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catcatb0y · 2 years

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The thing that really gets me with people who say that they enjoy the leaks/spoilers/current canon is that.

Like.

I dunno man, it sounds so fucked up to say, "Yeah, I like this kid but I want them to die-" and I say that as a wholehearted 'sir, that is a fictional character' person, but I mean like. How are you going to say that you support a character, that you like a character, and then actively stop them from reaching their ONE GOAL.

Like Bakugou has been training his ENTIRE LIFE to become a Hero- even assuming that his death was somehow the epitome of sacrifices, the beau of death, contributed to every thing in the plot, especially given the blatant show of him AS A CHILD in that chapter!!

You're really going to say 'yeah, I think his death adds to the narrative, so I want it to happen/stay canon- even if that means that Bakugou will never become a Hero, never reach the goal he was striving for, never be able to reap the benefits of being a better person-"

That sounds so anti-ish for one, but also it's such a huge disservice to his character. I wanted to make this post less mean than my asshole postings but I am so fucking tired from zoning in and out of reality all night on this stupid eleven hour shift.

I dunno, my main points were:

- It's reslly hypocritical from fans (especially BakuDeku fans) who have been talking about how intertwined Bakugou is with the narrative- only to all of a sudden completely flip switch and say 'yeah, no actually, the Heroes could afford to lose him just like that, and his death adds to the manga' (bitch where??? Like not even in a mean way but fucking where???)

- It's really, really shitty to Bakugou, who is a WHOLE ASS CHILD. What about his dreams? His aspirations? His hopes? His goals? Can you really say 'yeah I'm a big fan of this character, but it doesn't matter to me if they never get their own thematic ending, if they never have the chance to be a better person, see a better world, or accomplish the things that they've been going after'. Especially not when Bakugou has been training since he was a literal child!! He's one of the most phyisically fit characters, has the best hold over his quirk as a whole, and the dude can mauever mid air- like that alone shows you just how much he has put into his training.

Only for what? For him to do his absolute best and fail. Somehow manage to scavenge up even more power than THAT only to die in vain-

And I was talking with someone (not meant as like a vauge, I genuinely can't remember who I was talking to) that said 'I don't think his death (should it be permanent) is in vain' and not to the fight, yeah, not to the war.

It's anticlimatic as all fucking hell, so I really don't understand people who like/support/want it to be permacanon but still claim to like Bakugou- because wow it's just so shitty to him, specifically. Even if he is the driving force of the future narrative, even if his death is the thing that sparks the change in the war, like.

His character arc is dying in vain. All of the work that he put in to be a better person, to be a better Hero, to train harder faster swifter- everything he's done up until now... For what?

How can you support a character's growth for years- honestly even just for months- and think "Yeah, I would love to see all of his efforts wasted as he dies a brutal death; ending up nothing more than a pawn to move the narrative forward"

Which he HAS been!! Epsiode one, his Sports Festival ceremony, Kamino- like. The kid has already suffered enough. He cannot catch a fucking break and it's ALWAYS at the negligence of Heroes and (almost) ALWAYS due to failed teamwork!!

You guys just want. One last shitty hurrah? Bakugou's only point to be how Heroes fail the people they claim to protect?

Not only does it just. Erase all of Bakugou's hard work, but it makes him nothing more than just a reoccuring theme. Is that. Is that really what people want nowadays?

Like. I'm just baffled. It's disheartening and annyoing and whatever, but it's also just. Confusing. Why even say you like the character when you just like the plot. The kid hasn't even gotten a fucking hug from his goddamned mother and one of her only lines is calling him weak for not being able to stand up to grown adults when he was caught off guard.

*And BakuDekus especially, when you guys end up boiling every thing Bakugou does back down to Midoriya- I don't even want to hear the "I know Bakugou isn't dead, because Midoriya-" right as you may be, he is his own character.

His "death" is so sad to me. I truly feel no joy from the way he calls out to Midoriya (partially because of the fandom completely sidelining Bakugou as "Midoriya's closest person"), but because he has spent literal years comparing himself to Midoriya.

"I tried to show superiority over you, but I always lost-" those words probably mean so much to Midoriya, who never saw his own worth; but to Bakugou? They're heartbreaking. I dunno maybe it's finally going off the deep end and getting fed up with every goddamned BakuDeku derailing conversations/theories/posts about Bakugou's death into his worth according to Midoriya. But like.

This kid has spent years comparing himself to Midoriya, years of hatred and anxiety and self doubt- and his main climax, his final moment is "Yeah, my insecurities were right all along."

I still kind of do want an SPOP CatraDora ending, but at the same time... I really don't. Because it every turn this poor kid has been watered down to just. The way that Midoriya sees him, his importance to Midoriya- and he deserves better than that. I'm glad that he did everything he could to make it up to Midoriya, but I don't want this groveling shit either. This bland comparison. Like I have feelings about Midoriya and his input, but I still do want to keep this as nice as possible, so I won't. I won't get into that.

But honestly? I genuinely don't get how you can call yourself a Bakugou fan and be okay with- dare I even say enjoy- how shit of an ending this would be for him. How underwhelming his entire prescence has become. How downplayed his stregths are. How disregarded his goals and hopes and genuine drive has been and all for what?

I still really don't see the side of anyone arguing his death has "narrative merits" other that like. Antis. Who have and continue to make all of these arguments, and yet people who claim to be fans are making the same ones, like.

The rude thing to say would be 'do you have no self awareness?' which truly, like. How. How do you have to genealize this in your head, how did you get from genuine meta and well thought out headcanons and presictions into. Anti takes, "but better," because you say that you like the character.

But it still really begs the question, like what?

Anyways, I will go to sleep and Tumblr will give me my two notes while I am gone. I will wake up and hopefully just. Get a better interest. Even if the people this is targeted towards would happen to see it, I'm pretty sure I blocked them already so it doesn't matter.

#I'm too tired to word this right #but still like #that is such a HUGE DISRESPECT to his character #to just shit on all of his hard work all of his goals all of his dreams and ideals #the only driving force making him a better person is himself he could so easily just... leave. just be the villain that they see #Bakugou's redemption arc is soley his own- he doesn't have a reason to become a better person other than his drive to be a Hero #there's nothing stopping him from just. giving up other than his own ideals #all of that just... for nothing?#is that how little you think of him?#to everybody posting jokes this doesn't apply to y'all because you are rancid af anyways??#deadass can't tell the difference between fan blogs and anti blogs #if you quack like an anti I block you like an anti #but seriously all accounts boil down to anti takes- the jokes/Midoriya associating/stripping Bakugou of his future

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willowbird · 4 years

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can we get an Aaron POV of him beating the abuslute shit out of Jack in the locker room. i’m talking about slamming this boys head into the locker beating, he need kevin, matt and nicky to get aaron to stop and even then he still struggling to get more in till andrew comes into his vision. show me that same aaron from that secne in thanksgiving!!!

I am so SO sorry it's taken me so long to answer this!! Work was getting hectic and I was working on something else BUT now I'm for sure gonna get through the rest of these asks ^.^

Aaron losing his shit on Jack, huh? Well, we can sure do that ^.^

I changed a few things from your prompt just because as I was sitting down to write it made the most sense to me that if Aaron was gonna go after Jack it probably wouldn’t be about Andrew or Neil. Neil and Andrew take care of themselves, more or less, and if they can’t then they’ve got each other. Not that Aaron wouldn’t beat the ever-living shit out of Jack for doing or saying something to Andrew, but he just probably wouldn’t have to -- if only because Andrew doesn’t care enough about Jack to be affected by him.

Nicky on the other hand...? Well, I’m a bit soft for the twins being protective of Nicky.

Warning for violence, depression, mentions of suicidal thoughts, triggering language. Take care of yourselves.

----

“Jesus fucking Christ. That was the most pathetic excuse of teamwork I’ve ever seen in my goddamn life, and this is my sixth year coaching this fucks-forsaken team.” Coach Wymack had just spent the last twenty minutes ripping all of them brand new assholes. They were all tired, they were all angry, and they were all ready for this day to be fucking over, but it wasn’t over until the Coach had had his say, so here they were -- sitting in the locker room, getting chewed out again.

Not that they didn’t deserve it. Aaron knew they did.

It had been a brutal fucking loss. The Foxes trashed by some half-cocked team from Alabama. Even with Andrew actively trying to block the goal, there was only so much he could do when the other team’s offense kept breaking through their defensive line to swarm the goal. Matt was off the court with an injury, which meant the only backliners they had were Aaron, Nicky, and Keith -- the freshman backliner who still couldn’t figure out how to fucking pass to a moving target.

Aaron cared less about the loss than he did about the cause for it, and not for the same reasons as half the rest of the team.

Nicky had been all thumbs and no energy tonight, but that hadn’t been a surprise -- not to Aaron or any of the rest of the monsters. Nicky had been off for a few days, his usual chatty, chipper demeanor whittled down to strained smiles and shrugs in a way that the rest of the team had never seen before. Well, most of the rest of the team. Aaron had seen this before. Andrew had too. Neil and Kevin hadn’t witnessed it directly, but by now the other two “monsters” knew Nicky well enough to know this other side of him existed even if they hadn’t seen it.

So yeah, he’d gone into this game knowing it was going to suck -- knowing that they might lose. Maybe that had been their mistake. He, Andrew, Kevin, and Neil had been distracted -- torn between concern for Nicky and the need to cover for him. The freshmen had been a nightmare about it and what the fuck even was teamwork. At halftime, the commentators had called it one of the worst performances by the Foxes in three years.

Yeah.

But at least it was fucking over, right?

“Now get showered up and get the fuck outta my sight. I don’t want to see a single one of you fuckers until tomorrow -- yeah, that’s right, we’re having Saturday fucking practice thanks to that sorry excuse of a game you pissed all over tonight.” Coach glared at all of them in turn. “By tomorrow I expect Nolan and Fisk to get their heads out of each other’s ass and Hemmick?” The big man’s gaze landed on Aaron’s cousin and he felt himself go stiff. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Andrew stand up from where he was leaning against the lockers.

“Learn how to be a little less fucking useless. I don’t know what the fuck has been up with you the past few days but get it figure the fuck out. You hear me?”

The first pulse of genuine rage ignited in Aaron’s veins. His hands curled into fists and his vision narrowed. Nicky’s quiet, tightly muttered, “Yes Coach,” was partially drowned out by the dull roar in his ears.

Anything he might have said or done was stymied, however, by Andrew, who slammed his fist against the lockers, drawing everyone’s attention away from Nicky and onto him.

“Coach, I think we need to chat.” By whatever magic Andrew had over everyone that made everyone automatically take him more seriously than anyone else, he had Coach’s attention, just like that. The man snorted then jerked his head toward the door.

“Fine, but make it quick. I need to try and block out what just happened.”

Coach and Andrew left the room. For a minute, there was a tense, weighty silence, then someone whined and someone else bitched and normalcy returned -- well, normal for a really shitty fucking day anyway. The women split off to their changing room to shower and get ready, and several of the guys did the same.

Nicky remained seated, staring blankly down at his hands, shoulders slumped in utter defeat. That anger curled in Aaron again -- not at Nicky and not at the fucking game, but at Coach and the team for being so fucking stupid, and at himself for not knowing what the fuck to do about any of it. Nicky’s depression was an open secret among their group. It was something they all knew of but never talked about. This was probably the worst episode he’d had in years and Aaron just felt... fucking powerless.

When they’d noticed it, they’d closed ranks around Nicky as a group and shut out the rest of the team in a way they hadn’t done since the cousins’ freshman year. None of them were soft enough to take care of Nicky in the way he probably needed, but Andrew drove Nicky to Reddin Thursday morning and Aaron and Neil joined forces in helping Kevin hold his fucking tongue during practices when Nicky struggled to keep up with the rest of them.

It was not gentle support, but it was all they had to offer.

It just... wasn’t fucking enough.

“Jesus, Hemmick, are you fucking crying?” Aaron jerked out of his thoughts at the sound of Jack Nolan’s sharp, mocking voice. It was edged with a cruelty that went beyond the typical assholishness of the Foxes.

“What, forgot how to fucking talk too? Wow, you really are useless aren’t you?” Jack continued when Nicky only flinched at his ridicule and didn’t rebuke him like he usually would.

“Hey, Jack, leave him the fuck alone. You didn’t do so great out there yourself tonight so why don’t you worry about yourself,” Matt barked from where he’d been sitting through Coach’s dress-down. He was wearing his jersey but since he hadn’t played tonight there was no need for him to have to peel gear off or shower.

“Whatever.” Jack rolled his eyes like a petulant fucking teenager, but the look he shot Nicky was all cold predator. “Why don’t you do us all a favor and just go kill yourself?”

Even over the exclamation of Matt’s reprimand, Aaron still heard Nicky’s breath hitch. He remembered, vividly, the night two years ago when he and Nicky had been drinking and he’d asked him ‘How the fuck did make it through? We were fucking assholes, we are assholes, and you still stayed.’ He remembered not expecting the answer he got. He remembered Nicky looking down into his drink and saying, ‘I almost didn’t. Probably the only reason I didn’t try to off myself again was knowing that if I did, you two would go to my parents and I... I couldn’t let that happen. Didn’t care about me, but I could care about you. Caring about you guys kept me alive.’

He remembered the sick feeling in his stomach and the way that knowledge cut through his buzz, striking him sober with one fucking word: again.

Aaron did not make the decision to grab Jack, or if he did it was overwhelmed by the roar of the monster under his skin as it surged suddenly up from whatever dark place it had been lurking since that violent, bloody night last November. All he knew was that one moment he was standing there, and the next he had his hands on something that needed to shut the fuck up.

He only vaguely registered the shouts around him as he dug his fingers into Jack’s shirt and whirled him around. Then the only thing that existed was the feeling of flesh and bone and the slick of blood against his knuckles as he drove his fists into every soft part of the body in front of him as hard as he fucking could. Jacks hands scrabbled ineffectually at Aaron’s shoulders, then his face, trying to hit him or grab his hair or push him off, but for all that Aaron was a small man he was a fucking backliner for a reason and he threw every single ounce of his muscle into shoving Jack into the lockers.

A second later he was on him again, taking a fistful of his hair so he could slam his head into the lockers until the fucker’s knees buckled and he went down.

All he could hear was the rumble of rage in his veins. There was no thought, no goal, no understanding -- not of anything but the raw, unfiltered hate pouring out of him as he followed Jack to the ground. Distantly, he knew there was shouting or screaming -- that there were words being thrown at him and hands desperately trying to haul him back. He felt the fingers curling around his biceps and tugging on his shoulders. But his wrath was far too powerful and each time someone got a grip he was able to wrench free and use that momentum to land another hit.

At one point a solid arm wound around his waist and hauled him up and away. A sound like a feral animal ripped from his throat as Aaron thrashed wildly, trying to throw himself back onto Jack. The man had stopped moving at this point but there was a wet, raspy sound coming from him that still spoke of life and maybe Aaron hadn’t consciously decided to keep going until it stopped, but the drive was there all the same.

The rest of the room was hazy around the edges, people were blurs of sound and color. The only thing in focus was the wheezing form of Jack fucking Nolan on the floor, and Aaron fought viciously to get back to him, jerking at the arms holding him back, kicking and trying to lash out with all his strength.

Until something blocked his view. And it took a minute for Aaron to recognize what it was. To recognize who it was.

“A-Aaron. Aaron. Stop. Please. It’s o-okay. It’s okay. I’m okay. S-stop...”

The rest of the world snapped back into focus at the sound of Nicky’s gasped, broken words. Aaron stopped fighting so suddenly that he and everyone trying to hold him back stumbled. There were three of them, he realized -- Matt, Kevin, and Dan. Neil and Andrew were flanking Nicky, the three of them blocking his view of Jack’s prone, gasping form but not actually trying to stop him from killing him.

Nicky was crying, his eyes wide and his hands trembling as he held them out in front of Aaron, pleading him to stop.

Aaron took a few more heavy breaths and realized he’d been panting. He looked from Nicky to Andrew’s cool, appraising stare, then to Neil’s similar expression before finally glancing beyond them to the mess that might have once been Jack Nolan. When he dragged his gaze back to Nicky, all he said was, “He shouldn’t have opened his fucking mouth.”

Nicky made a strangled sound, something between a sob and a laugh. Then he did something he almost never did and launched forward, wrapping his arms around Aaron in a tight hug. In a reflex that Aaron didn’t even know he had, his arms snapped around his cousin and he hugged him back just as fiercely.

As Nicky sobbed onto his shoulder, Aaron looked over his hunched form and met his brother’s gaze. There weren’t words that could translate the look they shared just then, but if he had to label it, it might have been something like understanding.

#aftg #aftg fanfic #tw: violence #tw: depression #tw: mentions of suicidal thoughts #tw: triggering language #pov aaron minyard #aaron minyard #nicky hemmick #protective aaron minyard #asks #100 followers #anonymous #my writing

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booasaur · 3 years

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God people being angry bc the Hera died and the girls survive is one of the things I kinda expect it but surprise me.

And another anon:

people really are being like "actually literally everyone other than the lesbians were the best characters in fear street and it should've focused on them instead, but I'm not homophobic or anything" i don't know why i'm surprised

I dunno that many God people would be angry if Hera died... :P

But yeah, I get it. You know what, I'm gonna address a bunch of the complaints and comments I've seen. First: where is the media literacy?! What do people think they're watching? It's a slasher, most people, including likable, fun best friends, will die.

And despite how often this happens, I am surprised each time. I guess in this case I at least expected that with leads, as rare as that is, THEN they'd get a certain inherent sympathy that leads get. But the issue is, Certain types of characters have to earn it. The viewer actually starts off a little bit against them, waiting for them to justify their selection over someone more default in Western media.

This happens for a variety of people, in all kinds of combinations: men (and even many women) find it difficult to get women's viewpoints, straight people toward LGB people, cis people toward trans, white people toward POC, POC toward other POC, especially Black people. Even within groups, darker skinned people find it harder and it took me a very long time to feel the same empathy for desi characters as for white (in case you don't read my bio, I am desi).

Even people who've had one queer experience may feel judgmental toward other queer people, like recently we've seen a rise in frustration and annoyance with closeted people, right. The biggest victim of Sam's struggle with homophobia is not Deena, or even Peter, it's Sam! So many people act like closeted people are manipulating others for the joy of it, like it's a secret because of selfishness and not a deeply traumatizing fear! They're never granted that empathy, though. I've seen people call Sam boring and undeserving, meanwhile she's the girl who showed huge personal growth, fully came out to her scary mom, has a fun lowkey sense of humor, and made the decision THREE TIMES this night to die!

Now to Deena. Again, the way people view her from the outside instead of thinking, oh no, she has to try to force pills down her gf's throat and then drown her while hearing her best friends be killed, now she has to pick between her brother and gf, hoping that she'll be able to save both but possibly losing them. You know what it is, it's such a lack of good faith toward these characters. I said sympathy and empathy above, but really, it's simply not believing them of being capable of the same emotions and feelings as everyone else. There's this suspicion and bad faith jump to the worst motivations.

Like, other characters do this all the time? Prioritizing saving a loved one? There is almost no concept more generally pushed forward by Western fictional media than "a group that sacrifices the few to save the many means they don't deserve saving the many"?? That love and teamwork will always win out, that you don't give up or give in, that against all odds, every effort should be made to save everyone?

Speaking of which, going back to media literacy, I love Kate and Simon, enough to say that before the official airing, but the moment they were ready to sacrifice Sam? These movies don't forgive that kind of selfishness. Like, okay, usually that comes from very obvious bad guys, the kind of smirking, bullying jock that Peter was, who would normally survive to be able to pull something exactly like this and then be killed right when he thought he'd escaped but the movie playing around with tropes doesn't mean it's completely ignoring them.

It's funny, people talk about how bold media like GOT, The Boys, Succession, etc, are but really, where's the boldness when you know your audience is gonna eat up your straight white people doing shitty things? It's stuff like this, wanting your audience to like characters they normally wouldn't and allowing them to be messy, that is far braver.

HAVING said all that....thanks for letting me vent the thoughts that've been percolating, lol, but I don't think we should dwell on this. As hard as that sounds, because the more mainstream this is, the more ubiquitous the discourse and it's obviously more than just fiction, it's about the real life ways real life people relate to us, and clearly I have had a lot of thoughts about itttt, but let's not let them ruin it, eh? Get your frustrations out and then just have fun.

It's not our responsibility to try to defend or promote the movie or even, really, try to get its ratings up. It's incredibly unfair that we have to do that and surely media producers and neutral consumers expect things like review bombing and lack of audience sympathy and factor it in. We get two more movies, it's their loss if they can't enjoy them.

#>_>#I didn't mean for it to get this long #but I've been thinking on it since the 5th #and seen the comments even before that #replies #femslash related stuff #sent on 20210705 #sent on 20210706 #Anonymous #fear street spoilers #fear street #fear street part 1: 1994 #deena x sam

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sheriff-caitlyn · 3 years

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I started this blog in 2014, as the first Caitlyn on tumblr, and obviously I’ve been through a lot of retcons and changes myself, not only adapting to Riot’s own public retcons (from the minor, like her aesthetics, to the major, like the removal of the Institute of War as an integral part of their lore) but also to my own. That’s the thing about playing a character as complex as this, is that you learn more as you go. In your interactions with others and the creation of backstory, history, and other bits of worldbuilding to better understand the world you’re in, a character goes from a handful of images and some in-game voicelines to a fully-fledged person with a complex narrative. Sometimes things change, and that’s fine. But there are some changes which... aren’t.

For all the fingerprints I’ve put on her, she is still not my character. But I care. Sunk-cost fallacy, maybe, but I care about this character I have been involved in and I care about the direction she has been taken. So, without further ado, I’d like to delve into:

The Recent Caitlyn Update In Piltover’s New Context or, We Gotta Fetishise Police Violence, I Mean, Look At Her, She’s So Hot

Back in August 2015, I went, ‘Oh No, they’re going to try to turn Piltover into Gotham City, aren’t they?’, and lo and behold, suddenly we have Poison Ivy now. But I will get back to that, later. In this particular thread, I noted that many of the characters in Piltover seemed destined for a revamp that would rob them of what originally drew us to them in the first place, and that Piltover seemed destined for a rework that would wash out much of their character. Piltover and Zaun were always meant to be polar opposites, but suddenly we were seeing glimpses of Piltover being ‘not as good as everyone thinks’, which hinted that Piltover and Zaun were destined not to be polar opposites in the future, but indistinguishable from each other. It worried me that the only thing telling these two fascinating cities apart would be the sunlight.

So, when we have so much potential for a clash between Zaun and Piltover, between ‘Science No Matter The Cost’ and ‘We Must Advance The World With Care’, why change Piltover to some murky middleground, turning peace and security into wartime capitalism? A world where the people are shitty, where weapons and profit come first, and the only ones making a stand are the ones who are so embittered they have nothing better to do?

Because it has to be ‘interesting’. We’re going to lose bits that we like, that we’re familiar with. And that’s why I’m concerned.

This was before Piltover and Zaun were squished together in an ugly - and utterly ham-fisted - method of showing How Complex The Future Is. There’s layers, guys! Literal layers to this one single city! That means it’s deep! But when I say ‘bits that we like, that we’re familiar with’, I’m not clinging to a fanon interpretation. I’m saying the things that drew us to the world and to the characters to begin with. I could adapt from Caitlyn turning from brown-haired and brown-eyed to black-haired and blue-eyed, because even through I had been doing art, at that point, the change gave me an opportunity to express and discover more about her character (her eye colour being influenced by her mother’s magic, for one). But some of the more stark changes - to family, to job, to personality, to the city of Piltover itself - these result in a character changing completely. I was worried that the cool detective who literally made the world a better place would be chopped and changed into something unrecognisable. I even expounded on my concerns in November 2016, where I could see some of the ways the writers at Rito might make adjustments in the direction of their lore updates.

All this to say, I’ve been working on her for a while, and I was bracing for some bad news. This? This is kind of the worst.

Caitlyn has always been the Sheriff of Piltover, an authority figure, a representative of the law and order that Piltover is famous for. Piltover’s peace and financial prosperity has been directly linked to Caitlyn’s concerted effort to eradicate crime (not criminals, crime! Which, as I have mentioned particularly in this post from 2014, means she upended and reformed the justice system, from the legal process to the prisons to how people are treated as citizens). The city is safe, people have greater access to personal wealth and development, classism is erased, society is flourishing. Zaun, as Piltover’s polar opposite, is a corporate nightmare, with ‘do as thou wilt’, private bodyguards for the rich and powerful while the poor scramble to survive in a system that barely treats them as human. Vi, as a Zaunite, brings a lot of her ‘violence as a problem-solver’ methodology to Piltover’s law-enforcement, though she seems to have no intention of returning to Zaun and seems to have bonded with Caitlyn (‘teamwork!’) to Get Shit Done. And, apparently, there is still shit that needs to be done, though nowhere near as much as there had been in the Bad Old Days.

Vi was, at the time, the awkward-grit-teeth-grin-ha-ha-um-yeah representation of police violence. ‘Resist arrest’, she cries gleefully, as she beats people and breaks down buildings, and we are supposed to go ‘ha, isn’t that funny’ with varying degrees of sincerity. Of course Piltover is going to have problems: anywhere that has wealth and stability is going to be targeted by the envious and the needy. Peace needs to be protected. The problem lies in how that protection is enacted.

So now we have the recent Legends of Runeterra update to Caitlyn, an update which looked at the context of Piltover needing protection, as well as the modern context of Riot’s California location in the Years of Our Lord 2020-2021, and then decided ‘you know what we need? Police violence, everyone loves police violence’.

MAN I thought the stripper-cop skins were bad but here we go!

Her Yordle Snap-Traps (which I envisioned as from the Yordle Military, rather than a racially-profiling weapon as, y’know, they work on human-and-larger-sized people as well) have now been replaced by electroshock grenades, the intent gone from incapacitation and observation to outright paralysis and destruction. Her net-short is now apparently electro-conductive (admittedly, I have had one (1) single RP where that happened, but it came at both a cost to Caitlyn and to her weapon’s efficiency as a result, a last-resort against a dangerous opponent). Caitlyn’s cards in LoR take her from being a detective coordinating ideas and people and putting together a case to a SWAT team leader. This might be the biggest problem in working for a non-combat-oriented character in a MOBA, or in any fighting game: the game needs to find rationalisations for all of their characters being there, being combatants, being able to kill (even if, as Riot says, the lore is separate from the game). We have monsters and soldiers and ancient powers who of course they know how to spill blood and relish in doing so. But pacifists, like Karma or Bard? Explorers like Ezreal? And a sheriff, a peacekeeper, a law-keeper, someone mindful of responsibility and the importance of saving every life possible, like Caitlyn? They’re stripped of that depth and complexity in-game, but there was always the lore that backed them up. But they’ve done away with that completely. Caitlyn was never special operations. She was never military. But now she is, because she had to be changed to fit better into a fighting game. They had to make her violent, and as a result, they have undermined not only everything about the character that made her interesting to begin with - turning her now into a representative of police brutality, but with long hair, pouty lips, and a thigh gap - but they’re also re-writing the context of Piltover. It was bad enough to squish Piltover and Zaun together. But now, Caitlyn’s update is proof that Piltover has gone from a steampunk utopia to a violent, oppressive and cynical post-industrial world. The depiction of Caitlyn as a SWAT team leader (complete with special-forces beret, because hat! Caitlyn wears a hat! Nevermind the fact that she’s no longer wearing a distinctive tophat but instead a symbol of extreme state-sponsored force!) shows us that Piltover’s ‘army’ is not designed as a defence against outsiders, but as an offensive force against their own people. Caitlyn is supposed to be the representation of how peace and order is maintained in one of the largest factions in League of Legends, and if her method of maintaining order is straight-up police violence against their own citizens, then it’s not really peace and order. It’s authoritarianism at best, and facism at worst.

Piltover was different from every other nation in Runeterra because it didn’t have a military. It had defenders, and it had a powerful economy, and it had a democratic political system. But the Piltover update retconned Caitlyn’s hard work. The gangs were back - though now they’re big powerful families like Clan Ferros - and Caitlyn has been de-aged so that she’s still new to the force, that she hasn’t even had her chance to change anything. Her importance to Piltover is minimised... and why is Vi even there? (Oh boy I guess you’re going to have to watch Arcane to find out! Coming to a Netflix near you soon!) With a younger Caitlyn in a violent society, she has no choice but to be violent herself... even if that undermines everything previously established about Piltover and about Caitlyn. This update has made Piltover just as ugly and oppressive as Demacia, Noxus, and Zaun. It’s just another army equipped to do violence, but now that violence is turned inwards. This isn’t protection, it’s control. It’s fear. It’s oppression. Caitlyn is no longer a peacekeeper. She’s a monster. Chopped and changed, as I feared, into something completely unrecognisable from how she began in a world that no longer looks like what it had been... or should be.

It’s hard to tell what came first, the change to Piltover or the change to Caitlyn. Either way, the changes are inextricably linked. Caitlyn was integral to Piltover’s modern state, and Piltover is integral to Caitlyn as a character. Her (original) drive was to make the city and all its people better; Piltover was a utopia because of the effort of Caitlyn, and of people like her, people who wanted a better world. This new iteration of Piltover - full of fear and violence and hypocricy, layered over Zaun in such a way that makes ham-fisted commentary about the wealth/class divide - undermines the value of the individual. It removes agency. It removes hope, which had been integral to Piltover. Piltover is no longer the CIty of Progress... it’s the City of ‘you better be rich and pretty if you want to progress’. And Caitlyn is no longer a force for good or a representative of responsibility, because those things don’t exist in Piltover anymore. Legends of Runeterra has turned Caitlyn into a bitch, someone to hate. She has a marked lack of respect for people, as demonstrated in her new character traits of ‘casually-racist’ (her lines to Veigar), ‘condescending’ (her lines to Viktor), with some added pride in her violence (’here’s my calling card *shoots gun*’ and ‘I aim to win and my aim is excellent’). She is a representative of her city, and she is a terrible person now. Piltover is terrible. Piltover is ugly.

But Caitlyn avoids that last part. And she’ll get away with it, because she’s a hot twenty-something.

In 2015, I drew Caitlyn-as-Swain, as an AU for what might have been. The overwhelming response at the time was ‘aaa she’s so hot I’d follow that leader of Noxus’, prompting a good friend Swain RPer to comment that Swain - who was, at the time, the withered man in green and gold who needed a cane - was just as smart as Caitlyn if not more so, a proven capable leader, but when it comes down to it, sex-appeal will always trump characterisation and storytelling, and that’s disheartening for someone who puts so much work into stories, to context, to something deeper than ‘Just another MOBA’. And here I am, in 2021, looking at how Caitlyn has been stripped of her fascinating and complex characterisation while maintaining her long legs, long hair, and corsetted figure. Now, I do appreciate the fact they’ve given her a better costume than miniskirt and boobtube. She deserves so much better. I even commissioned back in 2015 for a Better Look for Caitlyn; Tom aka FaerieFountain went on to make her new look canon. But she’s supposed to be a detective. She’s supposed to be careful and methodical and mindful of her status and power. Instead, she’s been made gleefully violent, leaving a lot of depth behind in order to become just Hot Cop With Gun. (As an aside, was anyone else uncomfortable with Caitlyn’s high-school skin? Especially when the writer actually tweeted ‘step on me’? Hello? Ma’am? That is a high school student, that is a CHILD you are talking about? But Caitlyn is hot so it’s fine! Sexualise a child! it’s fine, she’s hot, it’s fine!) Almost everyone who has contacted me about Caitlyn’s LoR cards has been excited to see her. Good! She’s a great character! Or, she was. But the enthusiasm about her is tied to how she’s so violent, how she uses her power to abuse those who don’t conform. But she looks great, smoking hot, you know? And when she’s smoking hot, her dangerous and abusive behaviour and attitude are completely excused. An update to a character needs to take into account characterisation as well as the visuals. Her update, sadly, has focused on the all-too-prevalent problem of the viciousness of state-sponsored violence, rather than the complexity of detective work, of puzzle solving and intellectualism, but because she looks hot and speaks in that British accent, no-one’s going to care. Hot ladies can get away with so much, because legs and pouty lips, but I guess she’s also a cop or whatever.

And, as a momentary aside, why is an eco-terrorist suddenly Caitlyn’s longtime foe? It makes zero sense for Piltover and for Caitlyn that someone who plant-based powers is her biggest rival and the city’s biggest threat. Zero sense, until you take into account that Piltover has been stripped of its character and made into something more aligned with modern authoritarianism than the hopeful vibes of steampunk. Environmentalism? Not on my watch! Deploy the police (the good guys!) to silence the protesters (who are obviously the bad guys becase they’re protesting)! Because Piltover and Zaun are one city now, and therefore indistinguishable, we have a fucking Poison Ivy character causing enough trouble in Piltover to warrant entire fucking SWAT teams opening fire within the city limits and around peoples’ homes! Not Zaun, which is the environmental nightmare, but Piltover! With its fresh air and open skies! Yes, that’s a great place for an eco-terrorist to blame and/or try to fix! The whole thing is honestly so backwards! Like they’ve decided to make a cool character in the form of Corina and just shove her into the story, rather than finding a place in the narrative that suits her. The idea that Corina is C makes no sense. Caitlyn vs C is supposed to be Sherlock versus Moriarty, Ganimard versus Lupin, ACME versus Carmen Sandiego, world’s greatest detective against the world’s greatest thief. It focused on the intellectual battle, the need for self-improvement, and - most importantly! - that this was a fight that didn’t result in gunfire or people being put in bodybags. But we can’t have that in our fighting game! We can’t have people thinking, because that’s not the kind of game we have, it’s left-click-shoot out here on the Rift or in the cards. So now we have a woman with plant powers bombing Piltover, and a policewoman kicking down doors and opening fire. And she’s right there, in Caitlyn’s new splash art, within reaching distance of the sheriff!

She’s right there! In hot pink with a flower in her fucking hair! And Caitlyn doesn’t even notice? Looks like one of my major gripes about Caitlyn being updated - Incompetence - is rearing its ugly head. She cannot even see someone not five feet from her. Oooh, look out, Piltover, no-one can figure out why this single eco-terrorist is causing problems for years, but Caitlyn will figure it out! With her gun! Because she’s a cop with a gun, and cops with guns never cause more problems than they solve, right?

Look... I know. I know she’s not my character. I know that everything I’ve done is fan-interpretation. But I’ve worked for so long and hard and done so much research, and things I’ve done have even been seen by - and used by! - the company itself (not just in the ‘oh what a coincidence’ sense, either, I know my link on Hextech as a form of magic made it to several of the writers, some of whom later contacted me). I might be too jaded by all the disappointment to take it personally anymore, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t still happen. We know Riot Games could be and should be better. So many people in this community - and people who have since moved on - put so much love and effort into the characters and the world, building up from scraps and guesswork and extrapolation. It wasn’t our world, but we enjoyed playing in it. We enjoyed struggling in it, because it pushed us to be thoughtful, creative, to be engaged and interested. Critical Theory doesn’t have to be negative... but this recent update to Caitlyn’s character and to Piltover as a whole is... it’s a step backwards. They’ve gone for the ‘ooh isn’t this gritty and dark’ approach, and swept away so much of what made the original so interesting, creative, engaging to begin with. They’d rather have controversy than people genuinely enjoying the thing that they’re opening their wallet for.

Caitlyn was a detective who focused on responsibility, intellectualism, and care. What she is now is not the same Caitlyn they started with, and expresses a set of values that I do not support. This blog will continue to be focusing on the old lore, on what Piltover has been and what it should be: a hopeful utopia, a place for people to grow and be responsible and thoughtful and mindful of their place on the world stage. It’s not going to be perfect, but there’s hope, and there’s people here who want the world, and everyone in it, to be better than it is. I hope you join me, no matter who you are.

#oops I essayed again #Not Your Piltover #caitlyn #riot please #character development #piltover

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deecitys · 3 years

Text

blue, white, and a little bit of gold; z. chenle

pairing: chenle x fem!reader

genre/warnings: school au, friends to lovers, student!chenle, fluff, swearing, food

word count: 2.7k

a.n.: this is part of the nct secret santa collab hosted by @neoculturechristmas ! i’m writing for @candychanhee i hope u enjoy <33

masterlist

lowercase intended

MONDAY, DEC. 14

“you’re really going to leave me alone?” you frown. “here? with mrs. s? out of all the teachers?”

your best friend, jiwoo, places her hand on your shoulder empathetically. “she called you. i’m terrified of her. the discussion is over, y/n.”

she bows like a ballerina and proceeds to jump away from you down the hall. you roll your eyes and push the wooden door open, sighing. the empty home economics classroom smells like freshly baked muffins, except evil freshly baked muffins, just because this is mrs. s’s classroom.

you walk up to the one desk you could find, clear of fabric scraps and needles, and dump your heavy backpack on it. the noise echos; or maybe it’s just your hyperactive brain anticipating for a jumpscare. in mrs. s’s classroom, anything can happen…

but just as you were about to call for the terrifying teacher, the door rattles open behind you and you let out a yelp, scrunching down.

“hey y/n,” a slightly familiar voice calls. you slowly shift your gaze to find zhong chenle.

you’ve known chenle ever since middle school (you might’ve had a crush on him back then…), and he was in your friend group at one point, but you two have never crossed paths in particular especially after he was announced as mvp for the school basketball team and became mega popular. he was nice though, as far as you knew, and it was a sense of relief that you weren’t going to be the only one in mrs. s’s room.

“haha, um, hi chenle,” you force a smile and hold the desk to get up. something shifts in the storage room of the class, and when you two turn your attention to the noise, mrs. s enters the scene. her leather buckled shoes clack on the floor as she approaches you and chenle.

“hello, chenle,” mrs. s greets the smiling boy with ink-black hair, and proceeds to frown on you through her narrow glasses. “you should’ve told me you’re here.”

“sorry,” you utter, avoiding eye contact.

she mumbles something about kids these days. “i called you two here because i want to ask for a favor.”

while mrs. s shuffles through her desk, you glance at chenle with wide eyes, who shrugs back in question.

“i’m on duty for planning, and you two are the highest performing in my classes. a week left.” mrs. s hands a piece of paper, and chenle reaches out to grab it.

“december 18th, friday, gym, at 6 through 8:30 pm… the winter dance?” he reads. “we’re supposed to plan it?”

“plan it, manage it, whatever else it needs,” mrs. s explains while you panic trying to think of an excuse out. chenle just stands, dumbfounded. “10 percent raise of semester grade of whatever class if it goes successfully.”

10 percent? holy shit, this is your chance. your math grade!

“we’re doing it!” you blurt out loudly, inducing an emotion (slight surprise? indistinguishable.) out of mrs. s for the first time.

“we are?” chenle questions, to which you blink inanimately . “oh… oh yeah, we are. leave it to us! we’re really trustworthy, and we have teamwork. we’re, we’re practically best friends. you can count on us.”

mrs. s slowly nods in approval while you force a big grin, grabbing your backpack and pushing chenle towards the door. “we’ll start planning now, thank you, see you in class!”

you two rush out of the room. “dear god,” you sigh.

“you know what? i need that grade raise, my english grade is, uh, kinda questionable.” chenle sighs.

“so is my math grade, i’m literally about to be disowned. meet tomorrow after school at the gym?” you ask, and he nods, giving you a thumbs up. with a strained grin, you turn right around and speed walk to the end of the hall. jiwoo appears, peeking behind the corner.

“is that zhong chenle?”

TUESDAY, DEC. 15

“so…” you hold on to the ends of your puffy jacket to make sure they aren’t blown away by the freezing winter wind. “where do we start?”

“we could look at the gym and, i don’t know, envision the scene. i got the keys. and budgets tomorrow,” chenle enunciates, which you give a positive shrug to.

the door creaks open and you hurry in to turn on the lights. you’ve been in here plenty of times before, and you try to remember the setup last year, hoping you would be able to get some inspiration. it’s interrupted by a tingly feeling in your nose and a following sneeze.

“god, it’s freezing in here too,” you exclaim. “doesn’t it get even colder? we’ll need to have everything indoors.”

“do you think they’ll let us sell winter themed popsicles?” chenle asks. you frown at his contradicting question. he’s wearing a simple crewneck sweatshirt unlike you prepared for antarctica.

“...a hot chocolate stand?” he negotiates, noticing your glare.

“a hot chocolate stand it is,” you take your phone out to write a note, pausing halfway to point at the spot near the entrance. “we could have it right there, with the entry fee stand, so people can grab one as they come.”

“and this can be the dance floor?” chenle is now suddenly standing in the middle of the room. you nod, writing down another bullet point.

“so, how was it?” jiwoo asks on the phone.

“it wasn’t that awkward, he’s still chatty, actually,” you describe, twiddling the blanket you have over your head. “we got a week’s notice which is so shitty, but we got to everything we had to do and we’re on track. he comes up with the wildest, most unrealistic ideas, though. can you imagine popsicles in a winter dance? it’s fucking freezing, i’m going to work a bit on decorations after school so he doesn’t mess with it…”

WEDNESDAY, DEC. 16

“what are you wearing?” chenle lets out high-pitched laughs. it’s after school the next day, and this time, you’ve prepared for the climate.

“what?” you frown. “it’s cold in there. i need to survive.”

“you look like a penguin.”

“it’s only five layers.”

“whatever you say, best friend,” chenle does a fancy little bow to lead you into the gym. you huff but follow him anyway.

“today, we have to do all the budget stuff,” he takes a seat on the open bleacher to open his laptop, and you hesitantly take a seat a feet away. “i actually did some research and found all the places we need to contact, with all the costs and fees written and added一 here.” he turns the laptop your way and you lean towards the laptop (NOT HIM, THE LAPTOP!) slightly to take a look. a lot of work with numbers is done and you’re actually quite astonished by the organization and amount.

“practice got cancelled, and so like i had a lot of time lying around. i’ve contacted some places if we already made the decisions on the specifics so some are finalized, um, if that’s okay,” he explains. you continue to scan through the spreadsheet. the dj, catering, lights, they’re all done.

“wow, chenle,” that’s what you manage to say. “i’m glad i did something too.” you quickly dig up your sketchbook from your backpack and flip through it until you find the decoration sketches. you hand it over to him with fully stretched arms, keeping your distance. “they’re all at target, all the stuff i marked. so we can go get them whenever, if the budget, you know, allows it.” you hold down the strong urge to bite your nails through the long, dreadful silence. where did the chatty chenle go while you needed his chattiness the most?

“this is really cool,” he finally speaks. “and it fits our budget, so it’s perfect. i remember you being really good at art in middle school! guess you didn’t change.”

you flush (for no absolute reason!) and quickly take the drawing away, mumbling up a ‘thanks’.

“uh, anyways, today all we have to do is contact the rest of the people on the list, and then we’ll buy the stuff tomorrow, sell last minutes tickets on thursday, and theeeen we’ll decorate and see how the dance goes on friday, right? since the school’s been advertising since, what, last week?” you speak quickly to change the subject. he doesn’t seem to notice and instead nods.

“tomorrow, we’re driving to target to get all the decorations. hey, remember when i liked him in middle school?” you ask jiwoo. it’s after school and you’re at her house, doing homework. she looks up from her science assignment to give you a look.

“don’t tell me you’re starting to like him again,” she laughs.

“hey, what’s wrong with that?” you raise your voice slightly, then turn your attention back to your laptop, suddenly self-conscious. “i mean, not that i like him, anyway.”

“you know i can see right through you?” jiwoo doesn’t take her gaze off of you for the long period of silence that follows. you roll your eyes.

“fine, whatever, i may have the tiniest physical symptoms of liking him again or whatever,” you admit. jiwoo giggles, then scrunches closer to you.

“so, what do you like about him?” she asks enthusiastically.

“i mean… he has a nice smile, yeah, that,” you mumble.

“and?”

“i guess he’s funny, and nice, and actually kind of responsible, i don’t know, and his voice一”

your description is interrupted by jiwoo’s screech.

“shouldn't have brought it up…” you sigh.

THURSDAY, DEC. 17

what have you gotten yourself into?

out of all the cars, you’re sitting at the front seat of ZHONG CHENLE’s car. he’s driving. CHENLE IS DRIVING.

the familiar roads aren’t so familiar when you’re in such a peculiar situation. he drives nicely though. and there’s the radio on. and he’s humming. super nicely. that’s so attractive. there’s nothing particularly attractive about humming, but on chenle it is. SHUT UP Y/N!

“do you sing?” you unconsciously ask.

“yeah, actually,” he answers. “my dad doesn’t like it, though, actually, so i don’t tell a lot of people. he just wants me to focus on basketball, because i don’t sing in a deep tone like the opera people, and he thinks if i don’t do that, it’s not manly enough, or whatever.”

the mood… you brought up the wrong topic, you think. “sounds like what jake would say,” you reply in a lighter note. “remember him? the super old school kid from 7th grade?”

“oh my god, YES,” chenle laughs, moving on to talk about him and middle school memories until you reach target. you quickly find the party decoration section and pick out the things. you’re on your last item when chenle taps your shoulder. he’s holding packages of golden sparkly streamers.

“i know the colors are blue and white, but imagine a little bit of gold. a little bit of sparkle, but no annoying glitter shit! what do you say?” he anticipates.

“actually, pretty cool, yeah,” you say, and chenle pumps his arm before throwing the packages into the shopping basket.

“i was about to just say no without listening after that one time you suggested we get popsicles, but good suggestion. love the improvement!” you half-joke. he immediately mocks you, which you laugh at.

the car is loaded up and now you’re on your way back. you two chat about the most random things, from taste in food to tv shows to traumatic but funny experiences, and you keep yawning. it’s been a long day.

chenle drives out of route, but you’re too tired to realize; the most you can do is keep up with the conversation. a blink later and you’re at the drive-thru of starbucks. “pick a drink, miss,” he rolls the window down when the car stops front of the menu.

“me?” you ask in surprise.

“yes, you.” chenle laughs. “you look so dead right now, it’s only 5 pm. i think we both need a caffeine boost for homework.”

“ooh, so thoughtful of you,” you dramatize.

he rolls his eyes. “shut up, i’m paying.”

“caramel macchiato please, mr. zhong!”

you sit patiently while he orders and gets the drinks; a caramel macchiato for you and a café latte for himself. you sip the drink in now comfortable silence and bliss (who wouldn’t be happy with a free drink?) on the way back.

“why didn’t we ever talk before?” chenle asks, breaking the silence.

“dunno,” you say. “just we didn’t have any reasons to, i guess,”

“remember when i told mrs. s we were practically best friends? maybe that wasn’t a lie.”

for once, you love mrs. s so much right now.

FRIDAY, DEC. 18 (D-DAY!)

with the help of chenle’s friends, decorations are up on time and students show up to the dance. everything goes by plan and people are thriving, except… jiwoo had a change of plans last minute. and you were going to ask her to help ask chenle out.

“i’m telling you, it’s the perfect chance,” over the phone, jiwoo’s voice sounds passionate and a little distorted. it’s a little hard to tune into with the background noise, even outside of the dance room alone. “once this is over, nothing happens, and winter break starts, you guys will end up like before. distance friends with zero interactions and zero chances. take the risk while you can, y/n!”

“but you aren’t here to help me!” you whine. “i’ve never done this before! i wasn’t prepared for this! i’m not the kind of person to be doing this!”

“and you’ll never be prepared anyway, so what’s the point of waiting?” jiwoo argues. “don’t be a pussy and go for it. if he likes you back, that’s cool, and if he doesn’t, you have nothing to worry about because you guys won’t have a reason to talk anymore. now, i have an angry mother to deal with, so i’m hanging up, peace out and tell me how it goes. love you, bye!”

your urgent call of her name is interrupted by a long and loud beep. you sigh.

as much as you hate to admit, she’s right. there isn’t any other excuse to keep talking to him. you check the time, and it’s almost 8; half an hour until the dance ends.

“fuck it,” you say to yourself, pushing the heavy door open and meeting the warm and noisy atmosphere. it’s not long until you find chenle chatting with the dj. you take a deep breath feets away from his back and decide to approach him that way.

“chenle! chenle!” you whisper-yelled through the booming music. he turns around immediately, eyes wandering until he finds you.

“y/n! y/n!” he whisper-yells back.

“i need to tell you something important.” you take his arm and start to drag him towards the door out.

“you good? what’s up?” he asks. you shake your head, signaling it’s too loud in the gym, and point to the door, continuing to pull him. through your booming heartbeat you keep calm until you reach the cold outdoor air where you finally let go of chenle.

“so, um, hi,” you greet, to which chenle chuckles.

“hey.”

“the important thing is,” you take a deep breath in. “ithinkilikeyouandithinkweshouldgoout.”

it takes a second for him to process your fast words. maybe you shouldn’t have confessed, you think. you internally scream, and this is the longest second of your LIFE.

“uhh, this isn’t fair,” chenle argues, and you’re stand there, dumbfounded. ?_? “i was going to ask you out! life is so unfair.”

you gasp. “you’re KIDDING.”

“no, i’m not. uh, so, like, i think yes. what am i saying… i’m saying that yes, we should go out.” chenle looks nervous. CHENLE LOOKS NERVOUS!

“i was NOT expecting that,” you say.

“well, i wasn’t either, on my end,” chenle laughs.

“well,” you hold yourself back from screaming and jumping. “we should go back in, we’re the managers, y’know?” chenle nods, taking your hand to walk back into the gym. smooth.

“also, y/n, when i bought you starbucks, the intention was not to seduce you, just wanted to clarify. that was only like, four bucks. you’re worth more than four bucks, i swear.” chenle rants.

“glad to hear,” you roll your eyes but end up laughing anyway.

there couldn’t have been a better winter dance.

#nct fluff #kpopscape #neowritingsnet #neothestars #nct chenle #chenle fluff #nct christmas #nct collab #nct school au #nct drabbles #nct scenarios #nct #chenle soft hours #chenle fics #chenle oneshots #nct oneshot #nct dream fics #nct dream fluff

108 notes · View notes

uwua3 · 4 years

Note

Hello, can I please suggest a childhood friends to lovers troupe with Banri? Thank you so much!

of course! i put this off at first because i wanted to understand banri’s character a bit more and what direction i wanted to go with this! it might be a little bit opposite of what you wanted but i hope you like it~ ♡ i hope you don’t mind childhood enemies to friends to lovers ;)

summary: all your life, you wanted to beat settsu banri, just once

warnings: arguing, breaking the law, bullying(?), injuries, physical fights,

author’s note: this is definitely much more different from anything i’ve written! please enjoy it~

being naturally good at everything = wanting to compete at everything once’s there’s someone worthy and i think it’s a complex we need to address. honors students who get burnt out often give up because it’s not easy at first. setting children up to be the best and putting them against one another instead of encouraging teamwork is evil and a flaw in the education system. so take risks, and take down any institution that disrespects you :)

word count: 4,298

music: hot girl bummer – blackbear, preacher man – the driver era

childhood champion.

🍁🥇 settsu banri

banri was the most insufferable, annoying kid to ever walk the face of this earth

everyone picked him first for their sports team in gym, he always knew the answer even when the teacher caught him sleeping in class, and he knew what a multitalented threat he was

it was so unfair! even as a child, you had to spend countless hours studying the next topic to stay ahead but banri did it without even trying

you were second in class, he never even wavered or was worried about his valedictorian position

banri was so, so annoying

you two were the first picked to advance to honors–level classes the next school year in middle school

you actively rose your hand in class to get the answer correct. you sat in the front and kissed up to your teachers so they would submit more than just “a pleasure to have in class” on your report card

banri would doze off in the back if he was forced to attend school. it would take multiple tries to get him to wake up and even then, he could’ve summarized the entire class lesson with no effort. he didn’t care about other people’s opinions

which must have been nice, considering how everyone either loved him or fully hated him

you two were never aware of each other’s existence throughout elementary; it wasn’t until your teachers constantly compared you to banri’s perfect grades and banri to your model student behavior that you began to despise each other

to you, banri was your #1 rival and competitor. everything you did, you wanted to beat him at. but to banri, you were just another tryhard that wouldn’t survive in the real world

it was when you were the only student getting every question right that you talked to him for the first time. you rose your hand again, a pleasant expression on your face as your teacher looked around, sighing as everyone averted their gaze

before the teacher could call your name, you felt a wadded–up paper ball hit the back of your head and a snicker. the class went dealthy quiet for once

you whipped your head to the back to see banri’s egotistical maniac of a smirk staring right back at you

“nerd.” banri dropped, his arms behind his head and feet propped up on his desk. his bag wasn’t even open and his pencil was stuck behind his ear. what a troublemaker

“mr. settsu! apologize this instant, we do not tolerate name–calling in this classroom.” your teacher reprimanded maturely, watching as banri shrugged and put his feet on the ground with a loud thud. leaning forward, banri put his hands together with an exaggerated sad face as he batted his eyelashes

“i’m so sorry~” banri laughed, his mocking tone making you narrow your eyes, plastering on a fake smile as you simply nodded and turned around. it wasn’t worth it to fight with someone who didn’t even care

anger boiled in your blood, all you wanted to do was turn around and give him a solid punch

yet, you straightened your posture, answering each question precisely with a tight grip on your pencil as you felt more spitballs land near you

no boy was going to get you to stop focusing, and especially take class time away

banri didn’t know why he bothered trying to piss you off anymore when you didn’t react. it was boring him, to say the least

when he “accidentally” stole your lunch, you just used your allowance to buy something from the lunch ladies (who absolutely hated that they had no evidence he stole from the fruit bar). when he knocked your books over off the desk with a bang, you just picked them back up and moved to a different table. hell, he even started a grade–wide game that pretended you weren’t there. you didn’t care, you kept doing your schoolwork

you were so, so boring

banri was on cleaning–duty for vandalism or whatever, something that didn’t follow the school guidelines. he was assigned to his homeroom classroom and had to wipe down the desks, sweep the room, and scrape off gum under any surface

“what the hell...” 13–year–old banri cursed, kicking at the dust pan as he didn’t want to start. he didn’t clean, he was good at it, he just didn’t like doing it

turning on his heel to ditch the classroom and deal with the consequences later, he was face to face with the fakest smile ever as you leaned against the doorframe (seemingly satisfied with his predicament)

“sorry, settsu. i’m here to supervise you to make sure you’re cleaning, today.” you dropped your sweet, quiet tone and revealed the truth: a tough, tired attitude that was ready to snap at any point. banri raised his eyebrow, crossing his arms as he scoffed, looking to the side

this should be fun

“oh yeah? what will you do to stop me? can you even handle me, i’ve seen how you don’t score shit in gym.” banri spat, your lip twitched at the swear as you had an incredulous look

two could play at this game, you weren’t backing down

“i’m not here to fight, settsu. i want you to hurry up so i can go home and do my homework.” you heard his sickening laugh throughout the empty hallway. it echoed, reminding you how he had no filter or manners whatsoever

“homework?! imagine needing that to pass. even i don’t do my work... and i’m at the top. how sad.” banri fueled the flame on purpose, eyes glinting with something of boredom and a wicked evil found in prepubescent boys

“you wouldn’t know what that’s like, though, right?”

you clenched your fist, all the pent–up rage you withheld in to have the higher ground was beginning to turn your vision red

“come on,” banri grinned, finding fun in driving you insane as he lazily moved into a fighting position, not expecting anything. “hit me—”

you didn’t remember what happened next, but you had to sit next to banri who had a black eye with an ice pack up to it in the principal’s office

both you and banri received a weeks worth of suspension for having a fight on school grounds

you hated settsu banri. and he found you interesting, so he didn’t say anything when he came back, letting the rumors die down

banri wanted to be your friend. your punch wasn’t even all that bad, maybe he could teach you how to hold your fist

but you avoided him at all costs now. he started going to school more frequently, and played impractical jokes on you in between classes just to get a reaction

you didn’t do anything. you just requested a schedule change and had classes on the opposite side of the building

classes became boring again, no one wanted to fight with him because they knew they’d lose, and he stopped attending classes out of spite

banri couldn’t believe he may have finally met someone who had some balls to do something to his shitty attitude and you just left

but throughout the years leading up to his first year in hanasaki, banri had immense respect for your 12–year–old self who landed a nasty hit (it totally would’ve k.o.–ed him if this was a video game)

banri had his eye out to see if you were in the front row with your hand up, or if you were hiding in the library behind towering shelves, or if you were even just moving past him in the crowds of people in the hallways

but it’s like you disappeared out of no where, how boring

you kept a secluded, mysterious reputation. no one had anything to say about you because you did nothing to get attention. so banri couldn’t even track you down through the grapevine of gossip

you disappeared and remained second (behind banri, of course)

as school went on and the summers cleared his mind, banri slowly forgot all about the young kid who gave him a black eye

as he passed the exams to qualify for entry in hanasaki, he didn’t even think twice if you were gonna be there

second year at hanasaki academy. 16–year–old banri nearly dropped out because of his own insatiable boredom. he got into more fights (he always won), ignored his classmates, and just kept being a huge jackass even unprovoked

school was so, so boring

class rankings were released after finals, banri remembered strolling up to expect his name at the top spot but watched as the crowd of students nervously parted to let him through

his eyes automatically landed at the #1 spot (he never checked anyone below him, they were dumb) but it wasn’t his name. instead, he saw yours. you were beating him

letting out a sarcastic laugh, banri backed up and left without another word, leaving the students to breathe a sigh of relief they weren’t the next victim of an infamous settsu roundhouse

how long had you been at this? how long did you study just to see your name printed over his? he must’ve been a big deal to you

banri ditched school early, about to hop the back fence before he noticed a flash of the academy’s school uniform above. halfway up the fence, banri looked behind him. no one. looked up, and you were sitting at the edge of the rooftop, swinging your legs casually

after all these years, and banri found you on accident

“hey.” banri drawled, waving up to you who seemed lost in your own world. you had a loose grip on some textbook, staring off into the slow clouds. you must’ve missed the lunch bell signaling the end of eating. you? skipping class? it was almost too funny to be true

banri bristled under the lack of attention. it’s been years and this was the response he got? he was ready to start shaking the fence to alert everyone within a one mile radius he was here. yet, banri noticed the hardcover textbook that must’ve cost hundreds begin slipping from your fingers. you didn’t care to notice

“hey! hey! what the fuck!” banri tried to make you snap out of it, but he swore as he leaped from the fence as soon as the book started falling. you shook your head rapidly like you just woke up, nearly falling over as you watched banri catch the heavy textbook with one hand as he rolled onto the rough pavement. it was a move out of a superhero film, like he was a professional stunt double

you gasped, scrambling to get off the edge and jumped. banri was about to yell a very inappropiate curse, but you grabbed onto the tree branch nearby and climbed down easily. it was like you did this countless times... what the hell happened to you and who was this that replaced you?

“oh my god! i am so sorry, i wasn’t paying attention at all.” you apologized sincerly, offering your hand to help pull him to his feet. banri ignored the pain in his shoulder and hip as he pushed himself up, the scrapes on his palms and rips in his uniforms making him wince for a moment. you noticed

“you idiot! what were you thinking? you could’ve died!” banri snapped, pushing the textbook to your chest as you stumbled back, eyes wide. you huffed, feeling aggressive as every instinct to fight with him came back as strong as ever despite banri’s heroic act

“don’t act like you know everything about me! i said i was sorry, what else do you want?” you fought back, pushing him back even harder with your book. banri felt something burn inside him for the time ever since you punched him: excitement

“let’s settle this. you. me. right here. right now.” banri got into a battle stance, pretending to be very serious when he didn’t even hit girls. but, he wanted to piss you off so bad. he was so bored of his life being on super ultra easy mode (it was like you were the final boss)

he didn’t even get another word out before you sighed, put your backpack and books down gently, rolled your eyes, spun around, and kicked him straight in the jaw

you had used the infamous settsu roundhouse kick against him

this time, he was much stronger than he was before at thirteen. he straightened himself up, stared at your clenched fists, and laughed

“after all this time, you never learned how to throw a real punch?” banri taunted, but the playful tone of his voice gave himself away. you slowly backed down, going back to your normal position as you revealed a tired smile. you ran your hand through your hair, seeming to contemplate on whether or not you should respond before shrugging

“never really had to fight losers like you before.” you retorted and banri gave an impressed look that you even made a comeback. rubbing his jaw and feeling the bruise about to form, banri watched as you stuffed your books into your bag

“by the way, that was for everything you put me through in middle school.” you stood up, flipped him both with hands confidently, and left. turning the corner, you winked and shot him a finger gun, showing you didn’t hold any grudges anymore for his stupid behavior

“wait—dammit.” banri rushed to catch up with you, but you were already gone the moment he went over. there was no trace of you and banri kicked the wall out of frustration, regretting it immediately when he forgot about his injured leg

“mr. settsu!” he heard from one of the classroom windows and looked up, seeing his maths teacher glare at him. uh oh

banri put his hands up, knowing security would have to come drag his ass to class

he could’ve swore he heard your laugh as he got yelled at for getting caught, making him subconsciously smile

(banri got into more trouble when the teacher thought he saw it as a joke)

gossip was exchanged as banri came into class sporting a bruised jaw and ripped clothes. they said the gangster was finally taken down by someone who he was no match for, it was almost laughable

i let them win, banri thought, barely paying attention to whatever his teacher was writing on the blackboard

but banri wanted more competition. he couldn’t just let you hit him even if he fully, 100% deserved it

banri closed his eyes, falling asleep with his hand in his cheek. you better not have any plans this afternoon

it was 5pm. you were heading out of school after finishing all your extracurricular duties. it was exhausting pretending to care, faking a smile just so your superiors thought you were the perfect leader. whatever gets you into university, right?

you needed a break. you stepped up to the rooftop after sneaking into the locked stairway. oddly enough, it was already open. you tip–toed in on guard, preparing to hit someone with your bag before you noticed a shadow against the pavement

but as soon as you stepped out, banri was waiting

it was nearly sunset, and banri was playing some game on his phone against one of the benches against the border

you paused, not sure what to say before he casually looked up and did a double take, rushing to pocket his phone and standing up

silence. like you two had nothing to say after all these years. you didn’t expect to see him again, you stopped caring about his laziness and focused on yourself even if you didn’t have the motivation anymore

banri awkwardly put his hands in his pockets, the blazer elbows almost torn to shreds. a strand of his hair fell in front of his face, you wanted to reach out and push it back

here you were, with a perfect appearance with nothing out of place, as expected of a model student. your uniform was ironed to perfection and had no creases despite your tree jump. you learned how to get rid of the evidence

when nothing seemed to be happening, you almost turned around before banri spoke way too loudly

“i’m sorry.” banri choked out, like he was saying it against his will. you froze, not wanting to turn around as you gripped the strap of your backpack. was he being serious?

“i’m... sorry for basically picking on you in middle school. it was dumb of me, i was stupid.” banri explained, appearing cool but his fingers were clearly fidgeting in his pockets. oh, he was serious

a part of your child self felt like it was healed, knowing you had one over settsu banri. you nodded, turning slowly to face your childhood rival. your childhood competitor. the childhood champion of everything

this time, you were the winner, but it didn’t feel like it

“yeah? i’m sorry for beating your ass twice then.” you joked, seeing the tension leave his shoulders as he naturally laughed. it was almost therapeutic to finally not fight for something for once

“truce?” banri put his fist out, and you didn’t even have to think about it before moving forward and fist–bumping him

“truce.”

you and banri became close after your so–called peace treaty. you put all the rivalry behind you, you forgave him

banri surprisingly understood you had a “perfect reputation” to uphold despite all the secret trouble you got in. in public, he stayed away and pretended like you didn’t exist. in private, you two snuck onto the rooftop to have lunch and stay until night, talking about nothing and everything at once

you even tried getting him back on track, using the temptation of competition to trick him in doing his work (it at least worked half the time)

(“i definitely could finish this faster than you!” banri protested, scribbling his answers and he always finished first. he never realized what you were doing when he was in the heat of the moment)

banri had never stayed at school this long, his attendance was making a come back and he was even looking forward to times he could see you in between classes

(he never put this much effort in, he didn’t want to find out he wasn’t naturally good at being your friend)

everything was good. you two were compatiable friends who cursed every middle school teacher who set them up to be enemies. you swore at teachers who now abused their position of power and laughed about leading a revolution. you two were young, dumb teens who wanted change. you wanted anarchy, he knew enough about it to get behind it

banri texted you screenshots of his elite gaming status in the game he recommended to you, getting a response the next day proving you were almost at his level. damn. he could respect that

banri took you to his favorite local arcade, (believe it or not) after you claimed you could at least tie him at something. when he saw you get frustrated, he pretended to stumble on the arrow pad for DDR and feigned annoyance as you beat him for once. he even gave you his spare coins once he got bored and watched you, adding unnecessary commentary you’d kick him for

(“not again!” banri pretended to cower, protecting his jaw that was already healed)

you guys would even raid 24/7 stores after leaving school, stocking up on snacks and energy drinks so you could stay awake throughout the day after game night

but his favorite thing to do with you was sneaking out and returning you back before curfew. banri was naturally a homebody that didn’t find the outside fun, but when you confessed you never had a late night drive before, he arrived a block away and nearly gave you a heart attack when he knocked on your window

(you two agreed to have a special code and banri would knock to the beat of your favorite game’s theme song)

that night, you sat on the hood of his car and watched the stars, unaware of how banri couldn’t tear his eyes away from you

when banri dropped you off and helped you back in with his hand at your back, he nearly fell off the tree as you made your way onto your second–floor bedroom

you smiled, a strangeness to your windswept hair and messy clothes. you didn’t care what you looked like around him

banri gulped, forcing himself down the tree as he ran to his car, heart racing a mile a minute

what the hell was that? banri took a deep breath in the driver’s seat, rubbing his forehead as he groaned. why did he feel like this? did you do something to his soda or something?

as banri drove home, he flipped on the radio. teenage dirtbag by wheatus blasted on the inner roads

“how does she know who i am? why does she give a damn about me?”

banri braked, the car halting in the middle of the road. it was 3am, the street lights gave way to the empty, deserted road

oh my god. he liked you

he liked the person who gave him a black eye, got him a week suspension, kicked him in the jaw, and got him caught by his teacher

teenage dirtbag faded out on the street as banri sat there, listening to the lyrics

“fuck.” banri deadpanned, knowing things wouldn’t be good if he kept acting up like this

well, everything was good, until that night

banri arrived at midnight sharp like always. you rolled out of bed with full clothing ready for any night activity he planned

he took your hand to go down even though he knew damn well you didn’t need the help. sneaking out was like second nature at this point, it was a miracle you two hadn’t been busted yet

you two were stealthy, avoided all the cameras your parents put in place after noticing there were footsteps imprinted on the grass (it didn’t bother banri, he liked the challenge)

speeding off, banri slowed down to the speed limit once he saw you push the roof down and stick your upper body out into the wind. he shook his head, lowering the windows as well. he heard you scream along to whatever pop song was on at the top of your lungs

in that moment, you forget you were hanasaki academy’s perfect model student. you were just a person having the time of their life with their best friend

pulling into an abandoned parking lot, banri stopped in the middle as he tugged your shirt down. his wolfish grin seemed electric, like he was high on a predictable adrenaline rush already

“hey, do you trust me?” banri revved the engine, one hand on the wheel and the other out as a fist

it felt like that day back on the school rooftop where you made a truce with your middle school rival. like everything was about to change

without a second thought, you bumped your fist to his. “i do.”

banri shifted to level one as he turned the wheels to a full direction. you held onto the edge of the door as you realized what he was about to do

“you’re joking!” you yelled over the sound of the engine, banri flashing you a quick wink before the car started spinning. he was doing donuts because you said you wanted donuts the other day, this was not what you meant!

“you knew i didn’t mean it like this, you jerk!” you protested, but couldn’t help but laugh along with banri as smoke rose from the tire tracks on the concrete. you felt dizzy, but you never felt more alive laughing with your best friend in the middle of the night

banri suddenly stopped, his foot on the brake as a distant shout made you freeze

“hey, who’s trespassing?!”

“go, go, go!” you yelled, pushing banri’s arm as his foot triggered the gas and changed the speed. you guys zoomed out of the supposedly “abandoned” parking lot, hearing the random owner attempt to chase after you before tripping on his own feet

“holy shit!” you exclaimed, not feeling sorry you were laughing at the man who was now shaking his fist at you. you knew it was too dark to even see banri’s license plate, you were fine. you felt your energy peak as you couldn’t help but turn around with a wide smile

“did you see that guy’s face, he looked like he was ready to kill—” you started but banri braked again, both hands tightly gripping the wheel. you almost lurched forward but banri stuck his arm out against your chest, holding you to your seat as he glared at you

“how is this funny to you? we... you! you almost got caught! your future would’ve been ruined, do you understand how severe that situation was?!” banri ranted, sweating as he had to practice controlled breathing to prevent himself from saying something he’d regret. he was so worried, he never cared this much

“so what at this point? what’s there to even live for after college?” you scoffed, crossing your arms as you looked away. banri’s arm started retracting, but he randomly grabbed your face and pulled you over the divider, looking you deeply in the eyes like he never wanted to let you go. like he wanted to remember this forever

“me. live for me.” banri muttered, before he closed the distance between you two. your childhood rival, competitor, and enemy liked you

high on adrenaline, you kissed back. you were on top of the world

and suddenly, everything was good again

you both won

#settsu banri #banri settsu #a3! act! addict! actors!#a3!#act! addict! actors!#a3! actor training game #a3! headcanons #act! addict! actors! headcanons #mankai a3!#mankai company #a3! x reader #a3 x reader #banri x reader #a3! banri #a3 banri

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alecmagnuslwb · 4 years

Text

Young Fools

Writer’s Month 2020 Day Twenty-Nine

Read on AO3

“And lastly with the Salem witch trials, Zatara and Constantine,” the teacher says just before the bell rings. John startles from where he’d definitely been napping through most of class.

Oh fuck, he thinks first, because group projects are absolutely not his thing. And double oh fuck, he thinks when he realizes who his partner is.

John Constantine is unaffected. He walks through the halls of school head held high, beat up trench coat with a bi pride flag pin on it not giving a fuck. Ever since his mother moved them to the states to get away from his father the English transfer has made a name for himself as the school’s resident bad boy. Late to classes, always getting caught smoking and telling off anyone who looked at him sideways.

He’s perfectly content with everyone thinking he doesn’t give a damn about them and that he’s an asshole.

Except her.

Zatanna Zatara is the genius goth princess of his dreams and the only thing that’s left him truly feeling something other than annoyance or anger since they moved.

He darts out of the classroom as soon as he can though, just because he likes the girl doesn’t mean he’s going to happily do a group project or worse yet make a fool of himself in front of her.

“Hey Constantine wait up!” she shouts running after him in the hall. He doesn’t know how she manages it in the chunky boots she’s wearing, but she catches up to him in seconds. She trips a little when she reaches him grabbing his arm for stability. It’s in that moment he realizes this is the closest they’ve been in the year they’ve been attending school together and this is most definitely the first time they’ve touched.

John looks at her the uninterested demeanor he’s maintained on full display.

“Hi,” she says smiling at him and John feels his steely demeanor slipping away already. “You ran off on me there, partner.” Her arm drops and John misses the contact immediately.

“Uh, yeah,” he says scratching at the back of his neck. “Sorry, ‘bout that. I’m just not the best at teamwork.”

Zatanna nods her lips twisting up in thought.

“Well I can work around that,” she says with a confident pat to his arm. “Meet me after school in the parking lot, you’re coming over and we’re working on this project.”

She walks away leaving him no room for argument strutting off to catch up with her friends. John watches her go in interest and in confusion. No one, save for Boston who forced his friendship upon John and who he’s fairly certain just talks so much he misses all social cues, has ever ignored his standoffish behavior before. No one’s ever really fought back against it before until now.

There’s no way he’s getting out of this project without breaking his don’t give a fuck attitude around her and he just knows it.

For some reason even though he could very easily just skip the rest of his classes and not show up in the parking lot, he sticks around until the final bell rings, attending all of his classes and everything.

Zatanna walks out with her little pack of friends she’s often with and smiles when she spots him. She turns to them throwing a wave and then makes her way over to John.

“Hey,” she says once she gets to him. “Not gonna lie I thought the chances of you not showing were 80 to 20 not in my favor.”

John huffs a laugh. “More like 70/40.”

Zatanna laughs at that a genuine thing that lights up her dark blue eyes even more.

“Come on, my cars this way,” she says tugging on his sleeve. Across the lot a series of wolf whistles sound from Zatanna’s friends as they all pile into another car. Zatanna stops and rolls her eyes.

“Ignore triple a,” she says gesturing to the end of the lot.

“Triple a?”

“Abby, Alec and Andrew. They’re my best friends and it’s just easier to call them that than list them off,” she shrugs then nods at a black vehicle once they’re in front of it. “This is me.”

John looks at the car that previously he could only see the front end of and realizes starkly that it’s a hearse.

“Um, do you drive a hearse?” he asks walking to the passenger side.

They both get in and Zatanna chuckles.

“Yup,” she says starting the engine. “My family’s in the funeral business.”

“I thought your dad was a magician?” John says recalling some conversation he overheard when a couple of jocks were mocking her for her style. They’d ended up with live fireworks in their lockers the next day courtesy of him, not that she or they know that.

“He is on the side, funeral directing is the main source of income though,” she explains a little hesitantly. It’s clear some people have judged her families work. John is the son of a full time alcoholic and a grocery clerk so he’s not about to be one to judge.

“Creepy, and kinda cool,” he says with a smirk. She tilts her head to look at him briefly biting her lip holding in a smile. The rest of the ride is spent mostly talking about their project and John finds himself actively caring about something from school for the first time ever.

“You sure know a lot about witches being burned at the stake for a seventeen-year-old,” he says after they park in the driveway outside of her house which also serves as funeral home.

She chuckles opening the large double doors.

“Grow up around dead bodies and you find yourself into all sorts of spooky stuff,” she says gesturing for him to follow her upstairs. They walk past two large halls where he assumes funerals are held and a casket display room. John wonders how inappropriate it would be to ask her if they can go down to the mortuary before he leaves.

She comes to a stop at the top of the stairs pulling John into the first door on the right and just like that he finds himself in her bedroom. In the past year they’ve said maybe a three dozen words to one another, John always just noticing her from afar, and now he’s alone with her in her bedroom.

She pulls a wheelie chair from her desk gesturing for him to sit down as she crosses her legs and sits on her bed.

She dives right in basically planning out their entire project on her own, but asking for his input anyways. He listens closely while she talks, but surveys her room as well. The room is at least seventy percent books ranging from classics like Frankenstein to specific movie themed cookbooks. Her wall space that isn’t bookshelves is scattered with an array of indie band posters and photos of her with her friends. The thing that catches John’s attention most is the top hat and wand sitting on the desk on top of an old book he can’t read the title of. He wonders if maybe there’s a little more to her love of witches and her father’s side gig.

It doesn’t take long before they have a game plan, that shockingly he plans to actually follow if for no other reason than to not let her down, and John learns that she may or may not already own painted mini figurines of Salem witches for their diorama. They migrate downstairs after that both seemingly prolonging their time together with conversation swerving away from school.

Draped across a row of fancy folding chairs with an empty casket at the front of the room John finds himself telling Zatanna little bits and pieces of himself he hasn’t told anyone since coming to the states. In turn she tells him about her family and incredibly specific music tastes.

“Thank for not being weird about all this,” she says gesturing to the room at large after a while. “Or asking to see a dead body.”

John coughs at that bit glad he refrained from asking earlier.

“Most people don’t get it or think it’s too creepy,” she goes on picking at her fishnets lightly. He’s constantly in awe that she gets away with wearing them at school surprised he’s never seen her in detention for dress code violations with him.

John just shrugs. “So you live in a funeral home, I live in a shitty trailer park where my kitchen, living room and bathroom are basically all one room. Everybody’s got different lives, no point in judging someone else’s.”

She stops picking at her fishnets and looks up at him from under her choppy bangs with a smile. Her eyes catch on the clock behind him.

“Oh, shit you should go before my dad gets back. He’ll absolutely kill us both if he finds out I was alone unattended with a boy who willingly wears a trench coat,” she says after seeing the time. It’s already almost eight and John has no idea where the time has gone.

He turns down her offer of a ride, even though he’d kill for a few more minutes alone, opting to walk home instead. She walks with him to the front door pausing and tugging on his coat once he’s stepped outside.

“We should have lunch tomorrow, John,” she says leaning against the doorframe and calling him by his first name for the first time.

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose. You and your friends got your thing,” he says. Part of him would also admittedly feel a little bad abandoning Boston, would he just sit there and talk to himself for forty-five minutes if John wasn’t there?

“Well you and your talkative friend can absolutely join us sometime if you’d like, but I was thinking more just you and me tomorrow,” she says reaching out and fixing the lapel of his jacket quickly. “I bring my lunch most days since I’m a vegetarian and I’m sure you know all the good spots where a teacher can’t find a couple students for a whole period.”

He smiles at her shoving his hands in his pockets so he doesn’t do something stupid like reach out and kiss her, especially if he’s reading this wrong.

“So we can work on the project?” he asks wanting to be certain.

Zatanna purses her lips in thought for a second and then morphs into a smile.

“Nope.”

John chuckles, “Well in that case I know all the secret spots.”

Her smile just gets brighter at that. She pushes off the doorframe and leans in to kiss him on the cheek lightly.

“Great,” she says pulling back and slowly closing the door. “See you tomorrow.”

And then all because of a kiss on the cheek resident bad boy John Constantine can’t stop smiling the entire walk home.

#my fic #writersmonth2020 #johnzee #john constantine #zatanna zatara

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tothestanders · 4 years

Text

Trading Places

Summary:

"Why’d you harass me about wanting to play video games instead of talking to my friend? You don’t care about that sort of thing.”

Remus’s grin widened.

“Now Thomas, maybe Remus is turning over a new leaf. In that case, we should celebrate! How about we throw a bunch of Babybel cheese at people’s cars so the wax stains them red in pretty polka dots!

”Thomas stared at Patton. “…That’s vandalism. You want me to vandalize people’s cars?"

Or, Patton and Remus swap roles. It goes about as well as you’d expect.

Warnings: canon-typical Remus language

Read on AO3 here

Thomas’s back ached from being hunched over so long, fingers half numb from hours of button pressing. Thomas hardly noticed. He was only one level away from meeting the final Boss. Weeks of gameplay had been leading up to this moment. All the lost sleep and forgotten meals were about to pay off in the greatest, grandest, most magnificent battle of all time –

Something ringing cut through Thomas’s laser focus, jolting him back to the real world. He frantically groped for the ‘pause’ button before tearing his eyes away to read the caller ID on his phone. A friend from community theater. Thomas was disappointed for a moment that it wasn’t just ignorable spam, then immediately felt guilty. He quickly accepted the call.

“Hey man, what’s up?” he spoke into the phone. “Oh! Free to talk right now?” Thomas glanced longingly at the paused video game. “Um, well…”

“Are you really gonna hang up on your friend for a video game? Wow, Thomas, I didn’t realize you were even more evil than I am.”

Thomas nearly threw his phone in surprise. Next to him on the sofa suddenly sat the Duke, his face shifting between maudlin disappointment and a suppressed grin.

“What the heck, man! Why you gotta pop up in my blind spot like that?” Thomas yelled, putting the phone on mute while noises of confusion came through the speaker.

“Why you gotta be a shitty friend?” Remus replied without missing a beat. “What if they’re in crisis? What if their family just disowned them? What if they lost their job and can’t afford rent or food and have nowhere to go and you were their last option for help and now they’re going to spend the night on the streets and get mugged and then murdered and so eviscerated that they won’t be able to identify the body and he’ll be tossed into a mass grave where he’ll get devoured by worms at age thirty…”

“Oh my God, stop!” Thomas tried to command, to no avail.

“…and then he’ll turn into a zombie with his mind trapped in his rotting brain and forced to watch as his body kills people…”

“I hope your friend is doing all right!” Thomas whirled around to see Patton sitting on his other side, expression sympathetic. He didn’t seem to notice that Remus was there or still talking. Or maybe he was just ignoring him.

“Oh, thank God, Patton. Do you think it’s okay for me to play my video game instead of talking? I’m just so close to the boss battle and I really wanna finish it.”

“Well, I think your pal sounded fine, but better safe than sorry. How about you can finish your game, but first we say something to cheer him up just in case?”

“…and once all his loved ones have been eaten alive his zombie brain will come back to life and have to live with the horror of what he’s done…”

Desperate to get the Duke’s morbid monologue to stop, Thomas rushed to agree. “Yeah, sure. Any ideas?”

“Oh, you know I’ve always got something up my sleeve. A dad joke is never a bad joke!” He paused a second to think. “What has two butts and kills people? An assassin!”

Without a second thought, Thomas lifted the phone back to his face, unmuted it, and repeated the joke. He snorted at his own punchline, mentally congratulating himself on the pun. Then realization set in. Patton seemed to have the same realization, judging by the look of self-directed horror on his face.

The sound of laughter came through the phone. “Sorry, that was kind of a silly one. But glad you liked it,” Thomas said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Listen, I was kinda in the middle of something when you called, but I’d love to catch up later tonight if that works for you?” His friend assured him it was no problem, and after setting up a time to chat later, they hung up.

“What the heck was that?” Thomas said.

“Great teamwork!” Remus chimed, raising a hand to high-five Patton across Thomas’s body. Patton eyed it nervously, then lightly tapped the palm. Then not so subtly wiped his hand on his pants.

“Sorry, kiddo. I didn’t mean to use potty language,” Patton said, shaking his head. “A dad’s gotta set a good example for his kids! Not my best work, huh?”

“Yeah, that was weird,” Thomas said. “But mostly I meant Remus. Why’d you harass me about wanting to play video games instead of talking to my friend? You don’t care about that sort of thing.”

Remus’s grin widened.

Thomas stared at Patton. “…That’s vandalism. You want me to vandalize people’s cars? And wouldn’t that probably make dents and break the windows?”

Patton’s face fell into a look of consternation. “Oh, yes, sorry. That would be very inconsiderate. Definitely don’t do that, Thomas. Okay, instead, we can celebrate with food! I think we’ve got eggs, pickles, maple syrup, and coffee in the kitchen. Sounds like the ingredients for a yummy soup.”

“Soup?” Thomas repeated in disbelief.

Patton tilted his head. “Yeah, soup. You know, a liquid you can eat! We could add cinnamon too if you want.”

“I love it, Patton! Look who’s finally not being such a fuddy-daddy,” Remus said, drumming his fingers against his cheek.

Thomas looked rapidly between the two of them. “Okay, is someone going to explain what’s going on here or am I just gonna stay confused?”

“You could’ve skipped all the confusion in the first place if you’d just listened to me earlier. I knew you liked boys by age 6!” Remus answered, and Thomas groaned. But then the Duke let out a long, dramatic sigh and stood, spreading his arms wide. “All right, killjoy. I swapped us, of course!”

“What? You can’t do that!” Patton reprimanded. “You switch back with Thomas right now, mister! This is Thomas Sanders Sides, not Remus Sanders Sides.”

Remus blinked. “Uh, right. No. I swapped our roles, Patton.”

Patton’s eyes widened with realization. “Ohhh. Well that’s much better.” He nodded to himself. Then, “Hey! You switch us back right now, mister!”

“Oopsie doodles, no can doozies. This is way too much fun! Now, Thomas, about your content.” Remus turned to face Thomas, a manic gleam in his eyes. “You really love to coddle your viewers, huh? Do you think they can tell? Do you think they click on your channel and get whacked in the face with the patronizing ooey gooey BS you sprinkle over their dainty little heads? They’re probably devastated you don’t trust them to be able to handle anything more meaningful and substantial than the trite twaddle you call videos.”

Remus pushed up his cheeks with his fists, lower lip jutting out in an exaggerated pout. “Aw, poor babies. Their favorite Youtube star thinks nothing of them. That’s gotta cut like a machete to the heart.”

“Okay! Got it,” Thomas said. “So what I’m hearing is you’re my morality now?” Horror rose in his throat. “And Patton is my bad creativity?” Remus nodded excitedly. Patton looked nauseous. “Why would you do that?” Thomas asked, desperate.

“Oh, it’s simple. Dear Virgie didn’t like the bloody death threat I left on his wall earlier. Talk about not being able to take a joke, amirite?” Patton grimaced at that idea of a ‘joke.’ “Anyway, then he went off about how I’ll” – Remus adopted a mocking, bored tone to accompany his air quotes – “‘never be an important Side’ because I ‘don’t know the difference between right and wrong.’ Blah, blah, blah. But that was just too good of a challenge to pass up!”

“Too good of a challenge…so you’re trying to prove Virgil wrong? By being my morality? ” Thomas clarified in dismay.

“Yep! And proving that I could gain a whole lotta influence real quick if I wanted. Good little Thomas would never repress his moral drive.” Remus smiled sweetly at him.

“Sure, okay. This is not happening.” Thomas turned to Patton. “You’re my real morality. Can’t you, like, take your job back? Please?”

“Afraid not,” the Duke answered for him in a voice dripping with fake sympathy. “Where do you think your Sides comes from, Thomas? We’re figments of your imagination, after all.”

Thomas rested his face in his hand, exhausted by the whole situation. “I’m not following.”

“It’s easy. Imagination is part of creativity.” He did a mirror of Roman’s typical arm flourish at the mention of his function. “Therefore, your creativity created your Sides and is the only thing that can change them as it pleases. As I please.”

“Hold on, does that mean you and Roman are, like, literally everyone else’s dads?” Thomas asked.

“Hey now, kiddo. Don’t go stealing my kids out from under me,” Patton said, pointing a stern finger.

“Don’t worry, I’m a deadbeat dad!” Remus replied. Then his expression turned thoughtful. It was the most terrifying thing Thomas had ever seen. “Huh, isn’t it interesting that we’re figments of your imagination but also kinda not? I mean, we’ve got thoughts and feelings of our own. Yet our whole existence revolves around you.” Thomas braced, not sure where this was going but sure it wasn’t anywhere good. “You call all the shots about what we do, and if one of us wants to do something? Well, better pimp yourself out to get on the Big Daddy’s good side –”

“What?!”

“– and hope he graciously agrees. No autonomy for us. Just wasting away in your brain while you fuck around with the body. Male privilege? Please, let’s talk corporeal privilege, Thomas.”

Remus’s tone stayed casual, gaze idly wandering as he thought aloud. But the wave of guilt that came with his words was enough to nearly knock Thomas over, and made his eyes sting with tears. The Duke actually had a point. Was Thomas a terrible person? Oh, God. Was he abusing his Sides?

“Okay, kiddo.” Patton said, holding out his hands in a pacifying gesture. “That’s some pretty heavy stuff. Let’s not get carried away, all right? Don’t worry Thomas, we love being part of your amazing head!”

“Did someone say amazing head? I was wondering when you’d ask –”

Thomas closed his eyes. He could not deal with this. His Morality was suggesting crime, his Bad Creativity was giving him intrusive guilt, except all that was actually the other way around, now. Too much chaos, too many moral crises jam packed into ten minutes, too much Remus. Frankly, at this point he was just surprised Virgil hadn’t popped up to yell at him yet. Thomas was considering just getting up and walking away, irrationally hoping that no one would follow, when he remembered something.

“Wait a second. You said only Creativity could switch you guys back, right?”

“Yeppers! And don’t bother calling Roman, he’s still black and blue from reading Youtube comments earlier,” Remus replied cheerfully. Thomas made a mental note to check on Roman once all this was done.

“But you switched roles with Patton,” he continued, frown sliding into a sly smile. “Which means that Patton is now my Creativity – well, part of it, anyway. Which means he can switch you back!” Thomas turned eagerly to his father figure figment.

“Ah, I’m not so sure about that, kiddo.” Patton’s eyes were wide as saucers. “What if tapping into a” – his voice fell to a whisper – “dark power turns me evil. Like Ursula from A Little Mermaid.”

“Is that Ursula’s backstory?” Thomas asked curiously.

“No, actually! The real one is much better,” Remus said. “She almost got burned alive when her village figured out she was part octopus. Good thing her dear brother rescued her. Oh, except he thought she was a monster too, so he banished her to the cesspit of the sea.” Remus’s enthusiastic tone only made his darkened expression the more unnerving.

Thomas shifted uneasily. Once again, he was reminded just how much he didn’t know about what went on in his own head. But then again, Remus had told him, hadn’t he?

The unloved brother from the Genesis.

He began to spiral back down Remus’s guilt trip about responsibility to his Sides. Thankfully his thoughts were interrupted by Patton. “Aw, poor thing! People can be meaner than a bully burning a baby bunny in a Satanic ritual.” What? “Uh, I mean! A stuffed bunny. Anyway, I hope Ursula is okay now.”

“Nope, she died,” Remus informed him. Patton’s lip started to wobble.

“So that’s good news!” Thomas butted in before things could get any more derailed. He’d have time later to worry about sibling rivalry and possible injustice among figments of his imagination. “I mean, Ursula didn’t turn evil from using dark magic. So Patton has nothing to worry about. I’m sure everything will be fine.”

“I don’t know…”

“Please, I need my good old morality back. No one else can beat the top pop.” Thomas smiled at the giggle that got.

“Oh, all right. I’ll give it the old college try.”

Thomas sighed in relief and watched as Patton squeezed his eyes and fists tight, brow furrowing in intense concentration. A moment later he cracked an eye open. “Did it work?”

“I don’t know, tell a joke!” Thomas urged.

“Um…oh! Why can’t a nose be twelve inches long? Because then it’d be a foot!”

Thomas groaned, but he was smiling. Finally, his Sides were back to normal.

“Or my dick!” Remus chirped.

Yeah, normal. The thought was far fonder than it had any right to be.

“See, Patton? There was nothing to worry about. No spooky magical corruption – hey what’s up with your logo?” Thomas pointed at the heart on Patton’s shirt. It had turned upside down, its shape now looking a lot like…well.

Remus gasped in delight. “Awesome! Taking style inspiration from your favorite Creativity, I see.”

“You’re not my favorite Creativity,” Patton said, and Thomas couldn’t help his flinch. But then, “I can’t play favorites with my kids! You’re all perfect just the way you are.”

The side-eye Remus gave Patton was truly impressive. “Perfect, huh? Even when I do this?” Suddenly he was holding what looked kinda like a bouquet of pale, bloody flowers. Then Thomas spotted the fingernails. He watched as the entire handful of severed fingers slid down Remus’s throat and disappeared with a loud slurp.

“Of course!” Patton replied, seemingly unfazed. “No matter what you do, you’re still famILY.”

Okay, that was weird. Patton, not bothered by that sickening gesture? But wait a second – was it sickening? Strangely enough, Thomas found he wasn’t all that bothered by it either. Like some of his aversion to Remus had faded.

The suspicious look didn’t leave Remus’s face, but something about him seemed…calmer, than it had a minute ago. Softer.

Patton looked back at his shirt with a puzzled expression. “That’s funny, I could’ve sworn the heart was right-side up. Maybe I need new glasses!”

“I wouldn’t call that a heart anymore. It’s totally a pair of dingle-dangles.”

“A what?” Thomas said, unable to believe the Duke had actually used a euphemism. And a downright cutesy one, at that. His gaze fell to Remus’s belt.

“My eyes are up here, you saucy minx. And here,” Remus added, pointing to the eyeball on his shoulder.

“No, look,” Thomas said, pointing to the logo on the belt buckle. The crescent moon at the top seemed to have morphed into a smiley face.

Thomas head swiveled between the smiley face and the – uh, inverted heart – several times. He thought back to what Patton had been worried about. Lasting effects of the role reversal. Oh no.

Patton and Remus, both still engrossed by their changed logos, seemed to have the same thought. In voices heavy with resignation, all three of them spoke at the same time.

“Aw, butts.”

#sanders sides #remus sanders #patton sanders #c!thomas #sanders sides fanfiction #role swap #my writing

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nightskywrites · 4 years

Text

Chapter 2/2 of The Big Three

read it on ao3 here

“Wow, it sure took you guys a while to get changed!” Midoriya waved enthusiastically as the current Class 1-A entered the training area. “So, who are you fighting? Bakugou or Todoroki?”

“It better be me,” Kacchan snarled. “I’ve been itching for a good fight.”

“No one in their right mind would have chosen you ,” Shouto said under his breath.

“Actually, Problem Child,” Aizawa said with a smile that had alarm bells going off in Izuku’s head screaming logical ruse incoming! . “It was a unanimous decision that they would be fighting you.”

“WHAT?” Bakugou yelled, explosions going off.

“Me?” Izuku stutters. He’s sure his face is a bright, flaming red. “They don’t want to fight Kaachan? Or what about Todoroki?”

Aizawa shakes his head. “They all wanted to fight you .”

“This is bullshit,” Bakugou spits. “If the nerd doesn’t want to fight, let me do it!” The angry boy whirls on him, and he automatically takes a step back, hands raised. “You don’t want to do it, right shitty Deku?”

“No, let Izuku do it,” Shouto comes to his rescue.

“Fine,” Bakugou grumbles. “Show these twerps whose boss.”

The twerps in question look apprehensive as Izuku hesitantly shrugs off his jacket, their eyes tracking as he folds it and places it on the sidelines.

“What’s with the arm thing?” One of the girls asks, eyes drawn to the black sleeve on Izuku’s right arm. “Is it support gear?”

“It’s none of your business,” Todoroki snaps.

The girl freezes in fear, and Izuku gives her a gentle smile. “It’s ok, I don’t mind.” He turns to his boyfriend. “And while I appreciate it, Shouto, don’t bite their heads off. They’re young.”

Shouto frowns. “You almost died.”

“ What !” The class exclaims.

Izuku looks to Aizawa for permission, and at the man’s nod, he slides the sleeve off. He hates the way the scar looks - ugly and twisted, skin marred and raised. It covers the whole top of his arm with faint lines trailing down. Even after all these years, it’s red and raw instead of white.

“Holy shit,” he hears one of the first years whisper.

“Not pretty, right?” He smiles self-deprecatingly. “Our first year, the training camp run by the Wild Wild Pussycats was attacked by the League of Villains, which I’m sure you all heard about. Mandalay’s nephew was attacked by the villain Muscular, and I was the only one fast enough to get there. ”

The girl from before bows. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, eyes on the ground. “He gave you that scar.”

“Azuma, stand up,” Aizawa says. “Problem Child did that to himself.”

“Wait,” the boy with wings interjects, shifting his weight from talon to talon. “Now I’m confused.”

“This,” he says, sliding the sleeve back on, “is what happens when you don’t know your limits. My quirk came in late, because if I got it any sooner I probably would have blown my arms off. Even then, I broke a lot of bones my first year.

I knew the risks, but I couldn’t have beaten that villain without using my power at over 100% when my body couldn’t even handle 20. I’m extremely lucky my arm is still functional. So,” he smiles, “Let this be a lesson in self-restraint.”

“Dude,” a girl with white hair says. “That’s so badass.”

“Thank you, Problem Child, for that lesson in self-control,” Aizawa flops on the ground, yellow sleeping bag cocooned around him. “Wake me up when it’s over.”

“Yes sir!” Izuku grins.

Aizawa mutters something about eye damage then promptly rolls over and falls asleep. The Class 1-A students spread out, dividing themselves into groups. The boy with wings takes to the air, flapping gently to keep himself hovering as he instructs his classmates.

So that’s the leader , Izuku thinks. Right now, he’s the basis of their strategy. They don’t really seem to be objecting, meaning they’re used to following his plans. Which means . . .

One For All thrums beneath his skin, green lightning flashing as he activates Full Cowl. The nerves of presenting in front of fellow students are gone, replaced by the familiar rush of adrenaline and the beating of his own heart. “Come at me,” he grins, and the fight begins in earnest.

The close range fighters charge. An abnormally long arm shoots for him, and he twists, letting it rocket past his head and embed in the stone behind him. Izuku grabs the arm and flips himself up, settling into a kneeling position before launching himself into a flip like a swimmer off a diving board.

He lands behind the four students, one still trying to get his arm out of the concrete. Izuku sweeps low, knocking out the kid's legs and he goes down hard, arm trapped.

“Make sure you always know your surroundings!” He says, dancing under a punch before sliding between the legs and aiming a well placed kick to the side. “You want to be careful that your quirk is always an advantage and not a hindrance. Always have a plan!”

“Fall back!” The winged kid shouts, and the remaining two close range fighters comply. He can’t obviously tell what their quirks are, but he doesn’t have to. Although they’re not bad, they still don’t have the same close-knit teamwork his class did in their first year, forced onto them from surviving villain attack after villain attack, every event a fight for their lives.

Izuku is thankful for what that means, even if it is hurting them right now.

“Oi, Deku, hurry this the hell up!” Kaachan shouts. “We have patrol later!”

Izuku huffs. “I am trying to teach them, not just beat them up.”

Time for action. He activates Float, taking him into the air until he’s parallel with the winged boy. Without giving him time to react, he sends Black Whip snaking out, wrapping around his wings and immobilizing him, pulling him to the ground. The darkness winds around the kid’s limbs and mouth, gagging him and stopping him from communicating.

As Izuku predicted, the class falls apart.

Some kids lunge at him, attacks sloppy and predictable, which he dodges with ease, using Propel to maneuver himself through the teenagers with ease.

The sky above him darkens, and he looks up to see a massive cloud. The girl with the white hair is hovering, arms outstretched and palms glowing.

“You may be a badass,” she grins, “but you’re not the only one with a little lightning.”

His eyes widen and he shoots himself forward into a roll. The lightning arcs down besides him, cracking the pavement.

“That’s so cool!” He gushes as he Propel flips him to his feet. “Can you summon any sort of weather, or just lightning? What’s your voltage limit?”

A tail wooshes over his head as he ducks, grabbing on to the appendage and spinning twice before launching the poor student into his fellow classmates like a bowling ball.

Strike! Izuku thinks victoriously.

From that point on, it’s easy to use Black Whip to make quick work of anyone still standing and restrain those he’s already taken out. In under five minutes, the entirety of Class 1-A is sitting in a pile in the center of the training ground, bound by Izuku’s second quirk and utterly helpless.

“Aizawa-sensei,” the boy with wings calls, squirming uncomfortably from where the appendages were pinned to his back. “We’re done.”

The yellow sleeping bag rolls over, and the exhausted face of Aizawa peers out through a mat of tangled hair.

“That was fast,” the teacher remarks dryly, shamelessly using the wall to lever himself into a sitting position. “I was hoping my nap would be longer.”

Midoriya grimaces. “Sorry, Aizawa-sensei.” He releases Black Whip and starts helping first years to their feet. “School is almost over, though!”

A cold hand lands on his shoulder and he yelps. “Shouto!”

His boyfriend laughs. “I thought Bakugou was having a conniption.”

“I can fucking hear you, Icy-Hot,” Kaachan snaps from somewhere behind him. The blonde stalks forward until the three of them are standing side-by-side. “Good job, shitty Deku, or whatever. You beat Togata’s time in dealing with us, that’s for fucking sure.”

“So,” Aizawa drawls, looking entirely too pleased with himself at the outcome. “What lessons have we learned from this? Sando.”

The boy with wings bristles. “We need to work on our team work,” he says finally. “It was sloppy, unrefined, disjointed, and absolute shit .”

Kaachan snorts. “Damn right.”

“Against a powerhouse like Midoriya,” he continues, “We were completely helpless once the original plan fell apart.”

“We couldn’t even touch him!” the white-haired girl groans. “Dude, is precognition one of your quirks or something?”

“Yeah, how come you only used three?”

“What are the other ones?”

“Can you show us?”

“You’re so cool!”

“Um,” Izuku steps back, a little overwhelmed.

“One at a time, don’t harass the Problem Child,” Aizawa seems resigned to his fate. “Sando, you’re correct in your assessment - the teamwork was terrible. For the next month, we’ll be doing joint exercises with Class 1-B in order to improve that.”

Groans.

“But,” Aizawa continues, logical ruse smile back in full force. He’s not even Izuku’s teacher anymore, and it’s still terrifying. “Depending on how well you do, I’ll give you another go at Midoriya. He did, after all,” now the smile is directed at him , shit, “only use three of his quirks.”

The girl with white hair breaks away from the rest of the cheering first years and makes a beeline for him. “My name is Morita,” she says. “My quirk is Weather.” Her face goes very red all of the sudden, previous confidence disappearing. “Canyoupleasetrainme?”

“Uh,” Izuku says, bewildered. Is that what his muttering sounds like? “I’m sorry, I didn’t really catch that.”

She takes a deep breath. “I said, can you please train me?”

“What?” Izuku squacks. Her face falls, and he hastily waves her hands. “It’s not a no, of course I would love to train you, I’m just realized surprised you would want me to train you, that’s all!”

“So you’ll do it?”

He nods, and her face breaks out in a grin. “Sick!” She turns back to the rest of her class. “Hey losers, guess who’s gonna get trained by the future Symbol of Peace? Suck it!”

Class 1-A explodes as Bakugou stills beside him.

“What,” he growls, “did you just call that shitty nerd?”

“Kaachan, calm down.”

“THE FUTURE SYMBOL OF PEACE? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?”

“Down, Bakugou. Good boy.”

“Deku, put a leash on your boyfriend before I explode his face.”

“That’s not very heroic, Kaachan.”

Pausing his attempts to reign in his class, Aizawa groans. “You three never change, do you?”

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cinnaminsvga · 5 years

Text

intermission • iv | eclipse

→ summary: When the love letter you wrote and submitted as an assignment is leaked to the entirety of your university, it becomes a race against time to dispel rumours and convince the seven suspected muses of the poem that they aren’t the subject before anyone realises that you are the author. Easy, right? Well… maybe not as easy as you think.

→ pairing: bts x reader (feat. sera) → genre: college!au, crack, fluff, angst → warnings: sfw other than some ugly jealousy c/o a snake → words: 4.9K → a/n: sera didn’t always use to be a shitty person. well, that’s a lie. she was always a shitty person. she just used to be able to hide it well.

— • masterlist | prev | intermission iv | next • —

–– the first day of freshman year ––

The line for the free freshman orientation merchandise is longer than Sera had anticipated, even though she had arrived almost an entire hour early. Though most people would have dismissed the lengthy queue, Sera is Asian as Asian could get, her genes forbidding her from skipping over free shit when free shit can be received. She is sure her ancestors would never forgive her if she allowed this opportunity to slip through her fingers. And so, Sera waits with the rest of the cattle as the line shortens slowly, the heat of the early sun reminiscent of the summer months that should have already passed.

After sweating her body’s weight worth of sweat, she finally finds herself near the front of the line, foot tapping impatiently as the rowdy bunch of newly hatched boylings before her fought amongst themselves for the canvas knapsacks over the pink water bottles. Fragile masculinity at its finest, Sera thinks, as she watches with something akin to pity as the runt of the litter ends up with the “girlier” merchandise in the end.

At this point, all the better free items have mostly run out, though Sera wouldn’t mind getting the university emblem encrusted notepad and pen set. It is only a matter of moral principle when she gets the water bottle after seeing the boy from before shooting her with a desperate look, probably hoping to trade items with her if she had gotten something else. Sadistic pleasure courses through her veins when she sees the light fade from his eyes, the inevitability of his pink water bottle fate permanently sealed.

Puny boy. Drink your nasty energy drinks from your pink tinted bottle for all she cares. She’ll be doing the same, at least.

Free from that slow torture, Sera now has to subject herself to more agonizing torment by waiting for the rest of her orientation group members to arrive, most of whom should have gotten to the intended meeting location by now. She observes as her harried orientation leader tries unsuccessfully to get your small group to interact with one another, his fake cheery smile looking more strained as the apathetic faces of sleep-deprived freshmen fail to respond to his forced banter.

Her orientation leader, whose name she cannot recall for the life of her but will call “Mike” from now on, coughs awkwardly into his spotted handkerchief before dabbing his sweating forehead. Sera grimaces when she notices that a small glob of snot remains stuck to his skin where he had touched, though no one seems obliged to alert him of this fact. He glances at his watch, jumping from one foot to the other, as he does another headcount for the third time in the last ten minutes.

“7… 8… 9…” His finger hovers when it reaches the last person, his brow turned downwards in worry. The glob of snot dangles ever precariously from its perch. “Umm… Does anyone know where the last person is? We’re supposed to be ten, and the first part of our agenda is starting soon.”

Sera wonders why on earth he’s asking that as if they were supposed to be friends with one another. The university had forced everyone to make a group chat with their orientation groupmates a week ago, which was honestly a lost cause considering that everyone was randomly sorted into groups. Sera’s group chat only has two messages so far, with both being from the orientation leader himself. Out of ten people, only two of them have seen the messages, with Sera being one of them.

If that’s an indicator of how today is going to be, then Sera should have poured some shots into her kombucha like a sane person would have.

“Maybe you should try calling her?” One of the girls in her group says, her gaze never leaving her phone as she types rapidly, her dexterity astonishing despite her inch-long acrylic nails. Mike, on the other hand, stares forlornly at the black screen of his phone.

“No can do. My phone died a few minutes ago when I was in the middle of calling my mom. I guess I was too excited when I was telling her about today’s orientation day.” He laughs half-heartedly at that, and Sera might’ve felt a little bad for the guy if his phone didn’t have a keychain of an anime girl with big ol’ dobonhokeros. The only thing missing from his outfit is a big backdrop of his mom’s basement behind him to complete his look.

Mike looks around the group expectantly, obviously trying to catch the eye of one of you. Everyone’s heads bow down immediately, sensing that some effort and participation are about to be required from one of them. Nothing gets tired teens to disappear into the ground quicker than being asked to volunteer for anything that needed 0.01% of their brainpower. Unluckily for Sera, she is a bit too slow in her response, immediately locking gazes with Mike as a grin stretches on his face.

“Sera! You must know Y/N, right? I saw that you and Y/N had opened the group chat the other day. Why don’t you try calling her?” He says brightly, no signs of his depression from earlier. Two boys in Supreme hoodies snicker loudly at Sera’s dismayed face, and she vows to “accidentally” stomp on their pristine white sneakers later with her muddied old trainers.

“Um. Alright,” she agrees through gritted teeth, pulling out her phone with a heavy hand. Sera wonders if you’ll even take the call, possibly wary of answering an unknown number. Her pondering only lasts a second when you answer the call on the first ring, your heavy breaths being the first sound that greets Sera’s ears.

“I’m lost! I can’t find the soccer field! I’m running as fast as I can,” is your jumbled reply, followed by a screech on your end and what sounds like a honking car in the distance. “Sorry!” you call out immediately afterwards, and Sera hazards a guess that you were only two inches away from being roadkill.

“Yeah, this is Sera, one of your orientation groupmates. Mik–I mean, our orientation leader is wondering where you are.”

“I’m–” There is a pause, and Sera thinks for a moment that you might have dropped the call by accident or something. Then, you reply shakily, sniffling slightly. “I… I don’t know??? Help???”

What is it with today? Sera is meeting more people than she would like, and all of them seem to be the human equivalent of a cry for help. Surely, this is a test from above? However, there is something endearingly pitiful about your quiet sobs that makes her want to help you a little bit. She is never one to offer her services so freely to any stranger, but then again… She could become friends with you if you weren’t such a crybaby all the time.

“Describe where you are. I’ll try to come get you,” she says, not missing the way you gasp at her generosity. A feeling of pride settles into her chest, not disliking the way you must be so grateful for her benevolence. She should do this more often.

“Will you really? Oh my god, thank you!” you say giddily. You are quick to describe your surroundings, and luckily, Sera knows exactly where you are. The good thing about being a perfectionist is that Sera loves to over-prepare, so she already did her own tour of the campus before orientation day. In hindsight, she wonders why she even bothered to attend when she could handle herself perfectly. Oh right, the free stuff.

“Okay, hold tight. Be there in a bit,” she says before hanging up the phone. Sera turns back to Mike, who looks awfully smug for being as inept as he is. He begins to gather the rest of the group together, addressing all of them loudly.

“Thanks to the lovely Sera, our last member will join us shortly. In the meantime, we’ll head to the auditorium for the first event of the day while Sera finds Y/N!”

Wait– “You’re leaving me?” Sera shouts, jaw agape. Isn’t he supposed to be in charge? Whatever happened to teamwork and all that shit he was spouting literally ten minutes ago? Yet, here he was. All Mike the Mighty Ass does is shrug his shoulders, patting her impetuously on the back.

“We’re not leaving you! The auditorium is just over there,” Mike points to the imposing domed stadium just across the field. “And we’ll be seated right at the front, so just look for us there!”

“That stadium has a 7000 person capacity. How the hell am I supposed to–”

Sera doesn’t get to finish her sentiment as Mike raises his gaudy orange flag high up into the sky, signaling the rest of the group to follow his lead. None of the little shits even bat an eye as they quickly leave Sera in the dust to look for you.

As Sera gawks at the rapidly emptying field, she surmises that no number of free water bottle could ever amount to the trauma that the past few hours have inflicted on her. You better kiss the ground that she walks on when she finds you, or else there will be consequences to pay.

Finding you is easier said than done. Sera is sure she knew where you were from your descriptions, though there is a possibility that she might have overestimated herself. Either that or your explanation had been vague at best.

“‘In front of the weird blue houses,' she said,” Sera mutters to herself, looking up at the only blue-painted buildings in sight. She supposes that “weird” is subjective, as the houses appear quaint as can be, though maybe you had found the little garden gnomes at the front to be a bit disconcerting. Regardless, there seems to be no other person in sight, unless the crotchety old man in the wheelchair might be you.

She is just about to call you again when a person with twigs in their hair comes running down the sidewalk, their backpack thumping harshly against their back with every step they take. They are waving their hands wildly in the air, a large grin on their face as they struggle to slow down their momentum before inevitably tumbling into Sera’s slight body.

She found you.

“Ooph!” Sera groans, barely holding onto her senses as she tries her best to keep both of you upright. “What the fuck? Where were you?”

“Sorry, sorry!” You apologize repeatedly, swatting away bits of leaves from your hair that consequently fall onto Sera’s sweater. “I got a bit distracted by this dude at a hair salon and I had to make a run for it–”

“Whatever,” Sera interrupts, tugging you by the elbow and back to where the orientation is being held. “Let’s just get out of here before we miss out on the stupid orientation.”

You stumble a bit as you follow after her quick strides, having to hobble a little to catch up. You tilt your head curiously at your surroundings, not recognizing any of the landmarks at all. “Uh. You sure we’re going the right way? All these buildings look weird…”

“Says the chick who couldn’t even find the soccer field.” Sera snorts, continuing to walk with determination. “If you’re going to ogle at every ‘weird’ building we pass, then it’ll take us years to get there. Hurry up!”

After taking a few wrong turns and reaching two deadends, it is only then Sera admits that she might have forgotten the way back. It’s not her fault; she’s only been on campus for a few hours before. To your credit, you don’t seem all that disheartened as she had expected, unlike how distressed you had sounded on the phone earlier. In fact, you are skipping happily along beside her, pausing every often to take a few pictures of the dormitories and lecture buildings like a tourist.

“It’s like this is the first time that you’ve ever seen a building,” Sera jokes, taking a seat on a bench as she watches you frolic around a water fountain. You strike a weird post at her, smiling radiantly with your teeth showing.

“It’s because I only just moved here! I was late because I was busy unpacking my stuff in my dorm room,” you explain, straightening up into a more dignified posture before going to sit beside her.

Sera looks at you curiously. “Oh? You’re living on res? Are you from out of town?”

You shake your head. “Nah. My mom and I live pretty far off though, and I’d prefer not to take a commute in the morning. It’s chill though; I’m sharing a room with this dude I used to go to high school with.”

“They have co-gendered dorm rooms here?” Sera’s interest is piqued, and you are quick to notice it. You laugh, shrugging your shoulders.

“Uh, kind of? We’re like childhood friends and his mom is really close with the residence dean, so she asked if we could room together, just for the first year. She doesn’t really trust him with strangers. He’s really shy, so he’s uncomfortable rooming with someone he doesn’t know.”

“So, you guys aren’t, like, dating or..?”

“Me? Dating Jungkook? Oh God, that’s funny!” You laugh, slapping your knee. The more you think about it, the more ridiculous the idea is. “He’s like a bro to me! I would never date him.”

Sera smiles, a seed of an idea being planted in her brain. She stores it for later, but for now, she asks “Oh? So you’d be fine with introducing him to me sometime? I’d love to meet new people.”

“Sure, dude. He’s really introverted, so I doubt you’ll get too much out of him,” you hum. You close your eyes, enjoying the way the breeze gently caresses your face as Sera observes you from the sidelines.

Interesting, she thinks. She’ll definitely hang around you more. You are not as annoying as she had originally thought, and maybe it would be nice to have a friend to hang out with in between classes. Unassuming, overly excitable, naive… You’re just an innocent puppy, who will follow anyone who pets it. Easy enough; Sera can afford to accommodate you.

Sera smirks, allowing herself to enjoy the breeze as well. University might not be so bad after all.

A few months pass, and being friends with you isn’t as tedious as Sera had feared. In fact, you are a pretty chill person, someone whom Sera never needs to pretend to save face around. To you, her little mean streaks are nothing but little “quirks,” and you often wave them off as silly parts of her personality. Most of the time, the things Sera says are just that: jokes. More often than not, however, Sera has just grown comfortable around you to let her filter run a little loose, letting her goofier and bitchier side come out more easily.

Call it naivety or stupidity, but Sera is thankful to have you around.

Nevertheless, there are still some small moments when that thankfulness falls a little short. Take, for example:

“That TA is totally a bitch! She gave me an 80 on that essay only because her ex-boyfriend hit me up on Instagram. It’s not my fault that her boobs sag all the way to her hips!” Sera exclaims a little too loudly, and you have to silence her through stilted giggles as the two of you pass by the aforementioned TA.

“Marina isn’t that petty,” you say, though your defense is a little too lackluster to be effective. In fact, you’ve been a bit spacey all afternoon, not really present in most of your conversations together. You exit the lecture hall, walking to the cafeteria to grab some lunch. Sera has to pull you out of the way of two speeding bicycles before she thinks to ask you what’s up.

“Huh?” You mumble back, still smiling dopily at nothing. You’ve always been the type to get lost in your head, which is hilarious to Sera, given that your current debilitating crush is on none other than the most air-headed boy on campus. She supposes there is a certain appeal for opposite personalities, though it is funny that out of all the men on campus, you had to choose the heart-on for none other than–

“I was asking you what’s up with you,” Sera repeats, tutting as the two of you arrive at the cafeteria with no further casualties. “Seriously, it’s like your head is in your ass. Don’t tell me you finally got dicked down in the janitor’s closet and you’re basking in the afterglow.”

Sera’s crude comment is what finally gets you to snap out of it. “Hell no, you sex fiend!” You hiss, cheeks reddening at the jab. “Are you ever going to let that go? I told you that fantasy in confidence!”

“My lips are as loose as my pussy, my dude. You should know by now.” Sera says plainly, directing the two of you to one of the sushi joints. You don’t even protest Sera’s choice like you ordinarily would, as you have previously gotten intense food poisoning from one of their sashimi platters a week back. You must really be overthinking something then.

“I know. I’m just saying shit right now,” you say, pulling up a chair and plopping down. You fiddle with the soy sauce bottle contemplatively. “I’m spacing out because I’ve been thinking about the essay we just got back.”

“Oh?” Sera says, eyebrows lifting at that. She pulls out the menu, taking charge for the two of you as you have never quite mastered the art of choosing what food to get. Also, you’re scared of flagging down waiters, for whatever reason. “Did you also get saggy tits as your TA? I’m still mad about that B+, by the way.”

“That’s the thing,” you pause, accidentally flipping open the soy sauce bottle’s cap and spraying yourself with drops of the dark liquid. Neither of you even flinch when it happens, so used to catastrophes happening when it comes to you. You’re like a walking disaster magnet, and Sera has no idea why karma hates you so much. It’s a miracle that you’re alive, sometimes.

So it does come as a huge surprise to her when you follow up by saying, “She gave me an A+.”

The menu drops out of Sera’s hand. “What?” she nearly screeches, scaring the waiter who had been idly standing by your table. You point an apologetic glance at him as he scurries as far away from the two of you as possible, but Sera is undeterred. The words that had come out of your mouth makes no sense whatsoever.

“But… Marina literally gives no one higher than an A! I’ve got sources from upper years saying that she’s a beast when she grades – there must have been a mistake!” Sera says, not bothering to be polite.

You shrug, looking just as confused. “I thought so too. I was going to talk to her after class a while ago, but thought better of it and decided to not look a gift horse in the mouth… Better to accept it than question it, right?”

Sera hums, not wanting to admit that it was irking her that you didn’t ask the TA about it. Her annoyance is unwarranted, however, because she would’ve done the same. Why argue over a blessing? Still, it pains her to know that you got a higher grade than she did, even though you are taking the writing course as an elective, while Sera is a writing major herself.

The two of you enjoy your meal as if nothing had happened, and that is the first time in a long while since Sera has needed to put a façade around you.

In the next coming sessions, Sera and you begin to realize that the A+ had not been a fluke as you consistently continue to ace the quizzes and assignments for your creative writing course. Your professor has been badgering you to consider switching courses for a week now, and you’ve politely declined each and every time.

“Music is just more my thing, you see,” you explain to him, bowing quickly as you exit out of the room to escape another ten minutes of his incessant pleading.

It’s really starting to grate Sera’s gears a little bit.

The thing is, Sera knows she is being petty. It’s not even a new occurrence for her, as she has been known to ditch people once they start being better at her in anything.

Gymnastics in 4th grade had been a bust when star athlete Jinyoung Choi discovered her flexibility during PE. Mathematics had gone down the drain once Abegail Sun had won the Mathlete Competition for the third time in a row. Writing should have been Sera’s only crowning achievement, as she had always grown up with people around her praising her ability to weave universes with her words.

She can’t share that spotlight, not when she’s been pushed into the shadows numerous times already. This time, she’s not going down without a fight.

The worst part about the whole situation isn’t even that you were like a baby waiting for their candy to be stolen. With Sera’s connections and sly tendencies, it wouldn’t be hard to crush you where you stood. She’s only done it once back in high school, stripped someone of their confidence so savagely that they were forced to move to another school. She is sure she could do it again, but for whatever reason, it feels like it would be too easy of a win.

The worst part is that you didn’t even want the limelight, the success. Creative writing is just a hobby for you, and you certainly don’t deserve the recognition at all. Effort should be awarded its due, and you have certainly never exerted more than a pinky finger’s worth in your entire writing career.

The final straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back, which pushed Sera past the point of reason, comes much later than anyone might have guessed. Sera’s patience is like plastic, sometimes durable and heat resistant, but oftentimes flimsy and tearable. It does not take a genius to figure out that all plastic must melt, one way or another.

Second-year comes, and Sera has all but allowed her simmering hatred to remain as just that: simmering. She is careful never to let it boil over, fearful of letting you see her break in the event that you would retaliate. Her problem is that she had allowed you to grow, forgetting to stomp on your confidence every so often so that you would be forced to depend on her. Now, you have amassed a sizeable following for your writing online, and Sera knows that you could use that power against her if you pleased. Cancel culture can be like the plague, and Sera knows the ins and outs of it better than anyone else.

Sera knows logically that you would never do that to her, as much as you would like to. Your morals restrain you from doing so, which saves Sera from some anxiety of backlash at least. Still, she has to remain careful anyway.

The two of you do not see each other as often as you once did during your first year. As sophomores, your majors require you to take more courses specialized towards your degree, meaning the general education courses that you shared were no longer required. The only time you ever saw Sera is during Creative Writing and the occasional lunch out in between classes.

Despite that, Sera just can’t get away from you, no matter how hard she tries. Your presence is everywhere: on the university newspaper, on the university forums, on club recruitment posters – hell, she thinks she sees some dude wearing a t-shirt with your face and Jungkook’s face printed on the front or something. Worst of all, she hears about you all the time, from her stupid professors who can’t stop waxing poetic about you. Case in point:

“Professor, may I speak to you?” Sera approaches Professor Puth at the front of his podium once class ends, whiffs of musky marijuana hovering around him like a cloud. You give Sera a confused look, about to ask what she wants to ask before she waves you off, urging you to go ahead.

“I’ll see you next Thursday. I got a tutorial right after this,” Sera lies smoothly, poised grin in place. Not really one to question her, you shrug your shoulders, waving both her and your professor goodbye.

“So,” Professor Puth says, peering at Sera. “Sera, right?”

Sera beams at him. “Yes, Professor. Glad you remember me.”

He hums thoughtfully, tongue jutting out as he appraises her with eyes sharper than any stoned person would have. “Yes, of course. What did you want to talk about?”

“You see, I got my assessment draft back this morning, and it says I got a C+ on it, but I’m sure I followed the rubric very carefully. Are you sure there wasn’t a mistake?” Sera says, not a hitch in her voice despite her outrage slowly starting boil over the edge. She’s never felt so humiliated in her life, having to beg like a dog for a regrade like some sort of pitiful loser.

“You might want to ask the TAs about regrading, in that case. I only graded a few of the works. Which one was yours about?”

“The poem about the withering tree, Professor.”

“Oh, yes. I remember that one. I was the one who graded it,” Professor Puth says, rubbing his chin. He tilts his head. “What did you want to ask about it?”

Sera stares at him, disbelief coloring every inch of her face. “Um, I just said… I wanted to ask – I followed the rubric and everything, so how come my grade was…” she trails off, embarrassed.

Professor Puth tuts, swiveling away to approach his desk. Sera follows, unsure for the first time in her life, as he starts rearranging his things to pack up. “Sera, I can e-mail the rubric to you again, if you want. I assure you, there is one essential part of the grading scheme that you forgot, and I’m afraid that is what cost your grade.”

Sera thinks. “Was it… the formatting?”

He barks out a laugh, slamming his papers down as if what she had just said was the funniest thing he’s heard since a Yo Mama joke. “No, of course not. It was the content! The emotion! You cannot just string highfalutin words together and expect the reader to feel moved.”

Sera flinches, offended. “I think those aspects of poetry are very subjective, Professor. Surely, you could ask for a second opinion–”

“I always ask for second opinions when grading assignments,” he says, wagging a finger. “We all agreed that your work was at least a C+, though I had originally graded it a C- at best.”

Once again, for the first time in her life, Sera is at a loss for words. Never has she been so casually humiliated before, especially after all the time she has put in to being nothing but a stellar student for all her professors. This must be some sort of bad dream.

“On the other hand,” he continues, pausing in his packing to stare at Sera. She does not feel like he is truly looking at her; rather, he looks to be lost in thought about something else entirely. “That friend of yours… Miss Y/N, right? I’ve always heard about her from my colleagues.”

The mention of your name causes the hairs on the back of her neck to bristle, and Sera goes defensive immediately. “What about her?” she cautions.

“Oh, just that she’s a wonderful writer. Very moving stories with lots of depth. I was a bit skeptical at first because Professor Whitney has always been a bit of a softie with freshmen… but she was right,” he nods to himself, a small smirk on his face. “That girl… I don’t doubt in the slightest that she could make someone fall in love with her just by writing them a piece.”

The comparison might have hurt less if he had used a different example, anyone else really. Some unknown sap that Sera could tear piece by piece without a shred of remorse, made easier by the fact that she did not have to know and care for them. You, on the other hand…

It has always been you. She rues the day she met you, when she had thought you were nothing but a meek little puppy to play with, not knowing that you had a hidden dagger behind your back. How foolish of her to let her guard down, and it makes her even angrier to think that you had no idea of the pain you have inadvertently caused her. No, she will make you understand her pain, her struggle. It is only right and just.

All she had to do was wait for an opportunity to strike and until then… It should be easy to keep up this charade. She has done it for more than a year, and she can do it for another ten. She has been doing it all her life, in fact.

When that day comes, she’ll be ready, and there’s nothing you can do but watch as she burns your whole world to the ground.

#bts scenarios #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #bts #bts imagines #bts angst #bts crack #bts fluff #bangtan #bts fanfic #not much bts cameos in this one... except for baby freshie jungoo uwu #wish i had a jungoo in my life HAH

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imitationpersonne · 5 years

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BNHA Chapter 215 Review aka I’m So Fucking Tired

So after 24 hours of shitty-brain-chemicals mini-crisis and reading the full pages and translation of chapter 215, I return...to confirm that yep, I’m still fuckin’ pissed.

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Warning: If you’re not prepared for chart-topping Reddit-‘fandom’ levels of salt, shade, and bitterness with a whole lot of fucks mixed in, I suggest you read no further.

Let’s just do this page-by-page, shall we.

Oh my god, FINALLY. It’s already been five minutes; we’ve waited so long for this whole ‘scary new power’ phase to be over. Five whole minutes, y’all! Wow.

I mean, ya not wrong, buddy! You pretty much can do anything if Mr. Author’s plot dictates it. Because who gives a fuck about feeling like there are any stakes in anything or making the world seem real; amirite, Hori?

Shinsou again with the super relatability. P sure a lot of us are goddamn incredulous about the overplayed ‘struggling with new quirk manifestation’ drama, now that Izuku is magically instantly proficient. Because that’s how quirks have worked up until this point.......

Oh no...! Back down to 8% with no air force attack for a hot second?? WHAT A NERF! Whatever will he do?? ...Oh. Still win everything. So who gives a fuck. Does anybody really believe these percentages don’t just mean whatever Hori wants them to at any given moment anyway?

Yo, I’m sorry. Apologizing for the author who hyped some fantastic MonoShin collaboration and then did everything he could to prevent that from happening. Bitch.

But then...they did? Sooooooooo...? What the fuck’s the point of Shinsou recovering his mask and going for another plan? Legit nothing came of this. Why does this panel--no, most of this chapter even exist?? Like I get that it’s supposed to look like a struggle between the teams, but it’s all just...super contrived the way it ends, my dudes. This is bullshit writing, k.

Okay, I frickin’ loved this scene. I can be mad as all hell and still admit this was enjoyable. The quirk meta, the mind games, and Monoma’s zero-grav hair.

Okay, but did he really need another fucking limit on his quirk??? Time limit, one-at-a-time limit, potentially type limit (not able to copy mutant quirks--but that’s just speculation/headcanon for now)...and now number limit? WHILE IZUKU IS GETTING SIX WHOLE FUCKING PERMA-QUIRKS FOR GODDAMN FREE??

YEAH OKAY, LET’S TALK ABOUT THAT. I saw a post I mostly disagreed with and disliked (and don’t care to identify or quote; I can’t even remember whose it was or anything) saying this six-new-abilities ability is going to erase the need for a ton of other already-existing characters. Sero, as an example, since Black Whip basically usurps his specialty and more. On principle, as the worldbuilding has stood up until this point, I disagreed that characters like Sero would become useless. The way society has been trending, teamwork has been increasingly essential and encouraged. That means two people with lasso/tape-like quirks would do just fine! There can be more than one person with a similar quirk! Hell, that’s all Monoma’s quirk is--a temporary second of one that already exists. OR TETSUTETSU AND KIRISHIMA MUCH? They’re both useful! Even together!

So as a general principle, people with similar quirks can and do exist just fine in the same universe and even same space and role. The danger exists only if the author is so irresponsible as to consciously edge out the other characters by letting his pet character take care of everything by himself. Which seems like exactly what Izuku’s new six-quirks is at risk of doing now. Sure, argue Uraraka was useful and that Izuku relied on her this time, mmkay, but wait until he gets his own antigrav quirk, lol. Like, at this point, I honestly don’t trust Hori not to fuck up the beautiful character synergies and contrasts he’s already built. Because he sure did fuck up a lot of things that had great potential this arc already. Often by stepping on the ‘little’ guys. Fuck you, Tokage didn’t deserve that, and Baku didn’t deserve to dominate that hard. Where is the goddamn sense of struggle and achievement? Aight, that’s a rant for another day...

Anyway, back on track, call me biased as hell, but usurping the specialty of the guy whose ONLY NICHE WAS BEING THE ONLY ONE WITH VERSATILE MULTI-QUIRK USAGE? AND GAINING MULTIPLE QUIRKS BUT WITHOUT SEVERAL OF MONOMA’S LIMITING FACTORS? Gooooooooooo fuck yourself, ‘blessed boy’.

But...HE DIDN’T, THOUGH? Monoma’s ace-in-the-hole surprise Twin Impact stunned Mr. Protagonist for an amazing two whole seconds! Because of course; the fuck were we all thinking hoping other people mattered in this story or stood a chance against plot-device-convenient auto-scaling levels of OP? Like why even try tbh???

Shinsou fucking gets it. We all get it; it was an amazing play. But protagonist privilege too strong; what the fuck can you do.

Oh yep, here’s a more accurate translation, given the goddamn results.

Hahahahaha, amazing, even literally everybody in-character gets it. Team 5-B had every right to win this shit. But then...!

Oh boy!!! Generic shonen anime protagonist inspiration spiel to the contrived-Hori-plot rescue! Now, with these magic thoughts, he will win! Amazing how that works!

Well yeah, no shit, it makes sense for you to have that kind of confidence, considering that’s legit how your protagonist life works. Congrats on the contrived win, dude; I know you’re not surprised. Y’all, I know this isn’t in-world Izuku’s fault; he’s doing his best which is what he should be doing. It’s the shitty writing, plain and simple. Don’t blame the kid that gets everything; blame the one who spoils them at the expense of others. So perhaps calling me petty would be deserved, but my bitterness can’t help but leak out towards the character as well; it’s just human nature. I don’t like Baku as much as I used to either, because all the interesting bits are gone now that he’s OP and comparably perfect. At least Hori kinda kicked Shouto to the OP-privilege curb a little; makes him more realistic, relatable, and likable.

Ohhhh god, generic shonen anime faux-inspirational epilogue to put the icing on the shit cake; brb gagging.

Alright, so let’s summarize all the implied morals to the story here!:

Things turned around at the very end for basically no other reason than Hori wanted Team Protag to win.

All the dipshits were actually right; class B is legit inferior to class A, as evidenced by the results of literally every time they’ve directly faced each other. 1 win to 3 this time, bitch, and don’t make me remind of the sports festival. Even though B class clearly has better teamwork and synergy. Screw that, A more powerful, A smash. A main character class; A win.

Monoma, your backstory classmates were right, turns out! You are apparently an ineffective hero student who just keeps losing! You’ll never be more than a side character to be used, abused, and discarded. Fuck your aspirations, fan-fucking-tastic.

Shinsou, don’t kid yourself; you haven’t fucking changed. You got beaten by the same dude in nearly the exact same fashion. Your entire arc was fucking pointless; have fun in general studies! (In honesty, if Hori has any remaining shred of sensibility, I think he might let Shinsou into hero course anyway? Did they ever say Shinsou technically had to win both of his matches? Or just show progress? Who fucking knows at this point.)

Everybody who didn’t need to be reminded they’re great won. Are you not inspired?

Beautiful. Beautiful goddamn arc, Horikoshi; you taught us the important things in this world. Applause. I will honestly punch myself in the face in ecstatic shock if Hori manages to pull some way out of his ass to make this a satisfying conclusion.

My final thoughts:

Fuck this shit, I’m out.

#ooc #bnha 215 #bnha manga #monoma neito #monoma #shinsou hitoshi #shinsou #MonoShin #shinoma #class 1b #cw: rant #cw: fandom negativity

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floppy999 · 5 years

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My reading list (bkdk fanfics)

Here it is!

All these fics were updated or finished on december. (Not particular order)

Swap it out ( Not Rated )

''Good morning, Deku.'' Katsuki said happily with a sweet smile.''Fuck off, Kacchan.'' Izuku responded in a bored tone, not even looking at the blond when he sat down in the seat in front of him.The whole class held their breath.''Holy shit.'' Koji finally said. In which Kaminari has an idea, Todoroki likes to spend his father's money and Izuku and Katsuki are up for the challenge.

Off Limits (Explicit)

When his second rut hit, Katsuki was tempted to start reconsidering Izuku being off limits. It wouldn’t be too weird, right? It’s not like they were hanging out together on their off days. While screaming into a pillow in a fit of frustration instead of rubbing himself raw, it seemed like a great idea.Once his rut started tapering off, he threw away the idea again. -Then the third rut hit, and Katsuki was officially over this bullshit.

Cross Off (Explicit)

“But are you two really friends?”

That sharp sting hit Izuku in the gut again, but as he opened his mouth to respond, Todoroki walked past him, heading towards the exit. The dual-haired teen cocked his head to the side as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Just think about it, Midoriya. We aren’t here to tell you what to do, but we do hope that you will take our concerns under consideration, and try to convince Aizawa-sensei that his decision is not right for you.” Iida removed his hands from Izuku’s shoulders, and followed suit with Todoroki, casting a brief nod in Izuku’s direction.

Hummingbird Heartbeat ( Explicit )

“The knife went through his fucking chest, Kirishima.” Katsuki spat his name into his face, mouth twisting into a vicious snarl, teeth and all. “You know that's where his heart is, right? And his fucking lungs? All the vital shit?” Kirishima blanched. “I-I know, I just meant—” “What, you mean to tell me that your stupid fuckin’ ass is so ignorant to forget that he lost a shit ton of blood, hah?! Yeah, it was a flippin’ knife wound, oh hoo-ray, but look at the nerd now! He’s fucking dying because of it!”

In A Sky Of A Million Stars (Who Cares If One More Light Goes Out?) ( Mature)

He could never forgive himself.It was his fault.He’d planted the idea like a seed he’d never known would grow. (Or: What if Izuku jumped?)(OR: The one where Izuku jumps and lives and Katsuki visits him every day and Class 1-A not-so-secretly finds it adorable that their designated angry pomeranian brings flowers to his comatose childhood friend.)

Bad at Love ( Teen And Up Audiences )

Class 1-A is put to the test in one of U.A.'s classes and tests where they face a faux-villain they can't seem to win against. During the two-day fighting, Bakugou noticeably becomes more and more shaken by the faux-villain. Midoriya wants to help him and to become his good friend once again. Bakugou knows there is more than friendship in his own head but wants to keep Midoriya close, if only to keep him safe. But with jealousy, friendships, and their dreams on the line, they have to get even closer to help the other.

The Roads Between ( Mature )

In a world with disappearing quirks, Izuku, a government employee, and the recently captured Lord Explosion Murder are forced to team up in order to stop a coup of Japan by the League of Villains. More than just their lives are on the line and teamwork is the name of the game, but how can two people so seemily different from eachother ever hope to accomplish such a task?

Crimson Concrete ( Mature )

Bakugou Katsuki was pretty sure he had this vampire shit down to a tee. All he had to do was stay away from the sunlight, avoid churches and not have any attachments to humans? That was literally how Katsuki had lived his life up until now- it was the exact same, except, he supposed, with higher stakes (ha, get it?)“Hey dude, does this mean you can’t eat garlic bread anymore?”Oh.OH NO.

The Space Between (Mature)

Holding his expensive camera tightly between his hands, Midoriya Izuku looked up at the once-white letters displayed on the black storefront banner. “The Hard Luck Bar,” he murmured to himself, unsure if he was getting ready to enter or flee.

Amateur photographer Midoriya Izuku is stuck in a rut and desperate for a change of pace. Deep in his city's grimy underbelly, he finds exactly what he's looking for in the form of an underground punk sensation on the verge of their big break, fronted by a foul-mouthed firework of a human being. Loud, brash and passionate, Izuku may have just found the creative spark he needed, as well as something new to set his soul ablaze.

Cinnamon Bun Bun ( Explicit )

In a world with humanoid creatures called "pets", Katsuki Bakugou finds himself suddenly the owner of a timid curly haired rabbit. How the fuck did that happen? Will the reluctant new owner and abandoned pet be the best thing for each other or will it end in disaster? Only the tags will ever know.Warm and fuzzy fluff pet AU with hints of angst and humor! *This story is mostly about fluff. Warning and "past" tags for a backstory chapter(s) almost exclusively. Will warn at the beginning of ANY chapter with ANY sensitive issues.*

Stay with me, Midoriya ( Mature )

An alternate "conclusion" of the battle when Midoriya saves Kota during the Summer Camp attack. Or, Midoriya is badly hurt and Bakugo is the only one who heard the scream for help.

Restless ( Mature )

Second year at UA was essentially the same as the first, though everyone had fucking been developing and growing or some such asinine shit. And Katsuki was still reigning supreme. Things were fine up until shitty Deku had to derail everything with his fucking.....fucking. This year was gonna be hell for Katsuki.

Swarm (Explicit)

General Izuku Midoriya, a rare omega cherry bee and Second in Command to Chief All Might's army, is left to run and defend Brambleberry Hive. he never expects a swarm of vicious hornets, led by alpha general Katsuki Bakugo, to ambush them and take over the hive. Bakugo takes his place as Chief Alpha, making Izuku his prisoner and slave. But Izuku refuses to let Bakugo control him and fights the alpha every chance he gets. He will have his revenge on Bakugo and regain control of Bramberry....

my ex-man brought his new boyfriend ( Mature )

izuku's desperate to get a date after being persuaded (forced, more like) to go for a family reunion back in his hometown, in which he will most definitely see his ex, todoroki shouto, with a date of his own.in a last attempt to find someone, izuku asks for help and ends up getting bakugou katsuki.

The Hunting Party ( Explicit )

Izuku had gotten himself into many messes over the years. He’d once got stuck in the back of a restaurant after hours because he’d been too shy to ask someone to let him out of the staff bathroom he’d locked himself into.

Painting Flowers ( Teen And Up Audiences )

Where Bakugo Katsuki works at his parents' flower shop and Midoriya Izuku is a hot regular that simply comes to sketch flowers all day long.

BNHA: Hybrid A/O/B Works ( Works:6) (Explicit / mature)

You ever fantasize about Wolf Bakugou chasing down a sweet rabbit? Or the wacky shenanigans of trying to figure out his pet's heat problems? This is the series for you, mate, and I'm always happy to provide your dosage of pure nsfw. (With too much plot)

Say you love me ( Mature )

Izuku is going through his very first break up and suffering the whiplash affects of it. He discovers he’s got a new neighbor and his name is Katsuki. They’re not the best of neighbors in the beginning but by the end of the story they will be. But basically Izuku and Katsiki end up falling in love but don’t necessarily know that they both feel the same way about one another because they’re both very slow in the feelings department when it comes to other people. But with the help of Bakugous best and only friend, Eijiro, and a lot of prolonged effort shit happens.

Lovebites ( Explicit )

Katsuki Bakugou was going to hate this summer.He thought he'd hate it because he was being forced to leave home and work for his mother's friend in a small, seaside town. He thought he'd hate it cause he was being punished for burning his room to a crisp. He thought he'd hate it because he hated change.But it turns out, he hated the Supernatural Turfwar between four species that shouldn't exist but do a whole lot more....Or The one where Katsuki is forced to move in with Inko for the summer and finds himself falling for a particular bloodsucker....

Album Title in Progress ( Explicit )

Izuku's singing makes Katsuki realize sex is Real™ and uses those feelings to make a bomb-ass(lol get it? cuz his quirk is...) album while also helping a self-doubting Izuku realize how fire his mixtape is.

A Chaotic Reunion ( Teen And Up Audiences )

Even as a villain, Izuku Midoriya's admiration for Bakugo Katsuki never faltered, even when his admiration for all the heroes in the world did. After leaving his home to join the league, Bakugo Katsuki remains his one true reason to keep going on in such a pointless life. He never expected to meet him again, especially not in this kind of situation.

The Hardships of love ( Explicit )

Katsuki has always known just exactly what he wants, that just so happens to involve a certain green-eyed boy. How will he cope when what is his suddenly goes away, only to return years later? A/O/B universe, Alpha Katsuki, Omega Izuku,

Soul Bonded ( Explicit )

Izuku Midoriya had always been told he was a beta. So why did he find himself sneaking into Kacchan's room and taking old shirts? Why did his sweaty gym clothes smell so good all of a sudden? A story in which Bakugou and Midoriya are definitely not mates, no matter what Recovery Girl and Midnight say. And they definitely, DEFINITELY don't have feelings. Nope.

Iridescent ( Mature )

After Katsuki learned Izuku’s secret about One For All, he said that things would be different from now on. The two of them learn how to stand on equal grounds and be proper rivals, and that gradually leads them to evolve into something more – or, rather, they start to realize what was there all along. Because what’s left after all the bitterness and misunderstandings are gone? Positive feelings. By the time they reach their third year, they can’t go a day without seeing each other. Eventually, they start pining over one another. Katsuki secretly works through his insecurities in order to accept his feelings for his childhood friend, but it goes haywire once he realizes that he doesn’t know how to apologize for the wrongs he has done.

Stygian Fire ( Mature )

Izuku's Quirk manifest at the tender age of five. It's strange that he would have a fire Quirk given what his mother's Quirk is, but he chalks it up to genetics on his father's side. A week later, there's a (familiar) stranger in the kitchen, and everything changes.

i packed up everything except those memories ( General Audiences )

For a long moment, they all stare at him, wide-eyed and shocked.And then Bakugou laughs and leans forward to press his mouth to Midoriya’s. “I fucking love you, ya damn nerd.”Midoriya reddens, but kisses back enthusiastically, and his lips curve into a dazed smile when Bakugou pulls away. (or, Bakugou works at a bar and Midoriya is the nerd that keeps him company.)

The Art of Indifference ( Not Rated )

Bakugou is used to being the center of attention- be it anger, confussion, or fear (mostly fear) everyone always gives him a reaction.Until all the sudden, Deku doesn't. What a fucking asshole.

Wild Child ( Explicit )

Imagine Tarzan, but KatsuDeku,with wolves instead of gorillas,and with a lot more smut.

The Kiss ( Teen And Up Audiences )

Katsuki has feelings but refuses to admit it; Izuku has feelings but refuses to act on them. And just when they finally begin to understand each other, that fucks everything up. Or: What if Katsuki kissed Izuku at the end of their fight?

Full Disclosure ( Explicit )

Izuku had never wanted to protect anything as much as he wanted to protect the fire between them, even as it caught fire and consumed him. He'd gladly go up in flames if it meant getting to see Kacchan like this. Or The alternate outcome of the battle at Ground Beta and the relationship that changed because of it.

When lust prevails ( Explicit )

Bakugou and Midoriya got into a heated argument which led to heated interactions; main pairing BakuDeku, side pairing KiriKamiEpilogue update featuring jealous Bakugou, confused Midoriya, pragmatic Todoroki, and class 1a eavesdropping the drama :DThis story is officially completed :)

Sheep in wolves clothing ( Mature )

Don’t go into the woods at night. It’s a self explanatory warning but apparently not even passing near them in a vehicle is 100% safe. Especially not when all the news stations are warning of an unknown threat. Unluckily for Izuku it’s the only route home

You Found Me Flinching In The Dark ( Mature )

Or, Izuku remained quirkless, he became a hollow depressed kid that lives his last few years of high school in a mental ward. (Updates once a month)

Go to Bed, Dumbass ( Mature )

"What the fuck are you doing here at two in the morning?" The blond male asked in a voice that was closer to a growl as he curled the weight he was holding."I could ask you the same question," Izuku replied with a small smile as he headed for the bench press.

Never Easy ( Mature )

Bakugou and Midoriya have known each other forever but as the years drug on their relationship became complicated and the boys found themselves barely knowing each other. Things seem dim on them ever really being friends again but when Midoriya is caught in an awkward situation by Bakugou, things start to change, and both males seem skeptical about getting their hopes up. This does not start out Mature, but will have Mature parts. I will warn you and you can skip them if you like.

Grief Counseling ( explicit)

A slowburn fic where Kacchan tries to convince Deku to take advantage of the grief counseling provided for free to heroes experiencing their first failed rescues. Lots of flirting. Healing their relationship comes first. The romantic bit where they fall helplessly and stupidly in love comes after.

"Streetcar Named Desire" ( Explicit )

If yesterday someone told Izuku that he, one of the most diligent students with the top academic ranking, would end up in Principal Aizawa’s office today, he wouldn’t have believed them. But lots things could change overnight. So here he was, slouching in the creaking chair in the reception in front of the principal’s office. [the story about how Deku and Kacchan ended up taking part in a school's play and went through high school shit and ended up in love]

Unseemly Beasts ( Teen And Up Audiences )

Dragons. Destructive beasts tearing through everything in their path and deadly to anyone who opposes them. Midoriya has never seen a dragon, never planned to, but now he needs the help of one. He just... didn't want to kill one. Not if he could help it.

Rivals with Benefits ( Explicit )

When Izuku gets drunk at a Class 1A Halloween party he accidentally outs himself. Then to make matters worse he confesses to Katsuki that he wants to be a little more than rivals.

2,645 Miles ( Explicit )

Izuku wants so badly to get to the other side of the country without his parents realizing he's missing. He just wants to find out who he is.Katsuki is desperate to make it to Los Angeles without being caught by the police, desperate to fix his mistakes.Neither know what to expect, but on a roadtrip across the U.S. involving four fugitives, two oblivious runaways, a high risk crime ring, and a police taskforce, the two will discover that there's more in store for them than what they originally thought.

Dragon's Mark ( Mature )

Katsuki Bakugou has been living on his own for many years, accompanied by a very annoying red dragon named Kirishima. They are the last of their kind, unknown to humans. At least, that was how it used to be until a shy boy by the name of Izuku Midoriya enters the picture.

Breaking Point ( Mature )

“Some men aren't looking for anything logical, like money. They can't be bought, bullied, reasoned, or negotiated with. Some men just want to watch the world burn.”

#long post

110 notes · View notes

negare-boshi · 6 years

Note

Prompt; Kyoutani and Yahaba being forced to share a bed, sarcasm, bantering, blushing, cuddles, denial etc ensues. (Honestly I just love this trope XD)

HI, HELLO, THANK YOU! I don’t know if this is what you wanted ;___; i tried.

(also i started it like three times and i might develope one of those into a ‘future fic’ thingy because why not, so THANKS)

Here we go

Yahaba is about to die.

If it’s of a heart attack or in the hands of a bloody youkai, he doesn’t know, but if Yahaba has to take another step in this darkness, he’s sure he won’t make it out alive.

“Watari?”

Watari doesn’t answer. Yahaba has lost him some corridors ago, right when the lights had gone out on them. The storm has been raging for hours, now, but its intensity hasn’t decreased on the least. Yahaba’s heart will explode if another lighting flashes on him.

Taking in a sharp breath of courage, Yahaba keeps walking forward. He’s not sure where he is, exactly, but if his memory doesn’t betray him, the next door should have some of Aoba’s players.

Yahaba’s heart is beating out of rhythm by the time he knocks on it, thunder crashing somewhere on his back. There’s sweat running down his spine, no matter the unraged wind hitting the windows. Something cold touches his nape. Yahaba thinks, It’s a breeze, it’s a fucking breeze, it’s a goddamn—

The door opens right when Yahaba’s turning around and a lighting lights up the outside, shaping a shadow that should not be there at all.

Yahaba shrieks so loud he scares himself, and he jumps into the room and into whomever has opened the door with enough strength to throw them both to the ground.

“Close the door! Close the door, close—˝

“Shut up!”

Yahaba’s fingers dig on Kyoutani’s arm, —of course Kyoutani had to be the one to witness Yahaba’s worst panicked moment—, and doesn’t let go even when Kyoutani leans forward and kicks the door closed.

Another thunder resounds around them, and Yahaba can’t hold the little whimper that leaves his lips.

“You scared of storms or what?”

Yahaba frowns and glares at him, (glare might be too nice a word, for Yahaba’s squinting, trying to make out where Kyoutani’s face really is).

“It’s not the storm, I—” don’t tell him you felt something, don’t tell him you felt something, don’t— “There was… something… outside.”

A beat of silence. Then, “Seriously?”

“Don’t mock me.”

“I’m not.” Kyoutani sits beside him and grabs his wrist. “Let go, dammit, you’re gonna make me bleed.”

“There was something,” Yahaba repeats, and there’s panic in his words now. “I felt… I felt it, okay?”

“You’re full of shit.”

Yahaba growls at him. “Yeah? If you’re so sure there’s nothing, let’s go!”

Kyoutani snorts. Yahaba doesn’t see him clearly enough to hit him, although he wants to very much. “This is my room. Don’t wanna step outside for shit, thanks.”

“Oh, so much for the brave stance, huh.”

“I’m not scared,” Kyoutani groans. “Whatcha doing here, anyway?”

“I’m looking for Watari. He got lost when we—”

Another thunder, this time so close Yahaba’s bones clatter. He’s not aware he’s grabbing Kyoutani’s arm and has his nose buried in his shoulder till the echo vanishes and his heartbeat falls into a regular pace.

“You are scared of storms,” Kyoutani says, amused.

“Shut up.”

But this time Kyoutani doesn’t untangle Yahaba’s fingers from his arm, no matter how hard Yahaba’s still holding him. Kyoutani’s pulse is constant under Yahaba’s hand, warm and solid and real.

Yahaba doesn’t want to let go, but the lights are still off, Watari’s still lost, the storm—

“What were you doing outside, then?”

“Trying to find the fuses.”

“Do you even know where they are?”

“Obviously not.”

“That’s pretty dumb, then.”

“What—”

Another lighting, another thunder. Yahaba controls better the sound of pain this time, maybe because Kyoutani’s hand covers Yahaba’s, and Yahaba’s heart skips a beat for reasons not related to the stupid storm.

It’s not fair. Yahaba oughtn’t be feeling safe in a room with Kyoutani, of all people. Not when—

“Scared of storms, scared of ghost, starts something without knowing how the fuck it’s supposed to happen… really, how did you manage to become captain?”

Yahaba snarls. “You little piece of—”

They both see it, this time. Yahaba knows, because Kyoutani’s heart goes from steady to mad crazy in a second under his fingers, his muscles tense and cold on his grip.

It’s just a second, the lighting showing them the shadowed figure of something, —someone— on the door from outside the window, but it’s enough to make Yahaba want to crawl under the tatami and die in piece.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck—”

“That— What?”

“WE ARE GOING TO DIE!” Yahaba screams, all composure lost, nose buried in Kyoutani’s shoulder. “Oh, god, we are going to die! I knew I shouldn’t have let Watari convince me to book this shitty place!”

“Calm the fuck down.”

“You calm down! We are gonna get murdered!”

Kyoutani grabs Yahaba’s arms and shakes him, but it only makes Yahaba’s panic worsen, because as soon as they turn he can see the window, and what looks like a hanging body right outside. The shriek he lets out probably deafens Kyoutani, but what surely chokes him is the deadly grip Yahaba has now on his neck.

He can’t bear stare at anything, so he closes his eyes and lets Kyoutani’s warmth be the only real thing in his world.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.”

“Can you fucking calm down?”

“I already told you I can’t!”

“God, you are so fucking annoying.”

Yahaba wants to say, I know that, I know that, you don’t need to remind me, I know I’m annoying and I always yell at you and that you hate me, probably, and that you wish it’d been anyone else who’d stumbled into your room.

But what leaves his mouth is, “I can’t move.”

Yahaba waits a second for the mocking remark, but Kyoutani only sighs deeply and soundly. “I really don’t understand how you made it this far.”

It stings, but Yahaba’s lips are sealed for all he’s worth. He shakes his head, Kyoutani’s groan heavier than any thunder so far.

“You saw it too, though, didn’t you.”

Kyoutani stiffens under Yahaba. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Yahaba wants to yell at him, I’m not crazy! I know you saw!, but a part of him relishes the fact Kyoutani’s not losing his shit, too.

“I need to go find the fuses, but—”

“Pointless. It’s the middle of the night, anyway. If they aren’t asleep, fuck them.”

That brings another question into matter.

“I can’t—”

“Move, yeah. So you say.”

“Stop being so condescending.”

“At least I’m not laughing at you. Be thankful.”

“Thankful!” Yahaba leans back, eyes open. He’s close enough to Kyoutani, they’ve been in the dark long enough that he can see the shape of his nose, the sneer on his lips, the light in his eyes. They are close enough Yahaba can feel his breath. “Oh yes, my big brave ace, you’ve been nothing but helpful.”

“Tone the sarcasm down.”

“You tone it down!”

Maybe Yahaba’s mental capacities aren’t in their best shape, his retorts nothing short of childish and typical of what one would expect of a ten year old. Kyoutani arches an eyebrow, and somehow his hands shift and find Yahaba’s waist.

The blush has nothing to do with that. The raise in his body temperature is just a reaction to the closed room, to the fact they are burning oxygen faster, being this close.

“You feeling better?”

“No!”

“You are nothing but work, you know.”

“I am– Seriously? Says the man who can’t even listen to what I say when we practice.”

“That’s not true. I do listen, I just ignore most of your orders, because they suck.”

“That’s it,” Yahaba growls, a hand on his hip, the other pointing at Kyoutani’s face. “You are reckless and suck at teamwork and you believe your perception of a game is better than anyone else’s.”

“So do you.”

“I am the captain!”

Kyoutani huffs. “And so what? That doesn’t mean you know what’s best for the team all the time, or what are the best plays in every single match.”

That’s true. It hurts, but it is true, although Yahaba has been trying to ignore that same fact since he became captain three months ago, trying to fill the space Oikawa left behind.

“Take that expression off your face,” Kyoutani growls, and Yahaba blinks in surprise. “I’m not attacking you, don’t take it personally.”

“It feels pretty personal.”

“Well, it isn’t.”

“Really? Because when you say—˝

Lighting and thunder, all together, happen three times in a row, with no break in between for Yahaba’s sanity to find any peace. He makes a strangled sound of despair, his hands again on Kyoutani, the only real thing in the world right now, and by the time it passes, he’s sweating as if he’d just played a five sets match.

“Your heart is beating like crazy.”

“I’m not feeling very good right now.”

“Let’s go to bed.”

“I can’t sleep with this storm going on!”

“I’ll sleep with you,” Kyoutani muters, already shifting away from Yahaba’s grip.

“What?”

“You heard me. Bring your ass here, come on.”

“I don’t wanna—˝

But the next thunder has Yahaba on his hands and knees, crawling to the futon in less than a second. Kyoutani’s already there, and he pulls the blanket over their heads, covering them from the darkness, the rain and the light.

They’ll probably have to take it off soon, but Yahaba’s thankful for the heavy air, Kyoutani’s warmth and the protective veil they build around him.

“Thanks.”

Kyoutani shrugs. They are nose to nose, their hands almost brushing. Yahaba’s pinky finger twitches, so close to Kyoutani’s he’s tempted of tangling them, of holding him. It’s dumb. Kyoutani is Yahaba’s main source of frustration, of anger, of hurt. Sometimes, when they play something magic happens and they sync, and they know what the other’s thinking without words, and they just become this tandem of ace and setter, of partners, Yahaba has trouble imagine on his own.

But those times are few and hard to arise. The trick of their happening it’s just a mystery to Yahaba’s eager senses, so he usually ends up mad at Kyoutani for not filling up all his expectations.

“You okay?”

“Am I a bad captain?” Yahaba whispers, the words leaving his lips without his permission. It’s too late to back down now, so he says, “Am I a bad captain to you?”

“What’s with that question?”

“Answer me.”

Kyoutani shifts closer, and their fingers touch. Yahaba’s heart stutters in his chest. All his attention focuses on his hand, on the spot where they are touching, on the skin that could be touching his next.

“I think you’re a good captain, but you need to listen more. You’re not Oikawa, you know.”

“I know,” Yahaba says, hurt, hurt, hurt, because that’s what Kyoutani does, hurt Yahaba with his power, with his presence, with his truths.

“I’m not saying it to be mean,” Kyoutani presses, because he’s a sharp bastard as well. “Not being Oikawa it’s not a bad thing.”

“So you say.”

A thunder echoes around them. Yahaba flinches, unbidden, still scared of the shadows even under the covers of this little world Kyoutani has made for him. Another thunder is crashing over them when Kyoutani says, “Come here”, and grabs Yahaba so his head rests on his arm, his nose in his chest.

Yahaba doesn’t bother hiding his fear, nor does he pretend it to be an accident when his arms cross from his body to Kyoutani’s, circling his waist. A soft hand finds his hair, and brushes it, soothing his fears away.

“Just go to sleep, would you? No point on going to bed if you keep talking bullshit.”

“Fuck you.”

Kyoutani’s muscles move under his palms. He’s so warm. And he smells good, too.

“Kyoutani.”

“Mmmh?”

Yahaba has so many things to say. You are a jerk anyway. This was nice. Did you really not see anything? Please, help me be a better captain. God, you smell so good. Can we do this tomorrow too? Please, please, can you let me sleep with you every night we stay in this awful place? Would that be okay? Would you like that? Do you like me?

Does this mean something to you too?

“What is it?”

“Nothing. Forget it.”

“Just spit it out.”

“No.”

“Goddammit, Yahaba, I swear—”

Another thunder. Yahaba tightens his arms, buries himself in Kyoutani’s body. Their legs tangle. Yahaba maybe whimpers in fear.

“I hate storms.”

“Yeah, I noticed.”

“I can’t sleep, even if—”

“Not enough, huh?”

Yahaba’s too lost to the never stopping fall of thunder after thunder, so loud now it’s as if trees are being crashed by a divine force in this same room. He feels small and meaningless, his mind a chaos of scenarios of death and shadows in walls and scary tales, and so he says, “It’s not enough distraction, okay? I can’t play deaf. I can’t ignore—˝

“God, you are fucking difficult, aren’t you.”

Yahaba means to answer him, —the banter is keeping him sane,— but he has no chance to word anything else because as soon as he leans his head back to growl at Kyoutani, Kyoutani is there, there, there everywhere, and he’s looking at him with enough intensity to make the world just vanish and he—

Yahaba lets himself be kissed, because the roar of his blood in his ears finally quiets the crazy nature around him. He lets himself be kissed a second time because Kyoutani has the most beautiful eyes up close, and a third because Yahaba might have dreamt of kissing Kyoutani more times than he cares to admit.

They are chaste and short and dry, but Yahaba doesn’t care. He wants Kyoutani to keep kissing him, just like this, for the rest of the damn night.

But Kyoutani stops at the fourth time, so red Yahaba knows he’s blushing by how hot his face feels.

“Better, now?”

“No,” Yahaba says, just to piss him off. “Kiss me again.”

“What? No! I was just— I was just distracting you! Shut up, I’m not kissing you again.”

“Fine, then I will.”

Kyoutani lets himself be kissed too, although Yahaba doesn’t pretend to know his reasons. It’s rougher, this time, because Yahaba has little to no self control at this point. Kyoutani’s hands are gentle on Yahaba’s face, and his lips are gentler still, and by the time the storm clears off, Yahaba has memorised Kyoutani’s lips by heart.

It’s funny, when Kyoutani says, “Now you owe me,” as if the little paradise he’s built for Yahaba under his covers were nothing but a one sided favor.

But what really brings a laugh to Yahaba’s lips is when he answers, “Fine. I’ll make it up to you tonight,” and Kyoutani, beat red, chuckles with the softest of expressions, and nods.

#yahaba shigeru #kyoutani kentarou #haikyuu!!#kyouhaba #this sucks so bad i am SO SORRY #i tried #but i suck at writing apparently #i love this ship anyway even if this was as bad as it gets #i promise i will do better next time ;_;#writing #asks #prompt #elleh answers #ask fic

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portraitoftheoddity · 6 years

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Infinity War Reaction Post: [SPOILERS]

AAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ok, this hurt.

It hurt, but.... it wasn’t terrible? I was genuinely worried it would gut me AND be a massive shitty clusterfuck of a movie. And while it definitely had a lot of balls in the air, and it wasn’t perfect, it handled them I felt with a lot more grace than say, AOU. On the whole, it was a decent movie, which I am grateful for.

Loki. Auuuuugh. Pain. His face is haunting me.

I went into this a tiny bit spoiled just from the emotional reactions of other people who had been spoiled, so I was 100% ready for him to die. Am I bummed that it happened in the first ten minutes? Yes. But. My ‘best case scenario’ at that point was that he died being heroic and didn’t just join the Black Order and then get nerfed as punishment. Fandom’s ability to retcon character assassination is harder than its ability to retcon actual assassination. And there’s a LOT of avenue for fix-it fics.

I am.... weirdly glad that Loki’s jotun heritage at least gets called out, if not addressed. We never get anything real about it, but.... in his last moments, Loki acknowledges all of himself. He is Odinson. He is Jotun. He is of Asgard. None of these things are mutually exclusive. And he is willing to give his life to try to end Thanos and save Thor. That look he gives Thor when he’s getting ready to stab Thanos... he never believed he’d survive this. But he was going to try.

Seriously, Loki just-- first trying hard not to give Thanos the tesseract, then giving in in tears because Thor is being tortured and then WE HAVE A HULK. THAT FULL CIRCLE. AAAAHHHHHHHH.

Thor’s pain crawling over to Loki’s body. MY HEART. I’m glad that Thor is actually mourning and his grief for Loki specifically is highlighted later, with Rocket, even after jokey banter happens. That Loki was the last thing Thor had left to lose kills me.

Even without spoilers, I kinda suspected Loki’s death would happen as a motivating force for Thor. And for all that, I am glad that Thor got a more emotionally-fueled arc than he did in Ragnarok. They let him have his humorous moments to keep some tonal continuity, but let his emotional moments breathe too.

Thor being mostly sure Loki is dead but in a bit of denial to hold out hope...

NIDAVELLIR. FUCK. YEAH.

Seriously, we got more nine realms worldbuilding in IW than in Ragnarok.

Thor willing to die to hold open the aperture to make the ax, because at that point whether he lives or dies no longer matters

Thor being A GOD. The sheer badassery of his weapon BEING A BIFROST and then fucking LAYING WASTE to Thanos’ army. FFFFFUUUUUCCK ME.

“Sweet Rabbit”

Groot’s arm as the ax handle was a nice touch.

Rocket. Oh god. “I have a lot to lose” -- and then he does.

We all fucking called Rocket wanting Bucky’s arm but I’m glad we got it anyway.

Seriously, that Rocket & Bucky teamup moment.

Is it weird I found Proxima Midnight hot?

The Black Order were not really developed at all, but I’m pretty okay with that considering how much development Thanos got.

Honestly, I’m surprised by how much they fleshed him out? His motivation is a far cry from what it is in the comics, and that nerfs a lot of fic, but... It worked. It made him a lot more interesting. And more scary, I think, than a big evil purple caricature. I didn’t ask for this, but I appreciated it.

(Of course, now I’m imagining Ebony Maw torturing Loki with those glass scalpel things...)

I liked Tony in this movie. I think putting him with characters more obnoxious than he is was a good choice -- In past Avengers movies, he’s been the immature, off the wall one, and putting him with Quill and Spidey suddenly forced him to be the Adult in the room and changed up his dynamic as a team member to do something new.

The moment when Quill is talking about how his plan is better and Tony’s face just shuts down: I imagine he’s thinking-- “Is this what it feels like to be Cap? This is what it must feel like to be Cap. Fuck.”

Peter Parker is, of course, adorable.

Is Avengers 4 gonna have the most depressing and awkward interstellar roadtrip ever as Nebula and Tony find their way back to earth?

Gamora giving up the location of the soul stone to save Nebula, and then Nebula realizing Gamora is dead, hurt me deep in my soul.

Gamora. Ffffffff. Did not expect that. O_O

WANDA. WANDA WANDA WANDA WANDA. SHE IS SUCH A GODDAMN BADASS. SERIOUSLY. I am so glad they finally showed her as the fucking POWERHOUSE that she is. Holding off Proxima and Corvus on her own, and then later just fucking laying waste to so much of the alien army, and then SINGLEHANDEDLY holding Thanos off WHILE DESTROYING THE MIND STONE and breaking her own heart.

I actually even kinda cared about ScarletVision, which I didn’t think was possible?

Seriously, Wanda getting a major emotional arc. <3

Rhodey and Sam friendship and teamwork.

Rhodey basically telling Ross to go fuck himself.

Sam: “This is awkward.” (thank you for letting that be the end of BruceNat’s acknowledgement)

Shuri at Banner.

Bucky: “I love this place.”

M’Baku being there and calling T’Challa ‘brother.’ <3

“Wong, you’re invited to my wedding.”

After he spent a lot of Ragnarok as Hulk, I appreciate that Bruce spent pretty much the whole movie as Bruce for once?

“You’re embarassing me in front of the wizards!”

NATASHA & OKOYE TEAM UP I AM FUCKING LIVINGGGGGG

STEVE. Steve being gorgeous and stoic and good and sad. Steve facing off against Thanos and STEEEEEEEEVE.

I am actually amazed Steve made it through; I was so braced for him to die. But then-- fuck. When Bucky collapses into ash. I gasped out loud.

Steve falling to his knees with that utterly lost look on his face in Bucky’s ashes. I AM REALLY WORRIED THEY BROKE HIM.

SAAAAAAAAAM.

Okoye’s face. *sobs*

Wanda’s look of relief when she goes to ash.

Thor being SO CLOSE. SO CLOSE TO STOPPING IT. The guuuuuiiiilt he has to feel of not being enough to save anyone.

Okay, so, obviously everyone who got ashed is gonna come back. They killed Peter and T’Challa, and those are golden goddamn geese for Marvel. They’re gonna wanna make a Black Panther 2 and another Spider-man, so we’re getting them back.

(still hurts)

Strange gave up the time stone for a reason. There’s definitely gonna be some time-traveling/reality warping plan here.

I’m curious to see just how much gets “undone” past Thanos’ final act there. I know there’s speculation that anyone who was killed directly and not ashed will stay dead (Gamora, Heimdall, Loki), but I’m not sure Marvel will let Thor suffer that much, where EVERYONE else gets someone back except for him. Resetting reality gives them an opportunity to undo the destruction of Asgard, and get back all those characters and that setting for future franchise opportunities -- especially since Ragnarok made a fuckload of money and Hemsworth would be willing to return.

If they don’t bring Loki back, fuck it, fandom will. OVER AND OVER.

WHERE WAS CLINT????

I get not bringing Scott in since he has his own movie coming up which is probably set pre-Infinity War. But COME ON, MARVEL. You left us with 5 of the 6 founding avengers alive at the end but no Clint anywhere?

He had better be like, the main character of Avengers 4.

Oh shit-- what if his whole family got ashed??? What if that’s his reason for going all Ronin in Avengers 4??????

There is a plot point that I am really fucking angry about because it fucks with a fic I’m writing. I can’t say which plot point though. But I have had it plotted out since fucking 2015 so fuck. that. I’m doing it.

CAPTAIN FUCKING MARVEL. (I may have shouted out loud in the theater.)

CAROL, COME FIX EVERYTHING.

Carol Danvers shows up 20 years late with starbucks, punches Thanos into the sun, takes the gauntlet, fixes the universe, then goes out for burgers with Monica Rambeau because punching someone into the sun works up an appetite.

Overall, I have a lot of feelings. There were a lot of things the movie did really well and a lot of things I absolute loved. I am also absolutely gutted. But I am trying to have faith that a lot will be fixed in Avengers 4 -- and if not, it WILL be fixed by fandom. Loki dying is pain pain pain, but it doesn’t destroy his character, and doesn’t destroy fandom’s love of him and his story, or all the other stories we’ll still come up with. A certain amount of status quo will be restored, I’m sure. And fandom is forever.

#infinity war spoilers #iw spoilers #lena has thoughts #infinity war #reaction post

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lavieendonna · 6 years

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Brushwork || ArtMajor!Calum AU (Chapter 23)

Summary: An Art Major AU where Dallas - third year gawky art student at VCA - makes a deal with Calum - her cute new neighbour and project partner - and they spend the semester learning that the perfect masterpiece takes a whole lot of brushwork.

Date: 22 March 2018 Requested: honestly i should just get rid of this bit Pairing: Calum + Dallas Words: 3.9K Warnings: familial turmoils, an underwhelming coming out story, and a fuck tonne of crying. A/N: Honestly i’m not even going to apologise for this chapter. This is the Big One i’ve been waiting to write since the beginning basically so like. Please let me know what you think. This story isn’t anywhere near finished. Stay with me, & Big love xo

Ask | Masterlist | ‘Brushwork’ Spotify Playlist | Next Chapter | ‘Brushwork’ News

Chapter 23: I Felt So Unhelpful. Like, I Felt ‘Supportive Facebook Message When Everyone Finds Out Somebody Has Cancer’ Level Unhelpful.

After coming to the conclusion that Ashton was right about me needing to apologise to my sister, I didn’t really do anything about it for days – nearly a week, actually. It wasn’t that I was too proud or spiteful or anything, I was just embarrassed and I didn’t know what I was supposed to say. So instead of actively seeking her out like I should have, I spent those days dancing around Polly and Calum, barely making it to any of my classes, and kind of avoiding Luke, too, even though he’d done literally nothing wrong. Turns out, I became an even shittier person after finding out that I was already a shitty person.

It took me a while, but eventually I plucked up the courage to at least text Belle. I didn’t really say much, knowing she wasn’t going to forgive me that easy. How did I know that? Because we were sisters, and I wouldn’t have forgiven anyone that easy, either. If Polly – or even Belle, for that matter – tried to pull that shit from the other night and then said ‘sorry’ through a text message, I would one hundred per cent tell them exactly where to stick that ‘sorry’ and it wouldn’t be anywhere pretty.

I asked Belle if she wanted to come over and talk. She replied around ten minutes later that she was actually already on her way over and the all of a sudden, I cared about what the apartment looked like. There were dishes everywhere, clothes strewn across the place and bits of paper and miscellaneous unfinished art pieces on the floor. I knew that Belle wouldn’t have been far away, either, so like someone had lit a fire under my ass I scrambled. I collected all of the week-old dishes across the place and washed them in the sink and, somehow, I even had enough time to dig out the vacuum cleaner that I usually forgot that I owned.

After around half an hour everything looked almost too clean, so I did what I could to reshuffle the clutter on the benches and coffee table to make it look like I hadn’t just spent those thirty minutes cleaning for my sister – of all people. She wasn’t going to give a shit what my place looked like, so I wasn’t really sure why I did. But I felt like maybe if I did this, if I could inject any kind of positivity into any space I could reach then maybe having Belle come over wouldn’t end in a total disaster. Or, at least, not as big of a disaster as the last time I saw her.

My heart practically stopped when I heard the knock on the door. It was unfamiliar; I was used to Isabelle just barging into my apartment whenever she visited. But this time I was almost convinced it wasn’t even her, just bad on the fact that the knock was so slow and hesitant. But I wasn’t expecting anybody else (not that I ever had guests that often) so it had to have been her anyway.

It was, and when I swung the door open she was a wreck. She looked like she hadn’t stopped crying since last week. Her eyes were so red and raw that I barely recognised them, her cheeks splotchy and puffy and her hair an absolute mess. She wore what looked like an attempt at normal-people clothes, but the blue flannel shirt was kind of falling off of one shoulder and one side of her jeans was rolled up significantly higher than the other above her ankles, the jandals on her feet slipped over odd socks. Seeing her like this didn’t make me feel good the way seeing Polly like this did; my heart was breaking for my sister already.

I didn’t really greet her with words, I just pulled her inside the door and enveloped her in a hug and she squeezed me so tight that I almost couldn’t breathe. But I let her. I thought back to what Ashton had said about her needing me, and it was this moment before we’d even spoken that I realised that Isabelle didn’t just need me right now – she needed me more than I needed her.

“I’m so sorry, B.” I told her quietly as she let go of me. I watched her bottom lip quiver and I thought she my cry. But she didn’t, not yet anyway.

“Me too.” She practically whispered back. She was so distracted, her eyes darting from place to place while she stood awkwardly shifting her weight from one foot to the other. If I’d seen her this way before everything that happened I would have thought she was on drugs or something. There was just something else pressing on her mind and I didn’t know how to go about getting her to open up to me.

Whenever Belle and I came together in a time of crisis, it was almost always my crisis. Belle was always the one who took care of me when I thought the world was falling apart, so having her here barely breathing in front of me was something almost entirely new for me to experience. I tried to tap into everything she’d done for me, trying to remember the process she and I went through to get out of the hole I’d dug for myself. I needed to be the strong one today, even if I had to make it up.

“Sit down.” I said, standing up taller and gesturing my sister toward the (freshly vacuumed) couch. “I’ll get us a drink.” It was literally barely ten thirty in the morning, but I found two bottles of Corona in the fridges and grabbed them anyway. Beer wasn’t going to solve any of our problems, but it sure as shit wasn’t going to make them any worse, either. Belle chuckled a little when I handed her one and we both tapped the lips of each bottle together in a toast, taking a sup before we both grimaced violently.

“I hate beer.” I somewhat coughed out, disgusted. Belle nodded in agreement while I sat down.

“Same.” She said, and then we both took another swig, our post-beer expressions not as bad this time. Belle still looked lost and sad, though, so I put my drink down on the coffee table and swivelled on the couch next to her so I could face her straight on.

“You wanna tell me what’s going on?” I asked bluntly. We had to start the dreaded conversation eventually. I didn’t want to be stuck in this endless loop of purgatory with her. We were sisters – it shouldn’t have had to be like that.

“Yeah.” She said quietly taking a moment to clear her throat and take a deep breath. I gave her time and didn’t push, because forcing her to talk wasn’t going to help.

“I, um.” She started peeling at the sticker on her beet bottle. “I dropped out of law school.” Belle confessed, and I just stared at her blankly because that was not at all where I thought she was going with this, nor did I think that’s what she’d come all this way to tell me.

“I’m sorry, what?” I kind of bumbled out. Belle nodded, lips pursed and her eyes not meeting mine for longer than a second at a time.

“Yeah…” She seemed to hum out. “I, uh, dropped out of law school.”

I felt like that was a very simple statement, but I was really struggling to understand why in the hell Belle would have done something so… life-changing. My sister and I were different in almost every way, but I knew that neither of us liked change. We liked routine and did not enjoy harsh changes like dropping out of fucking law school. And besides that, she was good at it! And I thought law was something she wanted more than anything.

“Uh?!” I made a face, eyes wild and eyebrows where beyond the earth’s atmosphere. “When? And why?!”

To my complete and absolute shock, Isabelle started to laugh. She snorted, the way us James women did, and then let a giggle bubble on her chapped lips until she couldn’t stop.

“Seriously, B, what the fuck?!” I started to laugh too, and when Belle finally looked at me she was almost in tears from laughing so much.

“I tried to join the circus!” She cackled, it took me a couple of extra seconds to really catch what she’d said.

“The…circus?!” I spluttered out, and all Belle could do was laugh even more. I let out a loud snort and threw my head back, clutching my sides in a fit of amusement. Isabelle was as averted to exercise and teamwork as I was, so the idea of her doing somersaults and attempting the splits was absolutely hilarious to me.

“B, what the fuck?!” I giggled out again, wiping at my eyes while the pair of us tried as hard as we could to stop laughing.

“I–!” B tried to calm down, breathing in and out and dabbing her sleeve under her eyes, too. “It was like a year ago.” She giggled. “I’d been taking these acrobatics classes and my instructor said I was getting really good. One day the Russian circus came through so my friends and I – the other girls from the class – we all decided to go together, and D!” Belle was smiling at me, lips spread wide as she reminisced. “Dal, it was incredible.”

Belle went away for a little bit, after we’d stopped giggling enough for her to tell her story. I watched as she got lost in the memory, and part of me wished I could have been there with her to see what she was seeing. The other part of me kind of felt like I was intruding, just a little bit. I shifted, pulling my legs up on the couch so I could cross them under me.

“What happened?” I asked, prompting Belle to continue and brought her back to earth. Her expression grew sad again, and the humour in the room was long gone.

“We, uh.” She exhaled, almost like she was defeated already, and then took another swig from her drink as I did the same. “We found the manager. He didn’t speak a whole lot of English but we convinced him to let us… I dunno, audition, I guess.”

I arched my brow at my sister, still very confused as to how far along down the law school line she’d decided that she wanted to join the circus. I had so many questions, and I felt like I was fighting with myself not to interrupt. But I didn’t say anything, I just promised myself to just wait ‘til Belle was done before I did.

“I… I was going to run away with the Russian Circus.” Belle said again with a heavy sigh. “I thought that it would solve all of my problems and be a hell of a lot more fun that law school. But I wasn’t good enough. I mean, the manager said I was great and the other girls – the trapeze girls – they loved me. But I just… I wasn’t there yet. I didn’t have the experience or the years of practise they did, and the Russians didn’t have enough space to carry around dead weight, you know?”

I felt so unhelpful. Like, I felt ‘supportive Facebook message when everyone finds out somebody has cancer’ level unhelpful. I’d had no idea that Belle was struggling with anything, let alone that she was struggling with being rejected from the Russian fucking Circus. She’d been doing this all on her own and I’d done nothing to help.

“B?” I looked at my sister, just one question coming to mind as I watched her long for something she couldn’t have. “Belle, why do you want to run away?”

As if I’d said the magic words, Belle started to cry again. For real this time, her shoulders shaking and her eyes squeezed shut behind her hands that were covering her face. I wanted to reach out to her, to just hold her tight until all of the hurt that she was feeling went away. But I was wiping away my own slow tears, now, and Belle looked like she was fighting. I could feel her trembling beside me and somehow, I just knew that her fight right now was with herself, to do this one last thing on her own.

“I’m here, B.” I said to her quietly, reminding her. “Just tell me what’s wrong.” Belle sobbed, and she did for a few more moments before she could even attempt to speak again.

“Dal, I’m… I-I…” Her lip trembled again and her hand flew up to cover her mouth. Whatever words she was trying to get out, they were fighting her back. It was hurting me how hard this was for her – it was hurting that my own twin sister was finding it so hard to open up like this with me. I wiped at my face again, and dragged the sleeve of my hoodie across my nose ungracefully. I should have grabbed the tissues before I sat down.

“You’re what, B?” I felt like I was begging her. “What’s the matter?”

“I’m gay!” Belle finally blurted out, panting afterwards, almost hyperventilating as if it had taken literally every last bit of energy she had to say it.

“…what?” My eyes went wide once again, though there was no comprehension in them. Belle wasn’t sobbing anymore, but she was still wiping away tears and trying to control her breathing.

“I’m gay, Dallas.” She said again. “I… I’ve been so lost trying to figure it out. And when I did I-I just…: She gave a wild shrug, looking down to her fingers. “I thought running away with the circus would just fix everything. Running away from law school could have meant… running from this a-and just being someone else.”

“But…” I paused to wipe my face again, trying as hard as I could to control the confusion I had and trying to choose my words carefully so I didn’t make this about me. Because as upset as I was that my sister was too scared to confused to tell me her life secrets, this was about her coming to terms with them herself. “Wait, what about Ashton?” I asked. “I thought…?”

Isabelle shook her head as she took another long drink from her beer, nearly finishing it.

“It… it was never about Ashton.” She said quietly, once again refusing to look at me. “I… I mean he liked me but I –” she kind of choked on her words a bit, but she coughed back the hesitation and took a deep breath. “I-I had to tell him because this was about Polly.” I blinked at my sister. She looked up me for just a second and I saw nothing but complete fear in her eyes.

“Polly?” I squeaked out, and I was a little scared now, too. Isabelle nodded but didn’t elaborate on that, just staring at me intently with watery eyes, silently willing me to put the pieces together sooner. “Why would…?” I thought backwards, going through everything that had happened. B’s confession, Ashton being allusive, B being upset that Ashton had hurt Polly…

“You like Polly.” I peeped out as the penny dropped.

Belle closed her eyes, tears trekking down her cheeks still. This was all because Belle had feelings for Polly, not Ashton. And she’d told Ashton first, instead of me, because I wasn’t there for her. She never would have had to battle this on her own if I’d just done my fucking job as her sister and just been there for her. I launched myself at my sister, throwing my arms around her neck and pulling her to me while I broke. I couldn’t stop thinking about how lonely she must have felt; how I failed her so much that she thought the solution to all of this would have been to run away with foreigners.

“I am so sorry, B!” I was telling her again, weeping into her shoulder and hugging her so tight I thought she might burst. I was trembling with apologies, the words barely audible. And Belle was holding me just as tight, both of us kind of just trying to keep each other from falling apart even more. “I didn't know, I-I! I wish you’d told me, Belle. I could’ve…!”

“There was nothing for you to do for me, D…” She whispered in my ear. I pulled back, cupping her face in my hands and forcing her to look me in the eye. He cheeks were sticky and wet but I ignored it because I needed her to look at me and believe me.

“I could have been better.” I said carefully, firmly. “I should have been better. Everything you said to me, you were right, B.” B shook her head at me again, taking my hands from her face so she could hold them in her lap.

“Everything I said to you, Dallas, came from a dark, hurting place.” She told me just as carefully. “And I’m sorry for hurting you like that, because I shouldn’t have taken it out on you, not like that.” I took one of my hands back to wipe my nose, and Belle did the same before she let out a sigh and squeezed my other hand, staring at me as if she could see something that I couldn’t.

“I’m... I’m so jealous of you, D.” She said to me quietly. I made a face of disbelief, staring at my sister like she’d sprouted a second head.

“Why?” I asked my voice thick with humour, but also disgust. Belle shrugged and offered a small smile.

“Because,” She said, and we paused so that we could twist and sit next to each other properly, Belle pulling me under her arm and hugging me to her closely. I don’t think it was so she could comfort me, it was more for herself. “Ever since we were kids, D, you’ve known exactly who you were and who you wanted to be. You’ve never been anybody but yourself.”

“But myself is a mess.” I tried to argue, but when I looked up at B she was just rolling her eyes.

“Maybe. But even when you think you’re a mess, at least you’re a hundred per cent sure that you’re a mess.” She clarified, and I just shut my mouth because she was kind of right. I’d always been more than a hundred per cent sure that I was Anxiety on Legs – I wasn’t proud of that, but it was true.

“You are – and have always been – destined for greatness, sis.” She said softly. “And if I could have half of that guaranteed for me then I’d be happy.”

“You were destined for greatness too, B.” I told her, hugging her back and hoping like hell that she could feel that I was here now and wasn’t going anywhere any time soon. “You’re destined for a different kind of greatness, but we’re going to do it together, okay?”

After a few more tears and a few more laughs and after B and I really sorted out what page we were on, we cleaned ourselves up and put on some fresh clothes. We didn’t plan on going anywhere or doing anything, but we smelt like beer and snot and it was not a good look. I help Belle untangle her hair and she helped me find the missing sweat pants she liked to borrow when she was over. Eventually we found ourselves in the kitchen cooking dinner, Belle stirring pasta over the stove while I microwave-cooked some fresh cheese sauce to go with it. Mac and Cheese was our soul food – the food that could solve all the problems and end every world war if The People let it.

“Hey D,” She asked over her shoulder while pulled the sauce out of the microwave and swore under my breath when the glass bowl burnt my fingertips to a crisp. “How’re things with Calum?”

I was hoping she wouldn’t ask. Truth was I had no idea how things were going because I hadn’t seen him in days.

“Uh.” I cleared my throat awkwardly while I mixed the half-done sauce. “It’s not, really. I haven’t really seen him.”

“Really?” She sounded sad, and I wished she wouldn’t. I spent enough of my own time being sad about missing Calum, I didn’t need her to give me The Eyes, too. “Why?”

I thought back the last time I’d spoken to Calum and grimaced at the memory.

“I uh. I kinda told him to get out of my face…”

I felt a sharp blow to my arm and I yelped.

“What the fuck would you do that for?!” Belle scolded me. I rubbed the red spot on the arm where she’d wacked me with the pasta stirrer.

“First of all, ow!” I snapped. “And second, I didn’t want him to get any more… involved. Pushing him away was just easier. He already thought that’s what I was doing so I just…” I gave a shrug, turning away from my sister so I could take a breath. “

“D, you gotta fix that.” Belle told me when I turned back to put the bowl back in the microwave. “You gotta apologise; you two were made for each other.” I snorted.

“After what he said to me? Yeah right.” I said, and I could feel the leftover anger bubbling over in my gut a little bit. Belle just gave me a look. The side-long kind that really didn’t approve.

“And you’re telling me you didn’t tell him anything that was hurtful either?” She threw at me and I opened my mouth to defend myself but I knew that she was right – as usual.

“Yeah, I know, I just…!” I sighed.

“You just what?!” B asked, thoroughly unimpressed with the way I had handled this. She was almost back to normal now, it was scary.

“Yes, I’m angry that he said I was selfish and conceited and that I pushed people away. But I’m… I-I’m mostly angry that I made him feel that way about me. I was supposed to… be different. I liked him. I do like him.”

B seemed to sigh, shifting her weight so that she could lean on the benchtop, hip popped and her hand balled at her waist.

“You need to fix this.” She told me again. “If you just explain it the way you just did and apologise for being a dick, he’ll forgive you.

“And what if he doesn’t?” I challenged. “Then what am I supposed to do?” Belle rolled her eyes at me and went back to stirring the pasta.

“He likes you, Dallas.” She said very matter-of-factly. “He’ll forgive you.”

I huffed. Just thinking about it all was making my heart race.

“I think… I think I just need to sort myself out first.” I said, and I was pretty sure I was pulling some excuse out of my ass so I could stall this much-needed apology and go a little longer avoiding Calum. “If I can just get sorted here and get in the right mind space… maybe it’ll be okay, you know?” Belle groaned.

“You are so full of shit.” She said. I wacked her this time, with my own stirring spoon and left a big white splat on her clean shirt.

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