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crystal-moon-101 · 3 years

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Managed to do another redesign with rewrite notes, this time my second favourite character in Ben 10, Azmuth The First Thinker. And just like Ben, he's canon self is such a mess that I wish to fix in my own way. The other Galvans in this picture are his family, with his father from the movie "Destroy All Aliens", his nephews mentioned by DJW, and their mother who is Azmuth's twin sister. So let me get into the notes and rewrite ideas of mine!

-Retaliator-

Yes, I am aware that this is most likely not his name, but I could not be bothered to make up my own at this point, and I also find it funny to have a Galvan dad called this, so I'm sticking with it. So Retaliator is the father of both Azmuth and Divi, a very humble and calm old galvan, who has seen a lot through his years, now retired and mostly just trying to keep the family together through small things.

Retaliator has the rare gene of having aqua/turquoise eyes, a recessive trait in galvans, similar to human with the red hair gene.

Retaliator looks younger than he should be, and that's because he is, in a way. You see, right before Azmuth vanished to start working on the watch, Retaliator fell ill to an disease with no known cure, and this caused the family to...kind of break down. A lot had happen up to this point (Things that will be noted throughout this), and none of them wanted things to end like this. So Azmuth did something he know he shouldn't have, as such a thing takes so much time and resource, and generally frowned upon, and ended up creating a new young clone body for his father's brains to be transferred too. By the time Retaliator woke up from surgery, his son was already gone, off in hiding. It this was event that really made Retaliator realize he may not have been the best father for a long time...

While he is retired now, Retaliator use to do work based around energy stuff.

Since he's family's back together, he likes to host game or movie nights, or even little dinners and get togethers.

He adores his grandsons, and loves to share stories from his past to them, and he's one of the few people they calm down around.

He will admit that he did...go a bit wild when he thought Azmuth died, fighting Ben in the Galvanic Mechamorph suit, but him and Ben have since made up, and the old galvan likes talking to the young lad often.

He has most defiantly embarrassed both of his kids by showing off baby photos of them.

He met his wife through work, like most galvans, with her being a much higher up worker. Surprisingly, despite their statuses, it was his wife who asked him out first, having found him very charming.

Retaliator can never thank Ben enough for convincing his son to come home, and despite their bickering, he enjoys seeing Azmuth's bond with Ben, as the two have a way of balancing each other out.

While he may be in a younger body, his mind is certainly still that of an old galvan, and can often act like his body is older than it really is due to the mental age of his brain.

-Azmuth-

Ahhhh, dear old Azmuth, how I love your character concept, and yet get so frustrated with your actual canon self...There is a lot I have changed in terms of his placement and behavior on the show, and while I can't note all of them down there, the major theme behind them is that he is not a complete jerk in them. Don't get me wrong, Azmuth would still have flaws and issues with his off-standing nature, but he would act in a way that feels more natural, showing his growth and change while mentoring Ben. He genuinely wants to help and is a good person, it's just...he still has a lot to work through. In terms of his slight redesign, I'll like to mention that if you look closely, his outfit is a mixture of his first original outside, crossed with his UAF outfit.

I did mention that I couldn't note all changes of him in series plots, since most boil down to be him being nicer and more realistic, but I will note one change because it's big enough to mention. For the Diagon/Forever Knight Arc, Azmuth did not create Ascalon, because I while I get he's smart and created things like the Omnitrix, I don't think he should be such a big source of dangerous artifacts in the series so often, especially ones that cause trouble. So instead, Ascalon was a weapon crafted in Ledgerdomain, to help fight Diagon who orientated there, and at the time had been trying to conquer earth, and Zenith leaving Azmuth happened because of miscommunication and issues between them instead.

That being said, Azmuth does get involved in the Ultimate Alien Diagon arc when Ben himself calls Azmuth over, needing his help knowing he can better understand Ascalon, and eventually entrusted Azmuth and the Galvans to keep it and the trapped Diagon safe.

Azmuth and his sister had a very rebellious phase as teenagers/young adults, this being the age that Azmuth said he was a lot like Ben, though admittedly, Azmuth was slightly more of an ass than Ben ever was. They were going through a tough time, and Azmuth reacted negatively too it all. Funnily enough, the one thing that seems to make him doo a 180 degrees in personality was his massive swooning crush over Zenith.

He won't ever admit out loud, but he does find Ben's trait of nicknaming his aliens kind of funny...

He shares a mentoring role towards Ben with Grandpa Max and Tetrax, with Max handling the more emotional and human side of Ben's problems, Tetrax handling the physical training and teachings, and Azmuth handling the more logical steps and hard truth Ben needs to hear. He's one of the few people to give Ben the smack of reality he needs from time to time.

That being said, Ben is also one of the few people able to handle Azmuth right back, and give him needed talkings to when the man is losing himself to a bad habit.

Mostly due to the fact that Tennysons seem to have a habit of making people very close to them like family, E.g with Ben seeing Kevin and Rook like brother figures at times, there seems to be subtle hints between Azmuth and Ben that there might be parent and child like moments between them, though both would deny it if brought up.

It doesn't help that Azmuth ends up taking it upon himself on making sure Ben is healthy and happy, based on scans from the Omnitrix he reads daily. Of course, he'll just say he doesn't want the boy he entrusted his watch with to die in a stupid way, but people close to either of them know that Azmuth really does care deep down.

He has said both "I'm too old for this" and "I'm too young for this" many times.

Azmuth has admitted that he's nervous around the Omnitrix, and doesn't like putting it on. He's not good at handling the idea of becoming something he's not...

The Malware arc for Azmuth was...a lot more complicated than canon. Azmuth really did try to fix Malware, but for some reason he couldn't, and it scared him that one, this might be the first problem he can't find a solution too, and second, he just came back from hiding and had been wanting to make changes in his life, so to fail and hurt someone already? He didn't know what to think. It didn't help when Malware started refusing his help and ended up endangering the lives of others, including galvans and Azmuth's own family. And despite it all, Azmuth kept trying over and over again to let him help Malware, but the villain always refused, until Azmuth eventually had to accept that he couldn't do anything. When Malware was finally killed, Azmuth went quiet for a good while, and needed time to recover from his mistake.

Due to some past issues, Azmuth mostly refers to his father by his real name, and only calls him dad or father during emotional or quiet moments.

Whenever they're hanging out, Ben likes to bring him and Azmuth cricket smoothies to drink together.

Despite how they seem to bicker often, Myaxx and him play off each other rather well, able to dry wit each other every day.

Azmuth and Albedo's relationship is also very complicated. Before Azmuth returned, Albedo was an outstanding Galvan and protégé, being praised every single day. This, unfortunately, made Albedo develop a prideful nature and his close minded views on the galaxy, as he rarely was ever put down or critiqued. His ego also got a bit of a boost when the great Azmuth took notice of him, and made him his assistant, and while he loved it at first, some issues started to arise when Azmuth wasn't like the other Galvans who praised Albedo to no end. That isn't to say Azmuth never complimented him and liked his work, but he was an honest man who knew no one was perfect, and especially wasn't going to worship someone, knowing what kind of ego that could make in someone. It doesn't help that Albedo just can't understand what Azmuth sees in Ben, and how the two bond, despite Ben's young careless nature, and being human. It ends up making Albedo want a lot more from Azmuth, the man he looks up too, and when he's denied that he eventually turns his back on the First Thinker. Azmuth can only hope that being able to turn into other aliens, and being stuck as human, will teach Albedo that Galvans, including himself, aren't what make the galaxy function.

Azmuth is typically one of the must unfazed people you'll ever meet.

Given most Galvans have an issue of seeing themselves as the top race, Azmuth is kind of fond of Blukic and Driba for being very open and helpful to outsiders, and was even the one to suggest them to join the Plumbers.

Zenith and Azmuth too meet up again eventually, and while they don't get back together, they do make amends.

Azmuth was fairly small for a Galvan for a long time, until he finally hit his growth spurt late into his teen years, something his sister use to tease him over.

Greymatter's DNA mostly comes from Azmuth, meaning Ben actually looks like a Azmuth when he was young, his family having made comments about Ben being his "Clone".

-Divi-

Here we have the twin sister of Azmuth, Divi. A dry wit, no nonsense, sarcastic and feisty single mother of her three chaotic sons. Unlike Azmuth's father and nephews, she was something I had to completely make up from the spot, since Azmuth was said to have nephews, that meant he had to have a sibling, so it was fun to create someone with an interesting dynamic with Azmuth. She is, after all, one of the few people to exhibit some of those petty family squabbles out of him. So I hope you enjoy her and her sons.

As mentioned before, Azmuth and her went through rebellious phases after some downfall in their family life, with Divi jumping around jobs and never settling for one, and even dating another Galvan that neither Azmuth or Retaliator approved off. When Azmuth first left Galvan Prime to go into hiding, Divi and her boyfriend had still been dating. However, when he finally came home, he found the boyfriend to be gone, and Divi now a single mother to three sons. Azmuth never got a clear story what happened to the boyfriend, but he knows that the break up was nasty, and that the boyfriend isn't on Galvan Prime anymore.

Sometime after Divi had her children, she eventually settled for a job in the nursery/incubation centre on Galvan Prime, looking after eggs and newly hatched tadpoles before they go home with their parents.

Divi is quite a blunt and honest woman, who has no time for dragging things on, and while she may sound harsh, she ends up just wanting the best for people. In fact her open nature of speech is how she gets people to listen and see reason.

Her and Azmuth had a...bit of a dysfunctional relationship growing up. Azmuth was actually a slow learning when he was young, and Divi had a habit of picking on him. They did eventually mallow out, until tragedy struck their family and they entered their rebel phases, and the bickering and arguing come from both sides. They have made up since Azmuth returned, but the two have their squabbles here and there, but they're mostly just playful banter or family habits.

Her and Myaxx get along quite well, and the two like hanging out with each other.

She's also fond of Ben since meeting him, and the two like chatting whenever he plays with her sons, he's even babysat for her a few times.

She has no interest in dating again anytime soon, and is proud to be a single mother.

She's the one who points out Azmuth and Ben's family like roles to each other often, mostly due to the fact that she understands what a paternal feeling is like, and because she's blunt about it.

She got her wisdom feet first out of her and Azmuth growing up.

While Azmuth was off in hiding, Divi reconnected with his father when looking after to him after surgery. So, unlike Azmuth, she mostly just calls him father and dad.

-Trapez, Cieven & Aegls-

The three mischievous nephews, sons and grandsons of the family. Left to right, Trapez, Cieven & Aegls, who are the triplets of Divi. The three are like glue, and are often playing or up to little tricks, creating chaos around Galvan Prime. While they mostly look the same and are all tricksters, they do have personality differences. Trapez is the best when it comes to emotions and the phycology behind it, something most Galvans struggle with, and can come across as the kindest of the three. Cieven has a lot of traits from Divi and Azmuth, being fairly intelligent and wanting to be a lot like his uncle someday, though does have some of their sarcastic nature as well. Aegls is the most energetic of the three, hype up often and quick with crafting and thinking of ideas. When you combine all three together, you get a force of endless chaos.

Their mother has been honest to them about who their father is, and why he isn't around, but the three have grown up fine without him, and will forever be grateful for the work their mother put into caring for them.

They were born while Azmuth was away, and so have been building up hype about their missing uncle for most of their lives, enough so that when Azmuth did come back, they all tackled hugged him while he was still understanding the idea that he was now in fact an uncle.

They love Ben and the Omnitrix, roping Ben into some of their pranks and shenanigans, and while Ben mostly tries to stare them into the right direction, he can't help himself half the time and joins in on the chaos, much to Azmuth and Divi's dismay.

They do become a part of my Ben 10 Next Gen Series, given Galvans take forever to age, and will finally be young tweens when the Next Gen takes place.

The three each have different dream jobs for the future. Trapez wants to be a psychiatrist or doctor, Cieven wants to be an inventor, and Aegls was to deal with energy based matters like his grandfather once did.

Never give these kids sugar or coffee, it will end badly.

The three...had a bad encounter with Malware during his rampage, and for a while were scared around Galvanic Mechamorphs...They get over it eventually, but Malware does haunt them for a long while.

They once picked up some colourful language from Azmuth and Myaxx when overhearing them once. You can imagine how Divi took that.

-The First Thinker Family-

The traumatic event that struck the family was in fact the death of Azmuth and Divi's mother, who was killed by someone who was after Galvan Tech. The family fell apart after that, with Retaliator falling into a deep depression and being distant from his kids, and Azmuth and Divi going wild in their teen/young adult years to distract themselves from the grief. They've all come together now and have been taking the proper sets to honor her memory, and become a family again.

While no one has outright said it, Ben has kind of become part of this little family in a few ways, and after a while Azmuth stops being survived when the boy shows up for family dinners or game nights.

They all live on Galvan Prime, though Retaliator is known to take trips here and there around the galaxy, wanting to see more of it during his retirement.

On the outside, many Galvans treat the family as there wise people, who have sage advice. And while that isn't wrong, once you get to know them they're a very chaotic family...

#Hope you enjoy what I've done with Azmuth's character and his family #I just really want to get across how I think he should have gone #Ben 10 #ben 10 omniverse #ben 10 ultimate alien #ben 10 alien force #Azmuth #Ben 10 Azmuth #Ben 10 OCs #Ben 10 Destroy All Aliens #My art #Ben 10 Rewrite #ben 10 redesign

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heyheydidjaknow · 3 years

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Hiya! I have a request for an x reader songfic. Snap out of it by the Arctic monkeys gives me so many 2012 Donnie vibes. Maybe one where the reader is in love with Donnie but he likes April and the reader wants Donnie to, you know, "snap out of it" and notice that maybe April isn't the best person towards him. It can end in unrequited love or with a happy ending, that's for you to decide but I just really want to see this concept. Thanks! :>

(feel free to ignore this request if you want 👁️👁️)

Oh, I’m not about to turn away a chance to be pushed out into foreign territory. I admittedly hadn’t known what a songfic was until wikipedia and @kunimikat saved my ass, so this was fun-- and a bit scary-- to write. I hope you like it, even if it might not have been exactly what you were expecting.

April was your friend. She had been for a while, now, since she had moved to NYC. The two of you had come even closer after her kidnapping and initiation into the “Hamato Clusterfuck” as you had affectionately called it at first—you had wisely made a conscious effort to only get involved with them as far as you could throw them, sticking solidly to offering emotional support and half-decent food. At the beginning, you had, on multiple occasions, even begged her to stay out of it, trying to reason with her that getting herself killed by a psychotic armored man with an axe to grind for the crime of hanging out with four teenage shut-ins was an incredibly bad idea. When your logical arguments fell on deaf ears—her owing them apparently being her ball and chain—you had designated yourself as her supervisor to make sure she did not do something overly impulsive. She was reckless, overly trusting, immature, but you loved her like a sister. You balanced each other out.

One of the benefits of knowing someone for so long is that you learn things about them that they do not know about themselves. In April’s case, it had been that she was terrible at making up her mind

What's been happenin' in your world?

You had borne witness to the love triangle transpiring between Donatello Hamato, Casey Jones and her for the better part of a year now. You were relieved that the two boys had backed off each other’s throats somewhat over the period, but it was as infuriating as it was fascinating to watch them fight over her like a chew toy. Of course, April had her preference between the two, favoring the hockey player mainly for his general normalcy, which was a decision you could approve of, but she had hesitated until recently to make that obvious to the other point because, in her words, “The last thing I want is to deal with is all of that awkwardness.” You could hardly blame her for her hesitation, but you thought it almost cruel not to make her feelings apparent to her lovestruck puppy.

What have you been up to?

Donnie was the most tolerable of the five, the most normal in your opinion. He was an infatuated, insecure teenage boy with more an affinity towards machines and, best of all, seemed concerned for your friend, all things that you could get on board with. In your opinion, overbearingness is preferable to negligence in this case, and you were just happy that someone physically capable had her back. As such, when you were stuck at the lair for hours waiting for her lessons with Splinter to be over—you were her ride—you found yourself spending the most time around him, and as time went on, you started going out of your way to do so.

Seeing as April and Casey were your only other friends, it was natural you would get romantically attached. They—a couple by high school standards—approved of your crush, and all you told your guardian(s) was that they were smart, fit, and financially responsible, so they asked few questions.

You knew, logically, this was not a competition and that April had little interest in him.

But something about the way he gazed at her made you burn green with envy.

I heard that you fell in love, or near enough.

His eyes were just so… wistfully longing. He watched as the redhead and her boyfriend played against Michelangelo and Raphael in a game of charades. His expression was just so soft, lips pursing and popping silently as he grieved from his seat in his lab.

It had been a downhill spiral on your end from there, and as your own attachment grew for him, his own depression worsened. Your eyes drifted from your friend as you tried to make him see that, no, the world was not ending because his first crush did not like him back. You would make subtle comments about how happy his brothers were, how happy she and Casey were together, how smart he was and how many people would die for a kind, loving, smart guy to come around and sweep them off their feet. This, again, fell on deaf ears; he would always comment on how, if he were such a catch, April would not have chosen Casey, like It is his fault for her having more of a taste in cocky, fun-loving guys than intelligent ones. Half of it was probably your lack of experience in subtlety, but no matter what you would try to say, whenever romance came up in conversation, his words turned sharp and bitter.

On that day, you just cracked.

I gotta tell you the truth.

You walked over to the lab door, closing it in a single fluid motion. ‘I’m better at being blunt, anyways.’

He blinked; his trance was interrupted by the small slam.

“She’s not into you.”

“Huh?”

You crossed the room and placed your hand on the desk, expression stern and stone cold. “April,” you repeat. “She’s not interested.”

He did not meet your gaze. “You don’t know that.”

“I do, actually.” You leaned down to look him in the eye. “You aren’t her type. You’re supposed to be smart.” You placed the other on the back of his chair, arms cagging him in, almost. “ She has a boyfriend,” you continued, softer. “You know that, right?”

“I do.” He tapped the side of his thumb against the table absently, throat tight. “But what else do you suppose I do? Submit to the fact that I’ll be alone forever?” He looked up at you. “I know this may be hard for you to believe,” he continued, easily slipping out from under your arms, “but I don’t exactly have a ton of options. She’s the only person who’s ever looked at me like that; how am I supposed to move on from the only person who’s ever even given me a chance?”

I wanna grab both your shoulders and shake, baby.

You rolled your eyes, turning to watch him as he crossed to the other side of the room. “That is some blatant bullshit,” you glared curtly.

“Is it, though?” His back was to you as he crouched down in front of his centrifuge, fiddling with it. “As someone who’s never—”

“So help me, if you go off about me not understanding being rejected and feeling like they’d die alone, I’ll rip your tongue out.” You stood back up properly.

“What would you know about it?” He followed suit, eyes locking on yours. “You have other people to choose from.”

“And you don’t?” You crossed your arms, smiling incredulously. “How do we differ, exactly?”

“Besides the obvious?”

You scoffed. “You’ve seen your brothers. Never stopped them.”

“And I’m happy for them, that they’re so charismatic as to be able to find partners so easily.” You could taste the bitterness in his words. “But I’m not them, in case you didn’t notice. That girl out there?” He pointed to the door. “She’s the first and only person in the universe who’s ever given me a second glance.”

“So you’re just fucking blind, now?” You heard your voice rise without your input.

“What’re you talking about?” His voice grew with yours.

“You’re lovesick,” you spat. “Snap out of it.”

Snap out of it.

You ran your fingers through your hair. “Or maybe you’re just dense.” You felt a laugh rise in your throat. “I mean,” you gestured, “clearly picking up on verbal subtext isn’t your forte.”

You gave him five seconds. “What,” you continued, rubbing your face with your hands, “Are you—” You stopped. “You are, aren’t you?”

Nothing.

You took a slow breath, hearing your heartbeat in your ears. “Let me put it in simple, plain English for you.”

I get the feelin' I left it too late, but baby—

“As her friend? You’re a fucking creep.” You crossed your arms across your chest. “Following her the way you did—wait your turn—” A finger interrupted his defense. “Following her the way you did? Objectively creepy. Staring at her all the time? Also fucking creepy.” You felt your nails dig into your skin. “Any person would call it as it is.”

He opened his mouth again to argue. You did not interrupt him this time, but he did not argue, the silence falling like a weighted blanket over the two of you.

“As your friend,” you continued, voice lowered, “as someone who cares about you, I know April, and she can’t give you what you want. It’s not her; she needs to be free, and I love her, but you’re looking for something that’s just not there.” Your voice was certain. “You’re looking for someone to spend your life with. I’m right, aren’t I?”

Snap out of it.

He was still for a moment, looking off into the ether. He nodded, face melancholy.

You walked over, resting a hand on his shoulder tentatively. “I’m not saying it’s stupid of you to not be over her. Again, I love her to bits, so I see the appeal.” You broke eye contact, trying to articulate exactly what you meant. “But I’m worried,” you explained slowly, “you’re only hung up on her because you’re scared of being alone. That’s not fair to her or yourself.”

“Do you know that?”

“No,” you admitted easily, “but you and I are the same way, and trust me, I’ve been around the heartbreak block.” You smiled, trying to relieve the tension.

That earned a chuckle. A small one, but a chuckle none the less.

You reached up, cupping his cheek in your hand. “There are seven billion people on this planet. Any one of them—myself included—would be lucky to have a life with you.”

If that watch don’t continue to swing—

A pause.

“Do you honestly believe that?”

You nodded, your thumb running along the line of his eye socket. “I do.”

—or the fat lady fancies havin' a sing—

You leaned forward, pressing your lips against his cheek gently.

—I'll be here, waitin' ever so patiently—

“Y/N!” You pulled back as you heard April calling your name. “We need a moderator!”

You started back towards the door, waving gently. “I wish you good tidings, Donatello.” You smiled quietly, serenity itself standing in the doorway. “May whoever is fortunate enough to call you their own bring you happiness. You deserve it.” You slipped out of his lab, running over to break them up.

Donatello rested his fingers on where your mouth had lit his skin. He felt a bittersweet smile fade onto his face.

—for you to snap out of it.

And that was when it began.

List of Works

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doctor-plagueis · 3 years

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RWBY Booty Tier List

Hi I said it would happen so now it's gonna happen, time to rate asses and explain why I gave them that rating...

(also they are in order from flattest to phattest)

[This took way too long (T-T) ]

Starting with D TIER Aka Flat as fuck

Raven: Ya go to the lowest tier in D tier ya all-tits-no-ass having ass, you deadbeat fucko (I really don't like parents who leave their children, how'd you guess?).

Weiss : Sorry girl but even with all your dance training, your Sperm donor's DNA is in you, if it was just your mom's DNA you'd rocket up to A TIER, still more ass than Raven tho, which says a lot about Raven since Weiss is as flat as a wooden plank (sorry @naughtyweiss your girl has no ass).

All of team NDGO: these bitches show up once or twice, and, in the novels they do something bad? I didn't read it, but they like sacrifice some people to the Grimm or something? Anyways they have almost no ass too little to actually matter.

C TIER Aka Too much muscle

Pyrrha : Sorry unbeatable girl your life style is just too healthy, with all her exercises and no fat foods she has no cushioning, I'm sorry Pyrrha you just have too much muscle.

Reese : With all her skating she must have some muscle in the back, like literally, her muscles are trained to keep her on the board during combat so her ass is super firm, but that's a bit of a downside since it's too firm, kinda hard actually like really hard.

Also she gives me party animal girl vibes, that doesn't affect anything just thought I'd mention it.

Elm: Have you seen how tall and beefy that girl is? Now does this affect her backside...mmm...kind of? Her ass is just and, I mean just muscle which is bad because no cushioning.

But her thighs tho mm~mm delicious.

Yang : Yang is all about her upper body, she's proud of her tits and her arms, she is Miss "punch first ask later" after all, so i can actually see her skipping some leg days, like Reese her booty is alot of muscle but not so much cushion, sorry Yang.

Arslan : Like Yang, Arslan is all about working out and honing her body to peak physical fighting ability, however, this girl has genetics on her side, her tits aren't as big as Yang’s however, she make up for having a tentsy little bit of cushion for the pushin' not really enough to be B TIER though.

B TIER Aka Now were gettin' good

Penny Ver.2 : Penny Version 1 was pure metal (at least in my headcanon) so she was all legs no butt, however, Penny Version 2 (again in my headcanon) had synthetic skin, now I'm not saying Pietro is some weird pervert giving his child a fat ass, but he was "generous" which was inaccurate as...

Penny (human) : Penny as a human never had the chance to exercise [fuck you RT (T-T)], so her booty was a little lacking but it was still bigger and rounder than her robot body.

Ruby: Now you and I both know that with all the sweets Ruby eats she isn't exactly thin, good thing though is all the fat goes to her ass, Ruby has that fatty y'all!

Neo : I'm sure people will question this one but, Neo's height is a detrement on her ass, since she's so short her ass has to be proportional to her actual height, so for women her height she has so much ass but compared to the others in this list it isn't as much.

Coco: Coco takes care of her fashion and her body. She does squats often and keeps a balance between fat and firmness. Unfortunately genetics gave her a cute face but not a phat ass, sorry queen.

Summer: Same as Ruby except she has that MILFY boost to her hips and booty (she also has bigger tits but, oh well this isn't the Titty Tier list so...).

Winter : Training for the military helped null the taint of Jacques DNA in her, so she took a bit more of her mother’s blessed genes, her ass isn't exactly impressive like the girls in A TIER but it's nothing to scoff at either, unlike her sister (sorry Weissey).

Miltiades "Miltia" : both sisters wear heels, however, Miltia has bigger boobs than her twin while Mel has a bigger booty, still wearing heels and being as acrobatic as they both are requires a lot of lower body training, and also since they work at a club as security they do know how to seduce people, and that did affected their rating.

A TIER Aka Nearly perfectly fuckable

Harriet : Now to be one hundred percent honest Harriet has more thighs than ass, however, with her focus on speed and the training she does, she must have a nice fuckable ass, not the biggest or roundest but really, really nice.

Melanie: Both sisters are guards for Junior's club, but, I like to think that Mel also works as a Stripper or Lap dancer (Hooker if you got enough to buy her services and have a dick big enough, she's a bit of a size queen), so she worked on making her already fat ass even better and also took the time to hone her sex appeal, those being her twerking and lapdancing.

Velvet : Bunny gal has some phat Bunny Buns if ya catch my meaning, like go back to volume 3 and get a good look at her costume, girl's got hips and ass like she was bred for it!

Willow: Have you seen her in the newest volumes?? She has a chance (admittedly small) against the legendary bellabooties Gahtdayum!

Too bad she wasted it with a nearly sterile fucking shit pile of a human like Jacques, ugh... (How he managed to have 3 children baffles me, must've taken half the world’s supply of Viagra)

[Side note our favorite Schnee femboy took after his mom, if he was on the list he'd be just below Harriet hehe].

A+ TIER Candidates for the Bubble Booty Brigade (BBB)

Glynda : Glynda is a professional huntress, she is a teacher and she's decked out in dominatrix gear, can I make it any clearer?

Salem : Salem is the original MILF, the thiccest witch of remnant , and also, she has magic and is technically a monster girl sooo... that gives her extra points (who would've guessed I like monster girls hehe).

The next entry might be blasphemous for some and for that I apologize but...

Blake and Kali : I'm sorry kitties, even though the belabooties are know world wide they are not yet in the BBB. Blake has the firmer booty because of her time in the Fang but Kali has the MILF bonus.

Because of their similarities and their diferences they tie for top of A+ tier.

S TIER The BUBBLE BOOTY BRIGADE

The three heavenly asses of remnant, only three girl stand a top the mountain of the perfect Bubble Booty and they are in order...

May Zedong : May has been depicted by the fandom as being really curvy, especially the cow udders she calls breasts, however she hides her curves under her clothes. The same applies to the fucking badonk she hides in her baggy pants, so much so in fact, that May should be number two of the BBB but because she's so shy about her body she's demoted to number three, still, being a member of the Brigade is a blesing of itself.

Emerald Sustrai : As stated in the previous entry Em should be number three, but because May is so shy and Emerald isn't they swaped places. Em is number two because of one singular thing, she knows her ass is her best atribute, and she fucking flaunts it, she knows she can make men and futas pitch tents, and make women stare like horndogs just by walking past them. Not only that, but she wear clothes that accentuate her ass from short shorts to miniskirts, she knows how to make anyone undeserving cream themselves just by swaying her hips a little and winking. Her seduction skills boosted her above everyone else except one.

NORA VALKYRIE THE ONE TRUE BUBBLE BOOTY OF REMNANT

Every single step a jiggle, every single jump or tiny hop and the world stops to stare, every time she passes by jaws hit the floor, every man woman and futa either wants Nora or wants to be Nora.

Nora's voluptuous cheeks are legendary and the worst part of it all is: She does know the effect she has on people, and she gives zero shits about it.

Because no one is worthy of her divine ass cheeks, except for two men: Jaune Arc and Lie Ren.

She's found her studs the ones who care for her, love her, give her the world AND the ones who have huge bitch breaking cocks to fuck her into the sheets like rutting animals.Every.Single.Night.

Every day of her life is one big teasing session for her studs, she purposefully wear skirts just short enough to see the glorious bounce, she always finds excuses to bend over, she sits on their laps as often as possible.

Just so she can have the mind blowing three ways she has every night.

All hail Booty Queen Nora Valkyrie.

Now everyone thank you for being patient this was something i spent a few days writing (like 3-4 days) and I only wrote this for that time so I hope y'all like it.

Some chacters are missing I know, but I really am comfortable with how it is now.

As always this SHOULD NOT AFFECT YOUR WRITING.

This was a thought experiment of mine, and like I always say in this sort of thing WRITE HOW YOU WANT TO WRITE I hope this was clear.

Thanks for reading and please if you so desire share it with friends.

But for now see ya!

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degenerate-otaku · 3 years

Note

Au where the androids in trunks time arint evil anymore so the three of them just hang out for the rest of their lives time traveling with trunks to save the day after they realised what their doing is wrong somehow cause we need happier times

Hey! I took this in a slightly different direction since I just go with the flow.

I hope you enjoy it though ♡

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

It had been almost a year since the androids had come to an agreement to end their destruction. In some ways it was an anticlimactic ending to an almost 17 year battle. A part of me still wants to bring Gohan justice by destroying them, but that may just be my Saiyan side. I know that Gohan always did his best to be like his father and forgive others, so maybe he'd understand.

It's been a difficult journey, no doubt about it. To keep the androids happy, as well as the people of earth, who probably have not forgiven 17 and 18 and want nothing more to see them dead, I tend to go out with them, just to make sure there are no problems. The androids have to disguise themselves to not be recognised, which isn't too hard since they are incredibly inconspicuous (apart from 17 perhaps, who seems like the type of kid to be stealing and causing havoc anyway). Usually, it's just a case of them hiding their eyes, since that's how people can recognise them.

“Trunks, you really need to brush up on fashion.” 18 remarked as she sipped at her drink. I snapped out of my thoughts immediately, which often consume me.

“Huh? What do you mean?” I was rather offended by her comment but I kept my face and tone neutral.

“Well...you don't have many outfits...and the ones you do have are...” She looked me up and down and continued, “A little...dated to say the least.”

Before I could respond, 17, who was riding on his skateboard as he slurped at his soda interrupted, “Trunks, you look like that guy from that movie 'Back to the Future'.”

I had no clue on what he meant, since I've never seen that movie, but it seemed like no matter what I would say, they'd always have a comeback.

It had always been like that, so what was I expecting?

“Well, we are right outside a mall.” I knew what she was suggesting immediately.

'How convenient' I thought to myself.

“Sis, your shopping trips take whole days!”

I almost laughed at what 17 had said, but held back.

“Shut up! You spend all day in the arcade like a little kid! Plus, you need new clothes too!” 18 poked her brother in the chest, asserting her authority. It's so strange to see 17 shaken like that. As a kid he seemed unmoved by everything, just like his sister.

“Ugh, whatever.” He sighed, throwing the empty cup of soda in the trash.

Strolling casually within the recently rebuilt mall, which my mother helped to fund, 18 finally found a store that she thought had good items for us.

“This place looks lame!” 17 sneered at all the rather classy looking shirts and pants.

“If you're gonna be a brat, go to Hot Topic!” 18 retorted, pointing to the store she was referencing.

“Bitch, I AM the Hot Topic!” 17 loudly declared, walking off. I wasn't sure on how much money he had. The androids liked living large, and still did so, despite my mother not being so pleased about it. She told me once on how it was like she now had three teenage brats but then she realised I was right there and said that I wasn't a brat, though I know I was when I was younger.

“Now that he's out of the way...” 18 sighed, adjusting her hair, before pulling out a shirt from a rack.

“What do you think?” She asked, holding up a blue T-shirt that said something in Japanese.

“See, you gotta stop hiding those muscles! I've seen them up close and I know normal girls will faint over that, especially with your skin tone.”

My cheeks felt hot when she said that and I began to stammer, “W-well..I don't think it's for me...uh, I...don't like showing my arms.” I looked down at the glossy marble floor, and felt her gaze pierce me.

“What, because of those scars?” She scoffed and I looked up at her, not knowing how to react.

“They aren't that bad. Plus...girls like guys who have feelings and have been through stuff.” I didn't get what she meant.

“For a person who hates humans, you sure do understand them.” I don't know why I said that. She frowned and then just moved on, after putting the blue shirt in the basket, whether I liked it or not.

“So...” She tried to steer the conversation back onto clothes, “What do you like wearing anyway?”

“Well...mostly loose, comfortable stuff.” I answered.

“Yeah, like that sweater and pants you used to wear all the time when you were like...what, 13? 14?”

Why had she remembered that?

“Yeah...I have a lot of those kinda outfits.” She walked along to another aisle and I followed, not noticing that there were a few girls looking at me and giggling.

“What made you pick this one? The whole...jacket and vest combo. You wore a similar thing when we beat your ass a year or two ago...wasn't that in the ruins of this mall?”

I felt pain thinking about that. I was a fool, admittedly for going there to try fight them, but I've grown a lot since then.

“Oh...yeah, the light blue jacket and white shirt...uh, I guess I think it looks cool..especially with the sword-”

“Ughhh, what is it with men and their little toys, I've got my brother with his stupid gun, and you with that sword!” She groaned. “They're pointless!”

“Well...technically, my sword has a point-” I smirked.

“Wow, I thought you were incapable of jokes.” She replied, then pulled out a sweatshirt for me. It was a simple grey colour with a logo on it.

“Girls also like guys who dress casual...but that sorta depends. This and some nice loose jeans would look good on you, though you'd need better shoes.” I was rather astonished at how she was able to make so many combinations and knew what would look good on me, but then I realised something.

“Why do you keep trying to find outfits that would attract girls?”

She rolled her eyes at my question.

“Well, c'mon you're almost an adult and you haven't got a girlfriend! Wait...are you gay?”

I blushed hard. “What? Well, I dunno! I haven't really thought about it...”

“I'm just trying to help you find someone.” She smiled, trying to find a price tag on some shoes.

“Wait a sec, I'll ask someone about this.” She left me standing near the basket and as I fixed my hair in while I looked in the mirror, two girls came up to me.

“Hey, uh, you're cute...can I have your number?” One said and I was unsure of what to say. I didn't want to be rude, but I wasn't sure I wanted to talk to them.

“Well, uh, you see-” My brain suddenly seemed to fail me.

“He's taken.” Suddenly, 18 reappeared and out of nowhere kissed me before dragging me by the arm.

“Hey! What was that?!” The kiss was only for a split second but I was so confused.

“Wait, was I your first kiss?” She laughed.

“N-no!” I folded my arms and didn't look at her directly.

“If I didn't know better you wanted it to last longer, hm?”

“WHAT?!” I exclaimed, losing my cool.

“Hey, I'm just messing with you...I just had to get you out of there-” She picked up the basket and walked over to the queue, her hips swaying prominently

“The kiss was unnecessary!”

“You're the first man ever to reject a kiss from me.” She sounded bewildered and I gave up trying.

We exited the store with two bags of clothes and 17 had a bag of his own stuff too.

“So, mind telling me what that was?” 17 inquired and even 18 blushed a little.

"Aww, what an adorable couple!“ He mocked, laughing hard at his own jokes.

”Shut it, bonehead! That meant nothing!“ She scolded him and I don't know why I felt hurt by that.

”I was just trying to make him look good for once, but I really couldn't care less!“ She continued and I wondered if she had even meant what she said about my scars.

For the rest of the day I couldn't stop thinking about that moment. It's stupid of me, I know. I'm so fucking awkward I can't handle a girl talking to me, and when a person I hated growing up does it to me, I want it to happen again, to feel that kinda jolt down my body.

But I guess I won't.

#dbz #dragon ball z #dragon ball #trunks #future trunks #trunks briefs #android 17 #android18 #fanfiction #dbz fanfiction #thanks for the ask!#fic request #enemies to friends to lovers

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hargrove-mayfields · 3 years

Text

Lover, Lover, Number 9

Second day of HWOL!! Today’s prompt was Love Potion!! Read here or on my ao3 @ej_writer

Word Count: 4,593

Rating: T

Warnings: Non-Consensual Touching (Pretty much blink and you miss it and very non-explicit. It happens while a person(s) is under the influence of a love potion.)

It’s all Max’s fault, honest.

For the week leading up to Valentine’s Day, Billy’s been trying to pick the best person to be his date. Not that Valentine’s was really that important to him, per se, but he’d made a bet.

His step sister, the little brat, had made a wager that if he didn’t have himself a date by the fourteenth of February, he’d be forced to drive her everywhere she wanted to go for a whole year.

There was no way he was about to fork over that much of his time to some snotty middle schoolers, but finding someone he’s willing to go out with, a condition of Max’s bet was that it couldn’t just be a hookup, ended up being a lot harder than he anticipated.

Before he knew it, there were only two days left before he either got a date, or subjected himself to the dweeb-orama gang.

He tried to ask Carol, since Tommy dumped her right before the big day and she seemed to be into him, or at least how his ass looked in his jeans, but she tells him she doesn’t want to deal with the drama. So he tries Tommy, but he wants commitment and feels like Billy’s just in it to best Max, which, yeah, he sort of is. Everyone else follows the same pattern, can’t keep up with his reputation, can’t trust him in a relationship, on and on and on.

It’s over breakfast one morning, as he groggily makes him and his sister both a bowl of cereal, that Max asks him, “Why don’t you just ask Steve?”

Billy acts unphased, doesn’t even bother to look at her. “Steve who?”

“C’mon stupid.” His sister rolls her eyes and drags a bowl over towards herself. “Everyone knows you like Steve Harrington.”

“Do not.” He shovels a mouthful of cereal in his mouth.

“Right. Lemme guess, you don’t eat like a pig either?”

“Very funny.” He fixes her with a glare. “I’m serious shitbird, just because I like him doesn’t mean I like him.”

She nods and agrees. “Sure.”

“And just because he's nice to me doesn’t mean I have to have the hots for him.”

“If you insist.” Her bottom lip juts out as she agrees with overemphasis.

“What is your problem?” He snaps.

“I’m just agreeing with you. You don’t like Steve Harrington.” There’s a mischievous smile darkening her sweet face as she tells him matter-of-factly, “But, if you’re really desperate, I know a way to get him to like you.”

And Billy already knows what she means, of course the little shit would suggest something like that. “Nuh-uh. No way, I am not using magic.”

“Why not? Clearly you need it.”

“Because I can do it on my own, brat. Just don’t want to.” He's too defensive for it to not be true and they both know it, so before he lets a thirteen year old do anymore damage to his ego, he adds, “Can't deal with your bull this early.”

Max looks at him all smug like, her eyebrows raised as she hides a knowing smile behind her cereal bowl, but she does let it go, if not just to watch her step brother stew in silent annoyance. She’d gotten under his skin so easy, and she thought it was funny.

Her step brother, on the other hand, does not, and narrows his eyes at her, practically snarling at the look on her face. “Shut up.”

“I wasn’t even saying anything!” She bites back.

Billy grumbles and dumps his bowl in the sink, and leaves to his room to avoid babysitting his sister.

He’s starting to realize that Max had set him up. The real reason she made the stupid bet wasn’t to torture him with driving her and her nerds around, but because she thought she could hook him up with Steve.

But that doesn’t matter, because he's not pining after Steve Harrington, no matter what his little sister says.

Sure, Steve had invited him over to his place a few times, but that was just a courtesy since they were friends from basketball. And it didn’t matter that he happened to be the prettiest boy Billy ever laid eyes on, with his soft hair the color of chestnut and his doe eyes just as dark, and his long nose and his pretty red lips and-

Okay, maybe he was a little into Harrington, but again, he wasn’t going out with his best friend just because his step sister dared him to.

He can’t just call the bet off, but he’s not willing to lose either. The clock was ticking, Valentine’s Day getting closer and closer, so he’d just have to settle on somebody soon.

Admittedly, it would make things a lot easier just to cheap out and use magic, after all, he’d been trying and failing to get a date for weeks, but that could be dangerous, and Billy’s been barred from using his powers for a few years now anyways.

His father was ashamed to have a freak for a son, so ever since Max and her mother came around, he wasn’t actually supposed to use any magic at all anymore, not even for the most insignificant of things. Hell, with how tight of a leash Neil kept on him, his step sister wasn’t even technically supposed to know he’d inherited the knack from his mother.

He doesn’t really listen to that rule, but there’s no way for Neil to keep tabs on that kind of thing, so he still puts a charm on his and his sisters bedroom doors every night to keep unwanted guests out, and he still uses spells for his convenience whenever he can get away with it.

In all honesty, he could do without that stuff. Incantations were boring, spells were too basic. His favorite, the one thing he misses having the liberty to do, that’s got to be potions.

Before his mother’d left him behind, ran off to live the uninhibited life of a free spirit every witch dreamed of having, she had been very proud that Billy had taken after her in his powers, and in his skill for potion making especially.

They would make them together a lot of the time, huddled up down in the basement when his dad wasn’t home so she could show him the ropes and teach him all the recipes she knew.

He’d caught on real quick, well enough that she didn’t need to hover after the first few attempts at one type. Sometimes he wishes he’d been less proficient for just a little longer, so she’d have had a reason to stay and keep helping him.

Among their most common to make though were potions of luck and protection, elixirs, anything positive really. His mother may have also, on occasion, made a more powerful potion, one to keep under the pillows, in a flask on her hip, to spike her husband's coffee with every morning, just so Neil couldn’t hurt her or her son, but Billy was sworn to secrecy on that one.

Under his bed he still had a trunk full to bursting with everything of his mothers’ he had been able to keep, including their already prepared potions. Rows and rows of intricate crystal bottles, some still full to the top while others had only a few drops left, depending on how useful they were, all neatly displayed along with the rest of the memories of his mother.

She absolutely never allowed him to make anything dangerous, the first thing she ever taught him was to always keep hate out of his magic, so she’d let him practice more complicated and powerful potions with something a little less destructive.

Something like love potions.

It becomes his sort of trademark, the earthy smell of rose hips and cinnamon clinging to his skin from hours bent over their big cauldron they kept stored away. Even now, without having brewed anything for almost a year since they’d moved houses, it still lingered, like an aura.

They made up for some of his best work, the hardest of the love potions coming easier to him than the easiest of the medicinal ones. The best he’d ever made was a platonic love potion that his mom let him use the teensiest drop of to stop a fight between his friends at school, and to this day he was still proud of that one.

His mom had always said it made sense that that would be where he excelled, loving with his whole heart was just in his nature, and his craft was the reflection of that. In the same sense, it comes as no surprise when he’d stopped being able to brew anything stronger than potpourri after she’d walked out on him and broke that big heart right in two.

He didn’t know if keeping every of the potions that he made was genuinely because of their potential usefulness, like he tried to convince himself, or if it was a way to hold onto a time when he was still good at what he did. A time when he was happy.

Were he going to use one of those potions he kept stashed away, as Max had not so subtly suggested, he knows exactly which one he would choose. Not number six, not number twenty-seven, he would need number nine.

Not that he would, because he refuses to use his magic for petty relationships. Yet another thing his mom had drilled into him from the start was to never use his gift to take advantage of other people.

But then another day passes, and Billy's got to at least consider it, if not only for the sake of him not having to provide chauffeuring services to his least favorite bratpack.

In all reality, it wouldn’t be so bad to date Steve, he was nice enough and cute enough, but he feels they were sort of of the same polarity. They could get along just fine now, but there was some force, some energy between the two that kept them apart.

For every step they take forward, say, Steve agreeing to keep his magical secret from the moment they met, they have to take one back.

That fact had been well established in his mind since the moment he noticed himself making heart eyes; he and Steve just weren’t going to work out. Not after months of oblivious pigtail pulling, not after pushing Steve out of his own social circle, and definitely not after their fist fight in November.

Billy thinks he takes rejection from Tommy and Carol and everyone else in stride, but Steve wasn’t like them. The relationship they already had teetered on the line between rivals and friends, always one argument away from going back to that place, and Billy’s unwilling to lose that constant.

Of course, he wouldn’t have to worry about rejection and ruining friendships if he used magic.

But that was wrong. Number 9 was the strongest of the strong. It was said that it was powerful enough to make oil and water mix, but even then its effects only lasted for exactly twenty minutes. The jig’d be up quick, and his pretty boy would be right back to hating him.

There was always the slightest chance too that it were brewed just right, and Steve would love him forever, the bond that would form between them the moment he drank from Billy’s magic maybe enough to last, despite their differences. It wasn’t guaranteed to turn out bad, so maybe, just maybe, he’d give it a shot.

Godammit, had Max gotten in his head.

~~~~~

Billy knows he’s an idiot, a complete and total dumbass for showing up to the party with a crystal vial in his pocket, but he can’t help it.

There’s no guarantee he’s even going to use it, it’s just in his pocket as a sort of security blanket. He doesn’t even catch a glimpse of Steve anywhere among the crowd, so he sees no harm in it.

Well, at least not until someone, he’d have to guess it was Tommy, slips a hand into the pocket of Billy’s jacket, apparently able to sense a bottle from a mile away, and steals it. Like it’s just his own secret stash of alcohol instead of the most powerful piece of magic he’d sure as hell ever owned, let alone to have ever been used in Hawkins, a traditionalist town known for its distinct lack of witchcraft.

Only he doesn’t notice that it’s been swiped, not until he catches a glimpse of the gentle pink glow that only he could see in someone else’s hand from across the room, hovering just inches above the punch bowl.

He’d like to think he’s pretty powerful in his craft, he'd been raised by a witch who’d in her time been strong enough to get kicked out of her coven for threatening the High Priest, but in that moment he just sort of freezes.

There’s an infinite number of spells he could’ve used; he knows how to stop time, how to recall objects, and about a thousand and one other handy little ways to stop the vial from being overturned into that bowl.

And yet, his brain freezes up, and before he can do anything about it, there’s a thick fog rolling off of the bowl, and the air smells sweet and sticky like ladies perfume, and the liquid is shining all bright pink.

Billy is officially screwed.

It’s one thing for a single person to drink a love potion, but mixing it with any other liquid? That shit turned into a weapon.

He knows he’s not gonna make it in time, but he’s at least gotta try to stop it, get people as far away from it as possible. He muscles his way across the room, pushing past the crowd of teenagers to try to get to it first. “Nobody fucking touch the punch.”

But his voice calling over the crowd draws their attention to him, and there’s at least fifty hollow gazes fixed right on him. Judging by the looks on their faces, the pinpoint pupils and the awe stricken smiles, he’s too late.

There’s one breathless moment where Billy realizes what's about to happen and tries to back away before all hell breaks loose, but all at once they all surge forward trying to get their hands on him.

Momma didn’t stick around long enough to teach him how to discharge a potion, and he wasn’t going to make it the whole twenty minutes in this herd. The front door is his only escape.

It’s so dark in the room, other than the light from the potion’s ambience, that he can’t make out who’s who, whose lips those are on his neck, whose hands are on his hips and tangled up in his hair, so he just trudges forward as best he can, trying to shake each person off, only to get another wrapped around him.

But, in the magic induced state, they’re strong, and they don’t want to let him go. Fingernails dig into his skin, arms wrap tight around his waist, any way they can hold onto him to try keep him from moving any closer to that door, they do.

It’s like walking in gelatin, so many people trying to stop him, and it takes him way longer than it should, but he makes it to the door.

Before he can open it, someone’s pushing his back up against it and reaching a hand up under his shirt. Another someone presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

He feels blindly for the door knob and gets it in his hand after a few attempts, the ordeal being all the harder when there were so many people who wanted those hands on them, and twists it.

The rush of cold air from outside and the lights from the streetlight on the sidewalk helps a little to dilute the strength of the potion, weakening just enough the grip of those under his influence that he can wriggle out and slam the door shut behind him.

He keeps his back pressed against it, his arms holding on to either side of the door frame as tight as he could so nobody else can get out. Checking his watch, there were still about seven more minutes until the potion would wear off.

He could see the faintest glow of pink light shining from under the door and behind the curtains on the front window, and he thought about what they were doing without him. Probably talking about how he was the coolest, the ones who’d gotten their hands on him bragging.

No one but him would remember what happened anyways.

To make his escape, wait out the rest of the potion's effects, and hightail it before anybody remembered he was even here, well, that would have just been too easy. Because this is Billy Hargrove, so of course, at that very moment, who would approach the house but Steve fucking Harrington.

“Hargrove?” He looks confusedly up at Billy, and climbs a few of the porch steps to ask him, “What’re you doin’ out here man?”

“Party’s a bummer. Thinking ‘bout ditching.” The nonchalance he’s able to portray in his voice is in direct contrast with the way his hair is frizzed out and his clothes are all messy from what happened inside.

Steve doesn’t seem to pay it any mind though, because he offers him a smile, and responds to Billy like this situation didn’t look weird at all, with him sprawled out over the door and in such bad shape. “Mind if I join you? Wasn’t really looking forward to all the people tonight anyways.”

“Uh, if you give me,” Billy turns his wrist, still not letting go of the door, and reads the time on his watch again, “three and a half minutes, then we can blow.”

Steve leans a little to try to see in the window. “Is somethin’ going on?”

“Nothin’, nothin’ just uh, told Tom I’d stay ‘til quarter after.” It’s a bullshit excuse, Steve already knows he and Tommy aren’t even that close, but Billy just focuses on counting down the seconds and doesn’t think too much about it. “And…. we’re good.”

“You are so weird, dude.” Steve remarks while he waits for Billy on the steps. He looks back over his shoulder when they’re walking away but visibly shrugs it off. “Did you drive?”

“You know I don’t park my baby on the street.” His prized Camaro had yet to make an appearance at one of these parties, for a platitude of reasons, but the main one being that he might have to break his mother’s golden rule and put a curse on someone if his beauty got so much as a scratch.

“Figures.” Steve remarked. He didn’t think the Camaro was all that, thought it was too loud and too fast.

His BMW isn’t too far off, showing up late meant he had to take a street spot instead of cramming into the driveway, but that only made it easier to get out.

While he starts it up, he asks Billy, “Where are we going? I picked last time.”

“Far away from here as possible.” He mutters in response.

Before he pulls away from the curb, Steve asks, “Did something happen, Bills? You’re acting all, weird.” There was genuine concern laced into his voice, none of that playfulness that they usually had.

But for Billy, anything would be better than having to own up to what had happened. He’d have to admit to the whole, desperate for love, he used a potion he made when he was seven to try to make Steve Harrington fall for him, and that was not ideal, to put it simply.

Only, he felt obligated to explain, because he knew what Steve was thinking had happened. He knew too much about the sorts of things Billy told not a single other soul.

His magic was one thing. Where nobody was really supposed to know Hawkins got a new spell caster for the first time in ages, Steve had some grandma or someone who was a witch and had recognized that shit in a heartbeat.

Observational skills like that, it was no surprise he’d figured out the truth about his father too. About where the bruises and the scars came from.

So he knows that’s what Steve’s thinking right now, that Billy’s acting off because of something his dad did, and it would feel wrong not to tell him the truth, to be pitied when nothing even happened this time. Still, he’s not exactly thrilled about having to confess about the potion.

“Someone brought a fucking Number 9 to the party.” Billy flips the sun visor down to see himself in the little mirror there. There’s kiss marks all over him that he tries to rub off with his sleeve, but the leather doesn’t do much but make the skin flush.

“Shit, not a number nine.” Steve says it like he’s confident in it, but his gaze keeps flickering over to Billy to gauge his reaction. It’s clear that he has no idea what he’s talking about. “What's- what’s number nine?”

Billy snorts and explains, “Only the strongest love potion out there. Went straight into the punch.”

He doesn’t have much of a grip on the magical world, but he knew enough to guess that was a problem. “What kind of a dipstick would bring that?”

Billy stopped wiping at his face and looked over at Steve with that ‘come on, stupid’ look on his face. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe the only dipstick who walked away from the place covered in fucking lipstick.”

“Really?” There’s a teasing tone in his voice, like a parent who found out there kid had a crush, and it makes Billy want to sock him. “And who does Billy Hargrove need a love potion for?”

“For you.” It takes all the courage he has, but he admits it. His eyes flicker nervously between Steve and everywhere else, waiting for his response.

And what he gets is, “Pfft. You know I don’t need magic to get the ladies.” Let it be known that no one ever accused Steve of being the brightest.

As if he hadn’t noticed that Steve was a skeezer. As if his heart hadn’t already been broken a thousand times over because of it. “Yeah, no shit.”

He furrows his eyebrows in confusion, but maybe a little bit in denial too. “Then why’d you bring me a love potion?”

“Steve.” It sounds like a plea, an exhausted attempt to get him to understand, but Steve isn’t in on it.

“What?” Billy just sort of raises his eyebrows in response, and something about it makes it click in Steve’s head.

His mouth forms an ‘o’ shape, and when he speaks again, his voice is all breathless, “You were going to use it on me?”

“Doesn’t take a genius.” And that’s the end of it.

They don’t talk about it. Steve drives them out to the quarry in silence, occasionally looking over at Billy like he wants to say something, but doesn’t.

As soon as they get there, before Steve’s even got the chance to put the bimmer in park, Billy’s out of the car and sitting on the edge of the rocky lookout.

He needs a smoke, needs the burning in his lungs to distract him from the weight of what he had just admitted to Steve. His hands are shaking as he fumbles with a match, trying and failing to light the cigarette on three different matches before he decides to give up.

Steve taps his shoulder and hands Billy his zippo before sitting down next to him. “You didn’t have to.”

Billy lights it up and takes a long drag, giving Steve back his light with a cigarette as thanks, filling his lungs with as much smoke as he can before he can respond. “Have to what?”

“Try to use magic on me.” Steve’s staring down at his hands, calculating every last word he says. “You could’ve just asked.”

“Yeah, I know Harrington. It was creepy. Just drop it.” There’s a sharpness in that tone that hasn’t been there for months, and it makes the both of them wince.

Steve explains himself, hurt by the coldness, “No, I think it’s sweet! I mean, that you would do that for me.”

“Get over yourself. Was just messin’ around, wanted to see if I could do it.” That’s what gives him away. Billy was too sure of his own prowess for that to be all of it, and so Steve decides to press him for the truth.

“Don’t you want to know what I would’ve said though, if you asked me?”

“Honestly? No.” He really, really does.

Steve pretends like he doesn’t hear that and tells him anyways. “I like you Billy.”

It hitches his breath to hear that, but Billy’s got to be rational. “Yeah? You like me or the cinnamon?”

Steve’s face scrunches up in confusion. “What?”

“It’s an ingredient in the potion, Steve. Do you mean it or did you get a whiff of that shit somehow?” He still doesn’t look at him, just stares down at the churning water, and it registers with Steve that he doesn’t want to see absent admiration, pinpoint pupils, any sign that this isn’t real.

So he assures him, his voice as soft as it can be, “I mean it. I really really like you, and if you’re not gonna believe me, then- then I guess I’ll just have to prove it.“

Who would’ve expected Steve to make the first move? Stumbling, bumbling Steve Harrington, the one to lean in first. But he is, it’s him who uses those long fingers to turn Billy’s face towards his and presses their lips together.

If, you know, there wasn’t a more pressing matter at hand, like the fact that the boy he’d just tried to use love magic on was kissing him without the assistance of said magic, Billy might’ve been a little disappointed in himself to not be the one to initiate it.

But they’d have time for that argument later, about who did what when, right now his mind was more focused on not just sitting there, on moving his lips against the other boys and

It feels like forever before Steve pulls away to put a hand on the back of Billy’s head so he can bring their foreheads together.

Steve’s breathless as he says, “Wanted to do that since the first time I saw you in the parking lot.”

“Good. Didn’t want to have to brew any more.” Billy says without a hint of seriousness.

Steve nudges him with his elbow. “I’m trying to be romantic, you ass.”

“No seriously, hibiscus is super hard to come by around here, couldn’t afford to waste any on you.”

Crossing his arms, Steve fixes Billy with a stern look that makes him laugh.

“M’only teasin’ ya pretty boy.” He crumples his cigarette into the asphalt and puts his hand on Steve’s knee. “Kiss me like that again, would ya?”

And he does. Every time Billy asks, Steve’ll kiss him just like that first time, soft and gentle and sweet in a way he’s never had, no magic required.

Needless to say, Billy definitely won that bet.

#harringrove week of love #harringrove #billy x steve #billy hargrove #steve harrington #ej writer #story by ej!#this is based on a fraggles episode! I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity!#I thought I wasn’t going to like this but it turned out to be one of my favorites #even though it took way longer than it was supposed to lol #super proud of how it turned out though

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lesbianlovelanguage · 4 years

Text

i want to feel something (i’m numb inside)

It’s another HfBLM Prompt for imperfectabstraction on AO3, who requested pining!Billy who’s bad at communication. Thank you endlessly for your donation!!

Also a huge ass thank you to @gideongrace for your patience and help in me writing this and basically betaing it. I love you so much.

Read it on AO3 here or below the cut

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1. Welcome to Hawkins.

Billy had been attending Hawkins High for two weeks when he realized what was happening.

It wasn’t anything special, no fireworks or butterflies, but instead a cold frustration frosting over him. Because he realized he had a crush. On the most popular and decidedly straight boy in the miserable town of Hawkins, Indiana. Neil’s beatings could never compare to the sinking feeling in Billy’s gut when Steve Harrington stood in front of their english class and gave a frankly terrible report on Moby-Dick .

It certainly wasn’t Harrington’s presentation that made Billy recognize his crush, but the way his soft hair shined and he stood tall and confident even as the words that poured from his mouth were utter bullshit .

Billy had always been a sucker for confidence and cockiness.

But once Harrington had sat down, and was thus out of Billy’s sightlines, the warmth that came with a new crush turned to the familiar iciness, and it felt as if a great gaping maw had opened below him.

Even after the bell rang and the classroom emptied out, Billy was stuck in his head.

It wasn’t fair, he thought. He was supposed to hate everyone and everything about this town, and be fucking thankful when he got to put everything in his rearview mirror. But here he was with a ridiculous crush.

It wouldn’t couldn’t change his plans. Billy was resolute to not act upon his feelings, to avoid Harrington at every turn.

That resolution to ignore Harrington stayed for the next 5 periods, until he got to basketball practice. Harrington was clearly in his element on the court, no math problems or english reports here. Just sheer athleticism and strategy. And it made Billy angry. Because he couldn’t do anything about Harrington’s breathless panting or the way he was clearly showing off. So Billy did what he always did when he was angry.

He played dirty.

He used every trick in the book to trip up Harrington, guarding him by pushing every body part up against Harrington, using even the tiniest of openings to steal the ball, and he rammed into Harrington to steal the ball. He showed off a little, bolstered by the knowledge that Harrington’s focus was entirely upon him, the anger replaced by the feeling of pride.

When he landed after dunking the ball, he turned and continued to use the excitement of being Harrington’s sole focus to bound over to the tangled heap of lanky limbs and pale, creamy skin. He even put out a hand to help him up before he came back to himself, violently.

What was he doing? This is the exact opposite of ignoring Harrington .

He tried to save face by growling some stupid one-liner about planting his feet, and then dropped him like a sack of potatoes.

When Harrington popped back up and ignored Billy completely to chase after the ice princess herself, he shook his head and continued to play. This time, his showing off and dirty moves turned vicious as he continued to foul right and left before the coach was forced to bench him. He tried to shrug off the anger and left to take a shower.

Thankfully the showers stayed empty, and Billy was able to escape. After the disaster that was basketball practice, he decided to firmly clamp down his feelings and avoid Steve Harrington at all costs.

2. Can’t Ignore Him Anymore

Billy was having a bad night, to say the least .

His plan to head off to Indianapolis and the nearest gay bar with a loose ID policy was ruined because his shitbird step-sister decided to fuck off with her weird ass friends, probably with Sinclair even though he tried to warn her that Neil wouldn’t be happy. He had proof of what happened when Neil wasn’t happy blooming on his back too. At least it wasn’t worse, he thought with a grimace. He wasn’t sure when walking away with bruises had become lucky but it was what it was.

And now he had to run all over Hawkins to find the little shitbird, and with every house that sent him somewhere else his admittedly small patience was dwindling. By the time he was pulling into the dark driveway of the Byer’s house, he was itching for a fight.

And then Steve fucking Harrington walked out of the house. Because God hated him.

Or at least, it felt like the Big Man hated him as Harrington sauntered towards him, dish towel casually tossed over one shoulder and hands tucked into his jacket pockets.

“Am I dreaming or is that you, Harrington?” He felt himself call out before fully processing the words.

“Yeah, it’s me. Don’t cream your pants.” Harrington sounded blase in his response, but a faint blush appeared on his cheeks as Billy took off his jacket. Interesting. As he walked towards Harrington, a familiar bush of bright red hair popped in and out of the window and shocked Billy back to reality. He stopped, leaving plenty of space between himself and Harrington, enough to hopefully let him keep a clear head.

“What are you doing here, amigo?” Billy taunted. Maybe he would finally see some action tonight, at least enough to wipe the bitter taste that flirting with Mrs. Wheeler left in his mouth.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Harrington retorted, sounding exactly like a fifth grader.

“Well, I would. ‘S why I asked, cause I don’t really like the picture that’s being painted here. Max goes missing all day, and then I find her here in some stranger’s house, with you of all people. See what I’m seeing, Pretty Boy?”

“What’s that supposed to mean, me of all people?” Of course Harrington would pick up on that.

“What does King Steve want with a thirteen-year-old girl? Not a great look man.” The adrenaline bubbled up in Billy’s stomach in anticipation of a fight, fists clenching and skin buzzing. But Harrington never reacted how Billy expected, and this was no exception.

“Yeah, but letting demon monsters kill a group of pre-teens isn’t so great either,” he said casually, as if his words would make a lick of sense. Billy gaped a little before shaking his head and laughing a bitter, mean laugh.

“You’re digging your own grave man. I just wanted my step-sister, but it looks like I’m gonna have to kick your ass.” That was the only warning he gave before closing the distance and swinging. Harrington went down like a sack of potatoes and Billy couldn’t help the smugness in his voice when he bent over and spit, “Told you to plant your fucking feet, Princess.” He then stepped over Harrington’s sprawled body and walked inside.

He noticed all of the usual brats that hang off of Harrington, but his gaze zeroed in on Lucas. All of the anger and frustration Billy had felt over the course of the night collided into one comprehensible thought.

He had warned her.

He wasn’t proud of what he did, but at least he had the ability to stop. He just wanted to scare the kid, hoping that if he couldn’t warn Max he could scare the kid off before Neil got involved.

If he got involved, he wouldn’t stop, not until Sinclair was really hurt. Or even dead.

Billy didn’t like himself while he was doing it, knew that his behavior was revolting and monstrous, but he was willing to play the bad guy if it kept the gremlins from the real bad guy. He was thankful when Harrington forced him around and clocked him in the face. Then he had something better to focus his rage and fear on.

They were in the middle of fighting when Billy thought he lost his mind. He had grabbed the fridge door, planning to use it to clock Harrington in the head, when a thing fell out. It didn’t move from it’s spot on the kitchen floor but it left a trail of something slimy and Billy went mental.

“What the actual fuck. Someone had ten seconds to explain what this is,” he growled, and was promptly educated about the Upside Down, demogorgons, and something the brats called The Mind Flayer. Apparently Hawkins was housing some horror movie level shit, and of course Harrington was involved. So much for ignoring him forever.

3. Summer Sweetness

Billy didn’t just enjoy summer. He thrived in the summer. The sun, the heat, the smell of the ocean and the sound of busy beaches filled him with a happiness even Neil couldn’t touch. There were no ocean waves that summer, but chlorine was a close substitute. Anything was better than the disgusting stench of cowshit that seemed to permeate Hawkins in the fall.

And even better was the silent agreement he had made with one Steve Harrington.

It started at Prom. Billy had agreed to go with some girl, he hadn’t bothered to remember her name, only to get the promposals to stop. It was a good ego boost at first, but after six in four class periods, it got exhausting to try and politely decline. So, the seventh girl who came up to him with a big home-made card practically dripping in glitter got a ‘Yes’ from the Billy Hargrove. Ridiculous.

He made the mistake of telling Max somewhere that Neil could overhear him, so he ended up having to rent a limo and buy a corsage and dress up in a full tux. All for a thing he didn’t want to go to with a girl he didn’t care about. To just get through the night, he ended up downing an entire bottle of tequila by himself.

The next morning he would definitely be blaming the tequila, but he would be lying to himself that it was the only reason he did what he did.

It had been building for a long time, but it wasn’t until he saw Steve in the bathroom furthest from the gym that he realized what it was.

He had stumbled down the darkened hallways of Hawkins High, desperate for the escape a cigarette would bring him. He knew the bathroom in the english hall had a busted fire alarm, so he made a beeline towards it. He was so focused on pulling the pack out and lighting up, he failed to notice there was someone else, not until they cleared their throat. His head shot up, ready to fight, only to be met with big brown eyes and pale creamy skin.

“Oh hey, Pretty Boy. What are you doing here?” He tried to play it casual, not letting on that blood was rushing in his ears and his heart was in his throat.

“Could ask you the same question. I’m pretty sure Colleen is asthmatic, won’t appreciate the nicotine smell,” he said, gesturing to the cigarette he had just lit up. It took him a minute to figure out who the fuck Colleen was, until he realized it was the date he had abandoned in the gym.

“Pretty sure she won’t care what I smell like, if you know what I mean.” Billy waggled his eyebrows and dragged his tongue along his bottom lip. He was caught off guard though, when Steve’s pupils dilated. Interesting.

“You’re nasty,” Steve tried to cover the few seconds of silence, but Billy was a shark who had smelt blood.

“Oh really, Stevie?” He asked before taking a long drag of his cigarette and blowing it towards Steve. “You don’t like the idea of Colleen and I getting freaky? What’s a little locker room talk between amigos after all?” He smirked before going in for what he hoped was the kill. “Unless… You’re jealous?” His smirk only grew as Steve stuttered, trying to form a rebuttal.

“I am not jealous of Colleen. I feel bad for her, going to one of the most special nights with you.” Steve’s words were meant to cut, but Billy could hear the uncertainty in his voice.

“Never said you were jealous of Colleen, Stevie. But if you are, I think I have a solution.” That was the only warning he gave Steve before walking over to be right in front of him. They were so close their shoes were touching, and Billy could smell the smoke on Steve’s breath.

“Seems a little hypocritical to yell at me about smoking when you were doing the same thing.” Billy may have noticed that Steve wasn’t the best in school, but he would never say the boy was slow. He seemed to get with the picture pretty quickly.

“Oh yeah?” His voice was breathy and soft. “You gonna do something about it?”

“I think I have to. It wouldn’t be right if I just ignored it.”

“Well, what are you waiting for? Do it,” Steve challenged. And Billy never backed down from a challenge. He lunged forward the few feet between them and smashed his lips against Steve’s.

The kiss wasn’t nice or gentle. It was a battle between two wild animals, only softened when Steve’s hands snuck up Billy’s back and tugged on the golden ringlets. Billy broke the kiss with a moan and Steve grinned.

“Like that, tiger?”

“Shut up and get back here,” was Billy’s only response before they collided again. Shaky hands unbuttoned shirts. As soon as Steve’s torso was exposed, Billy moved down to suck what was sure to be an impressive hickey along Steve’s collarbone, unable to resist marking the pale skin.

Steve’s moan was loud as Billy moved his hands from the small of his back to his thighs and picked him up. Like he was nothing. He was placed on the edge of a sink, and then Billy moved down Steve’s chest, kissing every mole he could find. After successfully making his way down to his knees, Billy unzipped Steve’s pants and proceeded to rock the boy’s damn world.

That was the only time they had sex during school, but it wasn’t the last time they had hooked up, far from it in fact. He was dropping Max off at the ice cream shop, Scoops Ahoy, when he saw Steve again. He was in a truly ridiculous parody of a sailor’s costume and Billy wanted to eat him alive.

He was surprised to find the feeling was mutual. He walked up to the counter to tease Steve about the uniform, and somehow ended up in the storage room getting his dick sucked this time.

The summer proceeded to pass like that, until some time in July when Steve said he couldn’t keep having sex at work and gave Billy his phone number with a wink. Then Billy started sneaking into Steve’s bedroom at ungodly hours and left before the sun had risen.

But all good things came to an end, and Billy was nothing if not a coward. As soon as August came around, and the pool closed, Billy took all of his savings and the four boxes it had taken to pack up everything he cared about, and left. Without a word, a text, or a note. He ran away from Hawkins, ran from his father, and from Steve, who had started talking about having movie nights and cooking dinner together and other domestic crap fuck buddies weren’t supposed to do together.

He ran.

4. Hey Pretty Boy, Long Time No See

Billy loved Chicago. He had moved there with plans of just saving up enough to fly back to Los Angeles, but a year into living there he had fallen in love. Sure there were things he hated, like the winters and the tourists, but there were so many more things to love.

Like the food, and the people he had met. Both of which he was enjoying on a perfect summer’s day. And to top it all off, he was finally going to get a tattoo.

Robin, a girl he had met through work and then started to hang out with after running into her at the annual Pride Parade, had convinced him to finally indulge in it, helped him work out what exactly he wanted, and even gave him a recommendation for a guy at her shop that specialized in the style of tattoos that Billy had decided he wanted.

So, on the day of his appointment, he met Robin during her lunch break where they grabbed some tacos from a street car and walked back to her shop. Billy was silent, nervous as hell, but luckily Robin was enough of a chatterbox to fill the silence and keep it from getting awkward.

“You will love Steve, Billy. Swear to God he’s one of the sweetest people I’ve met.” She let out a small huff. “Of course he’s a total dingus, but so are you. Boom. Match made in Heaven.” She waved her hand around, almost dropping her taco, and Billy couldn’t help but laugh at her antics.

That laughter died in his throat though, and he nearly choked on his own spit, as they walked through the door of The Mind Flayer Tattoos and Piercing because behind the desk was a face he never thought he would see again.

Steve Harrington.

Of course he had fantasized about this moment, had dreamed about those Bambi eyes and impish grin, even years later as it was. He had tried to distract himself, tried to move on, but he quickly realized it wasn’t working. Once he realized he had been silently comparing every other guy to Steve, he gave up, resigned himself to being alone, and had gotten a cat.

Just like in high school though, all of his resolve to move on disappeared when faced with Steve Harrington.

The years since high school had clearly been kind to him, and while Billy had always thought he was pretty, now he was downright gorgeous. His hair was still perfectly styled, but he had grown it out so that the ends just barely touched his shoulders. He was also wearing a pair of stylish glasses with thin golden frames that glinted softly in the warm lighting of the tattoo parlor. Most notably though, Billy could clearly see his left arm where it rested next to a book he bent over, and it was covered in a beautiful, intricate tattoo sleeve. All Billy wanted in that moment was to trail his fingertips over the black lines that formed shapes that resembled flowers. Looking closer though, he realized some of the flowers actually held rows and rows of teeth, and mixed in was the rough outline of a baseball bat with nails. It was a mural dedicated to his experiences that one fall day, a constant reminder of what he had been through.

Steve finally looked up at them as Robin led Billy to the counter, and he clearly recognized Billy, as his mouth dropped open and his eyes widened.

“Holy shit.”

Billy felt a small smile form as he lifted a hand and waved awkwardly at the boy he had left behind. “Hiay Pretty Boy. Long time, no see.” He had hoped that the nickname would lighten the mood, but instead Steve’s shock was replaced by hard lines and tense shoulders.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” His voice was dripping in hostility, making Billy flinch slightly before tensing up as well. He knew he was the one in the wrong, but fuck if that had ever stopped him from being the weak one.

Robin beat Billy to a response however, letting out a small noise before looking quickly between the two boys.

“I think I’m missing something here, and that something is big,so I’m jist going to walk over here and let you two work it out. Please don’t kill each other.” Despite the lingering angst in the air, both boys couldn’t hold back a chuckle as Robin walked away from them and disappeared into the back room. As the door swung shut though, and they were alone in the shop, the tension could be cut with a knife.

“Let’s get this over with,” Steve said with a sigh, and all Billy could do was nod and follow him to a prepared work station in the back corner of the open-plan parlor.

He double checked where the tattoo was going, on his right shoulder, and then gently placed the stencil on and smoothing it over. He removed the plastic to reveal a purple version of the tattoo and then nodded to where a full length mirror had been hung on the wall.

Billy checked how it laid, and took in how the design had turned out once again. He had seen the draft in an email, but to see it on his body was an entirely different experience. It was a depiction of the beach, detailed with old school flowers and a setting sun, and a perfect symbol of Billy’s origins. He had decided that while he didn’t want to return to California, he wanted a reminder of the peace an evening on the beach brought him.

Having confirmed that it was perfectly placed, he returned to the workstation and settled into the chair. The tension remained as Steve silently placed his arm in the best position and loaded the gun with ink. He returned to Billy’s side and sighed.

“You need to relax if you want me to actually do this.”

“Sorry, Pretty Boy. Guess you just fill me with butterflies,” Billy shot back, trying to regain some of the bravado that had conveniently left him. Steve snorted before setting down the tattoo gun and muttering Jesus and rubbing at his temple.

“If we’re gonna do this, you gotta cut that shit out.”

“What shit?”

“The- the fucking flirting and the nicknames. That shit.”

“Sorry, Pretty Boy,” he emphasized the name with a cocky smirk. “It’s just part of the Hargrove charm.”

“Well if you want a good tattoo, you’ll dial back the Hargrove bullshit. Now take a deep breath and fucking relax.” Billy gave a sarcastic salute before deliberately taking a deep breath and dropping his shoulders. Steve rolled his eyes, but reserved all his smart comments in favor of starting the tattoo.

They sat in relative silence, only broken by the gentle whir of the tattoo gun and Steve occasionally reminding Billy to not hold his breath. It wasn’t until Steve muttered a soft, “Halfway there tiger,” that he found the courage to break the silence. Whether consciously or not, Steve had used one of his favorite pet names for Billy and that action alone gave him hope that he hadn’t ruined their relationship completely when he left.

“Nice tats Harrington,” he said casually, nodding at his left arm. Steve snorted.

“Thanks. Of course, you know the whole story behind it. Robin and everyone at the shop just think it’s some insane movie monster they’ve never heard of.”

“Yeah, not exactly the easiest thing to explain to people,” Billy agreed, nodding his head.

“As chill as Robs can be, I think if I tried to tell her I fought off intergalactic demon dogs with a nail bat and a group of four middle schoolers she would check me into the nearest institute.”

Billy faked an offended gasp. “It wasn’t all middle schoolers, I was there too. Saved your ass at one point too.”

“Bullshit you saved me. If I recall, you screamed like a little bitch until Max threatened you with my bat and then stole your keys. If she hadn’t threatened to drive your car I think you would never have come with.” There was a fire in Steve’s eyes now, a warmth Billy thought he would never be privy to again.

And then Steve looked up from his arm and his face shuttered back into stone. He wiped the excess ink and blood off of his arm and studiously ignored any more attempts Billy made at conversation, which ranged from commenting about the photos littering his workstation to commenting on the fucking weather. Eventually he got the message and shut his trap for the rest of the session.

Steve walked him through the after-care steps clinically, and he faintly picked up the “wash with antibacterial soap twice a day” and “apply scent-free lotion when it starts flaking”, but his brain was mostly stuck on “touch-ups are free up to six months after the first appointment.”

He still had a chance. Maybe the shock was too much, but if Steve was offering up the chance to meet again?

Billy wouldn’t let it slip past.

5. Let’s Try This Again

Billy loved his tattoo. He made sure to take meticulous care of it, applying lotion religiously and steadfastly ignoring the urge to pick at the peeling skin. Luckily, the amount of sunburns he got back in California prepared him for it pretty well.

Even if it was healing perfectly, and he was ecstatic about the final result after it had finished peeling, he still decided to talk to Robin about scheduling a touch-up. She had looked it over when he asked while they were grabbing burritos, and told him that he definitely didn’t need a touch up, but when he continued to insist that he wanted another appointment she looked at him skeptically and agreed.

He had it scheduled for a month after his initial appointment, and the weeks seemed to drag by as he eagerly awaited his second- well, technically third- chance with Steve.The day of, he and Robin agreed to the same schedule of grabbing lunch and then walking over to the shop together, but instead of Robin filling the silence, Billy instead prattled on about a couple cases he was looking over and how well they were going. As much as he could without breaking the NASW Code of Ethics of course.

Robin nodded along agreeable and made all the right noises in the right places, but she was overall quieter than usual, until the shop got into view.

A block away from the neon sign, she stopped them both and turned to Billy. “I’ve been pretty patient, but I have to know before we walk in there. What is the deal between you and Steve?”

“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about, Brat. There’s no story there,” Billy tried to brush it off and keep walking, but Robin was surprisingly strong for her slender frame. She grabbed his arm and forced him to stop.

“That’s a blatant lie, and I can’t let you in there if you’re on some sort of weird revenge quest or something. He was seriously shaken up after your session, and I love you, but I love the dingus too.” She paired the serious tone of her voice with stern eye contact and a slight tightening of her hand on his bicep.

“Jesus Robin,” Billy said, shrugging off her vice-like grip, “It’s nothing like that, I swear. If anything, I’m trying to fucking apologize.” She just raised an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied with his explanation. “Fine. We went to high school together and I fucked up in a big way, alright? I regret it, and I want to try and make it up to him.”

“Yeah, well. You seem to have forgotten that this-” she emphasized with a sharp point at the parlor “-is his work. His job. He doesn’t deserve you pestering him here of all places. Just do what everyone else does and fucking ask him out to coffee.”

Feeling slightly chastised as only Robin could do, he looked down at the scuffs on his work boots and muttered, “Yeah, whatever.”

Finally satisfied, she continued their walk to The Mind Flayer Tattoo and Piercings Shop, Billy trailing two steps behind her.

The little bell tinkled again as the door opened, but this time Steve wasn’t at the front desk. Instead a tan woman with long, curly, dark hair was popping bubble gum and casually scrolling through her iPhone. All of the frustration seemed to seep out of Robin at once as she squealed, “Heather!” and launched herself at the girl behind the desk.

Letting Robin and Heather do their thing, Billy wandered over to where he could see the top of Steve’s head peeking over the low wall of his work station. He could see that all of his focus was on a drawing pad, where he was carefully sketching out something in pencil. He was so in the zone that the tip of his tongue was poking through his teeth. Cute.

Loath as he was to break the peace on Steve’s face, he cleared his throat and called out, “Hey Harrington.”

Steve, predictably, shot up out of his chair and whirled around to face Billy. “Jesus Christ Billy. Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“Sorry, amigo. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“What, no Pretty Boy?” Steve spit out as he tried to recoup from being startled. The tone brought back the sense of shame Robin had made him feel earlier, and he held up his hands in surrender.

“No, um,” he tried to start. “Actually, I’m here to ask if we could get a cup of joe? Talk some shit out?” Steve seemed startled by the proposal, but masked it with a suspicious glare.

“Is this some kind of joke? You want to get coffee?”

“Yeah. I want to- want to explain I guess.” Steve continued to glare at him, but after finding or not finding something, he nodded his head and sighed.

“Fine. Fuck it. You were my last appointment, so why the hell not.” Billy blinked, surprised that it had somehow been that easy to get Steve to agree. Maybe they could work it out, at least enough to be friends again.

He decided to wait in the front area while Steve packed up his station and grabbed his bag from the back room, nodding at Heather and Robin when they left.

They mutually agreed to walk the block down to a local coffee shop, called Joe’s Joe. Billy got a black iced coffee while Steve got a complexe medley of coffee, oat milk, and sugar. After they got their drinks, they sat at a table by the window.

“Do you want to start?” Steve asked.

“I mean, I guess. That’s kind of why we’re here or whatever.” Billy hadn’t wanted to start out hostile, but his nerves were starting to get the best of him. He took a swig of his coffee, letting the scalding heat coat his tongue. “Just, I’m sorry I guess.”

“You’re sorry?” Steve asked indignantly, “For what? Fucking with me for an entire summer? Leaving without a single fucking word? Or just being an all around asshole?”

“Technically, I was fucking you, not fucking with you,” Billy corrected absentmindedly, before wincing as Steve’s expression grew even more hostile. “Shit, I’m sorry. For- for everything alright? I was a dickhead, I shouldn’t have left but you have to underst-”

“I don’t have to do shit, Hargrove,” Steve interrupted.

“No, you have to understand that I didn’t have a choice. I packed up and left in the span of like four hours. There wasn’t time to tell you.”

“There wasn’t time to send a fucking text? Call? Something? I thought you were dead in a ditch somewhere. I had to find out from Max that you just pissed off to who knows where in the middle of the goddamn night. And you couldn’t bother to send anything? It’s been eight fucking years jackass.” Steve was almost yelling by the end of his rant, panting and visibly trying to calm himself down.

“It didn’t seem like something to send over text, I just figured it was better to do a clean break. Let you move on.”

“Let me- Fucking hell, you let me move on?” Steve was borderline hysterical at this point. Billy wasn’t sure when he had lost control of the conversation so drastically, but he felt the chances of him and Steve rekindling some sort of friendship slipping away. This wasn’t how he wanted to do this at all. Fuck.

“Yeah, because you shouldn’t be stuck with someone like me, Pretty Boy. I’m sorry I hurt you but I was stupid and young and I didn’t see any better way to do it.”

“You fucking broke my heart Billy. You’re gonna have to do a lot better than that,” Steve said, and walked out of the coffee shop.

6. Billy Does Better

After the disastrous coffee date, Billy steered clear of everything to do with The Mind Flayer, including Robin. He buried himself in his work, doubled his gym hours, and let the weekends pass by in a haze of cheap whiskey.

It took Robin a week to decide she was over him avoiding her. She stormed into his apartment on Sunday morning and forced him to take a shower, put on clean clothes and go with her to her apartment.

Once there, she sat him down on the couch and told him in the sternest voice she had to stay, and then left him to go let in someone else. He really shouldn’t have been surprised at who it was, but he still blinked rapidly when Steve appeared in the doorway.

“Am I dreaming, or is that you Harrington?” Billy asked, his voice hoarse from the lack of water he had drank in the past 48 hours.

“Yeah, it’s me. Don’t cream your pants.” If Billy sounded hungover, Steve sounded wrecked. He looked like it too, eyes rimmed red and puffy, lips chapped and bitten within an inch of their soft, plush life, and skin even paler than it usually was. Robin dragged him by the back of his shirt over to the couch, next to Billy, and pushed him down.

“Alright. I tried to give you two assholes space to work it out yourselves, but I am officially over it, so you’re going to figure it out here and now. I’m going to go in the kitchen to make lunch and when I get back, I expect you both to at least stop moping like fucking widows.” She turned on her heel and marched into the kitchen, where she could give them some semblance of privacy, but would still be within ear shot if they decided to kill each other or something.

Once she disappeared through the doorway, Billy turned hesitantly to face Steve, but when they made eye contact, any words he may have managed to string together left him and he was left there gaping like a fish. Steve saved him the trouble of starting though.

“You were moping?” He asked, voice quiet and defeated.

“Yeah, Bambi. Pretty heavily too if Robin had to step in.”

“What were you so upset about? You broke my heart after all.”

“Because I never meant to. I only meant to break my own damn heart, but not yours. Never yours Pretty Boy,” Billy’s voice was dripping in honesty and vulnerability, the dredges of alcohol still in his system making this entire situation exhausting. He just wanted to go back home and sleep until tomorrow.

“You- you loved me too?” Steve sounded so damn unsure, it hurt Billy to hear.

“Yeah, of course I loved you. That’s why I had to leave. I couldn’t love you and be under Neil’s roof. He would kill me. He would kill you. So I had to leave.”

“A clean break,” Steve finished for him. He didn’t sound as angry as he had at the coffee shop, more defeated.

“Exactly.”

They sat in silence for a few moments that seemed to stretch on for eternity before Steve finally broke it.

“So, where does that leave us?”

“Can we, can we try friends?” Billy asked hesitantly, eager for any opportunity but scared to push his luck.

“Yeah. I think that could work,” he said with a faint smile. As if on cue, Robin burst through the kitchen door armed with a plate of sandwiches and snacks and declared it a movie night.

7. Steve Takes A Leap

It had been two months since Robin’s forced intervention, and Steve couldn’t have been more thankful towards her. He had been scared that having Billy back in his life would drag up the memories he tried so hard to hide from, but it was actually refreshing to have someone to call when the memories came back, someone who understood what he was going through.

He also realized how much he genuinely missed Billy himself. He had grown and changed for sure, but it was only in that he was far less angry all the damn time. Steve had really come to realize just how intense the hold Neil Hargrove had over his son in high school. Now the sharp wit Billy had wielded as a weapon in high school was more playful than hurtful, and his more self-destructive tendencies of driving recklessly and chain-smoking had been replaced by a gym membership and therapy. Apparently, Billy had gone through a lot of therapy.

With all of the changes, he realized that it was just that much easier to find the Billy he had fallen in love with all those years ago. He had started recognizing the feelings a month into their rekindled friendship, but he waited for another month to make sure the spark was still there, that it wasn’t just him romanticising the past. They had added each other on snapchat and had even started a streak. It was at a solid 55 days that Steve finally made his move.

It was a simple snap of his work station with the caption What are you doing Saturday night?

Not even two minutes later he got a response. The picture was of Billy’s coffee mug he kept at his desk and said Nothing, wbu?

He snapped another hasty shot of his station, replied, Thinking about going out. Wanna join?

Another notification, another shot of his mug. “ Sure. What’s the plan?”

He was in the middle of prepping his station for an appointment in twenty minutes, so it was a quick shot of sterile packaging. Dinner and then hit up a club I know in Boystown?

This time the response was immediate. Sounds good.

Cool, I’ll make a reservation for six? Then club at like 8?

Why do we need a reservation? Want to spoil little old me, Pretty Boy?

The old nickname gave Steve the courage he needed to finally take a selfie and stop beating around the bush. He gave the camera an impish grin and raised eyebrows. I just want to make our first date memorable.

There was no response to that. Steve waited with bated breath, chewing on his bottom lip anxiously as the minutes ticked by. His appointment had shown up, and he finished the 45 minute session. Still no response.

Anxiety coursed through him, swirling around in his head. He could see that Billy had opened the picture as soon as he had sent it, a whole hour ago. But no response. No notifications. Nothing.

Steve tried to reason with himself that maybe he had a meeting or a lot of paperwork or something, but that didn’t stop him from bouncing his leg and fidgeting around until Robin finished her final appointment.

She only needed to look at him once to know something was up. She decided they were going to dinner together, and they walked to the diner three blocks down in silence.

It wasn’t until they had sent in their orders that Robin finally broke.

“Okay, what’s going on? I haven’t seen you this nervous since your first date with Julian,” she stated.

“I might have fucked up Robin. Like big time.” She sighed, used to Steve’s dramatic tendencies, and sipped at her strawberry milkshake.

“I doubt that, but I need more information. So spill.”

“I asked Billy on a date,” he blurted out, knowing there was no use in bullshitting Robin.

“And? Seems like a logical move, Dingus. I was getting sick of the intense pinning like ten days ago.”

“But, he left me on read Robin. We were talking about going out on Saturday and then I mentioned it was a date and boom. Radio silence.”

“Okay, chill out. He was probably busy at work. You know how seriously he takes that shit.”

“Yeah, but no response for three hours?” He said, voice raising in pitch on the last words.

“I’m sure there’s some explanation. Have you reached out again?” Robin’s patient and even tone calmed Steve down a little, but his leg still bounced up and down rapidly as he thought over what she said.

“No. I didn’t want to pressure him.”

“Just send something unrelated to the date. Like your milkshake. You’ve done it a million times, it’s safe.”

“Yeah. Okay. I can do that.” He nodded to himself before pulling out his phone, only to see a single snapchat notification amongst the barrage of emails and other random updates. It was from Billy.

He immediately felt his heart leap into his throat, and Robin reached over to grab his hand that was still resting on the table.

“Is it from him?” She questioned, deliberately neutral.

“Yep,” he choked out. His finger shook as he opened up his phone, and he felt paralized by the little blue box letting him know it was a text response. He took a deep breath before clicking on it.

Sorry I was MIA, Pretty Boy. Got busy with work, but I’d love to see where you want to take me. He included a winking and smirking emoji. Steve let out a startled laugh as the anxiety slowly dissipated.

“Code red officially over. I have a date on Saturday,” he informed Robin, and they finished up dinner with casual conversation about their various appointments throughout the day. They paid and eventually parted ways towards their respective apartments.

He trudged up the stairs because the elevator in his building was perpetually broken, but stopped in his tracks when his door got within view. There, resting innocently on his doormat, was a simple bouquet of sunflowers and baby’s breath. He gently picked them up and noticed a small piece of cardstock. In simple black scratch it read I am sorry for the no response. I got nervous. Bill.

Steve smiled gently at the note and pulled the flowers close to smell the soft fragrance they held. He felt another wave of confidence swell and push him to walk into the apartment and pick up his phone. He called Billy and waited in excited anticipation for him to pick up.

“I love them,” he said, and smiled a little more when Billy chuckled.

“I’m glad. They made me think of you.”

“Can’t wait for Saturday,” Steve confessed and Billy finally smiled back.

“Me too, Pretty Boy. Feels like it’s been years in the making.”

That it had been, but man had it been worth the wait.

----

tag team: @lostnoise @gideongrace @stevefuckingharrington @a-magey @trashmouth-hargrove @catharrington (lmk if you would like to be added/removed from the list!)

#harringrove for blm #harringrove #a dash of #bucklway #angst #fluff #hurt/comfort #pining!billy hargrove #billy hargrove centric #billy hargrove #steve harrington #tay writes #holy shit #i think this is the longest thing I've ever written #minus lost boys

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earlgreyteaforhere · 4 years

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book recommendations?

Hello Anon! This is very vague, but I will take this as an opportunity to recommend some wonderful books across all sorts of different genres. Put on your seat belt, wear a mask, log into your goodreads app, and prepare to be bombarded with an even longer never ending TBR list.

||Nonfiction||

Notes of A Native Son by James Baldwin: If you haven’t read anything by Baldwin yet, this is a great place to start. This book is a collection of ten nonfiction essays primarily focusing on issues of race in America and Europe. Baldwin’s writing style is unlike any other, and in my opinion, is the equivalent of jazz on the page if such a thing does exist. His words will get you lost and challenge your understanding of the world as you know it, only to bring you to the profound realization that you did not in fact know the world very well at all.

The Empathy Exams by Leslie Jamison: I wouldn’t necessarily call this a medical memoir, rather this book is a collection of essays focusing on empathy via stories relating in some way to medical topics. Jamison’s writing style is highly engaging and she forces the reader to ask themselves some very difficult questions about themself and their role in the world. Empathy is a complex thing, and if you’re interested in understanding the nuances of the subject, and perhaps learning more about yourself, I would very much recommend this book.

||Historical Fiction||

Small Island by Andrea Levy: Set in and around WWII, the story follows the main characters Hortense, Gilbert, Queenie, and Bernard in a rather nonlinear recounting of events taking place in Jamaica, England, America, and India. The novel explores the complicated issues of Great Britain’s colonization of Jamaica, and the rough transition for Jamaican’s living in England to help support the wartime effort. I listened to the audiobook for this one and the voice actors did a fantastic job of giving each character a distinct and easily identifiable voice and personality. I think there is also a BBC adaptation of the book.

The Magic Strings of Frankie Presto by Mitch Albom: Not sure if this technically qualifies as historical fiction, but I’m putting it here because it does a great job of tracing a lot of the evolution of modern popular music. I will never stop recommending this book. The novel is narrated by the entity of music and follows the life of Frankie Presto in a sort of Forrest Gump like fashion. I won’t say much about the plot, but I will tell you this book will make you laugh, cry, and everything in between. Please read this book.

||Fiction||

Less Than Zero by Bret Easton Ellis: This book is told from the pov of Clay, a wealthy kid from California who goes to college in the Northeast. The novel follows his time at home during winter break and highlights the more unsightly aspects of the rich elite on the West Coast. This book made me feel sort of dead inside and pessimistic about the world, so I’m not sure it would be the best book to read right now given current events. But if your mental health is stable and in a good place, this is a quick read and an all around good book.

Crazy Rich Asians by Kevin Kwan: While the movie received some harsh criticisms, I really enjoyed this book. Kwan has a unique style and is able to tell the story from many different points of view without the characters getting lost or blending together. Often times I have a difficult time keeping track of names and relationships if there is a large cast of characters, but Kwan does a fantastic job. If you enjoy juicy family drama and heartwarming friendships, I recommend giving this a read. It’s also set in Singapore which was a first for me to read about and definitely convinced me to add a trip to Singapore on my bucketlist.

||YA Fiction||

We All Looked Up by Tommy Wallach: I read this book in two days when I was fifteen and it immediately found a permanent place in my heart. This book is about the potential end of the world from the perspectives of high school students in a style reminiscent of The Breakfast Club. I remember reading this and thinking “wow, this dude just really gets it” because Wallach perfectly captures my teenage angsty self. This is also a fitting read since it seems like the world is ending these days. I also recommend Thanks For the Trouble by Tommy Wallach because it’s an incredibly unique, intriguing, and just plain weird story. Wallach enjoys ambiguity in his stories, so if you’re into that kind of negative capability, then his books might just be a good match for you.

The Illuminae Files by Amie Kaufman and Jay Kristoff: This is technically YA sci-fi, but this is my list and I’m putting it here anyway. I’m personally not much of a sci-fi reader, so I don’t remember why I thought to pick up this series, but I am so glad I did. Illuminae has pretty much every sci-fi trope you can think of all wrapped into one marvelous multi-media kick-ass space story. The books themselves look thicc, but don’t let that turn you away. Despite the books having many pages, the story is told through emails, security camera footage logs, journal pages, text messages, and many pictures which makes for a speedy read. I recommend the Illuminae Files for those who don’t read sci-fi, but are willing to give it a try.

Emergency Contact by Mary H. K. Choi: I read this book at pretty much the perfect time in my life and I think that’s probably why I enjoyed it so much. The book is about Penny and her journey as she begins college at UT Austin and the anxieties/challenges that come along with that. Friendships, mother/daughter relationships, romance, drama, and a whole lot of social awkwardness. I’d recommend this to college students and or those about to go to college because I think most will find this book quite relatable in at least some way. The book reassures us that we are not alone in our awkward transition stages of life.

All For the Game by Nora Sakavic: This series is about a fictional sport called exy. Yes, that’s right, I’m recommending you books about a sport. Exy is sort of like lacrosse, but like better, more aggressive, and more drama. The series is about the main character, Neil Josten, who is on the run from his mob boss dad. Neil finds solace in exy and is actually not that bad at it. He goes to college, joins the Palmetto State Foxes exy team, and it’s all uphill (downhill?) from there. This series has unforgettable characters, lots of drugs and violence (don’t read if that triggers you), lots of gay, and lots of exy. For a book series about a sport, All for the game is amazing and I recommend it to everyone looking for a binge read. Note: I’ve heard physical copies are hard to find, but the ebook version is available through the kindle app and probably other places too.

||YA Fantasy||

Throne of Glass by Sarah J. Maas: oooooookay here we go. This series makes me weep just thinking about it, that’s how much I love it. I don’t think I’ve ever read anything that just hit me. so. hard. So many emotions. The series follows Celaena Sardothein, an assassin, and essentially her journey to becoming herself. Vague, I know, but I seriously cannot give anything away. SJM’s worldbuilding is next level and her characters are probably my favorite aspect of any and all of her books. I’ll also recommend her A Court of Thorns and Roses series here for the same reasons even though it’s been rebranded as “new adult fantasy.” Celaena is probably my favorite main character of all time, and I cannot fully express how much her story means to me. Throne of Glass is easy to follow and great for getting into the fantasy genre if it’s something you’ve never read before. Please give these books a try, I am begging you.

The Remnant Chronicles by Mary E. Pearson: The first book of this trilogy easily has one of the most shocking plot twists I have ever read. If that doesn’t pique your interest, I don’t know what will. Sorry. The Remnant Chronicles is a sort of milder fantasy than Throne of Glass, but fantasy nonetheless and super underrated. I’d recommend this series to people who enjoy stories about the politics of fantasy worlds, romance, and friendship. I let my little sister read my copies and she got through them in less than a week (I think) and could not stop raving about them.

The Raven Cycle by Maggie Steifvater: I think magical realism is a better genre for these books, but I’m putting them here under YA fantasy anyway. Fight me. Above anything else, you will fall in love with these characters. Set in Virginia, the Raven Cycle is honestly strange (in a good way) and tells the story of a group of friends’ quest to find some sleeping Welsh king. While the series is mostly about finding that damn king, there is a healthy amount of romance, swearing, clairvoyance, yogurt, latin, and all around good times. Steifvater’s writing style is unique, and with that it is admittedly a bit difficult to get into at first. But please stick with it! I promise it’s worth it! One of my favorite series ever, highly recommend.

||Short Stories||

Here is a list of short stories I enjoy. Not gonna do a whole synopsis for each, but take my word for it and pls read them.

-Tall Tales from the Mekong Delta by Kate Braverman

-Two Kinds by Amy Tan

-The Yellow Wallpaper by Charlotte Perkins Gilman

-Jealous Husband Returns in Form of Parrot by Robert Olen Butler

-The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas by Ursula K. Le Guin

-Girl by Jamaica Kincaid

-The Cask of Amontillado by Edgar Allan Poe

-The Secret Goldfish by David Means

-The Lottery by Shirley Jackson

-A Temporary Matter by Jhumpa Lahiri

-The Cavemen in the Hedges by Stacey Richter

-The Bad Graft by Karen Russell

-Eveline by James Joyce

I hope these recommendations are helpful in contributing to your summer reading and on-going TBR list. This is probably not what you were expecting when you simply asked “book recommendations?” but here you go. Happy reading, whoever you are.

#Book Recommendations #nonfiction #fiction #ya #ya fiction #ya fantasy #fantasy #scifi #short story #historical fiction #books #tbr #summer reading #books recs #anon #trc #tog #acotar #aftg

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littledata · 4 years

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Kara first becomes aware that Lena has a legion of seven evil exes hellbent on destroying her life when she gets home to find “Stay away from Lena Luthor” spray-painted on her apartment door. Her first thought is the culprit must be Lex Luthor, but spray paint seems a little inelegant for him, and besides, it’s just a bit too coincidental that the crime occurs the day after she shared dinner, drinks and a foot-pop inducing first kiss with the CEO of L-Corp. She rather doubts Lex found out about that from inside his supermax prison cell.

“I might have an idea who’s behind it.” Lena says sheepishly when she arrives to survey the damage. “I do have these seven evil exes who try to kill anyone I date.” When Kara suggests that this was perhaps something she should have mentioned after the aforementioned dinner, drinks, and earth-shattering kiss, Lena holds up her hands defensively. “I assumed it wouldn’t be a problem. I mean, you are a superhero.”

There’s just one issue with that superhero plan though, as Alex points out when she shows up to take a look at Kara’s vandalised door. The legion of seven evil exes who are now hellbent on destroying Kara’s life only think Lena is dating Kara Danvers, not Supergirl. So when they show up to fight her she can’t actually punch them into space without revealing her secret identity. She either deals with this problem as Kara Danvers or outs herself to a group of heartbroken supervillains.

So what does Kara Danvers do when she’s confronted with a legion of seven evil exes hellbent on destroying her life? She makes friends with them. Obviously.

1. Michael. Lena dated Michael for three weeks when she was fifteen because he had an earring and rode a motorbike. She was in the midst of a rebellious phase where she was trying her damndest to piss off her mother, and it worked until Michael suggested she drop out of high school to tour the country with his band. Even aged fifteen, Lena Luthor was nobody’s groupie. In the intervening years, he had racked up a couple of minor felonies (he was responsible for the spray paint) and was now playing bass in a Nickelback cover band. Kara agrees to hand out flyers for their next gig, and he tells her that she’s “totally kick-ass” like he’s from a 90s teen movie, then agrees he won’t try to murder her. She has to stand on a street corner in the cold for three hours, but it’s worth it when Lena shows up with hot cocoa, plants a warm kiss on her freezing nose, and tells her she looks cute in her scarf.

2. Madison. Kara first becomes aware of Madison when she is pelted with soccer balls by a small herd of children out of the windows of a mini-van. After she makes her escape, she forces an embarrassed Lena to explain that Madison was part of her first experimental steps into sleeping with women. They had hooked up once in their freshman year of college before Madison met a man, settled down and had four kids in quick succession. Kara has to find out for herself, buried somewhere in the depths of Madison’s mommy blog, that Lena had ruined her sex life with her future husband forever by giving her the only orgasm she would ever have. Kara ignores her friends’ rather lewd suggestions of how she could get in her good books, and instead stays up all night baking cookies and brings them to Madison’s PTA fundraiser. She arrives home that night to Lena brandishing three large pizzas and a lewd suggestion of her own.

3. Prisha. Kara knows all about Prisha. She’s beautiful and intelligent and perfect, she’s a hot-shot prosecutor and she has a blackbelt in Judo and Kara hates her guts. Lena only ever references her vaguely, but Kara does manage to get out of her that Lena was eyeing up engagement rings before she found out Prisha was cheating on her, and after that Kara just hates her even more. She’s actually determined not to befriend this particular ex until she receives a court summons for an unpaid parking ticket. Kara Danvers has never parked illegally in her life. She offers Prisha Supergirl’s number so that she can get in a few sparring sessions to train against someone really tough (under the influence of kryptonite, of course), and that means she gets to make friends with her and punch her in the face. “You do know you’re the only person I care about dating right now, don’t you?” Lena asks her later with a teasing smile, and Kara feels a little bit guilty about the whole punching thing.

4. Simon. Lena broke up with Simon after he stole some of her PHD research, published it under his own name and used the resulting exposure to start a multi-billion dollar tech company. He still frequently appears in the news for the human rights violations in his company warehouses. He sends a delivery driver to do his dirty work for him, who hands Kara an exploding pen when he asks her to sign for her package. Admittedly, this might have actually worked if she wasn’t an alien, and Kara isn’t exactly thrilled by the thought of attempting to make nice with Simon. She is excellent at gift-giving though and finally hits on what every Silicon Valley tech bro really wants: she talks Winn into hacking his social media pages and making his twitter advertising campaign go viral. She tells Lena she’s starting to worry about just how bad she is at picking her relationships, and Lena points out that her current girlfriend is pretty great. It’s the first time she’s said it, and Kara melts.

5. Jensen. Jensen was Lena’s final attempt at pleasing her parents and dating men, back around the time of the whole Lex-Luthor-tries-to-kill-Superman fiasco. It seemed like it would make Thanksgiving a little less awkward, Lena explains, and Kara supposes she can’t argue with that logic. Their relationship might have even worked out if both of them hadn’t been very, very gay, and although they parted on amicable enough terms, that doesn’t stop Jensen from trying to poison Kara with tainted cupcakes from the bakery he owns. The cupcakes are really good though, if you ignore the arsenic, so once Kara finds out he owns a bakery she becomes one of his best customers, and inside of a month she and Jensen are regularly meeting up for coffee. He’s not really evil, just kind of dramatic, and Lena pouts adorably when Kara teases that she could say the same thing about her.

6. Rosa. Kara finds out about Rosa when she receives a call from the National City jail warning her away from Lena. Lena looks faintly embarrassed when she admits that she dated Rosa for a couple of months until she realised the other woman was stealing from her apartment and attempting to milk every penny she could out of her. Which, yeah, Kara supposes you’re at risk of that when you’re an incredibly attractive, single billionaire, but Lena seems to think she should have known something was amiss in advance. Apparently, Rosa is very well connected in the organised crime world though, because she definitely recognises the goons who jump her and Alex outside of her apartment building as being from a local mob family. Said goons didn’t exactly expect to be contending with an over-protective Danvers sister though, and they’re seen off very quickly. Alex is less than impressed when Kara starts up a penpal friendship with Rosa, despite her little sister’s insistence that Rosa was mostly blackmailed into most of her crimes by her underworld family members. Lena, who perhaps understands a problematic family more than many people, sighs and says, “Well, you forgive people. That’s what makes you Kara.”

7. Clara. Kara has absolutely no idea what Lena saw in Clara. She’s nothing like any of Lena’s other exes, doesn’t even have much in common with her, and it isn’t until Alex has tears of laughter running down her face that she kind of sees it. Clara has long blonde hair, blues eyes, glasses, favours button-ups and - oh okay fine, she’s a dead ringer for Kara. She does an excellent imitation of Kara on the phone and attempts to break up with Lena, but gives herself away when she mentions eating a salad for lunch. Kara gets in touch with a talent agency she knows through CatCo and helps Clara get a steady gig as a Supergirl lookalike. When she asks Lena what she was thinking when she slept with her, Lena gives a small shrug. “I was head over heels in love with my best friend but not quite ready to admit it yet.”

“Am I in danger of becoming evil if you ever break up with me?” Kara asks once the legion of seven evil exes hellbent on destroying her life have all been successfully befriended and neutralised. She expects Lena to make a joke about Supergirl never turning evil, but Lena just gives her a curious look instead.

“What makes you think I’m ever going to break up with you?”

#supercorp #kara danvers #lena luthor #kara danvers vs the world #scott pilgrim vs the world au

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ariainstars · 5 years

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Skywalker Men - The „X“ Factor in the Equation

Recently I have heard and read quite a few interpretations of the Star Wars sequels; and regarding its conclusion, there seem to be two major theories.

1. Kylo Ren will pay for what he did and end in a terrible way, making the way free for Rey as the heroine who will save the galaxy, and who maybe also will turn out to be a Skywalker / Solo / Kenobi after all. 2. Kylo will be Ben Solo again and Rey will be the one who brings him back to the light.

But we know that this is the Skywalker saga. As Luke himself said, “This is not going to go the way you think.”

The two above-mentioned developments are, each in its own way, the most logical and straightforward ones, depending on whether you see the protagonist as Kylo Ren the villain due to his crimes, or as Ben Solo the hero undercover / the victim due to his uncle’s betrayal and Snoke’s manipulation.

But when you are dealing with a Skywalker, you can be certain only of one thing: the unexpected. Because the Skywalker is always the X factor in the equation.

Every Skywalker man is a hot emotional mess. Their impulsiveness is one of the major factors of the saga, urging the plot on. And that’s not wrong in itself: if they make a spontaneous decision reaching out to someone, it turns to be the right thing in the end. It’s when they make things only about themselves that they fail.

With characters like Obi-Wan, Yoda, Han or Leia to name a few, you usually know where you’re at. Their personalities are well-defined and you can foresee what they will do from a mile away. Han sometimes is spontaneous too, but his actions are dictated by slyness, not by rushed emotions. Being Anakin’s daughter, Leia is hot-headed too, but due to having been raised a princess even if she takes sudden action, she never loses her sense of responsibility and always thinks of the common good.

With a Skywalker, you are definitively always in for surprises. They often don’t do what they are expected to do, whether from us viewers or from the characters around them.

Skywalkers usually do not explain or justify themselves. They do not speak about these spontaneous acts, which leads both viewers and the figures around them wonder about their motivations and to judge them, depending on whether we or they see them as the heroes or the villains (or, occasionally, as the fools) of the story.

Prequels

Anakin Skywalker’s very existence is a mystery. He is the most powerful Jedi of all and comes from the humblest beginnings. His mother is not even aware of how she got pregnant with him.

It is 9-year-old Anakin who brings the Naboo Battle to a closure, destroying the droid’s control station which was orbiting the planet. All he did was to “stay in the cockpit”.

On his mother’s death, Anakin lashes out for the first time. His anger and grief are understandable, however it is as terrible as it is unexpected that it will push him so far as to kill the entire tusken village.

Knowing the original story we were of course aware that Anakin would marry Padmé; however to the Jedi, this was unthinkable because they would never have guessed that a Jedi would dare to oppose their strict code. Even Obi-Wan did not know for years, until on realizing that Padmé was pregnant he finally put two and two together.

Anakin’s marriage may seem foolish, immoral or romantic depending on your point of view. In any case, it’s crucially important because without this marriage, the two children who will later bring down the Empire would not have been born.

Again, as viewers we did know that Anakin would turn to the Sith. But the Jedi did not see it coming and they could not stop him. Obi-Wan was shocked on finding out that the one who had killed the Jedi younglings was indeed his former apprentice, saying over and over to Yoda that he could not believe it.

On Mustafar, Padmé almost succeeded in convincing Anakin to leave everything behind him and come back with her. It is interesting that she still had the power to do that (thus proving that there still was good in him) despite the horrible things he had done.

Would Obi-Wan have suspected that Anakin would survive Mustafar, a quadruple amputee burning in the lava? Assuredly not. That’s why he left him behind. We can only imagine his reaction on finding out that Lord Vader, Palpatine’s right hand and the scourge of the galaxy, had been built from Anakin’s miserable remainders.

Classics

Luke proves right away to be a true Skywalker when he learns that Leia is about to be executed. He is in terrible danger on an unknown space station and he has never met the girl in person, but he immediately feels that he has to rescue her.

Darth Vader is Moff Tarkin’s subordinate. But the suggestion to let the rebels leave the Death Star in order to track them down comes from him - a risky tactic that proves to be fatal. Not being a Skywalker, Tarkin would certainly never have come up with such an unexpected idea.

Despite the protests of both his mentors, Luke rushes to Bespine because he feels Han’s and Leia’s distress. To Obi-Wan and Yoda, both straightforward characters, the obvious thing for him to do would be to stay on Dagobah and complete his training. But as usual, Luke follows his heart.

The probably most unexpected plot twist in movie history: “I am your father.”

Not only is the fact in itself totally unpredicted, it’s that Vader does tell Luke at all, in an attempt to keep his son with him. Knowing the truth, Luke can no longer hate Vader. From this moment on, he is lost to the Dark Side.

When the Falcon first escapes, Vader does what everybody would have expected him to do: he chokes captain Needa to death. On its second escape, he just exits the bridge wordlessly. The encounter with his son seems to have shaken him more than he thought.

Why is Return of the Jedi the quintessential Skywalker film, the peak of the classic trilogy? Because so many things happen that no one would have foreseen.

Luke tries to solve matters with Jabba the Hutt diplomatically. Any kick-ass action hero would have entered his cave showing his strength and skills right from the start. Luke only grabs his light sabre at the very last moment.

Darth Vader, the cold-blooded killer, the most iconic villain, is still salvageable? “There is still good in him, Leia.” No one but his son could have realized this unexpected truth.

A decision that is controversial in the eyes of many fans to this day: Luke’s decision to give up fighting.

Palpatine has done his utmost to corrupt Luke, trying over and over to create enmity between father and son. Luke refuses to be separated from his father once more: he proclaims himself to be a Jedi “like my father before me.”

His loyalty is ultimately what brings the Empire down.

Although it costs him his life, Vader destroys Palpatine in order to rescue his son - another spontaneous decision taken at the very last moment, so unexpected that even Palpatine, who knew him so well and for so long, did not see it coming.

Sequels

Adult Luke is normally a calm and self-controlled person. But on sensing his nephew’s power, he is overwhelmed by a sudden moment of panic, and he draws his light sabre because he fears the loss of everything he loves.

Kylo Ren has no qualms killing innocents and torturing prisoners. But as he interrogates Rey, he is surprisingly gentle.

We see Kylo interact with Han on the bridge: his words to Snoke “He means nothing to me” were obviously false, he does feel something for his father. Yet he commits the patricide. He does the unthinkable, believing in Snoke’s words that this will finally end the conflict inside of him pushing him to the Dark Side for good.

Kylo would have had the opportunity to kill both Finn and Rey who are untrained with the light sabre. But he only wounds Finn (despite calling him a traitor, too) and lets Rey go unscathed.

After his terrible deed, we would expect Kylo to now be the ultimate villain. But as we see his face again a few days after the patricide, he is obviously deeply traumatized.

On her visit in the cave, Rey is confronted with her loneliness. The only person who offers her companionship and empathy is the alleged villain.

Ben does not speak with Rey about his intentions. He kills Snoke when he was least expecting it, taking both Snoke and Rey entirely by surprise.

Again, surprise: Luke is not really on Crait, he’s a Force projection. He uses his nephew’s anger against him in order to save his sister and her resistance, and to end the battle on Crait without spilling one drop of blood. A move that is as cunning as it is compassionate.

After the battle, Kylo would still have the time to send someone to go after the Falcon and shoot it down. But despite his assertion to destroy everything he just remains back, crying silently.

Now about the theories for Episode IX.

Being the last of the Skywalker family Kylo Ren / Ben Solo is, again, the X factor in the saga’s equation. Like with his grandfather before him, we know too little about his background to really know what we’re at. We see the sequels more through Rey’s eyes, which is why we tend to mistake her as the protagonist; hence the above mentioned two main theories for the saga’s conclusion.

Kylo is not predictable. He will most certainly make a few decisions no one would have reckoned with. As Lor San Tekka said right from the start, he cannot deny the truth that is his family. All we can do is hope that he will act for the right reasons.

What makes everybody wonder about the Skywalker men, is the same over and over: what do they want after all?

One would expect the protagonist of an action saga, of a hero’s journey, to do what action heroes usually pursue: save the world, kill the villain, get the girl. One would expect a Jedi to always do the right thing and a villain always to do evil. It is admittedly irritating when the protagonist takes unexpected turns over and over.

Knowing the Skywalkers, what I believe they ultimately want is belonging. They are fiercely loyal, but it can literally drive them out of their minds if their loyalty is not requited. And unfortunately, their power often makes people mistrust them, using them at times, but not really requiting their services with trust and appreciation. Snoke’s downfall came due to the fact that he showed his apprentice lack of respect, a huge mistake Palpatine never made with Vader.

Anakin had to give up his mother and his wish of becoming a pilot. He did all he could to suppress his emotions in order to find belonging with the Jedi, to no avail: they never trusted him. When he feared to lose the only ones he did belong to - his wife and unborn children - he lost himself. Only when his son proclaimed his loyalty to him did he turn and find belonging again.

Ben Solo, too, originally had the wish of becoming a pilot. He did struggle to become a Jedi, but he got unsettled when his parents sent him away from home and pushed over the edge when his own uncle seemed to give up on him.

Luke is the exception because he is so deeply human, and so accepting of other people’s humanness, that people can’t help but trust him. Luke is always more a human being than a Jedi. He does employ his powers but they do not define him as a person.

So, if we try to guess how the saga will end, we must not ask ourselves what Rey will do.

Will she kill Kylo Ren, making him pay for his crimes?

Will she save him with love and forgiveness?

I don’t think that’s the right question to make. The question is: what will he do?

Kylo committing some other horrible, unpardonable crime? No actual surprise there after the patricide.

Ben helping / saving / joining Rey? No surprise there either, after all the times he reached out for her.

If the Skywalkers were not the way they are, their saga would not be half as captivating and the plot twists not half as fascinating. Who wants to follow a story where most everything goes as expected?

With a Skywalker guy, the only thing to be expected is the unexpected.

Let’s keep our hopes up and tuned.

P.S. I did write a few meta’s about my own theories for Episode IX, you may want to check them out. Yes, I know, I’m a bloody tease. Guilty as charged. 😉

#star wars #skywalker family #luke skywalker #anakin skywalker #ben solo #kylo ren #princess leia #obi-wan kenobi #yoda #Jedi council #padme amidala #bendepmtion #rey #darth vader #episode IX #read more

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sharyrazade · 4 years

Text

Maybe it’s because I was spoiled by Ashnard (BL/AM spoilers)

Having pre-battle convos with everyone and their grandmother, but as hype as the battle with a certain Lovecraftian Juliette Caesar in Three Houses was, I was a little...disappointed by the lack of pre-battle exchanges with her. I mean, it’s completely justifiable plot-wise to only have Byleth and Dimitri having them, but I was still mildly disappointed by the missed opportunity, so I took the opportunity to correct it myself! This was originally only supposed to be with the other Black Eagles, but you know how things get with me; they snowball.

Okay, I can’t (and won’t) take credit for ALL of these. Just most of them.

HE: So I see you have betrayed the Empire after all, Ferdinand. It seems you truly are so petty to commit treason over an old rivalry. Or perhaps you simply want the throne for yourself...

Ferdinand: I am anything but, Edelgard. This mad dream of yours- it ends today.

HE: You always were an arrogant bastard. Do you truly believe you can match my power?

Ferdinand: I cannot and I accept that fact. But as long as I have the Professor and all of our allies by my side, we cannot- will not lose!

HE: Arrogant insect! I’ll crush you like I should have done ages ago!

Linhardt: So your crests did hide such power after all...fascinating.

HE: Stare all you like, Linhardt. For I will be the last thing you see!

Linhardt: [sighs] It’s a shame. In all of the Empire’s history, perhaps no other ruler has used the talents at her command to the degree you have...But all the same, no other emperor has chosen a path so incredibly stupid. Farewell, Edelgard. I suppose it won’t do anyone any good to let you live in this state.

Caspar: [shocked] Edelgard! W-what the hell happened to you?!

HE: I’ve become more powerful than you could ever dream of, Caspar. You have chosen very poorly to stand against me.

Caspar: I could say the same! I’ve got no interest in gaining power just to trample on the weak like you do! And that you’re ready to become a monster to get it?!

HE: Come, show me how strong you’ve become- let me crush you!

HE: Is that you, Bernadetta? Tell me; what does the little mouse have to say before the eagle swoops in to claim her?

Bernadetta:..I finally understand what it is I wanted. I wanted you to acknowledge me. To accept me as an equal, not a vassal...But that’s not enough. You said to me “can you not live unless you were born for some purpose?” I’m not living for anyone else. There’s no special meaning in living. When I sensed my own death, I wanted to live. I know now. That’s all I needed. So...I don’t need you anymore, Edelgard. It doesn’t matter if you accept me or not. Here I am. Alive! And we will defeat you!

HE: You’ve acquired some impudent wisdom, Bernadetta. Too bad you’ve acquired it too late to do you any good! Die!

HE: [Angry monstrosity noises]

Dorothea: [sadly] Oh, Edie...what’s become of you...? I suppose...it would be the least I could do...

HE: You would dare raise your weapon to me, Petra? Your sister of sorts? After everything the Empire’s done for Brigid?

Petra: Yes, I will. I believe in the Professor. And I will not sacrificing the life of my people for your dreams, Edelgard!

HE: Insolent girl! Once I’m done with you, I’ll raze those damnable islands and salt the earth!

HE: You lowly lapdog! You would dare turn your blade against the savior of your people?! On behalf of the King of Faerghus?!

Dedue: [smug] Yes. Yes, I would. It seems you’ve taken on an appropriately monstrous form to match your soul, Emperor of Adrestia. And THAT is exactly why I believe in His Highness and the Professor- instead of you.

HE: Prepare to justify your poor choices to your butchered kin and people- your reunion with them is imminent!

HE: Grrrah! Fraldarius dog! Had it not been for you and your cursed family-

Felix: Shut up. This will be the greatest fight of my life. I don’t intend to have you ruin it with your babbling. Besides, I’ve got a score to settle with you on behalf of my father and brother anyway.

HE: Discuss it with them in the next life! Die!

Felix: Show me what you can do, Emperor of Adrestia.

Ashe: [disturbed] Waaaah! E-edelgard? Is...that really...you?

HE: You! You are the lowliest scum of them all! Raising your bow against me in favor of the murderers of Lonato and Christophe!

Ashe: Don’t...you dare speak their names, Edelgard! The very last thing they would want is for me to “live” like you- obsessed with revenge!

HE: If you are so confident in their answer, ask them yourself! Die!

Sylvain: Eeesh, I’ve heard of stress aging people, but this is ridiculous.

HE: You insolent fop! You want nothing more than to be liberated from your crest, but turn your blade against your liberator!

Sylvain: Oh, you know what? I changed my mind. That won’t matter after we beat the snot out of you anyway.

HE: Allow me to relieve you from your tortured existence then!

HE: Do you truly seek to meet your goddess so soon, weakling?

Mercedes: [softly] Dear Goddess, please forgive what I’m about to do- please grant this tortured soul the peace she was unable to find in life.

HE: [angry] Don’t you DARE pity me!

Annette: (Alright, Annie, this is it. Just stay calm, and start casting)

HE: You weak-hearted fool. Still content in your servitude for nothing in return. A pathetic old fool of a knight sires a pathetic, foolish daughter- how poetic.

Annette: [angry] Alright, you’ve done it now, Edelgard!

HE: You insignificant gnat! Do you truly love your sorry lot in life so? You hate your station and its burdens, but wish to throw your life away for this rabble?

Ingrid: Maybe I do. But I do know one thing for certain: I hate tyrants like you more!

Lorenz: [shocked] Edelgard?! How ghastly!

HE: This is what true power looks like. Your foolish notions of chivalry and noble obligations have no place in my new world.

Lorenz: [irritated] I might say the same of you and your tyranny. En garde!

HE: You musclebound dolt. What is it you truly hope to gain, standing against me?

Raphael: I made a promise to myself and everyone when you attacked the monastery. No matter who I had to do it from, I’d protect my sis and all of our friends from the Empire- even if I’ve gotta throw down with you, Edelgard!

HE: I assure you, all of them- and your dear sister- are not long for this world!

HE: I’m somewhat impressed that you found the courage to stand against me, worm. Do you truly hate your life so much?

Ignatz: [slightly disturbed] N-not at all. I love my life- I love this world. That’s why...I’m willing to give it to protect the world from you!

HE: The world needs me! It does not need insignificant specks like you!

HE: This is most unfortunate. We are very much the same, Lysithea. And yet you still have chosen poorly- for that, you must pay with your life.

Lysithea: If I had followed your path...would this have happened to me, as well...? As someone who shares your fate...Edelgard! I will destroy you!

Marianne:..

HE: Out of all our school chums, you probably confound me the most. You should be crawling to me, begging to be a part of my new order. To take revenge on those who scorned and mocked you your entire life. Called you a monster.

Marianne: [softly] Monster...

HE: I am Fódlan’s only hope for a future not shrouded in darkness!

Marianne: [angry] Edelgard! Your life ends at my hands!

Hilda:...Yikes! Talk about a bad look on you.

HE: All you EVER had to do was hand over the Hero’s Relic and TRY to convince that scheming bastard to stand down. You could have had a life of comfort, luxury, and more wealth than you could have ever known what to do with!

Hilda: And betray Claude, the Professor, and my brother? Don’t think so!

HE: It seems I misjudged you.

Hilda: Damn right you did, you freak!

HE: My new world has far greater use for your skills than this lot. Why then have you chosen these bluebloods and malcontents?

Leonie: What kind of use? Trampling on the weak? Brutally killing your enemies, real or imagined? No thanks! I’d never be able to look myself- let alone Captain Jeralt- in the eye ever again!

HE: Your reverence for that admittedly-powerful freak of nature shall be your downfall, Leonie.

Leonie: “Freak?!” Oh-ho, that’s it, Edelgard; your freakish ass is mine!

Assuming he’s engaged Myson (because that’s what I did)

Seteth: [shocked] Of course! Those attacks...THAT’S what you needed with Flayn’s blood and Rhea both. You and your friends!

HE: Nosy old fossils such as yourself have no place in my new world- or any world! Do it a favor and die already!

Seteth: [simmering anger] Well said, Edelgard. In the name of Fódlan, your victims, the Goddess, and Nabatea alike, may your tyranny wither and die at my blade!

Flayn: Edelgard please! Cease this madness and release Rhea! For everyone’s sake!

HE: A creature like you is incapable of appreciating the ideal world that I have envisioned.

Flayn: How can your world be ideal when you’ve killed countless innocent people?!

HE: You...beast! Don’t tell me what’s right and wrong!

Hanneman: Edelgard?! Goddess, THIS is the sort of power that lies dormant in crests?! I suppose, given the potential complications with Hero’s Relics and incompatible crests...

HE: I tire of your babbling, old man! Die!

Manuela: [sadly] I always knew you were a little rough around the edges- hell, I was back in my day- still am. But this-

HE: Manuela, you insufferable old hag! You couldn’t have just left the stage gracefully, could you? Allow me to grant you one last curtain call! Die!

Gilbert:..

HE: [smug] Well, well, this pathetic old knight has come to me to seek penance for his failure.

Gilbert: Not quite, lass. In the name of both the daughter and king whom I could not be there for, your tyranny ends here, Emperor of Adrestia!

HE: I shall grant you the death you seek, you pathetic wretch!

Alois: Edelgard! It is high time you answered for your crimes!

HE: What, no stupid jokes or puns?

Alois: No. For Captain Jeralt...I would have followed them to the ends of the earth and into the eternal flames- even if it meant serving you. Boy, that was a close one!

HE: Well, discuss it with him in the afterlife! I shall send your dear wife and daughter there to greet you as well!

HE: [smug] Take a good look, Cassandra. It seems your beloved Lady Rhea’s existence has finally contributed something of value to the world.

Catherine: [furious] EDELGARD! I’ll cut you into a thousand pieces, then grind you into dust!

HE: Show yourself, wretch! Know that I will find you eventually, and when I do...

Shamir: Yep, that definitely settles it. No way am I getting paid anywhere close to enough for this.

HE: What a pest you are!

Cyril: I fight for everything living and breathing and all of your victims. I fight for the Professor and all of our friends. But most of all, I fight for Lady Rhea! And it’s in all their names that I will crush you, Emperor of Adrestia! I won’t let you steal another innocent life!

#my writing #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #three houses spoilers #azure moon #hegemon edelgard #edelgard von hresvelg #luke fon fabre #van grants #lloyd irving #zelos wilder #mithos yggdrasill #pit (kid icarus)#just look at Bernie Sylvain and Flayn for why I didn't do the DLC characters it would have all just been Vesperia quotes lol

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starspatter · 4 years

Text

Heroes and Thieves, Ch. 14

Title: Heroes and Thieves Fandom/Universe: BTAS, pre/post-RotJ flashback

Summary: A story about second chances, healing, and having hope.

Rating: PG-13, for references to character death, child psychological torture and trauma.

Genre: Romance/Family/Friendship/Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 2,526 Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

Also on ff.net and AO3.

Lies, lies, lying little beast Lying little man on the corner of the street Singing "Why, I can't come out to play Can't come out and say that I'm afraid of what they'll say"

-Run River North, "Lying Beast"

————————–

Then.

Stephanie walked purposefully down the dormitory hallway towards her destination, which she had learned of through Cass after the other had shockingly announced she was now… “involved” with someone and asked point-blank for her advice. Steph had been surprised (not to mention maybe a tad jealous) that she had been granted visitation rights before her – especially when she herself wasn’t even sure if she had reached an official “dating” stage yet with her suitor- er, tutor (although they had undergone several “study sessions” together by this point) – but nevertheless was happy for her roommate. …Besides, her profile’s “single” status would hopefully change today.

Checking her hair and outfit, she nervously fixed and fidgeted a little in front of the doorway, before taking a deep breath and knocking on the entry. After a moment, it slowly creaked open a crack to reveal a rather confused-looking Tim.

“Steph? What are you doing here?”

“Hey! I just came to ask you something quick, if you’re not too busy.” She beamed her best and brightest.

Tim’s eyes darted anxiously aside as he swallowed.

“Uh, now’s not really a great time…”

“Who’s that, Tim? A friend of yours?”

Stephanie blinked as a stunningly beautiful woman unexpectedly emerged from behind Tim, ravishing red locks and coquettish lips smiling cordially.

“Ah, you must be Stephanie! Tim’s told me a lot about you.”

Steph’s gaze shifted suspiciously to Tim, who looked like his world had just come crashing down around him.

“…Has he now?”

The stranger grinned widely as she extended her slender palm, revealing twin rows of perfect pearl teeth.

“I’m Barbara Gordon. Pleasure to meet you.”

Tentatively, Steph took it.

“...Nice to meet you. Wait, ‘Gordon’ – as in the new Police Commissioner?”

The woman nodded.

“Bingo, you’re looking at her.” Her voice abruptly took on an authoritative tone. “I’m here on official police business, conducting a top-secret investigation. You wouldn’t happen to have seen any suspicious individuals around, would you?”

“Babs,” Tim cut in sharply as Steph started to sweat and panic. “That’s enough. Quit frightening her.” (Although rather than relieve her apprehension, it only increased further at such informal address.)

…On a first-name basis?

“Kidding, kidding. I’m giving a guest lecture on Criminology over in the West Wing. Speaking of which,” Barbara glanced at her wristwatch, “I should probably get going. Class starts in 10 minutes. I just came by to say ‘hi’ to Tim.”

She began to gather up her things, bustling out the exit with a wink to Tim on the way, who only winced and shrank further in response.

“I’ll leave you two kids alone. Take care, Tim. I’ll stop by again some other time.”

Steph watched her figure’s wake until it was gone, silently envying sophisticated style and… mature body shape as it sashayed away.

“She’s awfully pretty,” she mused aloud, suddenly feeling even more self-conscious. “What exactly is your relationship with her?”

Don’t tell me he’s actually into older women. There’s no way I can compete with that.

Tim rolled his eyes with a sigh.

“It’s not what you think. She’s like an older sister.”

“…Seriously?”

How strangely ‘convenient’ all his supposed ‘relatives’ seem to be gorgeous supermodels.

“Trust me, there’s nothing like that between us.”

She gauged his earnest expression, before accepting assurance.

“All right, I believe you.” Her smile returned as she relaxed. “In that case…”

She fished around in her pocket, pulling out two tickets she won at the Theta-Kapa-Gamma Harvest Festival last week.

“Ta da~! Tickets to see the monster movie marathon at the old Monarch Theater on Saturday! You are free, aren’t you?”

Tim blinked as she practically shoved the tiny pieces of perforated paper in his face, fanning gleefully in invitation. Temptation.

“I am, but…”

He gulped, hesitating as he seemed to desperately search for an excuse.

“I’m… not really a fan of old films…”

He mumbled lamely, appearing extremely uneasy for some reason.

Oh crap. Don’t tell me I screwed up again.

Steph’s confidence sank in disappointment, recalling how she had once enthusiastically tried to engage Tim in a spontaneous water pistol fight going on in the campus courtyard (despite the season being somewhat ill-suited for the sport), having snuck up on him whilst the victim was reading unawares underneath the shade of a nearby tree, hitting him with a lighthearted squirt. He had sat there, stunned, as he stared at the childish toy weapon in her hand, before wiping his soaked cheek with the back of his sleeve. Slamming his book shut, he stated with such startlingly quiet, intense anger it took her aback:

“I don’t like guns.”

…Before standing up and stalking off in silence.

Still, she had hoped this would make up for it, that it could be something they’d both enjoy, spend some real quality time doing together (besides studying anyway, which she was starting to get sick and tired of as tests approached). Who didn’t care for a good old-fashioned camp scare around Halloween? …Maybe he just needed to give it a chance.

“Hey, don’t knock it ‘till you’ve tried it. Have you ever even seen Dracula or Frankenstein?”

He shook his head.

“Whaaat, you’re missing out on some classics! Come on, it’ll be fun. We’ve both been working so hard, we deserve a break. Cass has a pair of passes too, so she and Conner are going to be there as well. We can totes double together.” (Incidentally, it had been a little odd how her partner had been so fortunate as to receive the exact same prize at the booth’s trivia guessing game right after her, but she’d learned not to question Cassandra’s keen – if sometimes creepily uncanny – sense of intuition.)

Tim bit his lip, but acquiesced at her pleading puppy eyes, which shone with eager stars of anticipation.

“…Okay.”

“Great! It’s a date then.” She exclaimed excitedly as she handed him his half of the voucher.

“A… date.”

He repeated robotically, surveying the stub as if in disbelief.

“I’ll see you on Saturday then.”

She waved as she skipped off, emboldened by sweet success. In her jubilee, she accidentally ran straight into Conner as he coincidentally came round the corner, heading back to his room as well.

“Whoa, watch it there!”

He caught her just before she fell (unlike before, this sturdy target was obviously a lot harder to knock over), and she blushed a tinge as she felt his huge, strong arms wrap around her shoulder.

Man, what is it with me and bumping into hot guys recently? …Not that I’m complaining, mind.

She wasn’t sure whether to be overjoyed or embarrassed by this recurring situation, but settled for leaning towards the former. Conner, on the other hand, seemed a little less thrilled upon realizing the person in his grasp.

“Oh, it’s you. …Actually, good timing. I want to talk to you about Tim.”

He raised her up, but kept a firm grip on her collar as he drew her back round the bend. …It was almost a little painful, the amount of pressure his paw was putting on her petite stature. His countenance was severely solemn as he stooped forward to meet her level.

“…Look, I’m just gonna come right out and say it so you don’t get the wrong idea. Tim’s… ‘delicate’. I mean, really delicate.” He frowned, icy blue irises flaring dangerously as his dense, digging fingers deepened into the folds of her blouse, contracting and contacting to the bone. “You need to watch what you say and do around him. I swear, if you ever do anything intentionally to hurt him, I will never forgive you. You got that?”

She recoiled, reasoning he was likely referring to the gun stunt.

Is he… making a genuine threat?

Steph was somewhat scared now as his shadow loomed over her, backing her against the wall. She nodded meekly.

“U- understood.”

“Good.”

He released her, and she rubbed at the sore spot on her skin, wondering if it was going to leave a bruise. She was also starting to wonder what the heck Cass saw in this big dumb brute. He was admittedly attractive, sure, but personality-wise he was Tim’s complete opposite: loud, brash, obnoxious – not to mention arrogant – basically your stereotypical jock. And yet…

“You really care a lot about Tim, don’t you?”

Conner sniffed. “Of course I do. He’s my best friend.”

…’Friend’, huh?

The way he behaved seemed to go far beyond mere “friendship” though. He was almost acting like an overprotective guardian. …Or a possessive one.

“Could it be that you’re… jealous?”

“Me? Jealous? Of you?” Conner scoffed. “Why on earth would I be jealous? Just because you’re the one getting him to finally open up and trust you, participate in a bunch of social activities he never normally would, even though I’ve tried so hard to motivate him to be more outgoing over these past few years? To convince him to talk to me about his problems? To be the kind of stupid-ass cliché you huma- people find so damn popular just so no one else would dare to mess with him?”

He laughed like a bark, though it sounded slightly strained. Pained. Stephanie softened at such a display of devotion.

…Maybe he’s not such an oaf after all.

“For what it’s worth, I think you’ve done a lot more for him than you give yourself credit for. I’m sure he appreciates having you as a pal.”

She cautioned a comforting pat on his broad muscle.

“Don’t worry, it’s not like I’m trying to steal him away from you or anything. Besides, you’re doing the same thing for Cass, aren’t you? Trying to help her break out of her shell? Heck, I’ve noticed she’s been a lot more vocal ever since you two started seeing each other.”

Conner rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

“You think? I mean, I guess you could say that. I dunno, it feels like I’m not really right for her… She’s so serious and deep, and – and next to her I feel like a total doofus most of the time…”

Stephanie couldn’t help but sympathize. They were a weird couple, to be sure, but then the same could easily be said about her and Tim.

“Hey, far be it from me to judge, but even if it doesn’t seem like you’re made for each other off the bat, I think you owe it to yourselves to try and explore those feelings at least. You never know, maybe it will work out.”

…It might’ve been her imagination, but the margins of his mouth seemed to twitch a bit at the word “made”. He coughed as he replied contritely though.

“Thanks. And, uh, sorry about being rough earlier.”

“It’s all right.” She smirked. “You were just defending your ‘delicate’ flower’s honor.”

A humiliated flush crept onto his visage.

“Oi, despite what you may have heard, it’s not like that.”

“It’s okay,” she giggled in understanding. “I feel the same way about Cass. …I suppose you could consider it even then?”

“Um… I suppose.” He looked confounded by the straightforward confession, but shrugged, not wanting to think too hard about it anymore, lest things get overly complicated. “So… We good then?”

She smiled.

“Yeah. We’re good.”

…

When the weekend rolled around, Stephanie dragged Cassandra clothes shopping before the big day, insisting on doing her hair and makeup as well. By the time they arrived at the cinema, the boys were already there waiting, checking their watches out in the cold. While she sheepishly apologized on both behalves for being “fashionably late”, Steph figured it was worth it when she saw their slack jaws at how much fashion had transformed them. The guys were dressed decently to impress as well, both sporting smart leather jackets (although Tim’s looked a size too big for him, and Conner still had on that ruddy black Superman T-shirt underneath that seemed like it came from a little kid’s closet).

She took the initiative in lining up with Tim to order snacks and soda, in the meantime telling the other two to go find four seats together. Luckily they didn’t have to wait long, as there didn’t seem to be many customers despite it being a Saturday. (To be fair those tickets were probably pretty cheap and undesirable to given away free at some college fest.) Although she kept chatting cheerfully to try and pass the time, her other company seemed even more uncomfortable than usual in the lightly crowded lobby, hardly able to carry a conversation – let alone the food – all the way to the viewing room. She began to worry if this had been a mistake to bring him here, and prayed the darkness and drama onscreen would at least be able to distract him enough to loosen up a little.

Cass and Conner had saved them two seats near the edge, and she sidled in next to her girlfriend (for moral support) while Tim took the one closest to the aisle. He kept glimpsing tensely around though, still just as jumpy as before.

“Hey, chill out a bit, will ya? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he muttered. “It’s just, in my experience, this is usually the part where the place catches fire, or some punks try to rob the box office, or…”

She stared at him, shaking her head.

“You fret too much. Just try to relax and enjoy, okay? Here, have some popcorn.”

He passed on the salted kernels though, and she pouted as she popped one in her mouth, chewing over whether she’d made the right decision after all. He looked almost claustrophobic, stressed. In distress.

Things didn’t improve much as the motion picture started to play. The first feature presentation in the lineup was indeed Frankenstein, and although Tim managed to remain relatively calm enough throughout the monochrome, monotone introduction, he started to stiffen at the famous “awakening” sequence.

“Quite a good scene, isn’t it? One man crazy, three very sane spectators.”

Out of the crook of her eye, Steph sensed her companion cringe every time there was a thunderclap, as lights flashed and machinery sparked with mounting electricity, while the movie madman merrily turned the wheel to “adjust the batteries”. Together, he and his assistant unrolled the cloth covering the table to expose a humanlike form strapped to it, albeit with limbs limp and lifeless. Tim’s claw clutched at his armrest as the stretcher was gradually lifted up through a hole in the ceiling towards the stormy sky, where pulses of galvanizing lightning presumably struck the subject repeatedly.

Stephanie divided concentration back and forth between the increasingly agitated boy beside her and the big screen in growing alarm as his breathing accelerated, gasping and wheezing audibly as he bent forward and put his hyperventilating head between his knees. Cass and Conner were casting concerned looks as well, while other annoyed audience members revolved around and shushed to keep it down. As her attention was arrested by the scientist maniacally screaming “It’s alive!” over and over again, she turned back one last time to ask if Tim was all right in a worried whisper – but there was no answer.

Tim was gone.

————————–

Oh Lord, whatever did I say? Whatever made me think that this was all okay? No one held me to the flame The hell if I could take the dark from my face

#TimSteph #Tim Drake #Timmy Todd #Stephanie Brown #Conner Kent #Cassandra Cain #Barbara Gordon #Batman the Animated Series #Batman Beyond #DCAU #Return of the Joker #fanfiction #starstories #*picks up all her gay kiddies and puts in a protective basket*

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smokeybrandreviews · 4 years

Text

The King of Iron Fist

I don’t talk about this much but i am a massive, massive, fan of fighting games. I’ve been playing these things for decades, since all the way back in ‘92 with the release of the original Mortal Kombat. Watching the growth, decline, and then resurgence of the fighting game community has been a goddamn treat for me. Admittedly, i suck at the Capcom titles. Absolutely terrible. I do okay with the Rival Schools franchise, but outside of that, straight up balls, man. Never my forte. I’m pretty good with the original MK trilogy, the sprite based one, but absolutely awful with Deadly Alliance through Deception. I hated the fighting styles in those games. They were so goddamn awful, it was sickening. I do okay with the MKIX, MKX, and MKXI titles, though. They feel like the old games which lends itself to my old timey skill set. That said, my strength lies with the two Namco headliners; Tekken and Soul Calibur.

I mastered every Tekken title through 7, though, admittedly, I'm not so godly in the newest release, only great. Personally. For me, Tekken 5: Dark Resurrection is the title I'm best with. I love that game, man. I can use literally everyone in the roster to perfection. All of their moves. All of their ten-hits. I maxed out my rank in the Ghost Battles with several of the characters and ranked in the top-10, worldwide, leader boards when it was first released. I was feeling a bit nostalgic and wanted to revisit my favorite fighting franchise, giving a little love to my favorite fighters, kind of like how i did with my Persona 5 mains. They are ranked, top to bottom, in order of my skill with them. I even threw in the rank i reached in their respective Tekken games, just for good measure. Since 6 is the last one i really spent any time with and there might be a few characters introduced in 7 or, like, the Tag titles that I'm pretty good with but don’t really have a correlation in rank, I'll have to approximate my skill with a Tekken 6 rank, just to keep things equal.

1. Emilie De Rochefort - Tekken 5 - Tekken God

Lili is my main from 5 onward. Her speed, power, and cross-ups are ridiculous. There is a fluidity to her style that makes for an amazing number of possibilities. All of those flips, somersaults, and hopping knee pokes make for a varying arsenal of devastating stuns. If you can time your attacks right, you can string one, long ass, chain of hits that will deplete an enemy with a Perfect within seconds. Her strength carried over into Tekken 6, easily winning me over in that title, too. I haven’t played much of 7 but what i did get into, Lili feels a little nerfed. She just feels a bit slower than she should. That’s not a problem or whatever, but it is kind of annoying that have to have so many gaps in my assault.

2. Hwoarang - Tekken 3 - Tekken God

Hwoarang was my main for years. He was the very first character that i mastered in any Tekken title. See, my older brother would come over with his PlayStation and commence to beat my ass in Tekken 3 for hours. One day, he told me to actually get good and lent me his Sony for a week. Welp, i did just that. I got good. Real f*cking good. Hwoarang uses Tae Kwon Do, which is dope because it’s easy to combo with, but this dude’s strength is in his juggle potential. His kicks lack the power of his master, Baek Doo San, but they come out faster and in more numbers. Within that week, i was able to string together a flurry of devastating kicks that not even my big brother could counter. Twenty-three years later, he still hasn’t beat me in a single game. If Lili isn’t available, Hwoarang is my guy. Even so, i am probably equally skilled with both, i just prefer the stylish flourish my darling Emilie has with her style.

3. Steve Fox - Tekken 4 - Tekken God

Steve was a quandary when he first released. Dude has no kicks and it was ridiculous to see in a game with such an expansive roster of fighters like Tekken, especially in the fourth iteration. His addition was ridiculous to me. And then i tried him. My, god, was his speed stupid. See, in a fighter like this, speed kills. If you can bust a quick combo, maybe juggle a cat, maybe fired off a quick combo before retreating out of counter range, you can destroy an opponent in seconds. That’s why i love Lili. That’s why i love Hwoarang. Steve Fox has that same potential but it’s different. You can’t launch characters too easily and being a puncher, his reach is limited, but you can juggle the f*ck out of them if they end up airborne. Steve has a lot of weapons to f*ck you up in a near infinite juggle if you’re not careful and i know all of them. Interestingly enough, he’s gotten better with age. I prefer his 5 version but 6 and 7 are pretty beefy, too.

4. Kazuya Mishima - Tekken - Tekken Lord

Kazuya is my power hitter. I’m a speed guy, admittedly. I love the juggle. I love the chains. I love the artistry in forging a string of consecutive, devastating, combo hits. The issue is, there are motherf*ckers like Paul Phoenix who can punch a planet into retrograde in this game. Now, against a computer, I'm fine with my main three Tekken Gods. I’ll dog walk a computer, no matter how high the difficulty. Once you’ve beaten Jinpachi on the highest setting in Tekken 5, you are ready for anything. However, against a real person who knows how to use a power character like the f*cking bears or goddamn Jack? Nah. If they’re good with that heavy-hitter, i have to bring in my own and Kazuya is that ringer. Dude’s probably the second strongest character in the the game after his pops, Heihachi Mishima. The difference? Kazuya’s cross ups are f*cking ridiculous. All of that twirling and overhead kicks make for some confusing hurt when you know how to execute.

5. Eliza - Tekken 7 - Tekken Lord

Eliza was an interesting character for me to pick up. I was curious about her so i bought that money pit Tekken Revolution or whatever. I hated that game so much but i played enough Eliza to feel borderline conceited in my ability. Imagine my elation when my darling drowsy vampire made her cannon appearance in Tekken 7. Again, i didn’t play much, but i did find that my Revolution skills translated well and i was even able to pick up a few new tricks. Eliza, admittedly, is super wonky to master, she’s similar to Alisa Bosconovitch that way, but her mix ups are superb. If you put in the time, Eliza is a very rewarding character to play.

6. Marshall Law - Tekken - Tekken Lord

The elder Law is my guy. I’m a sucker for a Bruce Lee facsimile and Marshall is one of the best out there. He has a good combination of speed and power but it’s his mix ups that endear him to my heart. That and i learned how to play with him because Forest Law, Lee’s son, was the character my brother beat my ass so handily with for months in Tekken 3. I learned Forest out of spite but, when his pops returned in 4, i made sure to master that version, as well. Over time, i grew to love playing with Marshall. He has a very unique, very acrobatic and showy style, like his real life inspiration.

7. Jun Kazama - Tekken - Tekken Lord

Jun ain’t no joke. That Kazama style martial art is something nasty. I could have probably put Asuka here, i am about as good with her as i am Jun considering how similar their styles are, but i have to give respect to the original tooth fairy. Jun Kazama is a f*cking problem, man, She’s deceptively powerful but quick with those hands. She will poke the f*ck out of you with such insidious precision, you won’t even realize you died even after the match is called. The way her blows flow make for some unwieldy mix ups and stupid juggle stuns. I hated fighting her in 2. I hated fighting her even more in the Tag titles. But i love fighting WITH her, especially if you can master that funky timing she has.

8. Lee Chaolan - Tekken 4 - Tekken Lord

Lee is bit of a detraction form my usual fighting fare. He’s kind of a gag character. A little effeminate and a little cruel, Lee’s kicks are the real deal. This cat sends those footsy out at blinding speed and you know how much i love my speed. The thing is, he lacks the power of, say, Hwoarang, Baek, or Bruce. I actually picked up Lee n 4, then Violet, on a whim because i thought it would be funny to beat someone with a character i had no idea how to play. After that first round, though, i was on it.Dude felt good in my hands. I knew Lee was something special and spent the rest of the night with his pokey kicks and flying drop kicks. It was f*cking incredible. I couldn’t believe i slept on such an amazing character for so long. I went back to Tekken 2 and spent weeks with him just to get a proper feel from start to finish. Now, he’s a staple of my rotation. Only when I'm feeling flamboyant, though.

9. Devil Kazuya - Tekken 2 - Dragon Lord

I picked up Devil Kazuya way back in Tekken 2 because i liked the design. Also, the face laser. That sh*t was stupid. As time went on, and the games advanced, i always went back to Tekken 2 in an effort to hone my skills with the original Devil. To my surprise, when Tekken 7 dropped, Devil Kazuya was playable once again and my skills translated perfectly. Dude has a few new tricks and i immediately ate those f*ckers up but it felt so good taking to the air once more. It sucks he only has two, official, appearances but this is one of those cats that i played a lot with in the Tag titles. Like, SO much. Devi was my second choice after Hwoarang in the original Tekken Tag and, like, my fourth in Tekken Tag 2. Obviously, I'm just as good with Angel, too. I mean, they’re the same f*cking character so i better be!

10. Anna Williams - Tekken 2 - Dragon Lord

Oh, the Williams sisters. Similar to the case of Jun and Asuka, I'm probably equally as good with both the Williams but Anna is my preferred character. I just like her design better. That and her deceptive ass sexuality. Anna is gorgeous but she will f*ck you the f*ck up. The Williams sisters are power characters and you can’t tell me otherwise. These chicks will ruin your life as a fast as Paul Phoenix if you’re facing off against someone who knows how to use them. I know how to use them very well. Again, Anna over Nina, but I'll mess you up regardless.

11. Zafina - Tekken 6 - Dragon Lord

Zafina was a surprise. Her style is all over the place. I read somewhere it was designed after a snake or something. That sh*t is fitting because she is a slippery motherf*cker, man. Zafina took me a while to master, kind of like Eliza, but once you understand her strengths, this chick can be a proper powerhouse. She’s quick, juggles well, but pokes like a f*cking champ. If your poke game is strong with her, there’s a good chance you can stun lock an opponent into a perfect or two.

12. Devil Jin - Tekken 5 - Dragon Lord

Admittedly, i wanted to put Jin from Tekken 3 on this list. His mixture of Kazama and Mishima style martial arts is mad potent. I love the way dude plays. It’s like fighting with Jun and Kazuya at the same time. However, with the release of Tekken 4, Jin unlearned literally everything about the Mishima style and decided to master normal karate. That sh*t was whack, man. I mean, it was fine, i learned the new Jin fine, but it wasn’t MY Jin. That said, my Jin was in the game, only he took the form of a devil. Devil Jin is f*cking ridiculous. I understood a lot of his abilities because of my mastery of Devil Kazuya but, with the addition of the Kazama style martial arts, Devil Jin was a f*cking beast in that game. He’s kind of a beast in every game he makes an appearance. between the two, i prefer Devil Kazuya, but I'll wreck a guy with Jin if necessary.

13. Bryan Fury - Tekken Tag Tournament - Dragon Lord

I love Bryan Fury. The design, the inspiration, the brutal fighting style, that ridiculously evil laugh; Dude is just amazing. I got pretty good with Bruce Irvin in Tekken 2 so when he wasn’t around in Tekken 3, i was a little bummed. It took awhile for me to pick of Fury, i actually first really got into the character in Tag but i did fool around with him in 3 a little bit. That was after i was surprised by how effortlessly powerful he was in Tag. Dude ain’t Bruce, but he’s still pretty dope.

Honorable Mentions: Unknown, Armor King, Ling Xiaoyu, Alisa Bosconovitch, Heihachi Mishima, Bruce Irvin, Kazumi Mishima, Miguel Caballero Rojo, Josie Rizal, Eddy Gordo

#Tekken #Mishima Zaibatsu #G Corporation

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smokeybrand · 4 years

Text

The King of Iron Fist

I don’t talk about this much but i am a massive. massive fan of fighting games. I’ve been playing these things for decades, since all the way back in ‘92 with the release of the original Mortal Kombat. Watching the growth, decline, and then resurgence of the fighting game community has been a goddamn treat for me. Admittedly, i suck at the Capcom titles. Absolutely terrible. I do okay with the Rival Schools franchise, but outside of that, straight up balls, man. Never my forte. I’m pretty good with the original MK trilogy, the sprite based one, but absolutely awful with Deadly Alliance through Deception. I hated the fighting styles in those games. They were so goddamn awful, it was sickening. I do okay with the MKIX, MKX, and MKXI titles, though. They feel like the old games which lends itself to my old timey skill set. That said, my strength lies with the two Namco headliners; Tekken and Soul Calibur.

I mastered every Tekken title through 7, though, admittedly, I'm not so godly in the newest release, just great. Personally. For me, Tekken 5: Dark Resurrection is the title I'm best with. I love that game, man. I can use literally everyone in the roster to perfection. All of their moves. All of their ten-hits. I maxed out my rank in the Ghost Battles with several of the characters and ranked in the top-10, worldwide, leader boards when it was first released. I was feeling a bit nostalgic and wanted to revisit my favorite fighting franchise, giving a little love to my favorite fighters, kind of like how i did with my Persona 5 mains. They are ranked, top to bottom, in order of my skill with them. I even threw in the rank i reached in their respective Tekken games, just for good measure. Since 6 is the last one i really spent any time with and there might be a few characters introduced in 7 or, like, the Tag titles that I'm pretty good with but don’t really have a correlation in rank, I'll have to approximate my skill with a Tekken 6 rank, just to keep things equal.

Emilie De Rochefort - Tekken 5 Dark - Tekken God

Lili is my main from 5 onward. Her speed, power, and cross-ups are ridiculous. There is a fluidity to her style that makes for an amazing number of possibilities. All of those flips, somersaults, and hopping knee pokes make for a varying arsenal of devastating stuns. If you can time your attacks right, you can string one, long ass, chain of hits that will deplete an enemy with a perfect within seconds. Her strength carried over into Tekken 6, easily winning me over in that title, too. I haven’t played much of 7 but what i did get into, Lili feels a little nerfed. She just feels a bit slower than she should. That’s not a problem or whatever, but it is kind of annoying that have to have so many gaps in my assault.

Hwoarang - Tekken 3 - Tekken God

Hwoarang was my main for years. He was the very first character that i mastered in any Tekken title. See, my older brother would come over with his PlayStation and commence to beat my ass in Tekken 3 for hours. One day, he told me to actually get good and lent me his Sony for a week. Welp, i did just that. I got good. Real f*cking good. Hwoarang uses Tae Kwon Do, which is dope because it’s easy to combo with, but this dude’s strength is in his juggle potential. His kicks lack the power of his master, Baek Doo San, but they come out faster and in more numbers. Within that week, i was able to string together a flurry of devastating kicks that not even my bog brother could counter. Twenty-three years later, he still hasn’t beat me in a single game. If Lili isn’t available, Hwoarang is my guy. Even so, i am probably equally skilled with both, i just prefer the stylish flourish my darling Emilie has with her style.

Steve Fox - Tekken 4 - Tekken God

Steve was a quandary when he first released. Dude has no kicks and it was ridiculous to see in a game with such an expansive roster of fighters like Tekken, especially in the fourth iteration. His addition was ridiculous to me. And then i tried him. My, god, was his speed stupid. See, in a fighter like this, speed kills. If you can bust a quick combo, maybe juggle a cat, you can destroy an opponent in seconds. That’s why i love Lili. That’s why i love Hwoarang. Steve Fox has that same potential but it’s different. You can’t launch characters too easily but you can juggle the f*ck out of them if they end up airborne. Steve has a lot of weapons to f*ck you up in a near infinite juggle if you’re not careful and i know all of them. Interestingly enough, he’s gotten better with age. I prefer his 5 version but 6 and 7 are pretty beefy, too.

Kazuya Mishima - Tekken - Tekken Lord

Kazuya is my power hitter. I’m a speed guy, admittedly. I love the juggle. I love the chains. I love the artistry in forging a string of consecutive, devastating, combo hits. The issue is, there are motherf*ckers like Paul Phoenix who can punch a planet into retrograde in this game. Now, against a computer, I'm fine with my main three Tekken Gods. I’ll dog walk a computer, no matter how high the difficulty. Once you’ve beaten Jinpachi on the highest setting in Tekken 5, you are ready for anything. However, against a real person who knows how to used a power character like the f*cking bears or goddamn Jack? Nah. If they’re good with that heavy-hitter, i have to bring in my own and Kazuya is that ringer. Dude’s probably the second strongest character in the the game after his pops, Heihachi Mishima. The difference? Kazuya’s cross ups are f*cking ridiculous. All of that twirling and over head kicks make for some confusing hurt when you know how to execute.

Eliza - Tekken 7 - Tekken Lord

Eliza was an interesting character for me to pick up. I was curious about her so i bought that money pit Tekken Revolution or whatever. I hated that game so much but i played enough Eliza to fell borderline conceited in my ability. Imagine my elation when my darling drowsy vampire made her cannon appearance in Tekken 7. Again, i didn’t play much, but i did find that my Revolution skills translated well and i was even able to pick up a few new tricks. Eliza, admittedly, is super wonky to master, she’s similar to Alisa Bosconovitch that way, but her mix ups are superb. If you put in the time, Eliza is a very rewarding character to play.

Marshall Law - Tekken - Tekken Lord

The elder Law is my guy. I’m a sucker for a Bruce Lee facsimile and Marshall is one of the best out there. He has a good mix of speed and power but it’s his mix ups that endear him to my heart. That and i learned how to play with him because Forest Law, Lee’s son, was the character my brother beat my ass so handily with for months in Tekken 3. I learned Forest out of spite but, when his pops returned in 4, i made sure it master that version, as well. Over time, i grew to love playing with Marshall. He has a very unique, very acrobatic and showy style, like his real life inspiration.

Jun Kazama - Tekken - Tekken Lord

Jun ain’t no joke. That Kazama style martial art is something nasty. I could have probably put Asuka here, i am about as good with her as i am Jun considering how similar their styles are, but i have to give respect to the original tooth fairy. Jun Kazama is a f*cking problem, man, She’s deceptively powerful but quick with those hands. The way her blows flow make for some unwieldy mix ups and stupid juggle stuns. I hated fighting her in 2. I hated fighting her even more in the Tag titles. But i love fighting WITH her, especially if you can master that funky timing she has.

Lee Chaolan - Tekken 4 - Tekken Lord

Lee is bit of a detraction form my usual fighting fare. He’s kind of a gag character. A little effeminate and a little cruel, Lee’s kicks are the real deal. This cat send those footsy out at blinding speed and you know how much i love my speed. The thing is, he lacks the power of, say, Hwoarang, Baek, or Bruce. I actually picked up Lee n 4, then Violet, on a whim because i thought it would be funny to beat someone with a character i had n idea how to play. After that first round, though, i was on it. I knew Lee was something special and spent the rest of the night with his pokey kicks and flying drop kicks. It was f*cking incredible. I couldn’t believe i slept on such an amazing character for so long. I went back to Tekken 2 and spent weeks with the character just to get a proper feel with I'm from start to finish. Now, he’s one that’s in my rotation. When I'm feeling flamboyant.

Devil Kazuya - Tekken 2 - Dragon Lord

I picked up Devil Kazuya way back in Tekken 2 because i liked the design. Also, the face laser. That sh*t was stupid. As time went on, and the games advanced, i always went back to Tekken 2 in an effort to hone my skills with the original Devil. To my surprise, when Tekken 7 dropped, Devil Kazuya was playable once again and my skills translated perfectly. Due has a few new tricks and i immediately ate those f*cker up but it felt so good taking to the air once more. It sucks he only has two, official, appearances but this is one of those cats that i played a lot with in the Tag titles. Like, SO much. Devi was my second choice after Hwoarang in the original Tekken Tag and, like, my fourth in Tekken Tag 2. Obviously, I'm just as good with Angel, too. I mean, they’re the same f*cking character so i better be!

Anna Williams - Tekken 2 - Dragon Lord

Zafina - Tekken 6 - Dragon Lord

Devil Jin - Tekken 5 - Dragon Lord

Admittedly, i wanted to put Jin from Tekken 3 on this list. His mixture of Kazama and Mishima style martial arts is mad potent. I love the way dude plays. It’s like fighting with Jun and Kazuya at the same time. However, with the release of Tekken 4, Jin unlearned literally everything about the Mishima style and decided to master normal karate. That sh*t was whack, man. I mean, it was fine, i learned the new Jin fine, but it was MY Jin. That said, my Jin was in the game, only he took the form of a devil. Devil Jin is f*cking ridiculous. I understood a lot of his abilities because of my mastery of Devil Kazuya but, with the addition of the Kazama style martial arts, Devil Jin was a f*cking beast in that game. He’s kind of a beast in every game he makes an appearance. between the two, i prefer Devil Kazuya, but I'll wreck a guy with Jin if necessary.

Bryan Fury - Tekken Tag Tournament - Dragon Lord

I love Bryan Fury. The design, the inspiration, the brutal fighting style, that ridiculously evil laugh; Dude is just amazing. I got pretty good with Bruce Irvin in Tekken 2 so when he wasn’t around in Tekken 3, i was a little bummed. It took awhile for me to pick of Fury, actually i first really got into the character in Tag. I fooled around with him in 3, sure, but that was after i was surprised by how effortlessly powerful he was in Tag. Dude ain’t Bruce, but he’s still pretty dope.

Honorable Mentions: Unknown, Armor King, Ling Xiaoyu, Alisa Bosconovitch, Heihachi Mishima, Bruce Irvin, Kazumi Mishima, Miguel Caballero Rojo, Josie Rizal, Eddy Gordo

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concussed-to-pieces · 5 years

Text

I Want It All

Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure

Pairing: Jean Pierre Polnareff/Female Reader

Rating: Holy shit M

AN: Hello my broskis, and welcome back to more of my indulgence! This takes place during the Stardust Crusaders arc (and also is an 'everyone lives' AU because I am nothing if not an indulgent bastard.) Enjoy, and thank you for reading!

[!WARNING!: For my attempts at French, it has been...many years since my lessons. Forgive my lingual sins.]

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: For canon-typical gore, blood and violence. Stay safe!]

...

"I am only speaking the truth!" Polnareff protested, blue eyes wide in feigned hurt.

"You, Jean Pierre Polnareff, couldn't speak the truth if your life depended on it!" You shot back, halfway between laughter and fury. "You expect me to believe everything that comes out of your mouth? I wasn't born yesterday, big fella'."

"But it's true! Your eyes light up so wonderfully when you're annoyed or put out--just like they are right now!" The Frenchman was obviously trying hard to butter you up. "You and Jotaro both have such expressive eyes, it's tres bien to see the two of you hot under the collar."

"What the hell did you just say?" Jotaro growled. "You tryin' to tell me you've been this obnoxious because you like how it makes people look? You're such a damn handful Polnareff."

"I agree!" You huffed, crossing your arms and glaring at the menace in front of you.

Polnareff just laughed it off, throwing an arm around your shoulders. "You are so lovely when you're upset."

"You're just as lovely when you're being obnoxious, you gravy-sucking--"

"Ah ah, such language!" Jean interrupted, tilting his chin pointedly in Anne's direction. "Little ears don't need to hear rough speech."

"You've gotta' be joking, she could probably teach you some new curse words!" You teased, laughing outright when Anne nodded enthusiastically and started rambling down a list of incredibly colorful phrases.

Amidst Polnareff's wailing about how unladylike it was that Anne had an impressive repertoire, you felt his eyes on you. Ever since you had collapsed it had been this way, Jean Pierre hovering like a nervous parent. It was infuriating! You weren't some helpless child. Your Stand may consume your energy at an exponential rate, but it made up for the increased strain with impressive damage output. You didn't need anyone coddling you, and you did your best to make sure that the group knew that. Joseph was the only one who seemed to 'forget' aside from Polnareff; he was also a parent and prone to worrying so you tried to let it slide.

It was certainly a bunch of misfits you had taken up with. You had your own reasons for wanting to beat Dio's face in, noble or otherwise, and it seemed like your best chance to get close was to engage in the Joestar's crusade. Though the Strength Stand was a bit of a wakeup call.

You had only passed out twice in the span that you had been fighting alongside the Crusaders. You had grown leaps and bounds as a Stand user, able to keep your Stand active for longer and longer periods of time. Sure, your Stand was no Star Platinum, but you were far from the weakling you had been.

To let Jean Pierre hold you back felt like admitting defeat, and so you railed against his supposed 'well-meaning' concern with all your might. It led to heated disagreements between you, the Frenchman insisting on keeping you behind the bulk of his body and Silver Chariot's defensive saber during battles.

He nicknamed you Le Canon De Verre, The Glass Cannon, after one such tangle with enemy Stand users. "Destructive, beautiful when the sunlight hits you just right, and entirely reckless!" The backhanded compliment had only served to infuriate you further, as had his jovial laughter after the fact. You nearly dislocated his shoulder with your Stand's punch, startling him into silence.

"You're so-!" You bit your tongue, unwilling to get yourself thrown out of the group because you couldn't take his teasing. "Mean, Polnareff, that's what you are!" You had snapped finally. "You can't just say things like that to me, okay? I'm trying so hard! Stop making fun of me already!"

"I'm not...I-I apologize, I did not intend to hurt your feelings. In this group we tend to go at one another for sport. I assumed you would join in." The large man had continued to hold his shoulder, grimacing. "I thought you wanted to, anyway."

"I don't want to be hazed or initiated, if that's what you're getting at. I'd rather be an outlier if I'm going to have to engage in a dick-waving contest." You had replied firmly.

Polnareff looked thoughtful, which was rare. "I understand. I will ah, 'ease up'. Can you forgive me?"

"Will you stop pouting if I do?"

"Perhaps. Unless, of course, you find me more attractive when I pout?"

"No." His crestfallen expression had made you laugh harder than you wanted to admit.

...

Finding out Jean Pierre Polnareff had a penchant for dirty talk in the bedroom was like finding out that the sky was the same shade of blue as the previous day.

Utterly unsurprising.

He loved to hear himself talk so damn much you were fairly certain that he got off on it, whether his partners did or not.

Joseph laughed boisterously when Polnareff proudly stated his enjoyment of such activities during a rowdy night of drinking, the older man slapping him on the back. "I'll drink to that, my chatty friend! I feel your pain. I remember when Caesar and I were training, I had to wear a mask to regulate my breathing and…" Joseph paused, the sparkle in his green eyes dimming. "He was a wonderful friend, was Caesar." He murmured instead of continuing his story.

Jotaro looked about as interested as you had ever seen him, the stoic teen studying his grandfather. "Was he now."

"A phenomenal fighter and a total pain in the ass. Always trying to one-up me." Joseph dashed away a tear. You shifted closer to him beside the fire, touching your shoulder to his. On his other side Polnareff did the same, effectively sandwiching the older man between the two of you. "He was incredibly brave and incredibly dumb, almost as dumb as I was." Joseph dug around in one of the pockets on his cargo pants, drawing out a thin strip of cloth with a triangular pattern on it. "This is all that I have to remember him by."

Avdol shook his head, resting his hands on Joseph's shoulders from his place behind him. "You have the many, many memories of the two of you as well, Mr. Joestar."

"True! I'm sorry kids, I get so melancholic around campfires. I doubt the drinking helps." Joseph wound the strip of cloth between the fingers of his mechanical hand absentmindedly, the fabric frayed like he had done it many times before.

"Mr. Joestar, would you tell us some stories about Caesar?" Kakyoin requested softly. "You shouldn't have to shoulder the burden of his memory alone."

Jotaro grunted in affirmation, getting up and moving across the clearing to slouch beside his grandfather. "Spare us no detail, old man. I want to know about the guy that could kick your ass."

"He couldn't-! That's an awful lot to assume, Jotaro!" Joseph huffed indignantly, his bleak mood seeming to vanish once his pride was poked at. "He used Hamon to trap me in a bubble! Can you even imagine being that insecure?!"

You caught Jean looking at you over the top of Joseph's head as he rambled (no small feat considering the size of the elder Joestar). Polnareff glanced at Joseph, then back at you. Both of you nodded after a moment, coming to a silent agreement.

Jean Pierre would take a step back in battle to allow you a step forward, and you would be more cautious.

...

From that point on, things smoothed out a little between the two of you. You didn't feel so stifled, like every move was watched. Chariot was ready and willing to work together with your Stand, the rapier-wielding chevalier helping to increase your own admittedly-lacking range. It was surreal how well you and Jean could control the battlefield now that you weren't at each other's throats.

Jean's motions when he was fighting were one with Chariot's. Often it was difficult to tell where Stand ended and man began, Chariot a literal extension of his own body. He moved with a savage finesse that was a treat to watch, something you hadn't been able to appreciate when he was trapping you behind him. Now that you could operate on even footing however, it was a different story. There was ample time to watch him fight, ample time to hear him taunt the enemy in both French and English, or a jumbled mess of the two. Perhaps a little too much time, if you were being honest. Jean Pierre was an incorrigible show off.

Somewhere along the way you had also gained a new nickname.

"Did you see that, mon coeur?" The silver-haired young man would often exclaim after you two managed to do something impressive, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "They didn't stand a chance!"

You wanted to hate yourself for enjoying his enthusiasm when it came to fighting. After all, you were on a very important quest. Now wasn't the time to be entertaining such thoughts, like fun and what will happen after all of this? Now wasn't the time to wonder about Polnareff's multitude of lovers, the wistful wife no doubt waiting for him at home in France.

"What will you do?" You asked him the night after his agonizing encounter with the copies of Avdol and his dearly departed sister. "When all of this is over, I mean."

"I...I don't really know." He had been in a thoughtful mood the entire day, more forlorn than you had ever seen him. It broke your heart, just a little. "I'd like to see more of the world, I think." His voice was so soft, as if he didn't want to say anything at all.

"What places do you want to visit?"

"I'd like to see Niagara Falls." You knew you had him then, watching his body perk up ever so slightly. "I've heard so much about Canada. I have distant relations there as well. And then, I want to go to Florida!" Jean gushed. "No wait, perhaps Mexico or South America first, trek the Amazon and then make my way up the East Coast. Yes, that will do. But California, the vineyards, I must...how will I decide?!"

You were so thrilled at the return of his dramatic nature that you laughed aloud and threw your arms around his neck. "There you are. Thought I'd lost you for a minute." You murmured against Polnareff's jaw, the gesture oddly intimate for you. You heard Jean swallow convulsively and then he embraced you, holding you to his chest.

"Your friendship is such a precious gift, mon coeur." The large man whispered, his voice sounding slightly choked. "Whatever comes of us, know that this crusade will not be the end. I, Jean Pierre Polnareff, promise you that. We will see the world as it should be."

"A promise of such weight demands the proper gesture." You pulled back slightly and hooked your left pinky around his own. "The pinky promise of Polnareff shall not be broken easily, I warn you. If we don't travel the world, there will be hell to pay."

You didn't exactly have confidence in the fact that you would be returning from the tangle with Dio, so the promise was both simple and hard for you to make. Jean's smile in reply warmed you from head to toe, the sensation strange but not unwelcome. "I would have it no other way." He swore sincerely.

…

Your Stand vanished under the blow and you clutched the heavily-bleeding stump of your left wrist, all that was left where your hand had once been. You dimly heard Jean Pierre screaming (in what was hopefully rage, it was difficult to tell sometimes).

Despite he and Avdol's insistence that this fight was every man for himself, you couldn't just stand by and let Jean die to gain an opening at Dio. It was better this way, you reasoned while your Stand had flung Polnareff out of the range of the fiendish Cream Stand and into the range of Iggy's Stand. Polnareff has a better chance at getting Dio than I do, so I should make this count.

Your eyes had met Jean's seconds before Cream's void reached him, and you shot the tall man a shaky, battered smile. It'll be okay, you wanted to tell him, it'll all be fine. Iggy's Stand enveloped him, sand barely holding together as the small dog draped over your arm struggled to breathe.

Cream's void touch obliterated your Stand's left hand and you felt the pain down to your soul, dropping to your knees and almost immediately emptying the contents of your stomach.

Consciousness didn't stick around for much longer, the blood loss too rapid for you to staunch effectively on your own. You prayed that you had been useful even as your senses dimmed.

...

You didn't really expect to wake up, so realizing that sunlight was beating down on your eyelids was bizarre.

You tried to open your eyes, but gave up after a few moments and simply basked in the warm haze. This is actually kind of nice.

Your brow furrowed as you tried to recall what led to this. You were drawing a blank. Unconcerned, you hummed out a breath and shifted slightly on the soft surface you rested upon. Your left hand felt odd, heavier than you remembered and sluggish. But then again, your whole body felt heavy and sluggish. I wonder where I am, you mused, not exactly motivated to find out. It was as though thinking was a struggle.

A deep voice reached your ears, the words incomprehensible but soothing all the same. Someone seemed to be speaking in an area adjacent to your own. Were you in a hospital?

Curiosity started to penetrate the haze, and with it came the thrum of distant pain and a soft, insistent beeping. Maybe you had been in an accident of some kind, you must be in a hospital. That mystery solved, you tried to open your eyes again. You flexed your hands, first left, then right. Your left hand was definitely slower.

After a final, Herculean effort, you pried your eyes open and immediately summoned your Stand. It looked gaunt and frail when it appeared, as though a gust of wind might blow it away. The relief you felt at the familiar sight was short-lived as your gaze trailed down to the Stand's left hand. Or rather, where it had been. It seemed wrong, twisted in a strange way.

Egypt. Dio. The Joestar Crusade. Recollections poured back into your mind like a torrent, making your whole body go stiff. Your Stand touched their forehead to your own, making their customary sound as if to reassure you that they were alright.

"Where's…" Your words were muffled by the oxygen mask you wore. Where is everyone?

Your Stand, appearing thrilled to be out and about once again, practically lunged towards the door of your room. You had to close your eyes to fight the nausea at the abrupt motion, biting the inside of your cheek to choke back the bile.

You felt when your Stand reached the edge of your range and then, something careened past it heading in your direction. You sensed the displacement of the air and the door to your room suddenly burst open.

"Oh my God, you finally woke up!" It was none other than Joseph Joestar, his eyes brimming with tears. "We weren't sure if you were...I'm so happy!" He bolted towards the bed with the vigor of a man a quarter of his age, nearly crushing you in a tight hug. "The others need to know, I have to-"

The door to the room was having quite a busy day as two more bodies made their way through it. Both Kakyoin and Jotaro looked somewhat worse for wear (Kakyoin was so covered in bandages he bore a striking resemblance to a mummy) but at the familiar irate grunt of "Good grief," from the taller young man currently pushing the redhead's wheelchair, you got the feeling that they would be just fine.

Avdol sauntered in with Iggy slung over one shoulder, the black and white dog glancing at you and then yawning widely as if to say, "my work here is done."

"You're okay." Your voice was barely a whisper, tears welling up in your eyes. "B-But Avdol, I thought…am I dead? Did we all die?"

"I mean, the old man tried pretty hard to die on me but I wasn't going to let him get away with that shit." Jotaro growled.

"It is a bit of a miracle, the survival of Iggy and myself. All thanks to you and Polnareff, my friend. Due to your quick intervention, Jean Pierre managed to land the killing blow on Vanilla Ice and drag most of my body back from the abyss of his Stand." Avdol held up his gloved hands, showing you his arms bandaged to the shoulder. "My body has yet to reject the prosthetics, so with some luck I'll make a full recovery."

"Where is Jean Pierre?" You asked faintly, your strength waning. As if to answer, there was a loud crash from the hallway and someone was abruptly swearing a blue streak in French.

"He's not entirely used to the crutches, but he refused our help." Kakyoin explained hastily. "He should be here any second now."

"Speaking of prosthetics, how does your hand feel?" Joseph asked curiously. "Any pain? My hand took some getting used to."

"It's totally gone, isn't it." At the older man's nod you giggled, a little hysterical. "I'm scared to look. I don't want to see how much I've changed. My poor Stand…"

Polnareff interrupted your rambling by all but flopping through the doorway, half-supported by a weakened-looking Chariot. Both Stand and man lit up upon seeing you awake, Chariot waving wildly, and without thinking you raised your left hand to wave back.

You caught sight of smooth metal fingers responding jerkily to your brain's stimulus and that was all it took to make you go gray at the edges.

Does a pinky promise still count if the pinky that you promised it with is gone?

"Mon coeur, open your eyes! Please, I promise it's not so bad!" Polnareff's imploring words met your ears when you regained consciousness moments later.

"Five more minutes, have mercy on me." You groaned, not opening your eyes just yet. "Fuck. How long has it been since the fight?"

"Almost three weeks."

"Fuck. Did we win at least?"

"Holly is going to make a full recovery." Joseph said. You could hear the smile in his words and that gave you the courage you needed to open your eyes and finally look down at your hand.

"Fuck that's sore." You winced, the pain vibrant now as you moved your fingers individually. "I think I liked being out cold better."

"You were the last to wake up. We've all been so worried!" Kakyoin said, sounding relieved.

"Even Jotaro?" You teased, laughing when the aforementioned boy grumbled something in reply and Star Platinum appeared to loudly Ora!, as if contradicting the stone-faced teen.

Jean Pierre slotted himself into the space between your bed and the wall, his large frame almost too big to fit. Chariot chirruped at you while their user reached out slowly, so slowly to cradle your new hand in his own. For all his size and strength he was surprisingly delicate, his fingers feeling strangely warm to your overly-sensitive appendage. "As you may recall," He began quietly, glancing up at you before ducking his head again. "I made a promise. Once you are entirely well, we will...we have a lot of traveling to do if you would accompany me."

"I don't know if that promise still counts." You said before you could think, more than a little shocked that he had even remembered that promise. You wiggled your fingers haphazardly.

"We can make a new one if you wish." Polnareff was as serious as you had ever seen him, those blue eyes boring into your own. He raised your hand to his lips and kissed your bandaged wrist, the look on his face daring you to stop him.

You extended your metal pinky with a wince, letting him be the one to loop his finger around your own this time. The feeling of metal on metal startled you momentarily, but you recalled that he had lost two fingers to Cream himself. "I pinky promise. It'll give me something to look forward to while we're all recovering."

Recover you did, with a speed that you attributed to spite against Dio. The sooner you were healed, the sooner you would be able to leave that vampiric fiend in the dust he had become.

The sooner you would be able to journey with Polnareff, your brain felt the need to chime in gleefully. It made you flush more often than not, the idea of being legitimately alone with the large man. You couldn't recall a time during the entire adventure that the two of you had been alone, and you weren't certain why but it filled you with an odd trepidation.

Jean Pierre was not one to let simple things like the doctor said you need to be careful get in his way, the large man determined to recover as quickly as he could. His hand and thigh were healing up well it seemed, but his foot was slower going. They had been traumatic injuries and you tried to reason with him that it was expected, though it didn't seem to penetrate his thick skull. The doctors of the Speedwagon Foundation clearly had the patience of Job.

Polnareff lavishly praised your own recovery progress; his thrilled exclamation of Magnifique! when you managed to open a jar during physical therapy almost made all the pain and frustration worth it. You could only imagine how obnoxious it must be for someone as self-sufficient as Jean to be unable to walk without help, so you did your best to be just as encouraging to him when he seemed weary. Your terrible rendition of Hail The Conquering Hero never failed to put a smile on his face even while he slouched in a chair at your bedside.

"The worst part is how bone-tired I am." He admitted one evening. "All my energy is going towards healing and learning how to redistribute my weight and it is...difficult to stay positive when I truly feel how heavy my body is." Jean gave you a half-smile. "Who would have thought being the tallest and most muscular of the group would be detrimental to me in the long run, eh mon coeur?"

"Hey at least you've got that going for you. It took me a good week to be able to flex my hand enough to flip someone off again!" You complained, trying to get him to laugh. Jean took your metal hand, his expression unreadable. The doctors had been fine tuning the receptors in your fingers and palm, so his touch was no longer scorching. You wished that your face had gotten the memo.

"Don't think that I'll ever forget what you did for me." Jean's voice was soft, yet firm. It added a strange weight to the conversation. "I know you wanted to kill Dio as much as the rest of us, and you gave up your chance...no, your damn hand, to save me instead. I owe a debt I doubt I can repay and I will never forget that, mon coeur." He sighed, "So many debts to focus on! First Avdol, then Iggy, and now you. My life is forfeit I suppose."

"W-What does that mean?" You stammered, blurting out the first thing you could think of.

"What does what mean?"

"What you call me, mon kyar or something. I assume it's French?"

"It is."

"So...what does it mean?" You pressed after he was silent for several seconds. "You gonna' tell me?"

A knock on the doorframe interrupted the conversation, the nurse with your usual tray of food arriving right on time as ever. Jean Pierre was in such a hurry to leave he nearly bowled the poor man over, mumbling an apology as he hobbled past.

What the hell was that all about? You wondered as you ate your meal. If he believed he could avoid your question like that, he was dumber than you thought. What if it was a swear or an insult? You froze, thinking back to your original glass cannon nickname. The fork in your metal hand was bent nearly in half before you could stop yourself, and you spent several panicky seconds trying to flatten it back out.

…

Niagara Falls was first on the list of attractions. It was a poorly-designed list, of course, but you were still excited to see more of the world.

You supposed you were a hopeless optimist for believing that nothing untoward would happen to the two of you while embarking on your grand tour.

"Pose by the railing! I want to take your picture with that backdrop of the falls." Jean urged, laughing when you stuck your tongue out and curved your back into a weird-looking, hunched stance.

"How's this?" You asked, striking an even stranger pose afterwards and laughing along when his composure entirely dissolved. He staggered over to lean on your shoulder, still cackling, then his fingers wrapped around your non-metallic wrist.

"I need you to move with me." The mirth was abruptly gone from Jean's face though his smile stayed; his broad shoulders tensed like he was bracing for impact. "Don't make a scene. We're taking two steps back from the railing."

You giggled to keep up the illusion that the two of you were just sharing an intimate chat, nodding once and waiting for him to give you the go ahead.

A hulking, metallic Stand suddenly appeared overhead and plummeted downwards. Jean summoned Chariot without so much as blinking, your own Stand not far behind. The two of you sidestepped the enemy Stand's crushing attempt and launched yourselves back into the crowd of tourists, your smaller size allowing you to more easily make your way through throngs of people. Jean struggled to keep up and you grabbed onto his hand, no worry for propriety on your mind while you wove between the sightseers.

Someone's outstretched leg was almost your downfall but Jean heaved you bodily up into his arms and kept moving, setting you back on your feet without so much as breaking stride.

"I imagine they're still following us." He hissed, seeming annoyed. It had been overcast all day but now it started to drizzle. The crowd began to thin and you could feel Jean getting more and more anxious, trying to stick with groups that kept dwindling. He started swearing under his breath, his eyes darting around as he tried to locate the enemy Stand user.

Your own eyes landed on a corridor that led back into the visitor's center, and just inside the mouth of the corridor was a door beside a pay phone. No doubt it led to a maintenance closet or area of some kind, but it was cover all the same.

You opened your mouth to tell Jean your plan but before you could utter a word he grabbed your shoulder, ripping you backwards. The enemy Stand slammed into the ground where you had been standing, whirring loudly as it attempted to free itself from the cement.

Polnareff was actually shaking, the large man maintaining a death grip on your hand and making a mad dash for the door you had noticed. Chariot's blade nimbly took care of the lock.

The space was entirely too small.

Jean Pierre's chest heaved against yours, the Frenchman still panting for air from your headlong dash. Overhead Silver Chariot made sounds of distress, pressing their helm to your forehead while your Stand hovered worriedly.

"Ch-Chariot!" Polnareff scolded, waving his Stand back. "Non, Chariot."

His arms wrapped around you suddenly at the sound of running footsteps outside the door, and you felt the muscles of his thighs tense in preparation to flee. Your metal fingers dug into his shoulder and he winced, letting out a strangled noise.

"Sorry, sorry." You hissed, sure that you had accidentally left a bruise. Who would have expected Stand users to attack you even after the defeat of Dio?!

The footsteps paused outside the door and Jean Pierre's hold tightened even further, threatening to crush the breath out of your lungs. Whoever they were, the person appeared to be making a phone call with the pay phone on the wall by the closet.

"I don't know where they went. It's like them and their Stands turned the corner and disappeared into the rain." The individual said, sounding dejected. "Yeah, I'll head back."

Jean cautiously slid you down his body to rest on the floor, then pointed silently at the doorknob. The handle jiggled as the person on the other side began turning it, no doubt trying to be thorough before returning to whatever hole they crawled out of.

They didn't expect the enormous silver-haired Stand user to be the one behind the door, as evidenced by their horrified yelp. Polnareff slapped a hand over the man's mouth and dragged him into the closet, where both of your Stands were eagerly waiting to dispose of him.

...

Your damp clothes stuck to your body like they were vacuum sealed and you groaned, fidgeting with your jeans. Jean Pierre was in the same boat, soaked to the skin and doing his best to try and wring out his already-tight tank top. "It's no use, mon coeur. Let's find a hotel and see about getting dry." He said with a defeated sigh, offering you his arm.

It served you right for trying to do some sightseeing during a peak tourist season. Not a hotel in the entire damn city had a double room available, or even a twin and sleeper sofa combo! You wanted to scold Jean for his lackadaisical planning, but you figured from his deflated expression that he hadn't taken into account the fact that everyone else in the world was also on vacation.

"The best I can do for you is a room with one queen. I'm really sorry, sir, but with the summer traffic-"

"Non, do not apologize!" Jean hastily interrupted the woman behind the counter. "My companion and I appreciate whatever hospitality you can extend to us, and we thank you for your time. The fact that you found us a room at all is more than enough." He shook her hand while she went bright red and you barely choked back your giggle. Jean Pierre was a handful normally so he was entirely outrageous when he laid the charm on thick.

The room was small but the bed was clean, and that was really all that mattered to you. Polnareff began rummaging through his bag for a dry change of clothes and you took the opportunity to bolt for the shower. The air conditioning in the hotel lobby, while pleasant at first, ended up chilling you through your wet clothes. A nice hot shower would rectify that.

"Bath or shower?" Jean called through the door. In response, you turned on the showerhead.

You emerged ten minutes later, warm and sleepy from the long and strenuous day. Jean Pierre was waiting beside the bed, clothes neatly folded on the floor.

"You look radiant, mon coeur!" He teased, getting to his feet and chucking you under the chin. "Can you tuck yourself in? You seem ready to sleep standing up."

"Oh hush." You grumbled, batting his hand away and trotting over to your own bag. He laughed softly and you heard the bathroom door close behind you. You quickly dropped your towel and rummaged through your bag for a loose shirt and some clean panties, struggling into the garments as sleep dragged at your limbs. The bed felt heavenly when you finally stripped back the covers and climbed in, and even with the lamp on in the room your eyes grew heavy.

You snuggled a pillow to your chest and drifted off, stirring when you felt someone lay down beside you. Lips touched your forehead and Jean Pierre murmured, "only me, mon coeur. Go back to sleep."

You abandoned your pillow and slotted yourself into his arms, mumbling some gibberish while you buried your face in his chest. He was wonderfully shirtless and you took advantage of your drowsy, carefree state, uncharacteristically bold in your cuddling.

You felt more than heard his breath hitch, and then he was urging your chin up so that you would make eye contact. "Are you awake?" He whispered. "You are acting strange." You whined in reply and a breathless little chuckle left his lips. "So sulky! I will not deprive you of any more rest. Sleep well, mon coeur."

You dropped your head back onto his chest, his heartbeat thudding loudly in your ear. It was almost loud enough to drown him out when he spoke next.

"I could have lost you today, mon coeur." Jean breathed. "That Stand...it would have left you as a stain on the pavement. What a terrible thought." His arms wrapped around you and his chest expanded with a heartfelt sigh. "Unbearable, even. My heart stopped for just that second. I wasn't sure I would be able to move you in time. I wished for Jotaro's power then! What a ridiculous thing to do in the heat of the moment, no?"

Jean's hands were shaking, fingers rubbing light circles on your back.

"I couldn't breathe. I was trembling. Me! The idea of me fearing anything is preposterous. But I did. I...I feared for your life. I feared that I would lose you." He chuckled, the noise a little ragged. "What selfish fears I have, mon coeur."

…

After that, it was easier to find accommodations. The two of you could share more than a battlefield without killing each other, it seemed. It was only slightly mortifying to disentangle yourself from his grasp in the morning, seeing as you were always the first one awake. But it did offer you ample time to study his face all flushed and relaxed, so you decided that you could live with the embarrassment of knowing that you cuddled up to him in your sleep.

Or maybe it was vice versa? You usually went to sleep on the far side of the bed, and yet you always woke up with him holding you in his arms. As if he was seeking out your body heat in his sleep. It was almost enough to make you suspicious if you didn't secretly relish the lazy mornings before you were fully awake, just luxuriating in being held.

Jean Pierre was an enthusiastic if not entirely capable tour guide no matter where you went, though half the time he could be caught with notes written in Kakyoin's hand detailing the areas you were visiting. It would seem that the younger man had been essentially everywhere and had whipped up a few cheat sheets for Polnareff.

So the two of you saw all the sights you could cram in and then some, resulting in long days and sleeping like the dead.

Until one night. A fateful night, like the stories always said.

Your metal hand had been acting up through the day due to a changing weather system and it left you tense and anxious, unable to relax. You were plagued with the fear that you might have already broken your new hardware. The idea of having to cut your trip short due to your appendage not 'playing nice' soured your mood even further.

Jean Pierre seemed to sense your discomfort but not the source, the large man cautiously asking over dinner at a local cafe whether he had done something to upset you.

"Mon coeur, your eyes have lost that mischievous shine. Was it something I said?" He queried with a fair amount of concern. From their spot beside him Chariot reached out their saber, as if to also inquire. The Stand's mannerisms never ceased to be charming to you; they displayed a blunt inquisitiveness that was such an obvious facet of Jean Pierre it made you want to tease him. Their rapier rested delicately on the table, just to the left of your fingers.

"I just want things to keep working." You couldn't keep the annoyance out of your voice. Your hand twitched involuntarily, bumping Chariot's rapier, and you swore under your breath.

Jean Pierre definitely noticed that. "Your hand as well? My foot and hand have been ah, cantankerous all day. I thought I was the only one." He laughed a little self-consciously, rubbing the back of his neck. "You know you can tell me about things like that, right?"

"I don't want to bug you." You grumbled, startled when his finger hooked under your chin and tilted your face up. He looked oddly serious.

"We've been traveling together long enough for you to know that you're never bugging me, mon coeur." Things had taken a strange turn. Were you blushing?!

"P-People always say stuff like that, but they never actually mean it." You floundered to answer him, the retort devoid of your usual wit.

"I mean it."

"Well I uh, I guess you're the exception to the rule, Polnareff. And the logical height restriction for hair, as always." Jean's expression was unimpressed. You went on to insist, "Look, it's not fair that you should have to listen to me whine just because you made a pinky promise."

"The only thing I've heard is genuine concerns. Perhaps it is your assumptions that need to change, mon coeur." Jean suggested, leaning forward just a little. "Who else have you engaged with? Who made you so willing to shoulder the burden of your fears and wave off help from anyone else?"

"No one, that's just how I've always been. I don't like bothering anyone."

"Bother me, I dare you."

"What if my hand never gets back to full speed? What if I'm stuck with a fidgety hunk of metal like Joseph, what if I can't fight anymore?!" You exploded, slamming your left fist down on the table. "What if I'm useless, Jean? What then?"

"Is that your chief grievance?" He was weirdly calm. Normally he was the one to get worked up and you were the one to rationalize him back down to Earth. You shook your head and Jean got to his feet, taking your metal hand after he paid the bill for the evening. "Come with me, mon coeur."

...

Once the two of you were back in your hotel room, Jean Pierre left you to sit on the bed and disappeared into the bathroom for a short period of time. When he reemerged, he urged you into the smaller room and you were faced with a bathtub full of bubbles.

"Get in, get comfortable, and call me once you're settled." His demands brooked no argument and you grudgingly stripped to get into the tub once he exited the bathroom. The bubbles were actually thick enough that they kept you from feeling too exposed and you blinked back tears at the realization that he had planned it that way.

"You can come back in, I'm decent." You announced after climbing into the small mountain of bubbles.

Jean returned with one of the folding chairs from beside the bed. He sat down, rested his chin in his palm, and fixed you with a stern look. "Speak."

"Just like that?" You huffed. Jean inclined his head, raising an eyebrow and simply waiting. "I'm scared, okay? I'm a big, scared, useless baby. I'm tired and I'm scared."

"What are you scared of?"

"The future, I guess. Nothing will be the same. A lot of times I wish I could go back…" You paused. "You would think after everything that we went through, I wouldn't be scared anymore. But I still am." You curled up with your knees to your chest. "I almost miss the Crusader tunnel vision, y'know? We didn't have the luxury to focus on anything besides Dio."

Jean sighed heavily. "If you had said something sooner, I...we all feel that way, you know that, yes? The rest of us were conscious and recovering while you were still wrestling with Morpheus. I would say we got a bit of a head start. Though Kakyoin and myself in particular struggled immensely, mon coeur. Kakyoin did not believe he was going to survive the battle with Dio. His wounds were...devastating." Polnareff glanced up at you, his eyes a troubled, stormy blue. "I, on the other hand, did not want to continue living with my survival built upon the sacrifice of my friends."

"Jean..."

"Avdol's arms. Iggy and Kakyoin's entire bodies, mangled and broken. Your hand. These were all prices I consider too high to pay and yet each one of you did what you needed to do without a second thought. It is...humbling." Jean chuckled mirthlessly. "Jotaro spoke with me at length about stopping his own heart in order to trick Dio into thinking he was dead."

"He did what?!"

"He had Star Platinum literally grab hold of his heart and stop it." Jean Pierre shook his head. "He's insane. Listen, the point is that we're all scared of the future. I didn't even think that I would have one, didn't dare to hope for one! I've been struggling adrift, trying to decide what I wish to do with my life now that the length of it stretches before me like so many miles of untread country road. Granted, the generous patronage of the Joestars and their Speedwagon Foundation has eased the difficulty somewhat. None of us will want for anything in this transitional period, I'm sure."

"Jean, I...I guess I got so into my own head I didn't think that anyone else could be having the same problems as me." You didn't apologize, and he didn't seem to expect you to.

"We were selfish as well, mon coeur, you cannot take the blame. I assumed Joseph would discuss things with you in private, but he must have been preoccupied with Holly's recovery." Jean's hands now rested on his thighs and you watched his metal pinky and ring finger jitter independently for several silent minutes.

"Thanks, Jean. For everything." You finally said quietly. Chariot appeared with a sound of glee, the Stand's deadly rapier raised in front of them in a perfect salute. "You too Chariot, of course!" You continued, laughing when the Stand began to preen. "I would never leave you out."

Polnareff had gone bright red at the enthusiastic antics of his Silver Chariot, the poor man sputtering in a way that was far too endearing, "Chariot, please!"

"Are you actually embarrassed, Jean Pierre? I never thought I would see the day." You teased. "You look dashing in red, I have to admit."

"You are so cruel!" He whined.

"Ha! After your little kink reveal during our quest, it's so funny to see you lose your cool over something this inconsequential."

"Kink?! Dirty talk is just...it's standard procedure in the bedroom! I hardly count it as a kink-"

"Surprise, you nerd, it's a kink." You carried on ribbing him, a massive grin on your face. "Not every kink has to be super weird or niche, you know. As long as it gets you off, it can be anything."

"How on Earth-" Jean Pierre began heatedly, his hands fisting in the fabric of his pants as he shifted forwards into 'debate position'.

"I mean, some people like when people dirty talk to them, but could never do it themselves. Or vice versa. People love that filthy stream-of-consciousness ramble. You've got the added bonus of being bilingual, so you could say a whole bunch of random words in French and I bet your partner would still be swooning!" You pointed out, unable to stifle your giggles at the flabbergasted expression on his face. "Do you like when people talk dirty to you in reply? Or are you always the one doing the talking?"

"I...I've never had anyone talk dirty to me." Jean's voice hitched slightly. "I do not...I'm rather large. With that comes the assumptions, you know."

"Well you do have a commanding presence, for better or for worse." The shake in his words threw you off just a tad. Was he upset with you? "Hey, I'm only joking around. If I went too far, tell me and I'll stop."

"Non! No, no, I just never thought about it." He admitted. "I mean, the process is…" Jean lapsed into muttering under his breath in French and your laughter returned with a vengeance. "Hush you! Laughing while I'm in crisis!" He complained, the wry grin on his face belying his words as he gave your exposed shoulder a gentle shove.

"You're so sweet, Jean Pierre. Under all that bravado, anyway."

"Sweet?! I am not--I am precise and fierce! Deadly, even!" He jumped to his feet, Chariot at the ready as he tried to pace in the tiny area. "I am a man of great skill and charisma and-"

"And you drew a bubble bath for someone so they would talk to you. Face it, you're sweet."

"I would...whenever she had a difficult day at school, I would run Sherry a bath and then sit and listen." At the mention of his late sister, your heart squeezed in your chest. You of course knew his whole sad story, but the reverent way he spoke about her never failed to spark a sympathetic reaction. She had been incredibly dear to him and, while he had dispatched her killer, it was obvious that the pain was still there. "It's a tactic that's served me well, though getting Jotaro in the tub is easier said than done." Jean tried to joke.

"You're ridiculous." You extended your metal pinky to him and he wrapped his own around it after a moment of hesitation. "You're also a good man, Jean Pierre. I envy the person you share your heart with in the future."

He stared down at you with his brow furrowed, then looked at your joined fingers. His mouth opened as if he was going to say something, but he simply sighed after a moment. His shoulders drooped. "Yes, of course. The future." He mused thoughtfully.

After you had gotten dressed for bed, Jean beckoned you close.

"Please, just let me hold you." His voice cracked at the end of his request. "No more talking." Confused at the vulnerability he was displaying, you obediently settled yourself into his loose embrace. Nothing about how he was touching you was improper, but you still felt a flush of heat on your face. Jean Pierre stared at the space over your head in silence for what felt like hours, his eyes distant and suspiciously glassy.

You brushed your fingers against his jaw and he flinched. "Hey." You whispered, "just me."

"Oui, it always has been." He replied cryptically, placing a kiss on your forehead. "I'll be alright. Thank you for letting me hold you."

"Trust me, the pleasure's all mine."

"You like being held, mon coeur?" He sounded startled.

"Only when you do it." You yawned, snuggling closer. "Anybody else'll get their ass kicked."

His hand was trembling when he cupped the back of your head and you felt the breath leave his body in a long, shuddering exhale. "Bonne nuit, mon coeur."

…

You woke before him, as ever, but this time you didn't leave Jean's arms. You just studied him from your vantage point, taking in every tiny detail. So involved were you in the play of shadows on his collarbone, it took him clearing his throat to realize that you too were being watched.

His eyes were barely open, still heavy with sleep, and you prayed that he wouldn't remember catching you ogling him. Jean didn't say anything, instead resituating you in his arms to better press your body to his own and burying his face in your neck. One powerful thigh slid between your legs and you were startled by the rush of heat you felt from such an innocuous motion.

That was nothing compared to when he groaned, his voice deeper than usual with sleep, "Tu es si jolie mon coeur." Large hands carded through your hair blindly. "Tu es si précieux pour moi."

"Jean?" You murmured.

There was a sharp inhale right next to your ear and then he drew back, looking befuddled. "I...what?" He asked drowsily. "G'morning, 'allo."

"Good morning. How do you feel?"

"Warm. Still tired." He tucked his face back into your neck, sighing. "Shh. Sleep."

"Jean, I-"

His body shifted as he stretched, pressing the rigid muscle of his thigh up in between your legs. You squeaked and that definitely got his attention. Blue eyes met your own, confusion evident on his face. Those eyes traveled down to the sheet over the two of you, and then they widened in comprehension. His own undignified yelp made you start to laugh hysterically, burying your face in his chest in a losing effort to contain your mirth.

After several tense seconds he started laughing too, peppering your cheeks and nose with playful kisses. "What a wake up call! I could get used to that." He chuckled, leaning in to kiss your nose again.

You tilted your chin at the last second and Jean's mouth landed on your own. He gasped against your lips, obviously startled but not recoiling. Hope flickered in your chest as his mouth stayed where it was, like he was frozen.

"If you want me to stop, tell me." He breathed finally. "I would like to give you a real kiss. I'm going to do so unless you tell me to stop."

"Why would I tell you to stop?" You whispered.

Jean's hands cupped your face, one thumb rubbing your cheek while he searched your eyes. You glared back at him defiantly and he looked torn between laughter and tears, finally closing the distance once more.

His 'real kiss' left you reeling, gripping his upper arms for support while he ravaged you with his mouth. Jean Pierre Polnareff always gave his all in everything he did, so you shouldn't have been so surprised. It was different when it was focused on you, though. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that, mon coeur." He murmured after he decided it was time for you to breathe again. "Feeling your body react to me is...it's incredible. Intoxicating."

"Holy shit," You said weakly in reply, "I guess you aren't all talk."

"The talk is the best part of me, mon coeur." His mouth brushed over your ear, making your whole body break out in goosebumps. "Everything else is just window dressing." You snorted and you felt him smile against your neck. "I love it when you do that."

"What, when I mock your attempts at being suave?"

"Non, can you really still call it nothing but an attempt when I can feel how your heart pounds in your chest?" Jean teased you, making you smile broadly and giggle with more than a touch of nerves. "I meant when you smile or laugh at something I've said. It makes me happy, knowing that I did this." He continued sincerely, brushing his index finger over your lips. "Knowing that I put this enchanting expression on your face...there's no greater prize for me, mon coeur."

You ducked your face into his chest, thoroughly flustered and mumbling denials. Jean pressed light, tender kisses to the crown of your head, letting you work up some resolve. Quickly, so that you wouldn't have time to panic and rethink your bold move, you darted up and planted a kiss squarely on his lips. Jean made a delighted noise, his fingers back to combing through your hair while the two of you shared a heated exchange.

"I feel like the luckiest man in the world." Polnareff's voice was nothing but a heartfelt sigh, his forehead touching your own. His smile was so wide it looked like it hurt, his joy barely contained. You smiled shyly up at him, your metal fingers curled into a loose fist on his chest. "Stay with me, mon coeur? I cannot guarantee you an easy or safe life, this much you know. I am selfish and headstrong and entirely full of myself, but I will do everything in my power to make sure that the burden of the power we share is a light one." He promised solemnly, his thumb rubbing over the knuckles of your metal hand.

You bit your lip in thought, looking down at your joined hands. His metal pinky hooked around your own in a sort of playful, teasing gesture. Remember when, it seemed to say. It made you smile again and you felt the tension go out of his body when you tipped your face back up and kissed the underside of his jaw. "I guess I could be persuaded to stick around for a little while." You allowed.

"Only a little while? Isn't there anything I could do to get your...attention for just a touch longer?" Jean asked hopefully, his hands starting to wander a little lower on your body.

You straddled his hips and sat up, cupping his face to keep his eyes focused on your own. "What does mon coeur mean, Jean Pierre?" You queried, your tone saccharine-sweet.

The large man actually squirmed, his face going bright red as you put him on the spot. It was quite possibly the cutest thing you had ever seen. "It is, er...it's a term of endearment." He choked out finally.

"Yes, but what does it mean?"

"I...It means…listen, I don't know if it's too early to be saying these kinds of things. Are you positive you want to…?" Jean's question seemed to die in his throat at the rapid nod of your head and the man heaved a long sigh, dramatically covering his face with his hands so you couldn't see his expression. "It means 'my heart'. Because I...I have loved you for a very long time. You have my heart--non, you are my heart. It is so silly, but I-"

"Oh thank God!" You erupted, probably startling him judging from his incredulous look. "I've been so worried it was another shitty nickname like Le Canon De Verre, you have no idea."

"Merde, of course not! I learned my lesson. You are...you are not upset that I have been calling you my heart, are you?" Jean mumbled awkwardly. "It is a common term, I can come up with something el-"

"Shut up. It's perfect." You took a deep, bracing breath. "I love you too, Jean."

"Are...you are serious, yes? If you are not, you don't need to say it back. I am a grown man, I can handle a little rejection." He insisted bravely.

"Yes, I mean it. God Jean." His embrace crushed the air from your lungs and you wheezed out a chuckle, smacking his shoulder. "Easy on the goods, Pol." Jean ran his fingers through your hair, tears in his eyes. "Don't cry Jean, c'mon." You chided with a grin.

"I can't help it! This is the happiest moment of my life!" He announced tearfully. "I love you so much! I have loved you since before you got angry with me! Maybe it was love at first sight?!"

"Maybe for you. Weirdo." You teased, rumpling his hair (much to his indignation).

…

He danced around the topic of being physically intimate for what felt like months. If the kissing sessions got too hot and heavy, Jean was always the one to calm things back down. At first it was mildly entertaining to be soothed and cooled off by such an irreconcilable flirt, but soon you began to wonder.

Does he actually love me or was that a bunch of talk? Does he regret the choice? Is he just trying to let me down easy? Does he feel indebted to me?

You would get your answer in due time. As with all things related to Jean Pierre, he demanded the perfect setup.

"I've been thinking." You started carefully one evening. "About us."

Jean immediately glanced up from his guidebook, looking almost guilty. Almost. "Yes?"

"I...Jean, you do love me, right?" All your tact went out the window, your confidence soon following. You just stood there, twisting the hem of your sleeping shirt while you tried to stop your lower lip from quivering and your words kept pouring out, "I just wanted to know whether you...um. Whether you want me. As in...well, sexually, I guess. We kiss and hold each other a lot but it seems like every time we would be getting to that point, you put the brakes on." Your fingers threatened to tear a hole in the thin cloth of your shirt. "I mean, it's okay if you don't! It's okay if you want to go back to the way things were. I promise I'll get over it. I don't want to lose you, even if it's only as a friend."

Jean snapped the book shut and lunged upright, his expression gone stony. With two strides he had crossed the room, opening his arms and enfolding you tightly in his embrace. "Mon coeur, my heart, my everything." He whispered into your hair as you sniffled. "I want to ravish you until I consume your every thought as you do mine." Your breath caught in your throat at his heated words. "I want to pin you down and give you everything, every last pitiful scrap of desire that I have for you. I didn't want to scare you, mon coeur, but I have such a voracious hunger for you and...and if you want me as well, you can have as much of me as you wish to take."

Jean pressed his forehead to your own and you took the liberty of mussing his hairstyle with glorious disregard, your fingers raking through his impeccably-styled tresses gleefully. "I want it all." You breathed. "The whole nine yards."

"God, I am so glad. I am so very, very glad." Jean said in reply, his voice sounding strangely thick. "I did not want to rush you. I am well aware that I have a reputation, and I do not know...how far is acceptable to you?" His hands hovered at the hem of your sleeping shirt.

Your answer was to untuck his tank top, gently easing the tight-fitting garment out of the waistband of his pants and shoving it upwards. Jean's body trembled at your touch, a sharp inhale leaving him when you boldly splayed your metal palm on his newly-bared abdomen. You stared up at him, loving how disheveled he looked with his hair askew and tank top hoisted up to his chest. "This is mine now." You said softly.

His moan and the helpless, adorable blush that accompanied his nod of confirmation was all you needed to continue urging him to shed his tank top. Jean did so hastily, clearly eager to show off more of his form. Distracted as you were by ogling him, you barely noticed his arms back around you until he lifted you up. Jean laughed aloud at your squeak, rubbing his nose against your own. "Wrap your legs around my hips, mon coeur." He purred. "Feel as much of me as you would like."

You were only too willing, greedily drawing your hands over his shoulder blades and pulling yourself as close as you dared.

Jean surged forward to close the space between you, nuzzling into your neck with an aching sweetness that was both foreign and familiar at the same time. "You are so beautiful." He said simply, making you flush and squirm a little under the attention. "I am so happy. So incredibly happy."

"Show me then." You replied with a mischievous grin, squealing a second later when he blew a raspberry against the skin of your neck.

Jean laughed again and moved to lay you on the bed, pulling away briefly to study you beneath him. "I can't believe that this is real." You wriggled out of your underwear when his fingers reached for the elastic band, already too excited to let him peel them off unaided. Jean lifted the hem of your shirt and touched it to his lips, the gesture reverent and teasing all at once. "Can I put my mouth on you, mon coeur? Will you permit me?" He asked softly.

"I am going to actually burst into flames if you don't." You admitted, getting the tall man to shoot you an unbearably cocky smirk. It was softened considerably by the wonder in his eyes, like you were the most incredible thing he had ever seen.

Jean urged your legs apart and settled between them, his smirk broadening further when he realized that your thighs were shaking slightly. You covered your face with your shirt, thoroughly embarrassed, but Jean tugged it back down. "Please, don't hide from me. Ne te cache pas de Jean, s'il te plaît." He implored you.

"You know I have no clue what you're saying." You replied breathlessly. Jean didn't bother to translate, lavishing the sensitive skin on the inside of your thighs with soft kisses and nips. You buried your fingers in his hair, none-too-subtly trying to guide his mouth to where you wanted it, but Jean wasn't budging. "Jean-"

The way your voice cracked seemed to fuel his fire, Polnareff glancing up at you with a dazed expression before he attacked your drenched folds with his skilled tongue. He was methodical and brutal, thumbing lightly at your clit while your body arched into the flat press of his tongue. Jean devoured you enthusiastically, making sounds you would have been embarrassed of at any other time had you not also been making highly embarrassing sounds.

"À toi, pour toujours." Jean gasped when you came apart beneath him, reaching up to fondle one of your breasts through your shirt. "Mon coeur, je suis amoureux."

"Y-You'd better not be saying something mean--" Your threat was ruined by how hard your breath was hitching, coming in shaky bursts as you rode out your orgasm.

Jean Pierre languidly shifted his weight until he knelt over you on the bed, pressing his fingertips to his mouth and then touching your lips. "I said, I'm yours forever, my heart, I'm in love." He replied, sounding a little breathless himself. "Too much, yes?"

"I said I wanted it all, didn't I?" Your rhetorical question hung in the heated air between your bodies for barely a split second, fingers already dragging at the buckle of his belt. Jean groaned low in his throat when you opened his zipper, revealing his cock trapped against his stomach by the waistband of his boxers.

"It seems to always be like this when I'm around you." He confessed, unable to meet your eyes and instead focusing on your hand rubbing him through his boxers. "Sleeping in particular is so difficult, mon coeur. Your body, warm and pressed against mine…but I am not some spoiled boy without an ounce of self-control. So I prayed for the dawn like a damned man. Prayed for the courage to tell you, the patience to wait." He chuckled ruefully. "To think you would outstrip me all the same."

"I think we've both waited long enough." You pointed out, feeling him rock down into your waiting palm.

Jean flushed a little, biting his lip as you slid his boxers out of the way and freed his cock. "Will you let me?"

"I keep telling you I want it all. I'm greedy for you, Jean, c'mon." You chided him, startled when he shook his head.

"It's not enough to say it."

"I guess I'll just show you I mean it then." Jean raised an eyebrow at your tone. You lunged up to kiss him, clinging to his waist as you ground your aching pussy against his cock. Jean actually growled, the sound reverberating in his chest while he eagerly reciprocated your grinding motion. "I want you, Jean. I want everything you can give me."

"Since you asked so nicely." Jean Pierre palmed your thighs and dragged you even closer to him, kissing you fiercely. His mouth dominated your own easily, your legs falling open for him as you welcomed him into your body.

Jean buried his face in your neck, panting for breath while you adjusted around him. Your calves quivered and jumped noticeably when he cupped them, shoving your knees up and over his shoulders to leave you entirely at his mercy. You whimpered helplessly, covering your face with your hands again.

"Mon coeur, my love, my everything, please don't hide from me." Jean begged, his voice ragged with desire. "Let me see you, let me know you."

"It's so good, I feel so embarrassed." You replied through your fingers, shaking your head.

"Why be embarrassed?"

"I...I don't know, really. I guess it's the way you look at me. Kind of like I'm being examined under a microscope." You mumbled.

Jean rolled his hips, settling his cock even deeper than it had been previously. Your lips popped open without your input, eyelids fluttering closed. "Do you want me to stop?" He whispered.

"You're so mean." You managed to sputter. "No, I definitely don't want you to stop."

"Are you not enjoying what I'm doing?"

"Oh my God, Jean-"

"There is nothing to be embarrassed about if you like what I'm doing, so what could it be?" Jean's smirk could have given the cat that ate the canary a run for its money, your continued pitiful attempts at indifference doing nothing but bolster his confidence. "Is it maybe...that you like what I'm doing, but you think you like it too much?"

"Polnareff-"

"My last name in bed, how formal of you!" He teased, coaxing an exasperated half-giggle out of you. "I have encountered this before, of course. I will tell you a secret." His lips barely touched your ear, eliciting a shiver. "No one else is here but us, mon coeur. Which means you are as free to enjoy me as I am to enjoy you. I understand that some moron before me has given you the impression that you should be silent or not enjoy this...delicious intimacy. Whoever they were, they were an inconsiderate, selfish liar."

"You are the first person to put your mouth on me. D-down there." You confessed.

He straightened up, looking absolutely scandalised and shrugging your legs off of his shoulders. "But you came so easily for me! Surely someone...no? No one?"

"Nope, not a one."

"Vile, inconsiderate selfish pigs." Jean lapsed back into French, grumbling under his breath and rolling his eyes. He then slid his arms beneath your shoulders, his large form effectively looming over you. You yelped when he picked you up bodily, hurrying to wrap your legs around his waist like you had earlier. "Relax, mon coeur. I won't let you fall." Jean promised, sounding amused. His cock twitched inside you, making you whine. "Oh, that's a lovely noise."

"You can't say stuff like th-at!" You tried to protest but your voice pitched higher as he settled you onto his hips, sheathing his cock to the hilt. He raised you slightly, then lowered you back down again. His careful, even pace was tortuous, your pubic mound pressed firmly to his abdomen while he slowly fucked his cock in and out of you.

"I will not go any faster unless you tell me how you would like it." Jean didn't even seem like he was struggling for breath. You, on the other hand, were gasping out with every thrust, your fingers digging into his shoulders hard enough to leave marks. "You have to tell me, mon coeur." You buried your face in his neck and he shuddered all over, laughing a little. "Is it too much? You are clinging to me so tightly."

"You are absolutely terrible." You muttered, taking a handful of his hair and roughly tugging his head to the side so you could mouth over his ear. Jean's breathing hitched when you finally bit his earlobe and shakily murmured, "please fuck me."

"Oh," Jean sighed, "I would love nothing more." When you arched against him he made a wrecked sound in the back of his throat, thrusting up to meet you halfway. "How could I ever not want you, mon coeur? Now that I've had a taste, I am drunk on you." He said it like it was normal, regular. Maybe to him it was. Maybe things like that came naturally to him.

You cupped his face, suddenly seized by a fierce tenderness that demanded to be expressed. "You're amazing." You choked out bluntly. Jean's eyebrows rose and he seemed genuinely surprised. "You're perfect. You make me feel incredible and you're so, so wonderful to me-"

Jean sputtered, now clearly bewildered. His flush reached the tips of his ears. He cradled you to his chest, helping you ride his cock even while he continued to silently color. "These things you are saying to me…" he breathed, sounding shattered. "You believe them?"

"Jean-!" You cried, resting your forehead against his. That appeared to be what he had been waiting for. You watched as his eyes narrowed and he bit his lip so hard the pink skin faded to white.

"You want it all? It's yours." Jean rutted up into you, stealing the breath from your body with the ferocity of his motions. "Every inch--every breath, every feeling I have, is yours. It's yours." His grip on your hips tightened when one of your legs slid down, the rough press of the large scar on his thigh grounding you.

"Thank you…" You barely had the presence of mind to speak, your brain hazy with ecstacy, but you forced the words out anyway. You laced your fingers through his hair and cried out again as the ache in your body blossomed, trying to come to fruition. "God Jean, I'm so close, please-!"

His laughter was a ragged, broken noise and he buried his face in your neck once more, feverishly pistoning his hips to bring you to climax. You raked your nails down his back when you finally came and Jean clumsily rushed to pull out, barely able to do so before he reached his own orgasm. Thick spurts of come landed on your abdomen, the large man's entire body trembling violently.

The two of you were all but gasping for breath, staring at each other while he tensed up and tried to stop shaking. "So…" you drawled after several awkward seconds. "That was phenomenal."

Jean lit up like a firework, quickly laying you down on the bed so he could lavish you with kisses. "Truly?!" He asked excitedly. "You're not just saying that, right? My feelings will not be hurt if I have room to improve, you understa-"

"Jean, I don't think I can move. My legs feel like I went on a hundred mile hike." You clapped a hand over the scar on his thigh. He was still trembling. "Are you okay? I know that must have been a lot of effort."

"I will be alright. I don't think I've ever come that hard." Jean admitted, grimacing as he slid a finger through the coating of his release on your stomach. "I'm afraid I've made a mess of…" He trailed off when you licked the substance from his index, his eyes darkening. "You accuse moi of teasing, mon coeur?"

"Well yeah, you're ridiculous." You stuck your tongue out at him, blowing a raspberry. Jean rolled his eyes and flopped down on top of you, making you wheeze for air. "Jean wait, you'll kill me-"

He raised himself back up on his elbows, one finger tracing a careful line down the bridge of your nose. "We should shower, no?" He suggested softly.

"We should shower, yes." You agreed.

"Come then, let's get cleaned up. And then we can sleep together. Wake up together." Jean's smile was beaming. "Like we should have been all these months, yes?"

You teared up a little at his sincerity, smiling back at him. "You got it, big fella'."

He didn't make a move to get off you though, continuing to study you. "You are so beautiful like this." It was almost as if he was talking to himself, his expression blissfully content. "I am truly the happiest man alive, even with my heart living outside of my chest."

"You are outrageous-"

"I cannot wait to outrage you every day for the rest of our lives, then. Though I may have to take it down a notch or two, at least until we've grown accustomed to one another." He kissed you, laughing into your mouth. "Your eyes are sparkling again, mon coeur. Are you exasperated with me?"

"Every second of every damn day." You huffed, trying and failing to fight your own smile.

"Wonderful. I would have it no other way."

#jean pierre polnareff #jean pierre polnareff/reader #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #Stardust Crusaders #holy cow #this got so long #I had a lot of fun #behold my indulgence #I love one (1) giant french man #title taken from Queen because shit it's JOJO I have to #everyone lives au #I'm barely on episode ten of Golden Wind and I'm having a great time #I love JoJo so much #stardust crusaders spoilers

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