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xoxo-teddybear · 3 years

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Bakugou Turns Into A Dog - Bakugou Katsuki

Bakugou x f!reader

Warnings: Fluff, crack, lowkey pervy Katsuki, cursing, (writing not spell checked!)

BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST

Request: Bakugou’s been hit with a quirk that has given him the body of a dog. He’s still has his own human thoughts and voice but now..he’s a dog. Just how will he abuse his new power with f!Y/N

It was supposed to be a normal day! Well, as normal as it could get for UA. But of course, trouble just had to strike, and of course the ones at the center of it all was the infamous Bakusquad. More specifically, the man the group was named after.

“I-...I can’t believe that actually just h-happened!” A cheerful blonde cried out as tears fell from his face and laughter rang out from his voice.

“C’mon man, don’t be laughing at what just happened. This is serious,” Kirishima said with concern as he looked down in his arms.

“Are you serious? This has got to be the best thing that’s ever happen since we met Bakugou!” Kaminari replied with while once again dying of laughter.

“IF YOU DONT SHUT THE HELL UP RIGHT NOW SPARK PLUG, I’LL BLOW YOUR ASS TO BITS!” Bakugou barked out.

“Oh yeah? With what quirk lil pupper?” Denki slickly replied while booping his nose. Bakugou’s been making fun of Denki for the longest, this was the perfect revenge. His dear friend has been turned into a dog! Not just any dog, and not the dog you would expect. He wasn’t a german shepherd or rottweiler. Katsuki Bakugou sits in Kirishima’s arms as a fluffy, blonde, angry pomeranian.

Luckily, kinda, the only thing that changed about Bakugou was his body. He could still speak and understand the human language and he could still think like one too, but now it’s all that in a fluffy, round, adorable body. Now, he was all bark and no bite......sorta.

“OW!” Kaminari yelped as Bakugou latched onto his finger and growled. Passerbys watched as the young group of teens watched their friend throw his hand around in pain with a tiny floof dangling on it. Kirishima went in to grab Bakugou and calm Kaminari down.

“Damn, you little rugrat,” The electric blonde started, “just wait till Y/N sees you, she’s gonna die.” Kaminari teased. Once those words left his mouth, Bakugou’s puppy eyes went wide.

‘Oh hell no!’

Kirishima saw how his friend was shaking in his arms and grew concerned so he asked, “hey man, are you alright there Bakubro?”

Bakugou was extremely nervous. He couldn’t let his longtime crush see him like this! Like a weak, soft, puffball! If you saw Bakugou like this, the second he’d turn back to his normal self, he’d dive out the nearest window anytime you were around.

The entire Bakusquad knew of Katsuki’s little (HUGE) crush, and the fact that one of them was now able to use that information against him mortified the lil guy now.

“Aww c’mon Denki, that’s not very nice,” Mina said as she pet Bakugou’s little head before he snapped at her hand. Thankfully, she dodged it.

“Yeah well Kacchan hasn’t been very nice either! Damn mutt nearly bit my finger off!” This received a growl from Bakugou, which was unsurprising pretty normal.

“At least the cops told us the quirk will ware off in two weeks.” Sero stated. Kirishima joined in.

“Yeah. Sheesh, I still can’t believe what happened. That random criminal really jumped outta nowhere.” The red head said.

“Tch, I still can’t believe someone could be stuck with a shitty ass quirk like that. Turning people into pets. Ridiculous.” The blonde dog said.

“Imagine what it’s like being on the receiving end of that quirk. Must be just as ridiculous.” Mina teased.

Bakugou jumped down from Kirishima’s arms before speaking. “Yeah! No shit Pinkie!” He said while standing on his hind legs and motioning towards his new body with his front paws as if he were human.

——————————————————————————

As the group made it to the front doors of the dormitory, Bakugou stopped them before entering.

“Listen up dumbasses! Nobody better say SHIT to Y/N. Just say I’m some random dog found on the street and you guys opted to take care of me till you found me a home. If she asks what happened to me, tell her I was forced onto a trip with my parents. Got that?!” Bakugou strictly spoke.

“Got it!” The group said in unison, but a certain blonde had a different plan in mind. As they entered through the doors, Kirishima hid Bakugou into the side of his jacket but it only made comical sense that you were the first person to greet them.

“Oh! Hey guys!” You said with your award winning smile as you walked towards the group. Before anyone could say anything else, Kaminari spoke up.

“Hey Y/N! You wanna guess what Kirishima has in his jacket?” Denki exclaimed.

“Oh, no I’m sure Y/N has better things to do!”

“Maybe she shouldn’t,”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,”

The 3 friends were throwing out excuse after excuse to keep you from seeing the little devil.

“Woah woah! Hey! You guys! Chill. If you don’t want me to see then I won’t force you. It’s fine.” You kindly said.

‘Whew’ the squad all thought

‘She is so awesome!’ Bakugou thought while in the jacket

“Oh c’mon guys, show her the puppy!” Kaminari said. Now that grabbed your attention.

“Wait? Puppy?! That’s what you guys are hiding. Awww no fair!! Can I please see it! Please please pleaseeee!!!” You begged. After your constant pleading and the squad’s constant denial, Bakugou thought he could just give in this one time. He knew that his friends would cover for him and say he’s just some random dog and you would drop it so he began to stick his snout out of the jacket. Kirishima took it as a sign to show him to you.

“Oh my goddd!!! It’s so cute!!! Boy or girl?” You kindly asked while petting Bakugou’s head, something the dog was enjoying a little too much.

“It’s a boy,” Kirishima said. “We found him on the street so even though we’re kinda busy we wanted to take care of him and heal him up till we can find him a new home.” Mina added on.

“Guyssss c’mon!! Tell her the best part! Tell her exactly who that dog is.” Kaminari begged. The Bakusquad including the dog looked towards Kaminari with a warning look, but Kaminari didn’t care. The ultimate revenge starts now.

“Y/N! That’s Bakugou!” Kaminari exclaimed. As everyone started denying it, you looked towards the dog and saw that it did resemble Bakugou a lot, but then again Bakugou did look like an angry pomeranian time and time again.

Before you chose to listen to one or the other, you weighed your options. Kirishima the chivalrous and honest, the manliest man, or Kaminari the jester himself? It’s was obvious who you were gonna listen to.

“Oh stop that Kaminari. Bakugou may look like a fiesty fluff ball from time to time but he’s not really a dog.” You said while petting the pupper’s chin. Everyone sighed in relief at your words.

“But that’s really-“ Kaminari was cut of with Sero wrapping his tape around his mouth.

“Hey if you guys need a healer, I could use my quirk to help out with that. It may not be a full on healing quirk but it should help the little guy. Plus, I don’t mind spending the next...?” Kirishima helped you out.

“Two weeks,” he said.

“Right, I don’t mind spending the next two weeks with the little cutie.” You said. The dog’s eyes went wide at that as a plan came into mind but the Bakusquad once again started denying, saying it was fine but you insisted since Mina just previously said they were all busy. Throughout the chaos a VERY human like sound came from the creature in Kirishima’s arms.

“Woof.” Bakugou said with such a casual demeanor. He said ‘woof’ in such a human like voice, it was absolutely absurd. As everyone looked down at the dog, the only thing that could be heard was Sero awkwardly giving out a cough to break the silence.

“Ok...well umm that may be a sign that he’s ok with me taking him!” You said with an excited smile. Kirishima looked at the dog and as Bakugou looked back up at him, his best friend knew that he should give you the dog.

“Ok Y/N, he’s all yours. But you’re right about one thing. Since he does look like Bakugou, we named him Blasty, so that’s what you should refer to him as,” he said while placing the dog in your arms. The pomeranian was excited as what appeared to be a small smile showed up in his face and he squirmed around in Y/N’s arms, cuddling up against her pillowy breast.

“Awesome! For the next two weeks, it’s me and you Blasty!” You said while carrying Bakugou in the air facing you and looking at him. He was too cute so you pulled him in for a hug and kiss on his little head. Everyone could see Bakugou had a smug look on his face.

“Alright guys! I better get to healing him!” You said as you ran off with the pupper still holding a smug look, this time directed at Kaminari.

“Looks like your plan backfired dude,” Sero said.

“And it looks like Bakugou is gonna be enjoying these next 2 weeks a little too much,” Mina said and the group shared a laugh. Well, except for Kaminari who was kinda irritated that his revenge failed, but happy for his friend nonetheless.

——————————————————————————

Once you got back to your room you placed Blasty on your bed and started to check him for places where he needed healing.

“Huh, looks like you’re not really injured Blasty. Oh well, that’s fine! Just means I can spend more time with you without having to worry!” You said while rubbing his head. Bakugou leaned into your hand with a small and then rolled onto his back for belly rubs. He was hoping you would pet him some more but you didn’t.

“I’m sorry Blasty, but you need a bath before you hang around anymore. Let’s go!” You picked him up and he was wide eyed and bushy tailed. A bath. Whatever. As long as he got your attention. You placed him in the tub but realized you would be getting your clothes dirty, so you changed into some pajamas you wore the night before that were sitting in your hamper in your bathroom. Basically, you changed right infront of Bakugou. He was staring at you as if you were a meal. As you undressed infront of him he saw you in your panties and bra, matching of course, and damn your body was the exact definition of perfect. He licked his lips as he stared until you put on a cami top and black booty shorts.

“Damn..” he whispered.

When you came back to Bakugou you went down to his level and began to scrub him. You reveled in your touch and soaked in the hot water. When you took him out to dry him off you looked at the time and noticed it was pretty late.

“Alright, I guess we should head to bed. I’ll put on a move and we can sleep. Here, let me go set up some pillows for you to sleep on.” You said as you grabbed your spare pillows and placed them on the floor for Blasty.

As you got into bed you felt a little movement on your mattress. Apparently Bakugou hadn’t appreciated being on the floor. He wanted to sleep next to his future girl. So when you turned over and looked at him, he gave you puppy eyes.

“Oh...why the hell do you have to be so damn cute,” you said as you picked him up and placed him on your bed. Bakugou cuddled up in your chest and took in your delicious scent. You both drifted off to sleep while Bakugou was just having happy thought.

‘This is gonna be the best 2 weeks of my life!’

——————————————————————————

Ohhh what a week. You thought taking care of Blasty would be fun and exciting and adorable but it was that and more. It was also kinda frustrating. The damn dog would “bark” and growl at everyone, especially guys who tried to talk to you, and would only eat human food. He refused dog treats and never wanted to approach other dogs. Hell, this dog didn’t even go outside to use the bathroom. He went into the actual bathroom! Oh and don’t even get Y/N started on the “barking.” That dog had the most clear and humane “woof” any dog’s ever had! Another thing! This dog’s behavior is a little outta line. When Y/N would shower, it would try to follow her in and just sit there. When she would change, it would lay on her bed smiling and staring at her. When she would sleep it would ONLY cuddle into her breast or booty and one time when she woke up in the middle of the night, Blasty was up too. Again. STARING. What is up with this dog?

——————————————————————————

“Ugh!” Y/N said as she face planted the table. Her lunch completely disregarded and the Bakusquad (minus Bakugou because apparently he had to go on a trip with his parents...or so you thought) watching as the blonde mutt poked around her head on the table.

“Having fun there Y/N?” Mina asked to which Y/N replied with a stare and a twitching eye.

“Blasty is INSANE!” You roared out. The Bakusquad and Blasty (aka Bakugou) watched on. “Don’t get me wrong, I love having the little guy around but he has some weird habits for a dog. He won’t eat like a dog, use the bathroom like a dog, interact with other dogs, and don’t get me started on the barks! I’ve never heard a dog say WOOF like a human,” you took a breather before continuing, “another thing, Blasty is a lowkey perv sometimes. Well if he were human at least, but he has perv tendencies. Like the staring whenever I’m a little underdressed or in the tub or SLEEPING.”

With that rant, Bakugou felt his ears fell and he backed up into a corner on the table. He was starting to feel insecure. Had his crush really thought of him as a pervy little thing? When you saw Blasty’s reaction, you noticed he might’ve understood what you said.

‘Can he....no there’s no way.’ You thought about the dog. Was there a possibility he could understand everything you just said?

“Oh Blasty, don’t be so dramatic. I’m just saying, for a dog, you’re a little weirdo, but it’s okay because for the time being, you’re my little weirdo. I still got love for you!” You said while holding him up in the air. Once again, the dog had a reaction to your words.

The squad was starting to notice the gears in your head turn and Kirishima quickly took him away for a little “walk.”

“Oh hey Y/N, why don’t you finish your food and I’ll take Baku- BLASTY! For a walk. Yeah, maybe he needs some outdoor exercise.

“Oh no Kiri it’s fine I-“

“THANKS!” The red head said as he dashed out the cafeteria with the little floof. Oh well, might as well enjoy your last few minutes of peace.

——————————————————————————

“What the HELL SHITTY HAIR!? She was all up on me back there! You didn’t have to drag me away!” Bakugou spoke as Kirishima held him from his armpits.

“Sorry man, but you were the one who said you didn’t want your cover blown and she was starting to figure it out. And c’mon Bakugou, she knows you better than someone who would go on a trip with his parents. Not only that but your looks are so obvious. What dog had red eyes and spikey blonde hair?!?” The red head explained. The blonde dog only crossed his arms in a very human like manner and turned to the side.

“We’ll be fine, the quirk will ware off in another week so get over it. Besides, there’s no way she’ll know! We have everyone that was there covering it up for me. It’s fine!” Bakugou replied.

His best friend sighed before saying “alright man, if that’s what you want,” and placed him down to head back to the cafeteria.

“Thank you! Jeez, now let’s get back to the cafeteria. I wanna have lunch with my Y/N.” Bakugou walked on all fours with his head held proudly.

“You may be a tiny dog, but that huge crush on her that you got going on is still going strong,” the red head said.

“You’re damn right, Shitty hair!”

As the boys walked, they didn’t know that from around the corner, Y/N heard everything.

‘Bakugou?! Quirk??? CRUSH?!!?’ Oh this was too good. With this new information, Y/N walked off with a smirk and a plan.

——————————————————————————

The next few days passed and like always, you work up with Blasty, oh you mean Bakugou, on your chest. You slightly smiled knowing this past 2 weeks, your crush had been coddling over you. You got even more excited knowing your feelings were mutual. You woke up and got ready for the day.

Now, the same thing happened as always. You got up and went to the bathroom to shower and Blasty would follow. He would watch you undress and step in the shower and step out and change. You would pick him up, hold him tight, kiss his forehead, and then be out the room. This time, your routine felt a little different knowing it was actually Bakugou staring at you this whole time.

Oh. He had seen you naked multiple times. You didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or flattered. Oh well, he kept on staring is he must’ve been enjoying the show, except this time, you actually gave him one. You slowly stripped outta your clothes and made slight and soft R-rated noises as the warm water hit your skin. You bent over as you put on your underwear and slowly got dressed. You couldn’t believe yourself. Serving these looks to a dog.

Bakugous cheeks would be so red under that fur, the way you moved this morning was everything. He didn’t even notice the drool slipping from his mouth. As you stood there in nothing but your panties and bra, you turned towards Bakugou. And idea came to your head.

“Hey Blasty! You wanna help me pick out a look today? We sure are lucky the school staff has an all day meeting! Free day for us!” You picked Bakugou up and held him against your nearly bare breast. Bakugou just had to rub himself in between your mounds a little, and you noticed this, and released a slight whine.

“Mm..hey Blasty, stop that.” You placed him down and dressed into a mini skirt and tube top. You matched with a pair of everyday causal heels and went out with Bakugou following along. He would walk directly under your side and look up. He enjoyed the view of your lace panties and the jiggle of your ass everytime you took a step. Man, was this a perfect Friday or what?

Well it would’ve been if it hadn’t been for a certain Icy-Hot. What Bakugou didn’t know, was that you texted Todoroki the previous night to help you with this little plan of yours.

“Hey L/N.” Todoroki greeted you with kid kind eyes and gentle smile.

“Todoroki, stop that. I told you that you’re one of the people who can call me Y/N.” You said.

“Well alright, then I insist you call me Shoto in return.” He said.

“Only seems fair!” You said with a giggle to which Todoroki stared at.

“You have such a beautiful smile.” He complimented. You blushed at his words, especially since Todoroki really wasn’t one for..umm..emotions.

“Thanks,” you bashfully said while stepping a little closer. As Bakugou watched this whole interaction go down from below, he couldn’t help but release a small growl. No way in hell is Half and Half taking his girl!

“Actually, there was a reason why I called you over.” Todoroki said before speaking again. This caught your attention and Bakugou’s. “I was wondering if your wanted to go in a date with me. Tonight. It could be really casual and we could even do a small movie night here in the common rooms. Just you and me. What do you say?” He asked. Bakugou was fuming.

“A date huh? Mm, I’m sorry Shoto, but I’ve actually kinda been waiting for Bakugou to get back.” You said which made Bakugou flip his head towards you.

“Bakugou?” Todoroki asked.

“Yeah. I’ve had a small crush on him for awhile, and I was hoping my first date would be with him.” You explained. The cartwheels Bakugou’s heart was doing in his tiny body was ridiculous.

‘She likes me back She likes me back She likes me back!!!!’ The dog thought to himself. His tail began wagging and his smile grew bigger than ever.

“Well I heard he’ll be gone until Saturday,” Todoroki started, “so how about just for tonight, I keep you company with a movie, maybe some chocolate, maybe some flowers, and see where the night goes?” He asked. Bakugou snarled at the two toned boy with his fangs until he heard your voice.

“Sure!” You said.

“Really?” Todoroki asked.

‘Really?!’ Bakugou thought.

“Really!” You said, “Bakugou will be gone for another week so I see no harm in hanging as friends!” You smiled once more.

“Great! This’ll be amazing Y/- OUCH” Bakugou had interrupted Todoroki by latching onto his leg and holding on with his life as Todoroki did everything he could to shake the blonde mutt off. You reached for “Blasty” before apologizing to Todoroki.

“I’m sorry, Shoto. He gets like this sometimes.” You explained.

“Ah..no worries. Uh, I’ll see you later tonight?” Todoroki asked you.

“Yeah, definitely. See you then!” You said as you walked off with a grumpy pomeranian in your arms.

‘On every level. WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?’ Bakugou thought to himself as you carried him away.

—

You walked into your room to with Bakugou to freshen up a little for your date with Todoroki. A little sprits of perfume here, a dash of blush there, and a little tweak with your hair. Your outfit was cute enough for a friendly little date. As you turned to Bakugou, you saw his sad puppy face.

“Oh, don’t worry Blasty! I’ll be back in a few hours! I’ll see you soon, ok?” You said as you kissed his forehead and made your way to the common room. Just before the door shut, Bakugou slipped out with you. If he couldn’t be on this date with you, then he’d just have to ruin it for Todoroki.

As you finally came in contact with the handsome boy, he greeted you and spoke of your plans

“We’ll be watching a movie, but we gotta get some great snacks first.” He said.

“How about just some popcorn and candy, they’re already right here in the dorms. Come over here and help me prep!” You said pulling on his hand and dragging him to the kitchen. Bakugou didn’t take too kindly to this and quickly went to tear Todoroki’s jeans and bite his ankle.

“Ouch!” Todoroki screamed in pain.

“Are you alright?” You looked around and saw his lower leg had been damaged.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Just a scratch.” He said reassuring your troubles.

“Well alright, if you say so.” You said and resumed your snack prep. But that was only the start of this horrible night. Throughout the date, Bakugou tortured the poor boy and did everything he could to ruin the little get together. He ate the popcorn and candy while your backs were turned, he chewed on the wires to the TV, stopping you guys from watching, and even peed on Todoroki’s leg while you guys just sat and talk. Although Todoroki saw this coming with Y/N’s plan, he had enough of torment from Bakugou. He decided to move into the final plan, right here right now.

“Y/N, you’re an amazing girl and any guy would be really really lucky to have you,” Bakugou watched this little speech from afar, growling at the two, “and I know you’re waiting for Bakugou, but since he’s not back yet, I kinda just wanna end this night with something special.” He said as he began to lean in, you had no intent on stopping him. Seeing this, Bakugou began to run towards the couple with every intent on stopping this kiss.

“HEYYY!!! Those lips are reserved for me!” Bakugou screamed and you both turned towards the little dog. Bakugou jumped into the air to leap onto Todoroki and at the strike of midnight, His body turned into a human again (fully clothed, don’t worry) and fell on Todoroki, making them both fall back.

“You stay away from my girl, icy-hot!” Bakugou said while on top of Todoroki, clinging to his shirt.

“She’s all yours, you angry pomeranian,” Todoroki said as he escaped and ran to his room. Bakugou only looked back at you with a fierce smirk. He walked up to you, grabbed your face and pulled you in for a kiss that you happily returned. He pulled away after a minute and began walking with you hand in hand.

“You’re mine now.” Bakugou said

“Whatever you say....Blasty.” You snickered.

Bakugou turned his head in shock. “You knew?” He asked.

“Of course I knew. I knew Blasty was you, I knew it was you whenever you stared at my naked body, I knew it was you whenever you cuddled into my chest, I knew it was you when I overheard you speaking like a human to Kirishima. It also helped that I just watched you transform back to your normal self. But me knowing it was you was the whole reason why I came up with this plan with Todoroki. It’s about time you made a move on me, Blasty.” You said with a teasing voice.

Embarrassed and frustrated at the fact he’d been caught, Bakugou let out an outburst.

“YOU FUCKING TEASE!” he screamed with his hands holding little explosions.

“Yeah, but now, I’m your tease. And it’s ok, because I know you like me. It’s easy to tell with that kiss and whole possessiveness. But that’s fine, because I really like you too Blasty.” You said with a smile as you wrapped your arms around his neck and Bakugou returned it with a smirk and a hug.

“Damn straight, Princess.” He said as he held onto you tight. “You’re mine.”

A/N: y’all this is not spellchecked bc after the week I’ve had, I just couldn’t. I’m sorry if this isn’t to your liking but I had to finish this so I sloppily wrote it down. I hope you enjoyed it at least! See you next time Bear Cubs💗🧸

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titan-fodder · 3 years

Text

Prima Vista Part VII

[ previous ]

Rating: E (explicit; mdni)

Warnings: dramatics, gaslighting, pining pining pining, drinking, attempted drugging, blacking out, vomiting, Nile and Hitch hook up, did I mention pining, one Greek word (thank you again, @cynnyc .)

It’s nearly ten PM as you climb the steps to the PKA house. The brisk October air makes you pull your jacket tighter around yourself and move toward the door faster. You probably should’ve texted your target first, checked to see if he’s even here, but you’re not about to stand outside and wait for a reply, not when you can just knock and ask a living soul.

It’s Reiner who answers, looking extremely tired with dark circles under his eyes. You idly wonder if he and the other new kids are being kept awake as another stupid fucking hazing ritual, but you don’t really have the time for small talk.

“Erwin here?”

The blond nods and steps out of the way. “His room. Might already be asleep.”

Shrugging, you walk inside, mumbling, “Just gonna have to wake his ass up then.”

Which you do, climbing up to the third story after Reiner tells you which room he’s in now. You knock on the door a couple times and almost feel bad when Erwin answers, clearly rumpled in pajama pants and bedhead.

He squints at you, and you snort. “Sleep before ten? You some kinda nerd or somethin’?”

“What do you want?” He gruffs, voice a little scratchy.

You can see part of the room behind him, looks pretty similar to the one from last year. That had been the only time you’d really gotten a close look into his space, and it had not ended well. You hope this time will be different.

“I needed to talk to you about something.”

Erwin scrubs a hand down his face then rests his head against his doorframe. “I’ll take a wild guess and say this is about Mike.”

You push your lips out in a pout and respond, “Maybe.”

He lets you into his room, catches you off guard when he asks, “Door open or closed?”

“Depends. You gonna come onto me again?”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “I learned my lesson last time.”

“You can shut it then.”

Taking up the chair at his desk, you watch as Erwin just crawls back under his covers and fixes cerulean eyes on you.

“Why haven’t you been talking to him?”

Something in your stomach flips, eyes growing as you splutter, “I haven’t been talking to him? He hasn’t been talking to me!”

Erwin frowns. “What? He’s been bitching to me incessantly.”

“And, I’ve been bitching to Hitch incessantly.”

Groaning into his pillow, Erwin holds out his hand, and you hear a muffled command, “Give me your phone.”

You do without hesitation, rattle off the passcode then sit and wait as Erwin scrolls through what you assume to be your settings or contacts. The thought that you should be a little scared crosses your mind—you do have some compromising photos in an unlocked folder—but judging by Erwin’s current mood, he doesn’t seem interested in anything except sleeping.

“That motherfucker,” he grunts.

“What?”

“You blocked his number.”

“What?” This time is much louder and panicked. “No, I didn’t! I swear I didn’t.”

He tosses you the device back and gestures in a ‘see for yourself’ manner. “Someone did.”

Your blood begins to boil as you stare down at your short list of blocked contacts, Mike’s name right on top.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You quickly tap to remedy the problem, hands beginning to shake. “I don’t even know how—”

“My money’s on the shitty boyfriend,” Erwin mumbles.

You want to text Mike, but you have no idea what to say. Sorry we haven’t talked in over a month. Zeke figured out my phone password and blocked your number haha. You doubt that would fly.

If you had just come to Erwin sooner, most of this could have been avoided. You don’t know if you’re more upset at Zeke or at yourself.

Zeke. Definitely Zeke. That is some wildly possessive behavior. That’s isolation. The idea makes you nauseous. This is just another instance of him showing what you believe to be his true self. Between all the fighting and grudges, you’re at your wit’s end. Just the other day, the two of you had gotten into yet another argument when you happened to get a glance at the Tinder icon in his app list.

“Why do you still have that?” You’d asked with a frown. You really hadn’t planned on it turning into an ordeal.

“Have what?”

“Tinder.”

“What are you talking about?”

Then, right in front of your eyes, he had deleted the app. You saw it, but that didn’t stop Zeke from looking at you with a straight face and telling you, “I think you’re just confused, babe.”

That’s when it turned into an ordeal. That’s when you got defensive and incredulous. That’s when he just kept telling you that you were wrong, that you were just seeing things, and after a good thirty minutes once you were nice and high strung, he actually had you halfway convinced.

Because he always sounds so sure of himself, always makes it so that his word is law. You had doubted yourself—you’re still doubting yourself.

“Jesus, I can’t believe this,” you breathe, leaning back in the rolling chair and staring up at the ceiling. You can believe it, actually, you just hadn’t expected him to sink that low. “What do I even say to Mike?”

Erwin finally pushes himself into a sitting position and stretches. Seems like he’s just resigning himself to being awake. “Whatever it is, you should probably talk it out in person.”

“Probably.”

“Might be a little difficult now, though.”

Heaving a sigh, you mutter, “Yeah, I assume he's pretty pissed at me.”

Erwin hums, but his voice comes out a little unsure when he says, “Well, that, but also…”

You're suddenly sitting straight up. “Also what?”

Making a face, the man across from you enlightens you to the fact that, “Mike is kind of seeing someone. I think.”

You blink at him, trying to process what he’s telling you. Mike is… With someone? You feel sick.

But, you shouldn’t because he’s allowed to branch out. You surely did, and you hurt him in the process.

“It, uh… It gets worse.”

Swallowing, you try to hide the lump in your throat when you rasp, “How?”

Don’t cry. Do not cry. You have no right to cry.

“I’m about ninety-nine percent positive it’s Zeke’s ex.”

Every muscle in your face suddenly relaxes, but it isn’t in a good way. Instead of frowning, your brow softens into its normal position. You release the tension in your jaw, the teeth that were just clenched falling away from each other as your lips part. Erwin moves in and out of focus as your gaze becomes blurry, hot tears gathering at your waterline, and now you don’t even try to stop them from falling.

Fucking Rhi. She had been nothing more than an annoyance before, a peppy little annoyance trying to grab your boyfriend’s attention. But, now… Now, you’re ready to fight. Parking lot brawl, throwing fists and pulling hair, and screeching—you want to destroy her.

“Oh.” You sniffle then wipe your nose with the back of your hand. “That’s good. I mean—” a quiet cough, “—that’s good for him. I’m glad.”

Erwin snorts. “No, you’re not,” his volume rises a bit. “So, don’t pretend like you are. God, why are you guys so bad at this?”

You let out a humorless laugh and shrug. “‘Cause I have shitty timing, I guess.” You bite your lip and look back to the ceiling, trying not to weep too openly, but your lungs are burning, preventing you from breathing, and your heart is bruising your ribcage, and you think your bones just might shatter inside of your chest.

There’s a rustling on the bed, and when you look back at Erwin, you find him laying down again but holding the blankets up in front of him.

“Come on.”

“W-what? Erwin, that is literally the last thing we—”

“I’m not trying to fuck,” he says, eyes heavy as he stares at you. “You need to relax, and I need to sleep, so just come on."

You consider for a while, looking from Erwin to the mattress. You’re really not that close, would barely even call him your friend, but you did come to him tonight. You had chosen to confide in him. He makes some pretty questionable decisions sometimes, but you still believe that ultimately he’s a good person.

“Fine, but put a shirt on.”

“Then, grab one. Second drawer. Make sure it’s soft.”

You roll your eyes but do as you're told, running your hands over a few t-shirts until you find one that he should be pleased enough with. He tugs it on then collapses back on the bed, and you kick your shoes off then slip out of your jacket and under the covers.

You’re facing him, trying to keep a few inches between yourself and his chest, but as you think about the position you’re in—why you’re in it, the tears start flowing freely again, and you’re holding back little whimpers, shoulders shaking at the effort. Erwin breathes in deeply then uses the arm he isn’t laying on to pull you to him, shushing you as he rubs the space between your shoulder blades with a warm hand.

“We’ll get it sorted out,” he promises, voice quiet as he starts to doze.

It’s not how you expected to end the night, but you suppose there are worse ways.

Mike learns a lot of information in a very short amount of time. Nile meets him outside of the fitness center to give him the scoop, trying to look casual as he walks, but Mike can tell he's nervous.

He starts by asking if Mike has talked to you at all recently, and no, he has not. So, Nile tells him that you broke things off with Zeke and apparently it got messy.

"Something about him being a manipulative bastard," Nile waves a hand.

"Doesn’t surprise me. Took her long enough."

You've been hanging around the Pike house again, sometimes by yourself and sometimes with Hitch—"Who's really fucking cute, by the way." Obviously Nile and Marie are in the 'off' portion of their relationship cycle. "And, you would know all this if you would just start coming around again. It's stupid to pay dues and not actually engage with the frat, dude."

"I've just been busy with school," Mike tells him. It's only a half lie. His senior courses are kind of kicking his ass, but he's also been busying himself with Rhi who is… tolerable.

"Whatever. Halloween party is in, like, a week. If you don't show up, I'm gonna be real pissed."

"I'll be there, Nile."

"Okay, then lemme prepare you for one more thing."

Mike stops walking and looks at the smaller man who inhales deeply then blows air out through his teeth.

"So, uh, she's hanging around again, right? And, you're not there, so it seems like she's sort of, uh, latched onto…" He makes a face, and Mike leans back.

"Don't fucking tell me."

Nile cringes. "Yeah. I don't think they're fucking or anything. I haven't heard them in his room like I used to hear the two of you."

"She goes into his room?" Mike has to flex his hand by his side, but the brick wall of the library they've stopped in front of is looking mighty nice. Break a few bones, bleed a little, it'll feel good.

"Yeah, but, like, they're nowhere near as close as you and her."

"How close we used to be. It's been so fucking long since we've even talked, dude. And, any time I try to catch her on campus, the dickbag is with her—"

"Well, at least you don't have to worry about that anymore."

"Yeah, now I just have to worry about her fucking my best friend. Fuck, she just—" Mike growls in his throat, contemplates turning to go back to the gym because he needs to get this energy out somehow. "She drives me fucking crazy."

"Yeah, I know, man. I just didn't want you to be surprised at the party when you see 'em all buddy-buddy."

"I'm gonna punch him," Mike states. "Just lay him out in front of everyone."

"Please don't," Nile sounds genuinely worried. "Maybe use the party as a way to, I don't know, talk to your girl? Like an adult?"

"Obviously not my girl, and I've been screwing around with Rhi anyway. Maybe it's just time we went our separate ways or whatever."

It physically hurts to even suggest, but he's trying to put on a brave face for his friend—act annoyed rather than fucking crushed, but god, he is aching. His stomach has opened up into nothing, his chest feels void of everything that was once inside, and he knows he's being dramatic, but fuck fuck fuck, first Zeke and now Erwin? What is it that Mike doesn't have? What can't he provide you with that they can? Just tell him, and he'll fucking fix it.

"Yeah, I think we both know that's not gonna happen. Plus, you do realize Rhi is probably just using you to make Zeke jealous."

"I'm not fucking stupid, Nile, of course I know that." But, Mike is really tired of his love life revolving around that asshole, like he has to wait for Zeke to call all the shots. "I'm using her as much as she's using me, so—"

"As a distraction?"

Mike lets his head loll to the side, peering down at Nile from the corner of his eyes. "What do you think?"

The other man gives him a light punch to the shoulder and once again suggests, "Talk things out. Just pull her aside at the party."

It's easier said than done. When Halloween rolls around, it's a little insane. It's too big and too loud with a flashing strobe that hurts Mike’s eyes. There are all sorts of costumes, making it hard to recognize anyone. The jungle juice is a mystery, one Mike doesn't plan on touching but that many people will. He has a feeling that more than a few party-goers are gonna end up sick, probably passing out in various locations of the house.

Mike has opted for an easy costume, the tacky tourist complete with his pink Hawaiian shirt, a straw hat, sunglasses, and a fanny pack. It's so awful, it actually made him laugh, but Rhi, clad in a spandex tiger suit, is not nearly as amused. She probably wanted him to go the sexy cop route or something equally as cringey, but Mike just doesn't have it in him tonight.

Nile is a shirtless cowboy, Hitch is a Catholic schoolgirl, Gelgar is Freddy Krueger with a pompadour, Reiner is a werewolf, the list goes on and on. Sexy, bloody nurses, superheroes, Harry Potter, and so on.

When his eyes land on you for the first time that night, Mike comes close to drooling his drink. Lola Bunny in her skimpy basketball uniform and a rabbit ear headband. Your face is painted, and you're carrying around one of those foam balls kids use to dunk into Fisher Price hoops, and he has no doubt the prop will be lost by the end of the party.

Mike thinks back to Spring Break, to you wincing at his movie choice then trying to sleep through it. You had woken up to him flipping through the photo album, then chose to finally open up to him.

So, why this costume? Why "torture" yourself like this?

And, speaking of torture, you're sticking to Erwin just like Nile said you would. The blond is in a tailored suit, his face painted like a skull. It's both classy and creepy, and Mike hates him for it. In fact, it calls for another drink.

Rhi finds him in the kitchen after making her rounds, taking up her former place on Mike's arm as he uses the counter to pop the lid off a fresh bottle. They watch the game of beer pong playing out in front of them, but Rhi doesn't seem content to just sit.

She has to stand on her tip-toes and shout into his ear, "Wanna walk around some?"

No. He really doesn't, but he can placate her, especially if it means getting laid later tonight.

They trek back to the main room, observing the debauchery taking place. People are grinding and stripping to Monster Mash. Several couples are spread out in the chairs or up against the wall getting pretty close to full on exhibitionism.

They stop to talk to "Officer" Marie for a while then move on to Nile and Hitch to whom Rhi spills everything she just heard from the busty redhead. They joke with Gelgar and his catch of the day, some of the pledges—Jean, Reiner, and Eren—who are just trying to survive, and then at last… you and Erwin.

Mike sees the way your chest rises with a deep breath, how your fingers tighten around the little basketball. Your eyes flit from Rhi to Mike, flashing when Rhi greets you.

Oh, you don't like her.

"Love the costume," she tells you. "Who are you supposed to be again?"

Mike chokes on his drink, and you suck your teeth before replying, "Lola Bunny. The Loony Toon."

"Oh, is that, like, Bugs Bunny's girlfriend?"

"Kind of?" You try.

Rhi looks to Erwin who visibly cringes when she asks, "Why aren't you dressed as Bugs then?"

Mike wants to turn around, to put as much distance between all of you as possible.

Erwin clears his throat. "Because that would be a couple's costume, and we're not…"

Mike knows his expression is skeptical, cold even, and when he settles it on you, you give him a little shake of your head that he doesn't really believe.

"Oh, alright," Rhi concedes only to chime, "'Cause I heard—"

"Wrong," Erwin cuts her off. "You heard wrong, Rhi." A hard, blue stare lands on Mike, unforgiving when he tells him, "I think it's time you two talked."

"I don't think that's really—"

"Oh, fuck," your swear gets everyone's attention, and Mike takes in the shock written all over your face then follows your line of sight to the entry way where Zeke god damn Jaeger is making his way through the crowd.

"What the hell is he doing here?" Erwin spits.

"You and Nile decided this should be an open party, dumbass," Mike reminds him with a roll of his eyes.

"Oh, so we're name-calling now? Jesus Mike, grow up. You're just assuming shit!" As he rants, Erwin takes hold of one of your arms and pulls you behind him, snatching the furry headband from you so the ears don't stick out.

For a split second, Mike thinks he's trying to protect you from him, but then he nods to bring Mike's attention to the approaching figure behind him, and Mike understands.

He turns his body to face Zeke who's walking over, fragmented by the strobe, his icy eyes piercing straight through his glasses. Mike, despite his anger toward you, feels the primal urge to protect you.

"The fuck do you want, Jaeger?"

"Woah, calm down, bud. Just looking for a brat—about yea high, spreads her legs for any athlete she comes in contact with. You guys seen her?"

Mike steps toward him, but he's stopped by a hand that fists in the back of his shirt.

"Ah, there she is," Zeke smirks, and Mike looks over his shoulder to see you now in front of Erwin with your fingers clutching the pink material across his back.

"He's not worth it, Mike."

Mike thinks he is, though. He feels like he keeps getting whiplash, going back and forth between who he wants to hit at any given moment because it seems to change by the second.

He's just been so incredibly frustrated for the past few months. Lacrosse doesn't help, and the gym doesn't help, and fucking Rhi doesn't help. Mike has just been stewing, letting everything fester during the radio silence between the two of you. He's mad at so many people including himself, and all he wants to do is shove his way out of this stupid fucking party and take off his stupid fucking fanny pack and be alone in his apartment under his dumb fairy lights.

He shrugs out of your grip, figures the best thing he can do right now is get away from all of you. Zeke stumbles when Mike shoulders into him forcefully. He's not even a little surprised when Rhi doesn't follow him, choosing to vie for Zeke's attention instead.

It doesn't matter. All that matters is that Mike gets another drink in him.

He tries not to watch the way the heated conversation turns out, the way you bow up to Zeke and Erwin has to once again put himself in between you and the other blond. He tries not to smile at the fire in your eyes, that blaze he's seen so many times (usually when you're annoyed at him), and yes, there's that pain again, barely overshadowing Mike's anger.

You yell something at Zeke. He yells back. Erwin feels the need to add his own opinion, but the music is too loud for Mike to be able to make any of it out. Whatever is shouted makes Zeke huff and walk away. Rhi prances after him, and Mike resigns himself to the fact that he probably will not be fucking her after this shit show. He could always find someone else, but that takes effort (not much, but still), and then they usually get clingy afterward, and he just can't be bothered with all that right now. Mike can't be bothered with anything right now.

So he drinks.

He keeps an eye on Zeke who doesn't actually leave the party, and he drinks. He stares at you from across the room, bunny ears back in place, and he drinks. Somewhere between Boom and Beer Pong, he loses the fanny pack, looks down at some point and finds that it's just no longer there. All he had in there was a lighter and a couple condoms, so he isn't too broken up about it, but he does wonder—

Mike isn't sure what makes him look over at the counter where all the different drinks are set out, but he does, and it's just in time to see Eren hunching over the bowl of jungle juice like some shady motherfucker, and when Mike makes his way over, world spinning just a little bit, he sees the younger Jaeger brother emptying a little plastic bag of green pills into the punch.

"What the fu—" Mike has him by the collar before he can even finish his own question, tosses the kid away from the counter so that he actually falls to the floor. It causes a few people to hop out of the way, their drinks sloshing and spilling on the tile. "What the fuck are you doing?"

Eren looks up at Mike with wide, panicked eyes, like he's scared and waiting for someone to save him.

"I—I don't know what you think you saw, man—"

"I know exactly what I saw, you little creep!"

Everyone in the kitchen is looking at the two of them as more people trickle in.

"What even was that? You trying to roofie the whole fucking party or something?"

"No!"

"Just one person, then? That one special girl," Mike hisses.

He walks back to the counter and grabs the large bowl of juice, carrying it over to Eren who's still on the ground. The kid covers his face just in time for Mike to empty the contents over his head, drenching him so that red drips from his hair and trickles down his arms.

"Drink up, bitch," Mike snarls before throwing the bowl so that it bounces off Eren's head.

Naturally, a bigger crowd has gathered, and Nile shoves his way through, shouting over the music, "What is happening?"

Mike leans over to yell in his ear, "Saw him pouring pills into the punch."

"Are you serious?"

Mike nods but steps away when Eren pushes himself off the wet floor and nearly throws himself at Nile.

"I didn't do it! I don't know what the fuck he's talking about!"

Nile arm-bars Mike when he tries to move toward the little twerp, lips pulling back from his teeth because it has been a shitty night. A shitty week. Shitty month. And, now his fury has shifted yet again.

"Did anyone else see it, Mike?" Nile asks.

"Probably not since everyone is fucked up—"

"Including you."

Mike looks over at his friend in genuine surprise because it's starting to sound like Nile doesn't believe him.

"Why the fuck would I lie about something like this?"

"Maybe because he's Zeke's brother," Nile suggests.

Mike is heated. He can feel the blood underneath his skin cooking his god damn insides, frying his brain so that all he can think about is throwing a punch or two (or twenty).

Jaw sliding, Mike shuts his eyes, takes a deep breath to steady himself, to stop his hands from shaking as he tries to figure out when his friends started looking at him as some unhinged freak.

"What are you doing—the fu—dude, stop!"

Opening his eyes again, Mike sees that Gelgar has inserted himself into the situation and has Eren pinned against the counter as he shoves his hands in every one of his pockets. He's growling something at the younger man, keeps shoving his face down against the linoleum any time Eren squirms, and after about a minute of people watching and gasping and making crude remarks about the position the two are in, Gelgar straightens up with a plastic bag identical to the one Mike saw Eren emptying into the jungle juice.

"It's just Adderall, I swear!"

Gelgar scoffs. "This is definitely not Adderall. Believe me, I'd know." He tosses the pills to Nile who takes a long look at them before glaring at Eren.

"Get the fuck out before I call the cops."

He should call them anyway, Mike thinks, but he understands Nile's hesitance. There's a lot going on at the party—underage drinking, party drugs in various rooms, etc. Eren wouldn't be the only one taken into custody if the police showed up.

Another voice rings out, asking the same question everyone else has, "What the hell is going on?" and Mike comes close to hurling the closest bottle at Zeke as he makes his way to his brother. "Why are you…" He gestures nebulously as his eyebrows pull together. Rhi is close behind him, and further still, you and Erwin are peeking into the kitchen.

"They think I drugged the jungle juice!" Eren looks at Zeke with puppy eyes that probably worked when he was a kid, might still work judging by the way the blond whirls around to face Mike and Nile.

"Have any proof, or are you just trying to—"

"Pipe down, Jaeger," Nile cuts him off, holding up the bag and explaining, "Mike saw him dropping these in the punch."

Zeke is silent for a few solid seconds before rounding on his brother again and grabbing him by the shirt right where Mike had previously held him, and everyone watches in rapt attention as he steers Eren through the crowd, shouting at him the entire time.

Having both of them leave is a relief, but Mike is a little disappointed that he didn't get to fight either of them. It would have been nice to feel a nose break under his fist, but he supposed it's better this way.

"Hey, thanks for catching that, dude," Nile says, slapping Mike's back.

It doesn't make him feel good. If anything, it pisses him off. Mike would understand if his friend had been skeptical of one of the pledges or second years making the accusation he had, but Nile is one of his best friends. They were inducted at the same time, were hazed side by side. Mike never would have thought Nile had such a low opinion of him, that he’d believe Mike’s little broken heart would cloud his judgement to the point of slandering someone without cause.

"Whatever," he shrugs before grabbing another drink.

He should just go back home. He isn't having a good time. He's angry at just about everyone he looks at. When Rhi decides he's worth her time again, Mike actually tells her to fuck off. He's lost the accessories to his costume, and he's about to lose his mind.

It's getting late. Mike isn't sure how late because as the night progresses, he gets steadily inebriated. He tries to avoid anyone and everyone in his fraternity, hanging out with people he knows from lacrosse or his classes instead. They play a few drinking games, take body shots off some sorority girls (or maybe it's the same one, he can't tell anymore). The music becomes bearable, and the strobe light stops hurting his head, and eventually, Mike just… forgets.

He forgets about Nile's lack of faith. He forgets about the fuckhead Jaeger brothers. He forgets about you and Erwin walking around and laughing together oh, ha ha we're so close now. He is finally spared from all of his negative thoughts.

Mostly because somewhere between shot number seven and beer number who knows what, Mike pukes into a plant (maybe?) and blacks out.

"God dammit. Erwin," you tug on his jacket sleeve and point to the corner that is home to a fake ficus that Mike is currently throwing up in.

Erwin groans, "Oh, Jesus Christ," and starts making his way over with you hot on his heels.

A few people are making faces as they glance at Mike, moving away as he coughs, straightens, then bends over again.

"Mike, come on, buddy," Erwin pats his back, waiting for Mike to pause in his retching so that he can duck under his arm and support him. "Gotta get you to a bathroom."

"No bath," Mike snorts. "No green there, no…"

You take a place on his other side, not that you can help much in getting him down the hall and in one of the downstairs restrooms, but you at least support his other arm and steer him in the right direction.

"Why is he talking about green?" Erwin grumbles as you both lower Mike to the tiled floor in front of the toilet where he promptly pukes again.

"The leaves maybe? I don't know, dude. Just…" You cringe as you notice the way Mike's shaggy hair hangs down into the toilet bowl, subject to all kinds of splash back. "Do you have a hair tie on you?"

"Literally why in the fuck would I have a hair tie on me?" Erwin asks incredulously, and you laugh because a couple weeks ago, he never would have used that word in this context since it's wrong, but the more you spend time with him, the more he picks up on your vernacular, and that really doesn't matter right now because—

"Water," Mike croaks, voice echoing off the ceramic.

"I don't think you'll be able to drink any right this second, man," Erwin tells him, squatting beside him.

Mike shakes his head. "Wanna feel—feel water. Cold."

"He sounds like a fucking caveman," you snicker.

You're really just trying to stay calm, masking the sick feeling in your stomach with amusement, but you've been watching Mike all night as he downed beer after beer, mixing various liquors as he took shots and licked salt off some chick's stomach. You figured he would get sick, but there wasn't really much you could do about it. He had made it pretty clear he isn’t interested in speaking to you. Still, you had purposely remained mostly sober just in case something like this happened (also because you make bad decisions when you get fucked up at frat parties).

"Yeah, he definitely won't remember any of this."

"Waterrr," Mike tries again, and you look at the way his arm is dangling over the side of the tub, the faucet on the opposite side, and glance at Erwin at a loss.

He shrugs, eyes darting around until he sees the plastic cup upside down on the shower rack. He grabs it, turns the water on and fills the cup, then dumps it over Mike's hand.

Mike groans, slowly wriggles his fingers under the stream, and drawls, "Thaaaank."

You shake your head and motion for the cup, talk loud enough to be heard over the faucet, "I can handle this. You go back outside."

"What? No."

"There's no reason both of us have to be in here. He's just gonna puke his guts out for a few hours and then pass out."

Erwin doesn't seem sold on the idea.

"Come on. You've gotta go back. You're vice president or whatever."

"So?"

"Erwin."

He stares at you for a while then deflates. "Fine. Do you have your phone on you?"

"Always." You gesture to the elastic waistband of your shorts, phone pressed to your hip as it hangs on the inside of the material.

"Text me if you need help, alright?"

"You got it, boss."

He leaves just in time for Mike to violently retch into the toilet, one hand clutching the bowl as his spine curves. You fill the cup back up, pour it over his hand once again, and repeat the action over… and over… and over.

His face and hair are gonna be a mess, probably his shirt too which is actually a blessing because you'll finally have a legitimate reason to burn it. Pepto Bismol pink and sketched palm trees stare at you as you sit on the edge of the tub, and all you can think of is the first time you saw Mike wearing the terrible shirt, how that had ended up, how you left with it the following morning.

How had the two of you gone from that to this? Sure, you weren't super fond of him at the beginning of it all, but he grew on you. A lot. He's your best fucking friend. Through the last couple months, through this weird fight you're having, he is your best friend. It's why you're here right now taking care of his drunk ass.

It'll pass. This phase will pass, and you'll make up, and you'll get your chance to be honest with him, to tell him how you feel about him. It may have taken you a little too long to arrive at your destination, so to speak, but better late than never. Soon, you'll both be able to look back on this and laugh.

People knock on the door here and there, and you scream at them to go away, eventually getting tired of it and just clicking the lock into place.

Any time you stop pouring water over his hand, Mike whines and attempts to say something, choppy words that don't make a ton of sense. You wonder if you need to call an ambulance, look for the signs of alcohol poisoning, but he doesn't feel cold, his breathing is even between bouts of vomiting, and his arms aren't curling in that tell-tale way.

More than likely, he just made himself sick. He knows better, too. He's been partying for a long enough time to be well aware of the mixing rules. Beer before liquor and all that shit. He may have just not cared tonight, though. From what Erwin has told you, Mike has just been in a generally bad mood for a while now (and Erwin has not tried to be subtle about why). He's barely around the Pike house anymore, he keeps getting called for personal fouls in lacrosse, and he's sleeping with Rhi which is nobody's business but is also strange considering her history—some kind of mutualistic symbiotic relationship that nobody is a real fan of.

Not my circus, not my monkeys, you think to yourself, emptying another cup from your place on the floor now. The ceramic was starting to hurt your ass, and you know your arm will probably be a little sore tomorrow, or later today since it's nearing three.

Fatigue is beginning to set in, and you know Mike is exhausted because he keeps dozing off on the toilet seat so that you have to nudge him back awake. Until he can speak in mostly coherent sentences, he's not allowed to sleep.

Sitting in the bathroom gives you ample amount of time to think. You go over some mental flashcards for a while, notes you took with the help of Mike's magic textbook. Then you think about going to your mom's for Thanksgiving and how much you aren't looking forward to it. Then you think about Zeke showing up only to have to escort his shady brother from the house. God, you had not been happy to see him. You'd been a little afraid, if you're being honest.

After figuring out that he had, in fact, blocked Mike's number on your phone, you had stomped into his apartment and initiated a screaming match. You got loud, he got louder, called you a stupid bitch and punched a hole in the drywall. You had decided that was a pretty good time to leave, both the apartment and the relationship. He's been lurking on campus around your most frequented spots—the science building, the library, but you've been doing a good job of camouflaging yourself in groups of other students. Even if he can see you, he can't do much about it.

You've thought about reporting him to campus police, but you know nothing will come of it. The golden boy can do no wrong. It's why you've been spending so much time at the PKA house again. You know most of them have your back, and you are absolutely not above asking any of them to walk somewhere with you to fend off your angry ex.

You can't wrap your head around what his fucking deal is. Surely he didn't treat Rhi like this after they split. There's no way she would still be so infatuated with him if he had. Is it just because you're the one who dumped him? He had to have seen it coming once you started putting the pieces together, the way he constantly tried to make you feel guilty, isolating you from your friends, invading the privacy of your phone to not only block Mike but also to turn your fucking location on so he could track you (you had found that out after that first trip back to the frat house to talk with Erwin. It had not been pretty).

It's hard to believe you put up with it for as long as you did. It was only five months, but that's still five months too long.

Mike is quiet for several minutes, and you sigh when you see that his eyes are closed once again. He makes a noise of displeasure when you use your foot to gently shake him, grumbling, "Sto-o-op."

"Nope. Gotta stay awake, Miche. Can't have you fallin' into a coma or something'."

"Nooo. No Miche."

"Yes, Miche," you laugh.

He scrunches his face up, shakes his head, but the motion seems to make him sick again.

When he finishes gagging into the toilet, he lets out a deep, "Gu-uuh," then sniffs. "No Miche. Jus' she—she—...Jus' her."

You can figure out the rest, but you can't decide if you want to smile or cry. Only you can call him that. Well, you and his mom. You miss her. And his dad. And Scout. You hope to see them again.

"Okay. Just Mike then."

He hums in confirmation then shakes his hand in the tub so that you'll douse it once again.

"You're a needy drunk, you know that?"

Mike doesn't respond to that, just takes a few deep breaths as his eyes close yet again.

"Sleep now," he mumbles.

"No, no sleep now."

"Sleep now."

"Oh my fucking god."

His mouth drops open a little, and the first thing you think to do is splash him in the face with the cup of water.

He spits and splutters but doesn't shift much, still wrapped around the toilet. You try not to look inside when you stand and reach to flush what's already gathered, trying to shield some of Mike's face from any flying droplets. Then you wash your hands and sit back down. You figure you'll be here for at least another couple of hours. The sun will be coming up soon. Thank god it's a Saturday.

Both Erwin and Nile knock on the door for an update, and you yell that you're okay. Mike isn't throwing up as often, and when he does, nothing is coming up anymore. He's gonna be in a world of pain when he returns to his normal self.

So fucking stupid. He's so fucking stupid.

He mutters nonsense on and off. Sometimes you can translate what he's trying to say, but other times not so much.

"President… dumb boyyy."

"Hy-poc-risy an' jealous… Hypocrite… I…"

"Hand… wanna hold…" but when you grab it, he just gurgles, "Waterrr."

There's really no pleasing him.

"Why-y-y… dick… Erwin."

"Volcano books… n' space jam… come an' sam… an'... to the jam."

You laugh too loudly, and Mike cringes at the noise, but the corner of his mouth still lifts. You don't think he knows what he's doing or saying yet—isn't downloading any new memories—it doesn't matter because you will remember this for the both of you.

"You're fucking ridiculous."

Mike pushes himself back from the toilet to sit against the wall, hissing and clumsily rubbing his chest. His shirt is wet and disgusting, and he must know on some level because he says, "Shower," and starts pulling himself over the tub.

"Jesus Christ, Mike."

He's too tall, dangling an arm and a leg over the side and sinking lower.

"Water, pleeeease."

He apparently isn't aware of the faucet that is still on. Whoever has to pay these bills… You feel sorry for them.

"No, dude. I am not letting you drown."

Mike fucking giggles, "Lifeguard," then tries to take his shirt off. He doesn't have the motor skills to handle buttons and looks to be confused by them anyway, so his next solution is to just rip the material down the middle.

"Yeah, okay, I guess that works."

The showerhead is turned on, and you sit on the edge of the tub again, shivering when the cool spray blows toward you while keeping an eye on Mike. Reaching over, you turn the temperature up a little, knowing that the alcohol has dropped his body temperature some. You're almost tempted to slide under the water with him, but there's no room, and you're not about to just make yourself comfortable on top of him.

So, you just sit and stare and think about how tired you are. Physically and mentally and spiritually tired. You just need some time to not exist—just a few days. It feels like this semester has been nothing but drama so far, and it is exhausting. Maybe that's why Mike did this to himself. Maybe he just needed to not exist.

He starts to sit up a little in the tub, but his hand falters and sends him sliding back down. "Fuck."

Not caring about getting wet at this point, you simply stand up between his spread legs, the shower drenching you immediately, and grab his hands to tug him upright.

"ευχαριστώ."

"Come again?"

"Means thanks," he mumbles, slumping forward.

You think of his family again, how he and his mother had just fallen into Greek as soon as you'd stepped into the house, leaving you surprised and impressed and warm in several different ways.

Squatting, you tilt your head to catch his half-lidded gaze.

"You back with me yet?" It's been nearly four hours—Fuck, why is there music playing still—but he might need more time.

"Dunno."

"Can you tell who I am?"

Mike does his best to roll his eyes. "'m drunk, not a amnes—amnesic—"

"Amnesiac," you supply with a smirk. Smartass.

"That," he nods, pointing at you with a finger gun.

He can actually understand you now, so that's good, don't have to worry about him dying anymore since he's making progress.

Opening his mouth, Mike catches some water in it, swishes and spits. You expect him to tell you that you can leave. He can take care of himself, doesn't want to see you, all manner of hurtful things he has every reason to feel.

Instead, he blinks at you, extends his arms, and makes grabby hands.

"Can I help you?"

He doesn't say anything, just keeps reaching for you. He could grab you without issue. His fingers are already brushing your knees, but he either doesn't notice or wants to wait for you.

"Mike, I can't get any closer," you laugh.

Switching tactics, he pats his chest.

"Oh, no. I am but about to put myself in the line of vom just 'cause you wanna cuddle or some shit."

Truthfully, you would also like to cuddle, to feel Mike's body against yours again, trace your fingers over his skin and listen to his heartbeat, but…

Not like this.

"Please. No more vom. Promise."

"I don't think you're in a state to make promises like that."

He says your name followed by one more, "Please," and you give in, letting out a long breath and grunting as you find a way to lay between his legs with your head on the lower part of his sternum. You're curled a little awkwardly, one foot up against the ceramic while the other is curled beneath you. It is not by any means a comfortable position, but it's what Mike wants.

A few months ago, laying like this would inevitably lead to other things. Talking and joking would lead to giggling, maybe some well aimed prods to your ribs. You would bite in retaliation, his shoulder or, if the angle was right, his nipple, until he pulled you up further to sit in his lap, hot mouth finding yours, and so on and so forth.

This is different on every possible level. Neither of you are speaking. Your hands are unmoving on each other's bodies. There's no heat save for the water that's pouring down on both of you, plastering your silky costume to your skin.

Still, it's enough to lull you into a drowsy state, the ache in your eyes urging you to close them, but as soon as you do, Mike speaks.

"'m mad at you."

Your stomach drops. His words don't come as a surprise, but they still sting.

"I know," you sigh. "I'm mad at me too."

Your head moves with his chest, a gentle up and down that could—and has—put you to sleep.

"Still love you."

You bite your lip, fingers lightly digging into Mike's warm skin as you remind yourself that he's drunk, and he hates you, and he probably won't remember any of this when he wakes up anyway. There's no reason to get emotional over it. No reason.

"I love you too, Miche."

Silence closes in around you once more. You drift in and out for about half an hour until a loud knock jolts you awake.

You scramble off of Mike and hop to the door, leaving puddles and drops behind you. Both Nile and Erwin look panicked in the hallway, the shorter man nearly shouting, "Is he fucking dead in there?"

"Not deeeead," Mike calls from the tub.

Erwin peers over your shoulder at him, then at you, then takes on a disappointed expression. "You didn't. Come on, he's so drunk."

"What do you—" You frown as you piece together his implication, then squawk and shove Erwin with two wet hands. "I didn't fuck him, you perv! What is wrong with you?"

He chuckles and bats away your hands. "I never know with you two! You can't blame me!"

"You're disgusting."

"Look who's talking. Have you seen yourself in the mirror?" Erwin raises his eyebrows. "Less bunny and more… I don't know, ghoul?"

God, you had completely forgotten about the face paint.

"Shut up, yours isn't much better." His black and white paint is smeared in several places like someone ran their fingers through it. The collar of his shirt is stained, and his hair is tousled. You can't tell if it's the result of getting frisky or falling asleep.

"Stop flirting in front of meeee," Mike whines loudly, sitting up and pushing the shower knob a little too hard to shut the water off.

"We're not—" You and Erwin start at the same time.

Nile interrupts with a drawn out, unconvinced little note and informs both of you, "You guys get a little flirty sometimes. Sorry to break it to you."

You frown at the blond and he frowns back, then you both frown at Nile who shrugs. "I'm just saying. There's a reason people are thinking things."

It's not important, and you'd rather not dwell on it because you know the truth, and Erwin knows the truth, and Mike will if he'll just fucking listen, but he's fucked up right now, so that's a problem for another day.

"Whatever, we'll work on it, but for now…" You watch as Mike tries and fails to pull himself out of the tub.

"He looks like the girl from The Ring," Erwin snorts.

"Yeah, if she was giant. And, a guy," you add.

Wet hair is hanging over Mike's eyes, still sopping wet and dripping. He's all awkward angles as he hoists himself up, kicking a leg over and swearing.

"We should probably help him," Nile says, fighting his own smile.

"Probably."

Between the three of you, you manage to transport Mike from the bathroom to Erwin's room on the third fucking floor which is no easy feat. Nile waits for his friend to be dumped onto the mattress, then announces that Hitch is waiting for him to come back to bed. You don't know how long that will last, but your friend falling into the same frat boy trap you did is mildly hilarious.

It leaves you and Erwin to make Mike comfortable. You wrap his head in a towel you found poking out of the hamper, murmur, "Hope this doesn't have anything gross on it," to which Erwin responds with an unamused look.

You peel the ruined, tacky shirt from Mike’s shoulders and toss it into a corner but you let Erwin take care of the rest. You've seen everything Mike has to offer, but that doesn't stop you from feeling weird about seeing his dick when he can't really stop you. So, like Mike did last year when he spilled water on your shirt, you turn your back to allow him some privacy.

There's some rustling and grunting, but when Erwin tells you it's safe, you look to find Mike in a pair of gym shorts, hair still wrapped, looking more disgruntled than you've ever seen him.

"'m still wet."

"You sure are, big guy," Erwin agrees, slowly guiding him to lay down on his side and explaining, "You need to sleep like this, alright? Otherwise you might choke and die."

"Erwin!" You throw your hands up in the air. "Why would you even—?"

"Know how it works, dumb… butt."

"Oh, dumb butt. That's a good one," Erwin grins. "Very creative."

"Don't panotrize me!"

You have to cover your mouth to keep from cackling, and Erwin shakes his head, corrects, "Patronize, Mike. Patronize."

"That's what I said!"

It takes a while to get him relaxed again. Apparently, Mike's favorite thing to do while drunk is run his mouth to Erwin, so while he's busy dealing with that, you raid Erwin's closet for a shirt and then his dresser for boxers. Once you are mostly dry, you snatch the towel from Mike's hair to wipe your face and toss it away, then step up onto the bed near the pillows, urging Mike to shift so that you can sit against the headboard.

He immediately rests his stubbled cheek on one of your thighs, then wraps both arms around the other, his fingers melting into the fat just below your ass as he grunts, "Mine."

"All yours, buddy," Erwin assures with a grin before glancing at you. "I'm gonna pass out in the chair—" he gestures to the one in the corner of the room, "—if you need me for anything, just wake me up, okay?"

"Yeah, thanks." Then, "Hey, Erwin?" He hums in response. "Don't tell him about tonight, like, me staying with him."

"Why?"

"I don't want him to stress out about what he may have said or done. 'Cause I know he will."

"Whatever you say," Erwin shrugs, collapsing in the chair without even changing or washing his face. All three of you are gonna look like characters from a horror movie whenever you wake up, and the thought makes you smirk as you card your fingers through Mike's damp hair.

It's getting longer. He could probably put it up if he wanted to. He's been letting his beard grow a little too. You aren't sure if it's laziness or just trying a slightly different look, but whatever the case, it's hot.

He keeps your leg clutched tightly to him like some kind of stuffed animal until he drifts off to sleep. It's nearing five, and you know you probably won't get any quality rest while you're here, so you figure you'll just doze for a while until you can safely extract yourself from Mike's grip. He probably won't appreciate waking up like this anyway. No matter what he's said to you and Erwin—declarations and staked claims—it'll all be worthless in just a few hours.

A symphony of snores plays through the room, Erwin splayed out in his chair like he's passed out in a cheap Vegas hotel while Mike drools on your thigh, and if it was anyone else, you'd be disgusted and shove him away, but since it’s Mike, it’s weirdly endearing. He can slobber on you all he wants, it won’t bother you in the slightest.

Eventually, the sun shining through the window becomes too bright for you to even fall into a light sleep, so just as you planned, you gently untangle yourself from Mike, pausing when he grunts and frowns, but when he doesn’t stir any more than that, you manage to slip out of the bed.

Grabbing your phone and costume, still a little wet and cold because of it, you leave as quietly as you can. Your shoes are still in the downstairs bathroom along with Mike’s shirt, and you have a legitimate mental debate over whether you really should just toss it, but as much as you hate it, you decide against it.

You have to step over several bodies to get to the front door, more than usual which is concerning since the punch Eren spiked was thrown out (or really, thrown all over him), but you’re able to make it out without tripping.

The drive to your dorm feels too long, sun beaming right into your itchy eyes the entire way. You nearly cry in relief when you finally fall onto your mattress, already well aware that most, if not all, of your day will be spent under the covers. You’re more than fine with it, allowing yourself to just not exist for several hours exactly how you wanted to.

#mike zacharias x reader #miche zacharias x reader #aot x reader #aot fanfic #tw manipulation #tw vomit

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5lazarus · 3 years

Text

Salt, Flesh, Heat

Bull notices that Solas is a deeply sensual person, reveling in clean clothes, good-smelling herbs, and hot water. He's also deeply masochistic. When the two find themselves enjoying the baths one early morning in Skyhold, Bull decides to press. Solas decides to play along. A @black-emporium-exchange gift for gamerfic. Read the other works in the AO3 Collection here! Read the story on Archive of Our Own here.

Steam on skin, worn wood pressing slick into his back as each vertebrae clicks: the Iron Bull sighs as he unwinds in the Skyhold baths. Few beyond the servants and the hungriest soldiers and Josephine herself were up at this hour. Bull has the steam room to himself. Carefully he unwinds his bulk onto the bench, laying his towel over his eyes. The clearcut eucalyptus smell lingers on his skin, sweated into his muscles. He groans aloud as a muscle in his bad knee pops.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he grunts.

Then the door opens and the dawn rushes in. Bull lifts the towel from his remaining eye. Solas stands there, a bit nonplussed. Shit, Bull thinks, and slowly makes room.

Solas lets the door close firmly shut. He holds a bundle of white birch twigs and dried eucalyptus.

Bull grins. “Want me to hit you with that?”

Solas climbs onto his bench and drapes himself on the upper story. “That may not be necessary.” Right, Bull thinks, you self-flagellate enough for both of us. He inhales deeply. “Would you mind putting more water on the stone? Some of the steam escaped.”

Bull says, “Uh, sure.” Slowly, because the ache in his body is delicious and he savors it, he reaches for the ladle and throws another pail of water onto the heating stones, and then another, and another. He hears Solas settle onto his bench, right leg stretched out. Bull turns to look. The man’s pale, graying red hair trailing down his chest. Dorian managed to catch a glimpse of his cock when they bathed after a particularly fetid journey into a Dalish swamp, and reported that it was the largest he’d ever seen on an elf and one of the bigger he’d seen on a man. Bull has to admit he is curious.

Amusement in his voice, Solas says, “Are you quite done?” Still tense, he turns away from Bull. He’s wiry, built broader in the shoulder and legs than most mages he’s met, but still has a weak core. Blackwall told him he’s fought in “some elven skirmish,” and he looks like a man about to retire from the field. He has a slashed scar on his right shoulder and claw marks on his right leg.

“Where’d you get that?” Bull points.

Solas does not turn around. Bull’s eyes travel down his back and rest on his well-shaped ass and thighs. Solas is a bit too thin for him, practically speaking, but he does like to look. He’s built like a dancer gone to middle age, rather than some Emerald Knight stalking the Dales for humans to kill, or—so he has heard from Ben-Hassrath stationed in the outskirts of the Tirashan—Dhal’Vallaslin chasing down strange elves with crimson vallaslin, who sacrifice the living to their long-forgotten gods. He seems more the type to plan and give orders, than carry out the dirty work himself, though of course Bull has seen him do it. He saw what he did with those Kirkwall mages.

Bull asks, voice casual, “You know, you’re kinda built like a dancer.”

At that, Solas shifts. He opens a single blue eye, looking down at him like a large cat eying a much smaller, squeakier dog. “I was many things, as a youth.”

“A dancer?” Bull says, taken aback, and slightly turned on.

“Not that,” Solas laughs. “And you, Iron Bull? Were you ever a—performer in your youth?” Solas slowly raises to his knees and leans over, taking the ladle from him. In one easy swoop, he throws more water onto the steaming rocks, and leans against the wall, inhaling deeply.

Bull says, a tad defensively, “That’s not how we do things in the Qun. I was earmarked for the Ben-Hassrath pretty early on.”

Solas says, “But there are many ways of being a spy, regardless of how your government attempts to standardize. Though I suppose you are too—big for the more subtle aspects of infiltration work.” He stretches. During his time with the Inquisition, he has put on enough weight and muscle that his ribs no longer show.

Bull says, “I did my job okay. Most of it is people-work. Watching, being watched. Don’t need a lot of variety in that.” He snorts. “The less, the better.” He eyes the bushel of branches Solas brought with him to the bania. The eucalyptus mingles wonderfully with the heady scent of sweat. He says, “Are you sure you don’t want me to hit you with that? That’s why you brought that here, right? I thought that was just a Dalish thing.”

He’s hit a nerve. Solas says sharply, “The Dalish do not monopolize all aspects of what has become of my people’s culture. And one simply…rubs the body with it, harder force is not necessary.”

“Ah,” Bull teases, “but if you really want to get the eucalyptus into the skin.”

“And I assumed this early, I would be alone,” Solas says flatly. “How is your knee, Iron Bull?”

Bull grunts, “Shitty. Running from all those demons tore it up again. But this helps. How’s yours?”

Solas pauses. Bull edges to the intersection of the benches, trying to find enough space to spread his leg out without having to sit on the floor. He maneuvers his bulk carefully, and gently lifts his bad leg onto the bench, folding his good leg underneath. It’s a vulnerable position, but he can see the door.

Finally, Solas admits, “My sleep has been disrupted with the amount of strain I’ve put my body through. I am hoping this will help before I must return to my desk and Vivienne’s lectures, as we calculate yet again the futility of using templars to isolate the rifts.”

Bull chuckles. “She’s still on that?”

“She has relented that a team of templars cannot hold the perimeter by themselves. We differ on how many mages are needed to perform the ritual to stabilize the Veil, and how vulnerable it leaves them.”

Bull says, “Give yourself a little bit of a good thing before you charge into the bad. That’s what I like about you, Solas.”

“Oh?” Carefully Solas climbs down onto the lower bench, favoring his unscarred leg.

“You know, you’re such a sensualist. You clearly like the baths, you don’t mind talking, you like the birch broom and feeling your blood roil and all that. I’ve seen you flirt with the Inquisitor before, and you were positively purring at the Winter Palace. But!”

“But,” Solas repeats, looking up at him. “But?” He is enjoying this, Bull is amused to realize. He enjoys it when people talk about him. As a younger man he must have preened. With that red hair, he would’ve had to.

Bull says, “But you never go all the way. You never fully surrender yourself to it. You get tipsy but not drunk. And you never let yourself alone with the Inquisitor, or anyone, really.”

“I am here with you,” Solas points out.

Bull shrugs. “And even though you like to talk, you like to argue, to debate, you never hang around the Mage’s Tower, or go back to the tavern with Dorian and the others. You keep patching up your shitty homespun even though with the Inquisition salary, you can buy yourself proper robes. You’re a masochist, man. I’ve never met someone so—sensual—who likes to torment himself so much.”

Solas is silent. Sweat pours from both their bodies, dampening the smooth hot wood. He fingers the bundle of oak twigs and eucalyptus, rubbing a single leaf with his thumb. Lowly, voice pooling like steam, he says, “Surely I do not need to tell you of the pleasure of desire, long-denied, finally sated. Or of living simply, with the occasional indulgence in luxury. After all, what is an elvhen apostate to do with silk? I take pleasure in making and mending my own garments, Iron Bull. As for other indulgences of the body…”

He trails off and Bull swallows heavily. He flicks his tongue around his lips. The air tastes of clean water and sweat: his own and the sharper, earthier scent of the elf’s. Every species has their particularities.

Bull says, “In the Qun, we believe in moderation, sure. And if you’re into edging, more power to you. But you know that’s not what I mean. If someone ends up that tightly-wound, that isolated, the Tamassrans intervened—“

“And if you do not give a proper showing of yourself, they break your mind and set you sweeping floors,” Solas says flatly. “I have seen how such authoritarian systems deal with dissenters. I take my pleasure in my own ways, in my own time. Not at my commander’s orders.”

Bull says, “It’s not like that. Sometimes you just need a good fuck, or a massage, or to be sat down in a discussion group with the priests and get into an argument all night long. The Tamassrans just prescribe the medicine. It’s good, it works. Keeps you from going too far.”

“Which is precisely why there is no Tal-Vashoth problem in Par Vollen,” Solas says. “Once, while in the Fade—“

Bull groans, “Right, let’s put some demons into this.”

Solas says, “Do you ever tire of repeating what your elders have told you, or would you like to learn something? Once, in the Fade, I saw a young Qunari working in a simple kitchen, baking bread as she was ordered every morning.”

“Cute,” Bull says. “So I’m not the only Qunari you’ve asked about their horns.”

Solas ignores the dig. He continues, “In every loaf she broke the rules. She’d take a pinch of sugar and would fold it to the center, like a secret.” He leans back with a fond smile. “And this act of small rebellion brought a shining smile across her face.” He spreads his hands, as if he has laid a winning flush in their game.

Bull thinks, you had to have been a slave. Are you the baker? Rather than provoke him further, Bull takes a different tact. “Hey, Solas. Why do you shave your head?”

Solas blinks. He raises a hand to his scalp, which is beginning to get bristly again. He says, “Fastidiousness, or lack of fastidiousness. Take your pick.”

Bull says, “No, really. If you can ask me how I put on a shirt I can ask you about your hair. Why do you keep it shaved? You’re not naturally bald, are you?”

Solas eyes him. “I am certain you have heard Dorian complain, at length, of the difficulties of keeping his hair perfectly coiffured and shaved while traveling. I have been nomadic most my life. It became easier, this way. Particularly since it is such a prominent color.” He shifts slightly.

Bull says, “Hey, I like red heads.”

“I know you do.”

“Don’t you ever think about growing it out?”

Solas laughs. “No. Never.” He pops his knee up and stretches his other leg, sighing as the muscles in his back audibly crack. Taking the bath broom, he begins rubbing the leaves into his skin. The air fills with its medicinal scent, and under that: earth.

Bull says, “I can rub that into your back.”

Solas says, “I prefer to take my pleasures simply.”

Bull says, “But I can look.”

Solas rolls his shoulders back and begins rubbing the bundle into his arms, swiping sweat away. “I never said you could not.”

Bull, frustrated, brings his bad leg down with a thump. He says, “You gonna take a dip in the cooling pool? Or is that too much of an indulgence for you?”

“My people first discovered this way of bathing,” Solas says distractedly. “I will take any opportunity to enjoy it now that I can, however primitive our facilities in Skyhold.”

“You’ve got baths, out in the woods?”

“You’ve never built a steam hut, and then flung yourself into a snow drift? Really, the Qun did not let you enjoy your youth.”

“But your people did,” Bull says, seizing on this note of autobiography.

Solas places the bundle on the bench. He stands up in silence and tosses another ladle of water onto the furnace. The room fills with steam, and Bull feels sweat pool in the back of his head.

Solas takes his towel and wraps it loosely around his waist. Looking over his shoulder, he says, “I took pleasure when it came my way.” With that rejoiner, he grins, and opens the door. Bright light and cool air pools in; the steam thins. The day has begun. Solas leaves.

Alone in the steam room, wonderfully hard, the Iron Bull says, “Fuck.”

#dragon age fanfiction #dragon age fanfic #da fanfic #dai fanfic #dai #dragon age #solas #iron bull #solabull #solas/iron bull #iron bull/solas #slash #banya #romance #flirting

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tweedlydumbtweedlydoo · 3 years

Text

Heat of the Moment | Damon Salvatore x reader

Requested by @fandom-strumpet / Summary: You confess your feelings to Damon during a heated argument and fear of rejection and embarrassment, you run off.

A/N: the ending is kinda choppy aka shitty. I’m sorry I took so long to get this out, I hope you still enjoy it! xx

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: {OPEN} CLOSED

** Rules for Requesting **

** Who I Write For **

********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS

As you entered the Salvatore boarding house you were immediately hit with the smell of blood and bourbon. Damon had been this way for days after his precious Elena left him high and dry for another man, proving once again she didn’t care about anyone but herself.

You were Damon’s best friend, the first friend he made when he arrived back in Mystic Falls. You two bonded at a liquor store over brands of bourbon (you two practically got into a pissing match about which was the better bourbon). At the end of the conversation he invited you over to try his brand and you would try his favorite. By the end of the night the two of you found yourself switching brands.

You may have been a human, but Damon was in one of his good moods when the two of you met, so there was no need for you to become his next meal. Plus, he promised Elena only blood bags from now on.

You grew up in this town so you knew Elena well and knew how self centered she was. So, when you found out Damon and her were together, you couldn’t believe it. And to be honest, you were kind of hurt, hoping this time a guy would choose you over Elena.

Damon was dancing with some human, blood dripping from her neck as you walked into the living room area. The music was booming and you immediately went straight for the music.

“There’s my favorite girl!” Damon calls out, dropping the girl like a bag of bricks when he notices you.

You slammed your hand against the button to turn the radio off, earning a “hey!” From Damon.

You turned just in time for him to practically be chest to chest with you, “You stink.” You scrunched your nose up in disgust and at his bloody face and chest.

“What are you the party police?” He slurs, “You’re the one who stinks.”

You snatched the bottle out of hand before he could even react, “She left you Damon and this is how you decide to spend your time?!” You stomp toward the girls, making sure they were alive, however to your dismay they were dead. Great. “These girls are dead!”

“They were fun while it lasted.” Damon chuckles, taking the bottle from you hands, motioning to the bottle, “i’m sorry would you care for some?”

“You can’t keep doing this,” you motion to the room, “This isn’t you Damon. You aren’t this guy anymore.”

He scoffs, taking a swig of the bourbon, “Yeah well, it’s fun being this guy again.” He followed you as you picked up trash that littered the room, “Quit cleaning up. Just leave it.”

“You can’t live like this. This is disgusting. You smell horrible and the house smells horrible.”

“I said just fucking leave it damn it!” Hitting it out of your hands the litter scatters once more, “Why do you care? Why does my appearance or how I choose to treat my broken heart matter to you?!”

“You stupid prick!” You gave him a hard push against the chest, but he didn’t move at all so it was useless on your part.

“She obviously didn’t care about me, so why would you care?!” He stepped toward you, towering over you by a couple feet, “Just let me rot!.”

“Because you stupid bastard, I love you!”

That sobered him up real quick. He staggered back a couple steps from you and you realized what you’d let slip. The secret you’d been holding in for months. Damon’s eyebrows are furrowed, “you.. you love me?”

Your heartbeat picks up it’s pace as you realize you’d made a stupid and embarrassing mistake. “I-I need to go.” You didn’t even grab your purse as you turned and ran toward the door, putting as much distance between you and Damon as you could.

“Wait y/n-” He tried to recover but it was too late, you were already gone.

He continued cleaning up like you were trying to do. He disposed of the bodies properly and eventually took a shower. He used this time to think over what you’d said; what you’d confessed.

Had he really been that blind to not notice your feelings? No, how could he? His mind was always on Elena. and well, that shown to be a mistake.

He walked through the woods to your secret spot next to the woods. As he neared he heard your heart beat and then heard your sobs.

“You really shouldn’t be out here a lone. A vampire might walk up behind you.”

You quickly wiped your tears from your cheeks, “I see you finally showered.”

He motioned to the spot on the fallen tree next to you, “May I?”

You nodded and wiped another tear, “I didn’t mean what I said earlier.”

“Oh good. I’m glad you didn’t really think of me as a stupid bastard and prick.” He teased.

You couldn’t help but laugh. He was the one person who could make you laugh when you wanted to cry, “No you asshole.. about loving you.” You picked at your sweater, “I didn’t mean it. It was a heat of the moment thing. I know you’re still in love with Elena.”

“I think I fell in love with the wrong girl.” He glances out at the river and then back at you, “She didn’t leave me because she found some other guy. She left me because she knew my heart belonged to someone else.”

“Oh great.” You groan, “another girl for me to compete with?”

“there isn’t no competition.” He grabs your hand, stopping you from picking at your sweater, “Quit picking at your sweater, it’s your favorite one.” He mutters quietly before continuing on, “She was the one who told me I was in love with you. She saw it before I did.”

“How did you know this was my favorite sweater?”

“Way to change the subject while I’m being honest with my feelings.”

“I’m sorry.” Heat fills your cheeks, “Seriously.. how did you know?”

“Because it’s the one you messed up that day in the woods. You were all upset about it.”

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, looking up at him, “But Caroline gave me this for Christmas.”

He clears his throat, trying to divert the “Anyways, yeah so, she left-”

“Caroline had no idea about this sweater; That it was my favorite one.”

“Fine. Alright? I bought the damn sweater after you ripped that one in the woods and told Caroline to give it to you for Christmas because I didn’t want you to be the only one I bought a gift for. Happy?” He stands from his spot next to you, “That’s when Elena knew I was in love with you. She wasn’t dumb and figured it out pretty quickly.”

“So you’re saying..” You slowly stand from your seat, “You’re saying that you’re in love with me?”

“Yes.” He faces you, “Did that get lost in translation? I’m not too good with my words. You know this.”

You bite back a laugh, “No it didn’t get lost in translation. I thought I fucked it up earlier telling you I loved you.”

“No, you didn’t.” He sighs, “I was angry with myself for not seeing it. and took it out on drinking and those girls.” His hand runs down your arm, stopping to take your hand in his, “I love you, y/n and I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner.”

You soaked in the moment, hearing him admit those words, “You’re choosing me?” your eyes are glossy, “Right? I’m not hearing it wrong?”

“No..” He rubs his knuckles along your cheek, “I’m choosing you. I love you.”

All my works tag list: @blossomreed , @mggstyles , @simonsbluee , @thewolf-and-thesheep , @obxrafejjwhore , @abbiesthings , @itstaskeen , @reniescarlett

The Vampire Diaries / The Originals tag list: @thefandomplace , @taylordrunkonwhiskey , @somewhatasoftbaddie , @toomuchtv95 , @losers-club6 , @daddydobrockk , @akshi8278 , @idkhaylijah , @harpersmariano , @dpaccione , @hellotvshowtrash , @malfoys-demigod

#damon salvatore #damon salvatore fanfiction #damon salvatore fanfic #damon salvatore imagines #damon salvatore oneshot #damon salvatore fic #damon salvatore x reader #damon salvatore x #damon salvatore x you #damon salvatore x y/n #damon salvatore x fem!reader #damon salvatore x female!reader #the vampire diaries #The Vampire Diaries fic #the vampire diaries fanfic #the vampire diaries fanfiction #the vampire diaries imagines

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whitehotharlots · 3 years

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The point is control

Whenever we think or talk about censorship, we usually conceptualize it as certain types of speech being somehow disallowed: maybe (rarely) it's made formally illegal by the government, maybe it's banned in certain venues, maybe the FCC will fine you if you broadcast it, maybe your boss will fire you if she learns of it, maybe your friends will stop talking to you if they see what you've written, etc. etc.

This understanding engenders a lot of mostly worthless discussion precisely because it's so broad. Pedants--usually arguing in favor of banning a certain work or idea--will often argue that speech protections only apply to direct, government bans. These bans, when they exist, are fairly narrow and apply only to those rare speech acts in which other people are put in danger by speech (yelling the N-word in a crowded theater, for example). This pedantry isn't correct even within its own terms, however, because plenty of people get in trouble for making threats. The FBI has an entire entrapment program dedicated to getting mentally ill muslims and rednecks to post stuff like "Death 2 the Super bowl!!" on twitter, arresting them, and the doing a press conference about how they heroically saved the world from terrorism.

Another, more recent pedant's trend is claiming that, actually, you do have freedom of speech; you just don't have freedom from the consequences of speech. This logic is eerily dictatorial and ignores the entire purpose of speech protections. Like, even in the history's most repressive regimes, people still technically had freedom of speech but not from consequences. Those leftist kids who the nazis beheaded for speaking out against the war were, by this logic, merely being held accountable.

The two conceptualizations of censorship I described above are, 99% of the time, deployed by people who are arguing in favor of a certain act of censorship but trying to exempt themselves from the moral implications of doing so. Censorship is rad when they get to do it, but they realize such a solipsism seems kinda icky so they need to explain how, actually, they're not censoring anybody, what they're doing is an act of righteous silencing that's a totally different matter. Maybe they associate censorship with groups they don't like, such as nazis or religious zealots. Maybe they have a vague dedication toward Enlightenment principles and don't want to be regarded as incurious dullards. Most typically, they're just afraid of the axe slicing both ways, and they want to make sure that the precedent they're establishing for others will not be applied to themselves.

Anyone who engages with this honestly for more than a few minutes will realize that censorship is much more complicated, especially in regards to its informal and social dimensions. We can all agree that society simply would not function if everyone said whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted. You might think your boss is a moron or your wife's dress doesn't look flattering, but you realize that such tidbits are probably best kept to yourself.

Again, this is a two-way proposition that everyone is seeking to balance. Do you really want people to verbalize every time they dislike or disagree with you? I sure as hell don't. And so, as part of a social compact, we learn to self-censor. Sometimes this is to the detriment of ourselves and our communities. Most often, however, it's just a price we have to pay in order to keep things from collapsing.

But as systems, large and small, grow increasingly more insane and untenable, so do the comportment standards of speech. The disconnect between America's reality and the image Americans have of themselves has never been more plainly obvious, and so striving for situational equanimity is no longer good enough. We can't just pretend cops aren't racist and the economy isn't run by venal retards or that the government places any value on the life of its citizens. There's too much evidence that contradicts all that, and the evidence is too omnipresent. There's too many damn internet videos, and only so many of them can be cast as Russian disinformation. So, sadly, we must abandon our old ways of communicating and embrace instead systems that are even more unstable, repressive, and insane than the ones that were previously in place.

Until very, very recently, nuance and big-picture, balanced thinking were considered signs of seriousness, if not intelligence. Such considerations were always exploited by shitheads to obfuscate things that otherwise would have seemed much less ambiguous, yes, but this fact alone does not mitigate the potential value of such an approach to understanding the world--especially since the stuff that's been offered up to replace it is, by every worthwhile metric, even worse.

So let's not pretend I'm Malcolm Gladwell or some similarly slimy asshole seeking to "both sides" a clearcut moral issue. Let's pretend I am me. Flash back to about a year ago, when there was real, widespread, and sustained support for police reform. Remember that? Seems like forever ago, man, but it was just last year... anyhow, now, remember what happened? Direct, issues-focused attempts to reform policing were knocked down. Blotted out. Instead, we were told two things: 1) we had to repeat the slogan ABOLISH THE POLICE, and 2) we had to say it was actually very good and beautiful and nonviolent and valid when rioters burned down poor neighborhoods.

Now, in a relatively healthy discourse, it might have been possible for someone to say something like "while I agree that American policing is heavily violent and racist and requires substantial reforms, I worry that taking such an absolutist point of demanding abolition and cheering on the destruction of city blocks will be a political non-starter." This statement would have been, in retrospect, 100000000% correct. But could you have said it, in any worthwhile manner? If you had said something along those lines, what would the fallout had been? Would you have lost friends? Your job? Would you have suffered something more minor, like getting yelled at, told your opinion did not matter? Would your acquaintances still now--a year later, after their political project has failed beyond all dispute--would they still defame you in "whisper networks," never quite articulating your verbal sins but nonetheless informing others that you are a dangerous and bad person because one time you tried to tell them how utterly fucking self-destructive they were being? It is undeniably clear that last year's most-elevated voices were demanding not reform but catharsis. I hope they really had fun watching those immigrant-owned bodegas burn down, because that’s it, that will forever be remembered as the most palpable and consequential aspect of their shitty, selfish movement. We ain't reforming shit. Instead, we gave everyone who's already in power a blank check to fortify that power to a degree you and I cannot fully fathom.

But, oh, these people knew what they were doing. They were good little boys and girls. They have been rewarded with near-total control of the national discourse, and they are all either too guilt-ridden or too stupid to realize how badly they played into the hands of the structures they were supposedly trying to upend.

And so left-liberalism is now controlled by people whose worldview is equal parts superficial and incoherent. This was the only possible outcome that would have let the system continue to sustain itself in light of such immense evidence of its unsustainability without resulting in reform, so that's what has happened.

But... okay, let's take a step back. Let's focus on what I wanted to talk about when I started this.

I came across a post today from a young man who claimed that his high school English department head had been removed from his position and had his tenure revoked for refusing to remove three books from classrooms. This was, of course, fallout from the ongoing debate about Critical Race Theory. Two of those books were Marjane Satropi's Persepolis and, oh boy, The Diary of Anne Frank. Fuck. Jesus christ, fuck.

Now, here's the thing... When Persepolis was named, I assumed the bannors were anti-CRT. The graphic novel does not deal with racism all that much, at least not as its discussed contemporarily, but it centers an Iranian girl protagonist and maybe that upset Republican types. But Anne Frank? I'm sorry, but the most likely censors there are liberal identiarians who believe that teaching her diary amounts to centering the suffering of a white woman instead of talking about the One Real Racism, which must always be understood in an American context. The super woke cult group Black Hammer made waves recently with their #FuckAnneFrank campaign... you'd be hard pressed to find anyone associated with the GOP taking a firm stance against the diary since, oh, about 1975 or so.

So which side was it? That doesn't matter. What matters is, I cannot find out.

Now, pro-CRT people always accuse anti-CRT people of not knowing what CRT is, and then after making such accusations they always define CRT in a way that absolutely is not what CRT is. Pro-CRTers default to "they don't want students to read about slavery or racism." This is absolutely not true, and absolutely not what actual CRT concerns itself with. Slavery and racism have been mainstays of American history curriucla since before I was born. Even people who barely paid attention in school would admit this, if there were any more desire for honesty in our discourse.

My high school history teacher was a southern "lost causer" who took the south's side in the Civil War but nonetheless provided us with the most descriptive and unapologetic understandings of slavery's brutalities I had heard up until that point. He also unambiguously referred to the nuclear attacks on Hiroshmia and Nagasaki as "genocidal." Why? Because most people's politics are idiosyncratic, and because you cannot genuinely infer a person to believe one thing based on their opinion of another, tangentially related thing. The totality of human understanding used to be something open-minded people prided themselves on being aware of, believe it or not...

This is the problem with CRT. This is is the motivation behind the majority of people who wish to ban it. It’s not because they are necessarily racist themselves. It’s because they recognize, correctly, that the now-ascendant frames for understanding social issues boils everything down to a superficial patina that denies not only the realities of the systems they seek to upend but the very humanity of the people who exist within them. There is no humanity without depth and nuance and complexities and contradictions. When you argue otherwise, people will get mad and fight back.

And this is the most bitter irony of this idiotic debate: it was never about not wanting to teach the sinful or embarrassing parts of our history. That was a different debate, one that was settled and won long ago. It is instead an immense, embarrassing overreach on behalf of people who have bullied their way to complete dominance of their spheres of influence within media and academe assuming they could do the same to everyone else. Some of its purveyors may have convinced themselves that getting students to admit complicity in privilege will prevent police shootings, sure. But I know these people. I’ve spoken to them at length. I’ve read their work. The vast, vast majority of them aren’t that stupid. The point is to exert control. The point is to make sure they stay in charge and that nothing changes. The point is failure.

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alltheworldsinmyhead · 3 years

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Alright, let’s make some things clear, once and for all, because this clusterfuck is delightful:

FEYRE has all the reasons to harbour hard feelings towards Nesta. They do have unresolved conflict which none of the parts really know how to resolve. You could even argue that Feyre does not owe Nesta any kind of attention or care now and I would be kinda inclined to agree. What was truly shitty of Feyre was to actually BANISH her own sister from her fairytale ending just because she did not fit the perfect picture and hand her to Cass like an object.

RHYS is completely justified in his dislike towards Nesta. He is so devoted to Feyre that he will always and forever take her side in any potential conflit AND, due to this devotion, is not likely for him to forgive other people for inflicting pain on Feyre, even when she herself does grant this forgiveness. Rhysand doesn’t need to like or even understand Nesta - she’s his sister-in-law, he grants her protection on basis of that and so be it. To be honest, I don’t think it’s Rhysand’s cup of tea at all.

MOR does not have to like Nesta. Actually, she has hundreds of reasons not to and it would have been super unrealistic if she did. I don’t think that in 500 years of this Mor-Az-Cass clusterfuck there has ever been a bigger threat to this comfortable bubble of denial they have created than Nesta. Besides, Feyre is Mor’s bestie and her High Lady, so her loyality will always be with Feyre first and foremost. HOWEVER, I do believe Mor is intentionally doeing everything she can to create drift between Cassian and Nesta and, unfortunately, I think it has more to do with her own fear and insecurity than with her trying to protect him from heartbreak or sth. And this is - and incredibly selfish thing to do and also an incredibly wrong one. And it needs to be adressed.

AZRIEL did nothing wrong, fuck, SJM, give this man a hug pls

ELAIN is the one whom I actually DO have a problem with, because given how absolutely devoted Nesta is to her, you would think Elain would fight for her harder. She doesn’t. She fought for fucking GRAYSEN, but she doesn’t fight for Nesta. I believe that she is the most self-centered one in this whole mess, tbh. I can forgive Feyre for her conflict with Nesta, but never Elain.

CASSIAN is a fucking coward. There, I said it. He is in love with Nesta, she fucking calls to him, body and soul, and yet he refuses to fight for her, much like Elain does. He gives up on her and cannot deal with his own emotions to the the point when he fucking tells Nesta she’s unlovable. I adore this man, but damn, he will have to atone for that hard. Because boiiii, SHE MADE HER FEELINGS FOR YOU AS CLEAR AS POSSIBLE. He needs to seriously set his priorities straight - cause as of acofas, he refuses to completely let her go while simultaniously refusing to committ to her. He refuses to understand her actions. He blames his own feelings on her. And I think that - again - this is all because he is so damn afraid of loving her the way he full well knows she simply has to be loved - completely and apologetically - cause loving her like that will put him in oposition to his own family. And who he is, if he is not absolutely devoted to them?

NESTA - honestly, let this girl heal. She is so broken and ruined in acofas and I do truly think she only continues to live because Fae bodies are so hard to kill. I don’t think she owes Cassian anything. She offered him her raw heart already. I don’t think she owes Elain more. She gave her her heart long ago. I don’t think she owes Mor or Rhys anything, besides being more civil with them. She does owe Feyre a completely honest conversation about their shared past, but, truth to be told, what she has already said to her in ACOTAR should’ve been at least enough for Feyre to start looking at her at least a bit differently ( which she didn;t). She is clearly mentally ill and depressed, and you cannot expect a person in such a ruined state to be a proactive part of any kind of relationship, romantic of otherwise. How fandom treats her depression in opossition to Feyre’s only shows that, unfortunately, a woman still has to be nice and sympathetic in order to be even considered worth care and affection.

Guys. They DON’T NEED TO ALL LIKE EACH OTHER. Nesta doesn’t need to enjoy Rhys’ company. She doesn’t need to be besties with Mor. The true conflict is not between Nesta and IC, not even at all. Nesta probably does not belong in the Court of Dreams in a straigh-forward sense, definitely not like Feyre does. Nesta and Cassian don’t have true conflict either, because they so clearly love each other, they just cannot be together for the time being because of their own personal conflicts - Nesta’s with her own issues and with her sisters AND Cassian’s with his own issues and with the IC.

And that’s the tea.

#acotar meta #nesta archeron #acofas #acosf #cassian #nessian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #feysand #pro nesta

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ericamzdm · 3 years

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Catra and Melog (S5E8)

Again, there are bits of this that ...don’t quite land for me, but going through the structure here:

(~4:30)

Bow: “If my helmet were that adorable, I’d leave it on, too.”

Catra: “It is not!” [comedic struggle to remove helmet ensues]

(~5:40)

Bow and Glimmer: [spinning a visibly uncomfortable Catra around between them]“Catra’s first mission! Catra’s first mission!”

(~10:15 ET)

Bow: “The angrier you get, the cuter you are!”

Catra: [lunges at Bow]

Throughout the first 1/3rds of the episode, we have Glimmer and Bow engaging in “good-natured teasing” that visibly upsets Catra - which only means they escalate it until Catra has a go at Bow.

This is, frankly, kinda shitty behaviour from Glimmer and Bow. It’s them violating boundaries Catra has implicitly set (“I’m not cute!”, discomfort with touch) because to them the boundaries seem silly and arbitrary. Haha, look how funny it is that Catra gets upset over being called cute, let’s do it again!

That said, given the structure of the episode, I am going to be generous and assume the intended read is:

Bow and Glimmer really are being good-natured, and are attempting to bond

They are misreading Catra’s behaviour as playful ‘mock anger’/minor irritation, because Catra deflects (with sarcasm, avoidance, arguing), rather than acknowledging and addressing her emotions.

This failure to meaningfully manage her internal experience leads to Catra becoming increasingly agitated, and eventually responding to minor provocations by lashing out.

(Structurally this is a difficult needle to thread, because you want the severity of Catra’s upset to be obvious to the audience, while believably hiding it from the other characters. Which is why it doesn’t quite land for me - Catra’s just not doing an objectively good job of masking her anger/discomfort here, so Bow and Glimmer ignoring it feels more callous/malicious than they likely intended.)

=============

Now, a PSA about anger:

Anger is not Abuse

Anger is an emotion. Abuse is a [pattern of] harmful behaviour. They are not the same thing.

Anger is a real, valid, normal, healthy emotion, just like all the other emotions. There is nothing wrong with getting angry or being angry, and experiencing anger does not make you a bad person. I’m intentionally not qualifying this - you get to be angry over trivial, irrational, unreasonable things! There’s no moral threshold you have to cross before you’re allowed to feel your feelings.

What you don’t get to do is blame your feelings for the actions you decide to take. Your feelings are an internal experience. They are not an alien force that controls your behaviour.

=================

(~16:00)

Bow: “It’s just so cute!”

Catra: “It’s not cute!”

Melog: [turns red, spiky and aggressive]

Bringing this back to the children’s cartoon: Melog’s dramatization of Catra’s feelings isn’t there to make the BFS go “Golly gee, I didn’t realize Catra was so upset”. An outside observer should be able to tell that, without needing an animate mood ring.

No, the person who needs visual feedback on Catra’s emotional state is Catra. Who struggles to recognize her own emotions, because she spent a lifetime being told (overtly and covertly) that her “negative” feelings were invalid and unreal, and that she should just stop having them (leading to cycles of deflection/repression followed by destructive lashing out).

(~16:10)

Catra: “I’m sorry, I got angry. It’s something I’m working on.”

Adora: “Oooh, you are?”

Catra: [irritated] “Yes. Now can you please--” [deep breath] [brittle cheerfulness] “Yes, I am. I think this thing responds to emotions.” [normal tone of voice] “So, can you not give me a hard time right now?”

The “therapy” function Melog fulfills isn’t “teaching Catra to not be angry” - no one uses that brittle tone if they’re not fuming - it’s “Helping Catra recognize and acknowledge when she is angry, so that she can manage her internal experience in a healthy way, rather than an impulsive and destructive one.”

By recognizing that she is angry - and that her anger is real and valid, even if it is over something “silly” like teasing - Catra can then manage her feelings and the situation constructively (apologize for initially lashing out; own her emotions; deep breath to re-center herself; unambiguously establish her needs and boundaries).

Again, can’t stress this enough - Catra gets to keep feeling all her feelings. She gets to be angry, including at people she loves (Because the people we love can be infuriating). She gets to be sad and anxious and frightened and frustrated. The change is is how she deals with having those feelings. That she is finding ways to manage her feelings that don’t involve hurting other people to make herself feel better.

Adora: “No. Sorry, sorry. Do your thing.”

(For her part here, Adora accepts Catra’s assessment of her own emotional needs, rather than either demanding she stop having needs or insisting her needs are for Adora to determine. which is another check mark on the “Adora has mysteriously resolved her bullshit, despite continuing to have less self-knowledge than your average rock.”* list.

*Again, it’s not that I don’t like Adora! But her struggle to build a healthy Sense of Self, one where she can distinguish between Herself and other people, remains a core character trait. As such, I really would have liked a little bit more focus on her working through her half of this dance. Like. Any. At all.)

#spop #pick-apart #spop s5e8 #adora #catra #melog #glimmer #bow #feeeeeelings #catradora

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phantaloon-books · 4 years

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(some) Riordanverse characters (bc I never read TKC) and which Hogwarts House I think they would be in

Warning: this is a long one

Nico: the dude is definitely Gryffindor without a doubt. Like Sorting isn't about some traits and some characteristics, it's about core personality. He may have gone through some of the roughest stuff when he was 10-12, and he was resentful and bitter, but he was brave and bold af throughout everything he did. From learning about his powers, to using them relentlessly despite knowing how exhausted he is afterwards, to his willingness to do whatever is necessary to do what has to be done, because it has to be done. You can't change my mind that he's Gryffindor lol.

Grover: Do I even need to explain why he's Gryffindor? He's a satyr, and even if we're shown strong satyrs, they're not really supposed to be brave fighters. Yet he is one of the strongest, bravest nature spirits we've ever encountered in the Riordanverse, and one of the bravest in general. Like he's so passionate about doing what is good, he's a hero, and the only thing he doesn't match with common Gryffindors is that he's humble and as far from arrogant as could be possible, but it doesn't take his courage away.

Hazel: She's Gryffindor, and core personality-wise, she and Nico are very much alike. They don't ever think about themselves, like Hazel really always does what has to be done, no matter the cost, I mean she literally died preventing Gaea to rise the first time, and she freed Thanatos while believing he would take her back to the Underworld. She's brave af, and she has one of the most strong willpower we've seen in the Riordanverse. She's a passionate hero, and she's the closest thing to a real knight in shining armor.

Lester: I'm gonna place him in Gryffindor because I don't think he fits in in the other houses lmao. That said, as Apollo he's very shitty, but as Lester, he's one of the most courageous people. He's grown so much, he's so willing to actually do stuff now, and sacrifice everything to do what's right, including his life, even if he doesn't know he's gonna survive. Hell, he really went most of TTT with an incredibly painful wound that nearly turned him undead, and he cared more for the future of Camp Jupiter than his own life. Additionally, he's a bit arrogant and cocky, but he truly means well, I love Lester so much.

Clarisse: Look look, all I have to say is that no one could have pulled off less than half the stuff Clarisse has done, she's so Gryffindor it hurts. She's reckless and impulsive, but she's driven by her passion to do good, even if she's the daughter of war, and was bullied by her own father. She's daring, she's bold and she is the hero. She's also arrogant and thinks she can solve everything by herself, something characteristic more of the canon Gryffindors in the books, rather than what the fans have shaped. In fact, she's very much like Gryffindors in the books, who are actually very rude to other houses and think they're the best. Still, at heart, she's in this house.

Alex: I'm in a huge dilemma about where to put them, but I reckon they'd fit pretty fine in Gryffindor. Not only are they daring and courageous, they're proud of who they are, but not in a too full of themselves kind of way, rather in a 'I am who I am, and if you can't accept me, fuck off' kind of way. They can get carried away rather easily though, and very arrogant, thinking they don't need anyone else, when they do in fact need some company. They are one of the kindest and at the same time most ambitious characters we've met, but they are brave beyond understanding in a very personal way, thus, Gryffindor.

Percy: I think it's fair to say he'd be Hufflepuff, because loyalty is literally his fucking fatal flaw, and he is the kindest sweetheart to all those who deserve it, he goes out of his way to help those who need help, whether that be mortals, halfbloods, gods, magical creatures or even his own enemies. He's too good for this world, and even if he's grown a bit bitter, he always looks to fight justly for what is right, and never loses faith in others. That, and the fact that he turned down immortality so that the olympians were more inclusive of minor gods, and their children were treated better. He's just a lovely soul, he's like 80% Hufflepuff so that's enough for me. All that and he's stubborn as hell.

Jason: Hufflepuff. Just, undoubtedly Hufflepuff. Like he seems to be this cold and self centered hero with a superiority complex (bc of all the son of Jupiter stuff) but he's the softest guy there is. Not only is he hardworking, open minded and kind, he appreciates justice but he doesn't seek for revenge or anything, he makes sure people are treated fairly and wants everyone to be accepted. Proof of that is how he continued Percy's job of including more gods, and made sure Nico felt comfortable with who he was. He truly has a heart of gold. (He deserved better btw)

Meg: God I can't decide between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor, but I think I'll go with the former. She's so strong, my baby, she's faced so much wrong, but she's still so kind and understanding of others, especially those who deserve kindness. She puts up such a hard facade, but she's so patient and warm and inclusive. She's brave and strong (as strong as the big three kids, if not stronger), but she's also so loyal to her beliefs despite how she was forced someone else's beliefs for years, so I'll keep her in Hufflepuff. Also, she's stubborn af, and she can be lazy, so that settles it.

Will: I KNOW some people will say Will could be in other houses that are not Hufflepuff, BUT I won't have it any other way. Will is literally the warmest person ever. He is kind and sympathetic and enthusiastic and patient and inclusive. Like Helga Hufflepuff would take one look at him and lose her shit screaming "mine". He's the guy who saw the son of Hades so many people were scared of and immediately grabbed his hand and transfered him some warmth and didn't let him go ahead and get himself killed. He's also the one who everyone loves and likes, so much that Clarisse gets along with him and he can calm her down. He's the ideal Hufflepuff, you can't change my mind.

Magnus: I mean, what else can you expect from the son of the god of summer? He's literally a guy who heals others with warmth. He's also the guy who spent years on the street with the most difficult situations, and accepts every single person the way they are. He's inclusive af, and tolerant of everything. He's the guy who's closest include a deaf elf, a Muslim valkyrie, and a black dwarf, and he's dating a genderfluid person. Yes he's brave, and he's kinda smart, and he's ambitious, BUT none of those qualities overpower his Hufflepuff nature.

Piper: Kinda debated whether Gryffindor or Ravenclaw fits more, but in the end I went with Ravenclaw. Even though she isn't a fighter, she's very very brave, yet her bravery isn't compared to her wits. Like others in the PJOverse, she wins her fights by outsmarting her opponents, but unlike others that's one of her strongest traits. She's witty and creative and a little on the negative side, she really struggled to work in a group rather than by herself. On another note, she's able to keep calm in crazy situations and come up with the craziest most unthinkable solutions (I'm talking borderline ridiculous) that always somehow work. She's not booksmart, but she knows so much about everything, and she's lifesmart you know?

Reyna: Why are some of these so hard? Deeply debating whether she'd be Ravenclaw or Slytherin. In the end I'd go more for Ravenclaw though. Reyna's smart as hell, she's strong and sharp, and she always sees the best way out of a situation. She's witty and observant, being able to keep her cool in battle and lead others in the best direction. She's always looking to grow, and she prefers to do things on her own, but she's a great leader. She has some Slytherin qualities, and she's not learning as learning oriented as others, but she's definitely Ravenclaw.

Sam: Let's face it, Sam has the only active neurons in all of MCGA, she's definitely Ravenclaw. I'm gonna be honest though, I've only read MCGA once, so I can't remember much of their personalities, but Sam is witty and clever, pretty much the only one who can come up with competent plans, while the others rely mostly on luck and whatever plan they can cook up in 5 seconds. She's loyal and true to who she is, and she's extremely courageous and proud of who she is, but her sharpness is what she stands out for me, which is why I put her in Ravenclaw.

Annabeth: I know the obvious option is Ravenclaw, but I genuinely think she's also Slytherin. Yes she is booksmart and wise like Ravenclaw, but her personality matches Slytherins' ambitious, cunning and resourceful nature. She's smart as fuck, but she's calculative, she always finds a way to end up winning, and while she does so by outsmarting her opponents, she wouldn't need to outsmart them if she weren't so competitive. I feel like there's this 40/60 odds on Slytherin rather than Ravenclaw, but it's that small difference that counts. Plus her leadership skills are so powerful that people don't ask, they just know she's the boss.

(Also just picture the sweet and loyal Hufflepuff boy with the strong and cunning Slytherin girl, like it should be as opposite as it is with Poseidon and Athena, but they're so cute)

Leo: Idk what you can expect that's not Slytherin. This boy is the embodiment of ambition and determination. Reminder that not all Slytherins are bad btw (I'm slytherin myself), but like he's life smart and cunning, and he can analyze situations faster than anyone else. He's charismatic and talented, and there's no one to stop him from triumphing. I don't have much to say, I just know he'd be in Slytherin.

Rachel: She's kinda a difficult one, and I struggle between Gryffindor and Slytherin, and tbh I'm still not sure. But I think I'd place her in Slytherin, because even if she's brave af (especially since she was a mortal fighting in a war out of her power), her main trait is her determination. When she's set on something, she gets it done. You can't tell her she can't do something, because she will find a way to do it. She's kind, and she's only a mortal, but she still has incredible power unlike any other. I don't think I can really name it, but I think she'd be put on Slytherin with much difficulty from the Sorting Hat.

Luke: Where else could Luke possibly go? On the meaner side Slytherins have created themselves, Luke would be part of those misled by who preceded them, by those who want to take advantage of their mistreatment (bc let's face it, Slytherins are mistreated by both students and Hogwarts staff), and turn them cold and bitter. Luke is ambitious and manipulative, being manipulated himself, and it comes easily because of his natural charisma and talent. He's very freaking determined and cunning too. He'd fit right into Slytherin, but he'd be viewed as one of the rotten lot.

Thalia: I don't have much to say about this, but Thalia is the girl whose fatal flaw is their desire for power (or smth along those lines), just like most Slytherins. She's ambitious, she's smart, she's truly talented, she stands out between the rest, and she knows it, and she actually kinda likes it.

(Also I put Annabeth, Thalia and Luke in the same house because they're all kinda similar, even if their beliefs and postures are different.

Frank: Ngl I'm having more difficulty with Frank than anyone else. I'm kinda torn between Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. I literally can't choose. He'd fit perfectly in any of them lmao, I just can't decide where he'd go. You decide this one yourself.

Please keep in mind, this is my personal opinion and my take on the characters, and not all of you will agree, and that's fine! You can let me know what you think (kindly please, don't come at me), and if you want to, send me an ask on a character you want me to do the same as these (as long as it's not TKC, I'M SORRY I haven't read those) go ahead, don't be shy!

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eldragon-x · 3 years

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I'd like to hear about what you believe was ooc for mettaton to do :0

(I like your takes haha)

Oh I'm glad! I did mention things I dislike about Mettaton's canon characterization a few times, but since you're asking, I'll fully get into it here.

I've already made a post about this one, but I hate that Burgerpants' "young nihilistic low wage worker who hates his job" character leans on Mettaton treating him awfully. Aside from this changing Mtt from a flawed but still well-meaning person to a really shitty employer who mistreats one of his employees for no reason (not that reasons would justify it), it seems really odd? Because if you choose to kill Mettaton in a neutral run and talk to the employees at the resort afterwards, all of them (except BP) will talk pretty positively about Mtt.

The Hand receptionist talks about how he would always check up on his employees, telling them they're doing a good job, and whenever they (Hand receptionist ) were having a bad day, they would give each other a thumbs up. The Diamond Receptionist talks about how they struggled to be hired until Mettaton gave them a job at the resort. Several monsters were concerned, upset or felt disorganized by Mettaton's disappearance. He really seems to care about his employees and do a lot of the organizing at the resort himself, so it's just weird that he mistreats BP.

The other things I largely dislike are certain bits of the King Mettaton ending, which is a shame because I actually really like most of it. I like how Mettaton, who lives to be a celebrity and make people happy, struggles to be a proper ruler to the underground and covers serious issues up by pretending that things are fine and just keeps decorating the kingdom instead. I like that he comes to realize that he wasn't a great friend to Alphys and wanted to apologize and ask her to help run the kingdom, but then discovering that she's gone and somehow having to cope with that on top of everything.

However I hate that he apparently brainwashes people with his show and uuhh... kills??? everyone who dislikes it. I don't even know where to begin here. Like, it seems really extreme, not just generally but for Mettaton as well. I already made a post on that, but Mtt shows to really care about people and it's such an overlooked quality of his because people focus more on his self-importance. He cares about humanity, he cares about his fans, his employees, and his friends and family, even if he has his problems with them. Dare I say, he shows his most selfless side in an aborted No Mercy run, not minding that he's just about to die as long as he knows Alphys, the evacuated monsters and humanity won't be harmed. And for all that to turn so awful in his ending? I think it would've been enough to have him be overwhelmed, ignoring problems and just bad at being a ruler.

And the worst part about all of this? It feels like a joke. BP feels like he's supposed to be a funny poke at the "young nihilistic worker who hates his job" type as I mentioned before so lets just make Mtt a shitty boss to him. The King Mettaton ending feels like a "self-centered celebrity turns out to be a terrible king" kinda thing that exaggerates things. Honestly, I just think Mtt deserved better writing in several fields. I know he's supposed to be a funny character, but he also has some depth and complexity and to bend him into an awful, irredeemable person for jokes and exaggerations does him injustice.

#I'm sorry this turned out a bit long haha #I have very strong feelings about Mettaton #ut #mtt tag

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gveret-fic · 4 years

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Alright HtN final thoughts

Similarly to the last book, I’m overstimulated to all hell and back. Gideon is my favorite protagonist of all time, no question. The sheer endorphin rush I get reading her cracking jokes and being insufferable is just bonkers. I started this book with 2 spoilers, without which I might never have even started this book: 1) there was Gideon content in HtN, and 2) there was multiple Gideons content in HtN. On the first point, I’m more than satisfied; I’m currently buzzing with how ecstatic that was as a reading experience. On the second, Gideon 1.0 was a boring lump of dude lmao, the only interesting thing about him was his bodyswap poly relationship with Better Gideon’s mom, which, wow. What a 10,000 year old soap opera. So that was disappointing, but you know what, one Gideon is really enough.

The vast majority of this book was a miserable slog and it genuinely hurt to read to the point where I don’t know that I can recommend this experience to anyone who isn’t already a huge fan. Yeah, the payoff was massive and I was played like a perfect little fiddle, but I don’t approve of the tune. I think Muir could’ve cut out a good third of the book and at the very least 50% of the relentless torture she put Harrow through and it would have still been effective. I still have a bad taste in my mouth. I don’t have a problem with difficult or hurtful stories and I’m not trying to invoke any moralistic outrage here, but that wasn’t what I expected or frankly could have prepared for coming out of the (drastically tonally different) first book and I do believe it was excessive. It was blow after blow after blow to an isolated, terrified, pointedly disabled protagonist with no single moment of relief, comfort or connection until the fucking reveal and I don’t want it, thanks.

Okay that’s enough about that. Now the rest of it.

I really tried to care about the new characters, but no dice. God had his moments, but we haven’t really seen him do too much interesting shit. Ianthe was fucking excellent, though I really really didn’t want her to be. The rest were dead boring, I’m sorry. The blasphemous makeouts were their only redeeming moment. When we finally got some Palamedes and Cam, I could have cried. Wish we could have spent more time with them, but I have high hopes for the next book. Ortus, surprisingly, was awesome! I wish him a happy afterlife with his poetic legendary husband. Also he did nothing wrong and all that nonsense about finally fighting for what’s important yada yada was pure military propaganda, let the man write lengthy poetry about his ghost boyfriend in peace. Dulcinea was a fucking badass! So happy she got a chance to shine, and to say ‘nyah!’ Abigail was also fantastic. Well that whole section of the book had me swimming in endorphins so maybe it isn’t saying much, but I fucking loved them, I fucking loved how much Harrow cared about them, Harrow, who had been an emotionally depleted husk throughout most of the book, now showing the most heartrending vulnerability and care for this little found ghost family and practically rotating through them one by one to apologize in the most terrible, gutpunching way, and finally being told not everything in the whole fucking world is her goddamn fault. This is the only reason I was able to accept no Gideon reunion, not even a single word between them. I’ve been yearning for hundreds of pages for Harrow to find human connection and care, and I’m so happy these are the people she found it with.

Gideon. I’m like tearing up right now just thinking about this. After the endless tedium, suffering, emotional disconnect to the point where characters dying horribly seemed insignificant against the backdrop of unrelenting despair, to have that vibrant, wonderful, dumbass motherfucking voice back---it was beyond cathartic. I reread every single line multiple times and I still don’t think I’ve wrung em fully dry. It was amazing. The personality dripping off the page, the immediate chemistry with any character living or dead or dull as rock, the blatant, beautiful disrespect for the sombre self importance of the whole preceding narrative. It was my favorite character crashing into one of my least favorite books, and making it awesome. I think a lot of people try to write a Gideon, and most of the time the result is completely unbearable, and I’d posit there’s 2 reasons for this: 1) they tragically, mistakenly make their Gideon a man, and 2) they just aren’t funny. Of course an unfunny Gideon would be unbearable. Of course a funny but emotionally vacant Gideon would be dull. But this Gideon is a fucking delight with a real heartfelt gooshy selfless vulnerable yearning center, and every line I got to spend with her was a rush.

Harrow and Gideon. Oof. I’ve been going back and forth on whether I shipped them, whether I even could, whether it was the intention at all. But like, come on. This is clearly a love story. It’s a love story from start to finish, and it’s cool that it got me to doubt that so sincerely when it’s just this level of ride and die, jump into hell, carve out your brain, share a body and preserve its modesty against your every instinct and not even make any jokes about it, universe crossing, death defying, soul melding level of mushy ass romance. Harrow fucking kept Gideon’s shitty sunglasses wrapped in a love note. She did find&replace on her whole personality. She kissed Ianthe. I remember the first time I watched Revolutionary Girl Utena, where almost every other episode would begin with a lil fairytail backstory recap telling you about the little girl who saw a prince and was so enamored she decided to become a prince too. And you believe that narrative, because why wouldn’t you? It’s a stylized repetitive fairytale at the start of a show. Why would it lie? And then you find out, at the very end, that it wasn’t the cool manly prince who precipitated all of this, but baby Utena witnessing another young girl in pain, and deciding then and there that she was going to grow up and help her. And she does, even if she can’t remember why.

This was that level of paradigm shift for me. Harrow and her pile of letters and rules and her obsession and her nauseating work ethic, what was she doing?? Saving the world? Fixing a broken timeline? Trying to unlock unlimited power, bring back the corpse in the locked tomb, serve her god and emperor? Nope! She was just trying to keep her big beautiful dumbass girlfriend a little bit alive.

Yeah. It’s a fucking love story.

Random thoughts: I liked Harrow’s grudge against food and the word ‘pommel’. I liked the diminishing ages Mercy inflicted upon her. I liked the first/second person shenanigans, tho really, there’s no way that was Gideon’s voice, first of all, there was way too much anatomical knowledge there. (Gideon’s secretly a time traveling bone doctor, calling it now). I liked the fanfic AUs, and very sad we didn’t get a fake dating one or like a nice “there was only one bed”. Not gonna mention soulmate AUs cuz that’s just canon.

That was a ride. Coulda done without some parts of it, but don’t regret it one bit. Let’s see what kinda nonsense the next one brings!

#Harrow the Ninth spoilers #Harrow the Ninth #the locked tomb

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gronjon44 · 3 years

Text

My thoughts on WONDER WOMAN:1984

⚠️⚠️⚠️SPOILERS⚠️⚠️⚠️

I wanna like this movie, and there are parts of this film that I genuinely do like.

There are some funny moments and I like some if not most of the themes.

And I want to be as critical and non political as possible with this analysis as possible.

But, speaking not as a Center Republican and as an average movie goer,

The political refferences in this just ruin the film for me, on top of other issues.

Max Lord is too blatant a Trump reference, the big business persona aside; I read an article by NBC News (I'll link it at the end) says the director used Trump as "one inspiration for the character".

Yeah no, that wasnt one reference that was all reference I looked up Max Lord in the comics and frankly it looks like Trump was the only reference the director used.

The article goes into detail about how the director steps around Trumps more controversial policies and essentially whitewashed Trump with Lords character which, i can see what they mean when they say that.

I won't get into all the details, as I don't agree with everything in the article but you can read for it yourself at the end.

Now getting past the Trump refferences and whatnot I'd like to say that most parts of this movie are actually really enjoyable.

Diana Prince/Gal Gadot are a joy to watch as always, Barbra was a joy to watch as a villain, Steve Trevor was fun to see and ⚠️⚠️⚠️SPOILER⚠️⚠️⚠️the invisible jet was a fun twist that I was genuinely surprised to see.

But some complaints I have involve the ending, a few in-between bits, and some minor details that just stuck with me.

So again, ⚠️⚠️⚠️SPOILER⚠️⚠️⚠️ for anyone who hasn't seen it yet.

The ending was very mcguffined and frankly, kinda cheap.

I get that, yes, the point of the end was to show Max Lord what he was doing was truly wrong and to have him undo the wishes that followed his bad decisions, I get that.

But for there to be no real consequences for what he did? And that he gets to run free and return to his son without being reprimanded for what he did (outside of a few minor ass beatings) It feels cheap and unsatisfying, at least in my opinion.

Something that the article brought up (that I disagree with frankly) is that film ⚠️⚠️SPOILERS⚠️⚠️ treats Barbras choice to become more like Diana as a bad thing then a good thing, saying that Wonder Woman is meant to show Woman that they can be like her, and that some woman do want to be like her. They go one to say that (quote) "Instead of congratulating Barbara, the movie presents her as a warning. Gaining power and beauty makes her cruel and violent and selfish — a villain, not a hero. It's like the film has included its own cranky superhero-film hater to tell fans they're doing it wrong." (end quote)

Now, heavy spoiler talk incoming so be warned.

The stone acts like the monkeys paw, where in when you wish for something, you get it but at the cost of losing something (i.e if I wish for a million dollars, but when I get the million dollars I lose my house and prized possessions)

Now, if someone is inspired by Wonder Woman and wants to be like her, then great! Be like her! If you can strive to be like Wonder Woman then hey be like her.

There's nothing wrong with wanting to be like those you admire. But here's the thing that I think this article misses. Barbra didn't strive on her own to be like Diana, she wished it. She didn't earn anything that was given to her.

She was a good person before yes, and there was nothing wrong with wanting to be like Diana. But the problem that this article misses is that she was given these gifts and opportunity, she didn't earn them.

She never had any of these things before, and being given these things so suddenly may have gone to her head; so much so that she was quickly consumed by her new gifts that she lost touch with her old self.

And let's think about that a moment. The stone takes as quickly as it gives. What did the stone take from Barbra? Well I think its meant to be pretty clear that, in return for becoming "strong, sexy, cool, and special," she had something taken away from her.

When she had nothing she was a kind person, yes she was ignored but she wasn't lashing out about it, she was her own personal. When she was given her wish she slowly became consumed by it, focused not on others or her work, but on herself and her own greed. She wanted to be admired and to be seen, and there's nothing wromg with that.

But she did not earn her beauty, strength, or popularity. She was handed them on a silver tray at the cost of losing touch with herself. She was consumed by a lie she wanted to believe.

This film has a heavy theme about accepting truths and seeing past veiled lies; Diana used a shortcut to get ahead in the contest as a child, Max Lord used the stone to lie to himself about how shitty a person/father he was, Barbra used it to lie to herself and make her something she wasn't, hell Diana lied to herself twice thinking she could keep Steve Trevor and stop Max Lord together, even while her powers were being taken away.

And there's another example of having what you hold close taken at the cost of what you want. Diana's powers at the cost of having Steve Trevor back in her life; Diana wanted nothing more then to have Steve Trevor back in her life and to be with him, but he was dead.

Until the stone heard her internal thoughts/wish and made it come true, but at the cost of her powers. But Diana didn't care. Diana knew Steve was someone else and she knew her powers were being taken away to have him back in her life, she knew this was all a lie (the stone was even created by a God of Lies)

All in all the accepting truth theme is fine I like it, but I think it gets overshadowed by all the politics and wonky CGI.

And on to that side of my thoughts.

You can really see the CGI in this film. Some parts aren't that bad but others are just... really noticeable.

Like, there's a scene where Diana is running down a street and she's speeding up down the road. You can see the CGI in her legs and how they try to make her run faster then she is.

You know how Chris Evans has that unique running style that can't be easily recreated? Yeah they try to have Diana run like that and you can see the CGI they used to make it.

And there are other little moments that you can't help but notice (a body flies too fake here or a hand grabs at the ground too smoothly there) little moments.

I know CGI is useful for some scenes and I have nothing about extra CGI in a film. But this felt like those scenes in Horror Movies where you can really see the CGI blood and just how cartoonish it really looks.

Also just, jumping on after this, can we talk about the acting?

Gadot, Pine, Wig, and Pascal all perform amazingly in this film (while I don't like his character I will commend Pascal for putting in a solid performance as Max Lord) But when you focus on some of the side characters and their acting its just really cringy.

The initial jewelry heist scene starts off fine I liked it, but when the guy drops his gun it all just gets so cheesey and corny.

Now, I like cheesey and corny acting I do. But honestly this film felt like it was trying way to hard to be in the 80s.

Stranger Things does this well with its 80s setting (the background, the characters, small moments throughout the series)

Wonder Woman 1984 tries to act like the original Wonder Woman from the 80s, and it doesn't hit that mark.

Now, I didn't grow up with the 80s Wonder Woman, but my dad did. He knew the references and he could tell what they were trying to do. But even he thought it was a little too much (he said that she fought the villain the exact same way and the acting of multiple characters reminded him of that cheesey 80s acting)

In short, most the acting was fine, but alot of it was... also not fine.

This next bit will be my last complaint and then I'll be done (its minor but its does bug me)

Why did they even make the wishing stone?

Now, I'll admit I'm no expert on DC comics, let me be the first to say that. But this stone is a magical artifact that can grant wishes at the cost of taking something valuable to you (like a monkeys paw) They even refference the Monkeys Paw on several occasions in this film, basically acting like the stone is the paw itself.

Now just, here me out for a minute.

The stone acts like the monkeys paw-

It has the same rules as the monkeys paw-

They even reffer to it like the monkeys paw-

Why not just use the monkeys paw?

Legitimately they treat this thing more like the actual Monkeys Paw rather then a mystical genie rock that it actually is. Yes they try to make the rock interesting (it destroyed the Mayans, it brought down multiple Roman Emperors etc) but I just can't get past how useless it all is.

You could replace the stone with a real monkeys paw, give it the exact same origins, and even still have Max Lord bond to the monkeys paw-

And it would still work.

There is no thematic purpose for the stone to be a stone when you can just use the paw. When Max bonds to the paw make his own hand turn into the monkeys paw, and now it has more thematic purpose for why he needs to actually touch people.

Just, its so small a thing that it technically doesn't matter but at the same time I really think that it does.

Thats the last of my complaining/ranting. Like I said I want to be as neutral and genuinely critical of this film.

I wanna like it but I just... there's alot issues that I think should've been addressed before this film was released. I have nothing against referencing current politics or making something pro-this or anti-that, but if your gonna do it at least write it in a cohesive way.

If I had to rank this with the other DC films in the last Decade (I haven't seen Birds of Prey yet and I don't remember much of Man of Steel so bear with me)

Wonder Woman 2017

Shazam

Wonder Woman 1984

Aquaman

Suicide Squad

Justice League

Batman V. Superman

It isn't the greatest film but its still better then DC's worst, so I'll give them that. I rate it a 6/10

#wonder woman #wonder woman 1984 #ww84movie #ww84 spoilers #wonder woman 1984 spoilers #spoilers #dc comics #dc movies #man of steel #birds of prey #batman

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some-cookie-crumbz · 4 years

Note

Flower confession with Ochako and Bakugo?

The second I read this I knew exactly what I was going to write! Have Bakugo doing some serious Tsunning up in here! Also, light OchaBowl, kinda? IDK just mentioning it since it could be read that way if you so choose.

It started on a Monday morning as they all filed in. As Uraraka headed for her seat, walking backwards to continue animatedly chatting with Midoriya, Iida and Todoroki, she bumped right into someone else. "Oop, sorry, Tsu-Chan!" she squeaked as she turned around, a shy smile on her lips.

"Ochako-Chan, congratulations, kero!" the other girl said with an excited giggle. The brunette blinked once and tilted her head as she realized all the other girls and Aoyama crowded around her desk, eagerly bouncing.

"Huh?" she trailed.

"Oh, she hasn't seen yet!" Tooru gasped before pushing at Mina's back lightly. "Scoot, ladies and esteemed lad!"

When the small sea parted, she was greeted to the sight of a small bundle of flowers settled on the center of her desk. There were three or four of red flowers all tied together with a shimmery silver ribbon. She let out a small squeak as she tentatively reached out to pick it up. "O-Oh," she said quietly, gently stroking the petals with one finger.

A hand gently settled on her hand and squeezed. "Um, Uraraka, you're floating," Midoriya said with a little chuckle.

"Ah, sorry!" she yelped, taking a deep breath to calm herself back down. After that she looked back at the flowers and then upbat the other girls. "So, um, who left these?"

"No idea," Jirou shrugged.

"Yeah, me and Tooru were the first two here and they were already there!" Mina chirped eagerly. Then, grin turning impish, she hopped closer to lean into her friend's personal bubble. "So that means you've! Got! A secret admirer!"

Yaomomo giggled and cupped one of her cheeks with a wistful expression. "I must admit I'm a little jealous! They picked a flower with such a lovely meaning, too!" she gushed.

Uraraka tilted her head. "Wait, flowers have different meanings?" she asked in slight surprise.

"Uh, duh! Cha-Cha, my girl, have you never heard of the language of flowers? Or read a good Hanahaki Disease fanfic?" Mina prompted, placing one hand on her hip.

"Oh, come now Mina, mon chérie! No need to be so judgy!" Aoyama tutted before turning to Uraraka with a grandiose turn of his head. He held a hand out to indicate the flowers in her hands. "These, my pet, are red peonies and they are said to represent honor and respect! Whoever it is that is interested in you, they think most highly of you." he giggled happily.

She stared at him for a moment before glancing back down at the flowers thoughtfully. “Aoyama, you know the flower language?” Momo gasped quietly.

“Oui! My mother runs a flower shop, you see, and I always loved helping with it,” he chuckled as Aizawa-Sensei walked in, ushering them all to return to their seats. The blonde paused on his way to lean over into Uraraka’s personal space, his smile encouraging. “And, if I may be so bold, I don’t think this will be last we see of the flowers. I must applaud whoever gave them for a rather charming first choice. I will be more than happy to help decode their messages going forward.” He whispered before sauntering off to the front of their row.

A part of her wanted to wave it off, but there was a sense of curiosity. Over lunch, they discussed it, picking out individuals who it could or couldn’t be. Obviously it wasn’t any of the other girls, Aoyama, or any of Uraraka’s boys. Midoriya, Iida and Todoroki had been with her from the moment they left the dorms that morning. Aside from that, she knew that Midoriya and Todoroki both had interest in other people, and that Iida was currently focused on self-improvement and didn’t feel he was ready for a relationship. She didn’t think that it would be Kouda or Shouji, since her conversations with the pair of them was incredibly limited. She didn’t say it outloud, but she knew it was Tokoyami or Kaminari either, since they had their eyes on Tsu-Chan and Jirou-Chan respectively.

So, that left them with Sato, Kirishima, Ojirou and Sero. Mineta was a non-option since that implied he had a bone in his body to dedicate to actually wooing a woman, and the idea of Bakugo giving anyone flowers felt weird. She wouldn’t admit how disappointing that realization was, but she swallowed it down like a bitter pill to swallow. In their time following the sports festival, a begrudging sort of respect had blossomed between them. While she was open to sparring with any of her peers, Ochako tended to seek Bakugo out the most, since she knew he wouldn’t pull his punches or sugarcoat his criticism.

From the list they had, the most likely suspects were ruled to be Kirishima or Sero. She and Kirishima worked out together regularly, with him being her second most frequent sparring partner. She and Sero had started tutoring one another in their down time as well, since he was better with English and she was better at mathematics. It had given her some time to get to know the two of them a lot better. She stole a glance at the two in question, sitting across the room and heckling Bakugo as they ate, and determined that one of them was the only logical answer.

The next morning, she was greeted to another small bouquet on her desk. The flowers this time were a lovely little white one called a gardenia. What was particularly interesting about the ones in the bouquet, according to Aoyama, was the coloration of them. The base of the flowers was yellow, which he said changed the meaning entirely to mean purity as well as secret love.

“So, then, someone who has been hiding how they actually feel up until this point?” she asked. He nodded and she sighed. “That doesn’t really help clear things up, though. I mean, obviously they’ve been hiding their feelings! I didn’t think there was anyone with a crush on me until the flowers showed up on my desk!” she lamented, slumping over on her desk. She did make sure to carefully move the flowers first, though, so as to not damage them.

Mina giggled and peered around, grinning wider when she saw that neither of the prime suspects were present yet. “Yeah, but that’s part of the fun! Ah, I wonder who it is? I mean, Kiri and Sero haven’t let me in on anything, and they know how great I am at romance!” she pointed out.

“Which is probably exactly why they haven’t let you in on anything,” Jirou mumbled quietly.

The other girl huffed. “Excuse me, I’ll have you know that I have a phenomenal history as a matchmaker! My success to fail ratio is nothing to sneeze at!” she protested. While the other girls continued debating over what constituted as romance or not, she carefully placed the flowers in her bag.

They were interrupted by Bakugo shouting at them to shut up a few minutes later, their enthusiastic chatter clearly getting on his last nerve.

The next day, she was greeted by yet another bouquet. The flowers this time were yellow tulips, but came with a message separate from just romance; they bore the message of love, passion, but also jealousy. So had whoever given her the flowers overheard their discussion, and gotten jealous that there was still a question of who? It was all incredibly confusing but they did learn a new piece of information that day. Kirishima was allergic to the pollen of tulips, and spent most of the day in a sneezing fit when he stopped by her desk to verify their next workout meetup. So, that left Sero as the only logical conclusion, right? Well, yes, until Midoriya pointed out that there was always the chance it was someone in Class 1-B, since she had been getting along well with Shinsou, Tetsutetsu and even Monoma from there.

She loved Deku, really she did, but sometimes his analytical nature just made her life so much harder.

On Thursday and Friday, she received two more bouquets. Thursday’s flower of choice had been pink hydrangeas and meant heartfelt emotion. Clearly they were trying to affirm the certainty and conviction of their feelings. On Friday, they were followed up with blue- green dahlia flowers and the message that seemed to carry the most weight; fresh starts and big changes. “Big changes like a relationship status getting upgraded!” Tooru and Mina had squealed in unison. The others had all been thrilled for her and, while Uraraka tried her best to keep on a brave face, a part of her felt anxious.

Whoever her secret admirer was, they weren’t the person she was interested in. And if it really was someone she was friends with, rejecting them could ruin their entire friendship.

She dragged her feet to class on Saturday, grateful that it would only be a half session, but was baffled when there were no flowers this time around. The other had also seemed disappointed by the turn of events. Had the person just not had the time to bring them by? Had they gotten cold feet? Or, perhaps, had the flowers been some kind of approach to get over a hopeless romance?

After class, she got her answer.

“Hey, cheeks!” Bakugo snapped, stomping his way over. She lifted her head, preparing to ask him what he needed, only to be smacked in the face with something. She let out a little squeak, reaching up to grab the offending object, when she picked up on floral aromas. She glanced down and stared with wide eyes at the elaborate bouquet in her grasp, composed of all the flowers that had been on her desk prior as well as a few red and orange roses. She lifted her head to ask the blonde what this was about, but he was already making his way to the door, his ears as red as his eyes. “Can’t believe you thought Tape Arms or Shitty Hair would have the sense to get a girl flowers!” he shouted as he stormed out, either unaware or actively ignoring the gawks from their classmates.

She looked at the bouquet, fully decked out with reflective pastel paper and a golden bow, but noted a small card attached. In Bakugo’s neat scrawl, read the words “If you want a date, meet me in the front room of the dorms Sunday at noon. And don’t bother fucking showing if you’re even a minute late.”

She giggled and shook her head, leaning down to take a small sniff of the bouquet. Yup, that was the Bakugo she was used to.

#crumbles grumbles #KacChako #my fics #But for reals #I love Bakugo just Tsun-Tsun Dere-Dere-ing up the place #Boi wants to show love but doesn't know how without going Full Extra TM #Bakugo voice: It's not like I fucking like you or some shit b-baka!

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