.
The two were almost bouncing in their seats, as finally, the lights dimmed, and a live orchestra started playing the anime's main theme...
Talking about the full concert would truly be a task too big for this little story (even though I could surely gush about it for hours straight).
But there were a few highlights worth mentioning.
Beforehand, Clover had been worrying over whether her shy personality would allow her to cheer and sing with all she had. But when the idols appeared on stage, all doubts were blown away immediately. Crying in overwhelming happiness, she sang along and shouted from the top of her lungs to Aqours' songs, Leviathan of course doing the same next to her.
They were enjoying themselves so much.
There wasn't a single moment where they weren't.
Oh, well, maybe there was a split second for Levi.
One of the idols had a call and response which animated the crowd to hug a person next to you.
And so, while Levi was preparing emotionally to ask Clover for a hug, said idol called out her catch phrase. But as Levi turned to his human friend, he saw how Clover was turned to the person on the other side.
It appeared the stranger next to her had asked her for a hug, and, awkward but nice as she was, Clover couldn't reject the request.
It broke her heart into pieces as she quickly turned the other way around afterwards, checking on Levi and seeing his disappointed expression.
"Don't worry sweetie, you'll get a hug too!!" She called out and wrapped her arms around him with almost too much force.
"I've been planning to give you a biiig hug since we started practising the call and responses...!"
Gosh, I really want to fangirl about these amazing idols for longer, but I will not torture you with that.
But there is one last event I have to address.
About in the middle of the live show, the girls were dressed in the outfits for a very special song.
A song they have been avoiding to perform after a member broke into tears in the middle of the performance.
Still, there she was, Rikyako, next to a piano once again.
And let me tell you, the crowd was going WILD. Levi and Clover were by far not the only one's in awe over how on the big screens, you could see how Rikyako was giving her fellow members a confident nod.
Then she started playing while the others were beginning to sing the song "Omoi yo Hitotsu ni Nare".
Clover was already in tears at this point, proud to see Rikyako was about to conquer this piano piece once more.
Then, however, Rikyako suddenly stood up, but the music was continuing to play a soft piano medley.
Visibly at the edge of tears, too, the pianist made her way to her friends, and by now Levi (and probably all other fans) have lost it as well.
Rikyako, as well as the other eight members, had gathered on the central stage, to then put their hands together, their eyes glistening in determination.
"Sh-she's joining the performance?!" Levi squealed.
"No way!!" Clover cried. "This is so cute oh my lord I cAN'T-!"
And they sang, the performance now officially beginning. It was a song about being connected, being there for each other. There couldn't have been a more fitting gesture to show this than bringing the pianist, once struggling, into the performance.
And while Clover listened in to their singing, to the message they conveyed...
She truly understood what had been going on the last few weeks.
"Kakegae no nai hibi o sugoshitetanda"
'I was amid days that could never be replaced'
She was down, broken, had felt miserable.
She had been trying to hide it, deal with it in her own.
But her friends had known.
And they've been by her side.
"Imasara wakatta hitori janai."
'I finally realized I'm not alone'
Even when she had somewhat pushed them away, they where there.
Somehow it occurred to her only now that their small gestures, everything up to the invitation to this live show,
They haven't been coincidences,
But were doing this explicitly to cheer her up.
Clover turned her head to look at Leviathan.
"Kakegae no nai hibi o tsumi kasanete"
'Those irreplaceable days continued on'
And to her surprise, Levi had been looking at her, too.
When their eyes met, he smiled.
A small smile, but warm and gentle.
So, with hot tears rolling down her cheeks,
Clover smiled back.
"Imasara wakatta..."
'I finally realized...'
The girls on stage grabbed each others hand, And so did Levi bashfully move his hand to link his pinky finger with Clover's.
They exchanged a tiny nod.
"... hitori janai!"
'... I'm not alone!'
And went to cheer their hearts out for the rest of the live show, too. Connected by the hands they did not part until the end.
Late in the evening, the oldest brother Lucifer was waiting at the portal to the human world to welcome the two back.
While Levi was looking fine, he was shocked to see Clover with swollen red eyes, tired as if having run a marathon just now.
"Are you alright?" Lucifer raised an eyebrow, mustering the girl.
Having only like five percent left of her voice, Clover assured him that she was more than fine.
"I cried so much" she laughed in a hoarse voice. "It was amazing."
"You really cried SO much more than I did lol"
The avatar of Pride didn't quite understand the connection between "crying lots" and this being "amazing", but he saw how truly satisfied both of them were, so a content smile spread on his lips as well.
"Then let us head home" Lucifer said. "It appears both of you could use a good night's sleep."
At the house of Lamentation, Levi had checked his D.D.D., and something must have prompted him to hurry back home as he had left the two to walk alone for a bit.
Clover took this opportunity to address the oldest brother in this quieter moment.
"Lucifer? Thank you for letting us go to the human world today. It means a lot to me."
Eyeing her sparkling expression, Lucifer couldn't but let out a happy exhale.
"I am glad your spirits have lifted. I was displeased to see you in this saddened state, but it seems like my brothers took great care of you."
Clover smiled, watching how Levi was urging to open the mansion's door.
"They really did."
The smile seemed to be contagious, as soon, Lucifer wore it too.
"However, you should thank Levi thrice as much. You don't want to know what measures he took to convince me to let you two go out today."
The girl's eyes widened, glistening with gratitude.
"Yes, I will."
And so she dashed after the avatar of Envy.
She reached him in the entrance hall, where he was arguing with Mammon over whatever.
As soon as this had been resolved, Clover dashed into Levi to hug him yet another time.
"E-eh?! Seriously, Clover, y-you can't just hug people whenever you like-"
"Thank you, Levi" she interrupted him in a gentle tone. "I'll never forget this."
Blushing, Levi returned the embrace.
"It wasn't much, really..." He mumbled bashfully.
But Clover shook her head.
"No, I mean it." She mumbled into his clothing.
"I'll never forget your kindness."
And with that, she pulled back...
But placed a sweet, little kiss of gratitude on his cheek before quickly making her leave.
"Good night, Levia-tan!"
Holding the place where her lips had touched him, the demon looked after her.
"Good... night..." he mumbled in a baffled response.
But ultimately, he smiled, knowing that he, the anti-social, shut-in Otaku, had not only managed to cheer someone up,
but also felt how he had grown closer to a person very dear to him.
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Here's a link to the song's performance in case anyone wants to watch the one for 'Omoi yo Hitotsu ni Nare' (and there are a bunch more of Aqours, go support them they're precious 🥺)
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