#he's so polite and friendly and he has never done anything wrong in his life

[lomotunes2008]

[masterj]

*Gasp!* Another chugger in yippee!

[riality-check]

ao3 link

Viktor does not have many friends at the Academy, but he is rarely alone. Such is the nature of university life. The academic environment is inherently social; he attends class with other students, eats alongside them, and must frequently bang on his wall so as to alert his neighbors that he can, in fact, hear… whatever activities they decide to do on weeknights. Being alone at the Academy is a difficult feat, and it is one that does not go out of his way to accomplish.

He has learned that surprises some of his classmates. They often remark, when they are paired with him for group projects, about their perceptions of him.

“I thought you’d be meaner.”

“I thought you’d be quieter.”

“I always assumed you were just shy.”

Every time, Viktor must refrain from rolling his eyes. Topside politeness is a strange thing, he has learned. It is very performative, with its big smiles and friendly, useless greetings. He finds it difficult to imitate - why, for example, ask someone “how are you?” if neither they nor him truly care for the answer? - and so he sticks to Undercity standards.

Nod politely as a greeting. Give people space unless they require conversation. Offer a chair or a coat or a snack if someone is in need, with the understanding that the debt will be repaid.

Back home, his parents were often praised for raising such a polite boy. Here, at least once a semester, someone comments on his standoffishness.

It does not matter. He is not here to slack off. He is here to learn. He does not need anything more than the pleasant, occasional company of his classmates, who, he is discovering, will offer their smiles but never their coats.

Every once in a while, he does get more. Someone will stay in his room for a night - they always think they are the ones in charge at the beginning, a fact that Viktor finds equally amusing and irritating - and coo sweet words about his appearance and his intellect.

He is lucky if they look at him the next morning. He learns the hard way that they are perfectly content with a trencher in their bed but never on their arm.

When this finally sinks in - it does not take long; he has always been a quick study - Viktor swallows back whatever odd thing it is that rises in his throat and determines that this attitude suits him perfectly well.

______________________________________________________________

The brace is simple in its concept but difficult to perfect. Considering the amount of time spent constructing his current cane a few semesters ago, Viktor is not surprised. Engineering for biological systems is far more complex than, say, pure mechanical engineering. Pain and discomfort, for example, are complicating factors for his leg bug not for air filtration systems.

Viktor would much rather design air filtration systems than leg braces or canes. They are far more interesting and useful on a larger scale. But the truth of the matter is that he cannot trust anyone else to construct these devices for him. Only he knows how they feel for his body, and the effort he would have to undergo to translate the abstract (but very real) sensations of wrongness, in all their varied forms, into words that another person can understand is not worth it. Not when he can just grab a wrench.

What is that saying? “If you want something done right, do it yourself.”

Story of Viktor’s life.

He sits on his bed, right leg crossed at an uncomfortable height over his left, and tightens a screw. The previous designs are all documented in his notebook, which he flips through using his unoccupied hand. With every problem he eliminates, a new one arises. It is the worst haggling he has ever partaken in.

The brace must be worn underneath his trousers; he will not wrinkle his uniform if he can avoid it. Until recently, this meant that the cold, harsh metal of the brace would chill and bite at his skin. He only had so much salve (fresh unopened tin, left in the communal bathroom for a week with no takers) left, and he intended to save it for injuries that mattered.

He tried once, a few days ago, with a long sock on underneath the brace, but it rolled down so often and so severely that in a fit of exasperation, he nearly cut it off with scissors. Then he remembered that his sewing kit did not have enough black thread to repair that level of damage.

He only had three pairs of socks left, as they had a proclivity for vanishing inexplicably each time he washed his clothes. So, he could not cut it.

This design should, hopefully, “do the trick.” He attached cushioning (A petite girl he had taken a calculus class with, when she woke up the next morning in his room, asked, with a glance at the sewing kit left on his desk, if he could hem a dress for her. She repaid him by purchasing his next meal - real food, finally, not from the university - and letting him keep the scrap. He never saw her again.) to the parts of the brace most uncomfortable to wear.

All the old problems - tension, pressure, weight, bulk - have been resolved. There will only be new ones.

Viktor tightens the last screw. Time to see what those will be.

The brace is multifunctional. Primarily, its design is intended to correct the abnormal inward rotation of his right leg. Secondarily, it supports his knee and ankle to both allow his muscles to stop carrying that burden and prevent the joints from overextending and subluxating, as they often tend to do.

It will be uncomfortable, compelling his leg away from its natural state. But Viktor can live with discomfort if it is in exchange for improvement.

He has been haggling in this manner for his entire life.

With assistance from his cane, he stands. Then, he divides his weight evenly between his two own feet, holding his cane aloft.

There is the discomfort, as he had expected, but there is no pain.

He paces up and down the length of his dorm without his cane. His joints are relegated to a normal range of motion, which is restrictive but more stable. They do not feel as loose. A dull stretch, induced by the rigidity of the brace fighting against his body, along the side of his leg runs from thigh to calf, but that is all.

No other pain. No true pain, other than the dull ache of adjustment.

He nearly falls over with the realization before he catches himself on the wall. He has had days free of pain before, but they occurred far more often when he was a child. Now, they are so few and far between that he had nearly forgotten what it was like to have the distraction of it removed almost entirely. 

He can think more clearly without it whispering talking shouting in his ear. He can breathe more easily.

Walking is awkward, what with the new rotation and the added weight, but he conjectures that he will get acclimated to it. He wants to get acclimated to it.

Outside of his window, he has a nearly unobscured view of the Academy clocktower. It takes him one glance to realize he is very nearly late for his systems course.

In his haste, Viktor nearly forgets to bring his cane with him to class. With how his brace reduces the pain, it is merely a failsafe in the event his balance is compromised by the awkwardness of his gait.

He barely uses it. Once he gets used to the new positioning of his leg, walking is a little easier. Slower, but easier. And the whole time, his cane barely makes contact with the ground.

The whispers are loud as always.

“Did he get better?”

“Has he been faking?”

“I knew someone our age couldn’t actually need it.”

He holds his head up and ignores them. When he catches a look, he returns the stares and wins.

He knows he will never be able to run. He could not when he was a child, and the unfortunate fact that the many non-functioning components of his body will only degrade - a fact he greatly prefers not to dwell on - has prohibited the notion for the rest of his life.

For the first time, he wants to run. So badly, in fact, that it is heart that aches instead of his leg.

He walks into class without the assistance of his cane, with the brace hidden underneath his pant leg, and believes, entirely, that this could work. That maybe he can walk like this, with no outward signal that he is different. Non-functional. Built incorrectly in the compounding of each and every failure inflicted upon the Undercity.

Maybe this is something he can overcome with his intellect. He already crawled up. What is stopping him from walking upright?

What is stopping his brilliant mind from allowing him to run?

He spends all day testing this notion, barely using his cane.

Viktor should have known the haggling would not work entirely in his favor. It never has.

When his body comes to collect, he pays in full. With interest.

The other installments, if you're interested: 1, 2, 3. 5 6.

[ccwritesninja]

The Departure-Itachi

A/N: This is a longer chapter that I hope you guys enjoy. Thank you guys for all the sweet comments and questions!!! I love talking with you guys so don't be ever be shy if you want to talk about the fic!

CW: SMUT, Minors DNI 18+

Read on Ao3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

You were shrugging on an extra sweater when a soft knock sounded at the door of your hospital room. A perpetual chill seemed to have settled in your body since waking up. A bizarre side effect of Itachi’s genjutsu, maybe?

“Come in.”

The door slid open, and Kakashi limped inside. “Yo.”

“Hey.”

“So you threw yourself in front of Itachi, huh?”

He studied you with admonishment in that dark grey eye. You crossed your arms over your chest. “Why are you looking at me like that? You did the same thing.”

“I have the sharingan.”

“Well, clearly it wasn’t much help.”

“He could have killed you, Y/n.”

“He could have killed us both.”

Kakashi slid his hands evenly into his pockets. “To be honest, I’m not sure why he didn’t.”

He leaned against the doorway, still eyeing you carefully. He was gauging your reaction, likely trying to figure out how mentally damaged you were from the encounter.

“I can’t imagine that was easy. Having to fight him.”

You tilted your head. “I’m sure it wasn’t easy for you either. You were our captain.”

“I wasn’t in love with him.”

A heavy weight had settled between your shoulders. Itachi wasn’t a monster. Despite the things he had done, he hadn’t wanted to harm you or Sasuke. He was simply playing the part, no matter how far he had to go with it.

You weren’t sure you could have done the same, made the choices he had, but you didn’t blame him for it. You couldn’t.

You didn’t want Kakashi to do that either.

“He didn’t want to hurt me.”

Kakashi blinked. One of his silver brows shot up, a betrayal of his typically well-hidden emotions. Of course he thought you were insane.

He shifted against the doorframe, likely trying to figure out a polite way to ask what the hell was wrong with you. “Naruto told me what happened. If it was anything like what he did to me…”

You closed your eyes, drawing in a deep breath in through your nose. 

“I have to tell you something.”

“You do?”

“This has to stay between us.”

The deep lines of a frown were visible under his mask. “Alright.”

You sat back on the edge of the stiff mattress and told Kakashi everything. He considered your words carefully, and you were grateful for it.

“How do you know Itachi was telling the truth?”

“Because the reason he gave Sasuke never made sense. And you know what Danzo is like.”

Kakashi did. The man had convinced him to spy on the Hokage as a teenager. He had attempted to pluck his sharingan straight from his head. He was a conniving, brutal soldier who desired to protect the village at any price, even at the cost of some of its own citizens.

He could see how gentle, quiet Itachi might have been swayed to give up his entire clan in exchange for the promise of peace. His sense of duty to the village was strong, and his desire to protect his little brother was even stronger. Danzo wasn’t above threatening a child, or even killing one.

Sasuke’s life could have very well been at risk. It likely still was, if Itachi had been telling the truth.

“This can’t leave this room,” you reminded Kakashi. “If Danzo found out-”

“It’s our heads on a platter.”

—

Despite the sense of constant unease that bit at your insides, things seemed to improve over the next couple of months. Sasuke wasn’t isolating himself as much. He seemed to actually enjoy the missions and outings he joined his teammates for. 

He even requested that you return to your weekly movie nights. The event had fallen to the wayside for the past year, but you were picking it back up again. Even Sakura and Naruto joined a few times, and they brought Kakashi along with them. The compound hadn’t seen so many visitors in years.

It felt nice to hear the house full of laughter and friendly voices.

“Is the popcorn ready yet?” Naruto called from the living room.

“Almost!”

“You’re so slow,” Sasuke complained.

You carried the wooden bowl in from the kitchen and swatted his hand away when he tried to reach for it. “And you’re so not getting any.”

You lifted the bowl over his head and handed it to Kakashi. Sasuke rolled his eyes and slumped back against the cushions next to Sakura. 

“Keep it away from his rude little hands.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Tch,” Sasuke muttered. “Traitor.”

“Y/n and I were teammates first,” Kakashi reminded him.

You took your seat next to him and grabbed the remote, hitting play. Jiraiya’s Tales of a Gutsy Ninja had been adapted into a movie the year prior, and you were curious to see if it was any good. The book hadn’t sold as well as his others, but the story was solid. You and Sasuke had rented it from the video store earlier that day, despite the deadly eye roll he had given you.

“Oh come on! You used to love that book!”

“I’m not a little kid anymore.”

“Well we’re not going with a scary movie. Kakashi doesn’t like them, and I don’t want to give Naruto nightmares.”

The kid was still terrified of ghosts, after all. Despite having the power of the nine-tailed fox inside him, he still acted like a regular twelve year old boy.

So Tales of a Gutsy Ninja it was.

You settled in beside Kakashi, wrapping a fuzzy blanket snugly around your body. Naruto leaned over Sasuke, snatching a handful of popcorn from the bowl. He half-crawled over his teammate in the process.

“Get off me, loser!”

“Sasuke, be nice to your teammate.”

“Kakashi-sensei, will you please pass the popcorn?”

“Sure thing, Sakura.”

The man held the bowl over Sasuke’s head, watching with a crinkly eyed smile as the boy glared at him.

“I’ll share some of mine with you, Sasuke,” she offered.

“Whatever.”

Still, he took the offered snack from her hands. You smiled to yourself. A dizzying wave of nostalgia washed over you. 

Movie night wasn’t just a tradition for you and Sasuke. It was something that began years ago, for you, Shisui, and Itachi. Sometimes Tenzo and Yugao joined too. You even managed to get Kakashi to show a few times, though those had been far and few between.

It was a pleasant feeling, sitting there with Sasuke and his team, but you couldn’t help but feel like someone was missing. It was silly thought, stupid even, to hope that he could be there beside you. Itachi was still a rogue nin. He hadn’t shown his face in months. 

You hadn’t even caught sight of a summons since the attack. He was clearly staying away. 

Was it fear of getting caught after his and Kisame’s attempt to take Naruto? Or was it guilt for what he had done to you and Sasuke?

You weren’t sure, but, despite everything, you ached to have him beside you, to snuggle against his side like you used to do. You always ended up falling asleep on him halfway through the movie. He never seemed to mind.

Kakashi suddenly shifted, accidentally brushing his hand against yours. He stammered out an apology, flushing up to the tips of his ears. He really was afraid of intimacy.

Sasuke shot him a dirty look. 

“It’s fine,” you assured Kakashi.

You shifted further against the arm of the couch, giving him a little bit more space. By the time the credits rolled around, you were out cold. You woke to the smack of a pillow hitting you in the face. 

“Sasuke,” Kakashi admonished.

“She always falls asleep!”

“You little…” You sat up, rubbing your eyes and glaring at Sasuke.

You formed a series of hand signs, and spit a torrent of water into his face. The satisfied smirk dropped from his lips. He was now sopping wet and shoving his damp bangs out of his eyes. Naruto and Sakura giggled. 

“Walk your friends out please.”

He grumbled something under his breath and followed them out the front door. 

Kakashi stretched, shoulders cracking, and rose from the couch. “I can help you clean up.”

You shook your head. “It’s alright, Kakashi. I’ve got it.”

“Are you sure?”

“They really didn’t make that much of a mess.”

You scooped up the stray pillow and the extra blankets you had pulled out. You began to fold one, and Kakashi stepped forward, grabbing the other end to help you.

“Thanks for inviting me tonight.”

“Of course. You’re team seven too.”

“Still, it was…nice.”

“It was.”

“If you ever want to…” He trailed off, seeing the sudden flash of panic in your eyes. “Never mind.”

You offered him a sad smile, pulling the folded blanket from his hands. “I’m sorry, Kakashi.”

“It’s alright. You’re still in love with him.”

You bit the inside of your cheek and nodded.

“I understand. Has he shown himself lately?”

You shook your head and sighed. “Not once. And I still…it’s silly, right?”

You prepared yourself for the judgmental glance, for the pragmatic speech, but none of that came. Instead, Kakashi simply shook his head and offered you a crinkly-eyed smile.

“No. Not silly. Matters of the heart never are.” He let his hand fall onto your head, ruffling your hair, like you were one of his genin. “Call me if you need anything.”

And then he was gone, slipping out the door after his students. Sasuke returned a few moments later. He helped you sweep up the stray popcorn and straighten up the sofa, and then slipped into his room after a quick goodnight.

When you finally slid beneath your own covers, sleep evaded you. You tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable. The bed suddenly felt too vast and too cold for you to be laying in it alone. You ached for Itachi’s warmth, for the peace that lying in his arms had always provided you.

It wasn’t fair that he couldn’t be here now, helping you raise Sasuke, joining you for his team’s events. It would be simple if you could just forget about him. If you could let him go and move on, and take Kakashi up on his offer. 

Unfortunately, it wasn’t that simple. There was nothing wrong with Kakashi, but your love for Itachi was seared into your heart. It would never leave you. No matter what happened, no matter how long he disappeared for, your heart would always belong to him.

—

In the weeks that followed, Sasuke’s good mood remained. He still had the attitude of course, but the crushing darkness he had been leaning into was nowhere to be found. Hope fluttered in your chest for the first time in months, and you allowed yourself to think that maybe the battle with Itachi wouldn’t have any long term effects on him.

Then the escort mission happened.

Naruto and Sakura returned from the Land of Tea with an unconscious Sasuke in their arms. Genma showed up on your doorstep and announced past the senbon between his lips that Sasuke had been injured, yet again.

Once you were sure he would be alright, you pulled Naruto and Sakura out into the hall to demand a detailed explanation of the mission. They told you that Sasuke had been defeated by another shinobi named Aoi, who taunted him about being a disappointment to the Uchiha clan. In the end, Naruto defeated him while Sasuke was unconscious.

When you tried to broach the subject with him in the hospital, he shut you down immediately. He refused to even speak about it, leaving you frustrated and nervous. The medics wanted to keep him in the hospital for observation to ensure that Aoi’s lightning chakra hadn’t inflicted too much damage. You offered to sleep there with Sasuke, but he insisted you didn’t. You made the trip to and from the compound several times a day to bring him food and check up on him.

It was during one of these visits that you recognized Kakashi wandering in your direction, a book leveled in front of his face. You called out to him.

“Oh, Y/n.” He lowered the copy of Icha Icha. “I was just about to stop in and see Sasuke.”

“Me too.”

A loud crash echoed through the air. You and Kakashi both tensed, looking around for the source of the noise. It appeared to be coming from the roof of the hospital. A cloud of flame suddenly erupted over the building.

 A fire-style jutsu? 

You and Kakashi launched yourself up the concrete. You raced up the side of the building, praying to every god there was that this didn’t have anything to do with Sasuke.

Angry, shouting voices began to echo down as you got closer. Your stomach twisted as you realized one of them was his.

You made it to the roof, landing just beside Kakashi. 

To your horror, Naruto and Sasuke were racing toward each other. Sasuke’s chidori glowed blue in his hand. Naruto had formed his rasengan. Sakura was running toward them, likely intending to intervene and stop them. 

You and Kakashi bolted toward the fight. Your fingers closed around Sasuke’s wrist. Kakashi grabbed Naruto. In moments, you were throwing them apart, tossing them to opposite sides of the roof. 

They slammed into a nearby pair of water tanks, crushing the metal and causing water to pour onto the roof.

“What do you two think you’re doing up here?” Kakashi asked, his visible eye narrowing. “That was a little intense for just a sparring match, wasn’t it? What’s wrong with you two?”

Sasuke glared and yanked his hand from the crumpled metal. Naruto brushed himself off, looking guilty.

“Sasuke,” you snapped. “What were you trying to do, kill him?”

His dark eyes narrowed as he stared up at you. He said nothing. His shoulders were still rigid with tension. His eyes flickered between you and Naruto, as if weighing the consequences of going after him again.

Guilt gnawed at your insides. Yes, Sasuke was stubborn, but you had never seen him act so recklessly. 

All the progress he made after Itachi’s attack had clearly been erased. His confidence was shaken once more. This had only solidified his need to become stronger, to have vengeance, and he was willing to hurt his teammate to achieve that.

“You need to watch this sense of superiority you have.” You felt anger building in your chest, but you couldn’t stop it. “That chidori wasn’t the size you’d aim at a comrade!”

He muttered out a soft sound of annoyance. Your temper flared. 

Didn’t he understand how serious this was? He could have hurt not only Naruto, but Sakura as she attempted to get between them. Not to mention the property damage they’d inflicted upon the hospital.

“When are you going to grow up, Sasuke?” 

He didn’t respond. Instead, he walked over to the edge of the roof and backflipped off of it. You fought the urge to roll your eyes as you glanced over at Kakashi. He looked pained.

“I’ll go after him,” you muttered.

You tailed Sasuke through the village, keeping a safe distance back so that he wouldn’t notice you. He paused on a tree branch to catch his breath, and when he did, you took advantage of the opportunity. You pulled some ninja wire from the pouch on your hip and bound him against the heavy trunk. 

Sasuke squirmed, struggling against the bindings in a panic, but you quickly hopped down in front of him.

When you landed, he shot you a murderous glare. “I didn’t think you’d sit still for a lecture.”

His dark brown eyes glinted with something feral. You sighed. 

“Let it go,” you said softly. “You have to forget about revenge.”

“What?” he snapped. “How can you say that after everything Itachi’s done to you?”

You closed your eyes in frustration. You didn’t blame him for asking it, but the question was a difficult one to answer. Itachi had destroyed their family. He had changed the course of Sasuke’s life, and yours, forever.

“Listen to me,” you begged. “You can hurt Itachi. You could kill him with your bare hands, and it will not make a bit of difference. You’ll tear yourself apart. At the end of the day, you’ll still feel empty.”

Sasuke stared up at you, dark eyes studying yours. “Are we still talking about me?”

Your breath caught in your throat. Sasuke was too perceptive for his own good.

“No. I’m telling you this because I’ve lived it. Don’t make the same mistake I did. You can’t fill that hole with more death and pain. It doesn’t work that way.”

He frowned, shifting his eyes away and studying the tree bark beneath him.

“It didn’t matter that I got revenge, because my entire life fell apart around me anyway. The only reason I’m here now is because someone else pulled me out of the dark.”

“Itachi?”

 “Yes.”

Sasuke scoffed. “And look where that got you.”

“It got me here, with you, and that’s something I wouldn’t trade for anything.”

“If you could change things-“ he began.

“I can’t, Sasuke. And neither can you. All you can do is move forward. Become stronger, not to defeat Itachi, but for yourself and the people you still have left.

You leaned forward, poking him sharply in the center of his chest. “You’re what matters, not Itachi.”

He glanced down at the bark. Shame swam in his eyes.

“Promise me,” you pleaded. “I’ll teach you anything. Any jutsu I know. I’ll train you harder and I won’t hold back. Just promise me you’ll let this go.”

He drew in a deep breath, closing his eyes for a brief moment. “Okay. I promise.”

Your shoulders slumped in relief. You released the wire, reeling it back in. “Alright. I have to head out for my mission soon, but I’ll see you when I get back, okay?”

He nodded, still resting back against the tree. You reached down, ruffling his dark hair. 

“I love you, Sasuke.”

You headed off toward the compound, knowing he wouldn’t say it back. You didn’t expect him to. Sasuke never returned the words. He showed it with his actions instead. Wordless glances, small gestures. That was how Sasuke told you that he cared, that he loved you as much as you loved him.

You knew he did, but you were never sure if that would be enough for him. Your love couldn’t bring his family back. It couldn’t erase the horror he had been through. 

You prayed it was just enough to give him a little bit of hope, to make him believe that peace could be found in the rubble. Ironically, the thought was something that Itachi had instilled in you, years ago. Maybe Sasuke would one day believe the same.

��

Your mission to the Land of the Sea went off without a hitch. It only took a few days to escort the merchant ship to its destination. You were joined by Raido and Anko, both capable shinobi who made excellent teammates. You even managed to return to the village an entire day ahead of schedule. 

The three of you finished the mission report in the Hokage Tower and arrived at Lady Tsunade’s office to drop it off. When she began to dismiss the team, she called out to you. “Y/n, will you stay behind for a moment?”

You nodded, exchanging a worried glance with Anko before she and Raido departed. The door fell shut behind them softly. You felt the tension in the air as soon as they left.

“Would you like to sit down?” Tsunade asked. The look on her face was grim. 

“No, that’s okay.”

Had you done something wrong?

She took a deep breath. “Sasuke Uchiha left the village the night you departed for your mission.”

You blinked, staring at the Hokage as if you weren’t sure exactly what she was saying. “Left?”

“He was seen departing with four ninja from the Hidden Sound.”

Panic flared in your chest. A sharp ringing failed your ears, as if a bomb had just gone off. It may as well have. 

“Orochimaru took him? We have to-“

Lady Tsunade held up a hand. The rest of the words died in your throat. Her honey brown eyes took on a hard edge that choked you into silence.

“Despite the fact that we believe he left willingly, a team was sent to retrieve him. But they failed in their mission. Sasuke almost killed Naruto in the process.”

“What?” The word left your throat as a strangled gasp.

The memory of Sasuke attacking Naruto on the hospital roof flashed in your mind. The anger and hatred burning in his gaze hadn’t been lost on you then, but had he really meant to kill him that day?

Maybe he had, and you were just too blind to see it. 

You couldn’t separate the current Sasuke from the sullen little boy that used to beg to cuddle after nightmares. The one that was still terrified of losing you. 

“We believe he’s seeking out Orochimaru in order to increase his own power.”

Your heart was slamming in your chest, heavy with the knowledge that Sasuke had turned his back on the village. That he had turned his back on you to join a monster like Orochimaru.

Your legs trembled. You resisted the urge to sink to your knees, instead choosing to grip the hard wood of Tsunade’s desk.

“I know this is unpleasant news. You have given up much for Sasuke.”

“No…” you whispered. “No, that’s not…I’ve never…”

She gazed at you with pity in her eyes. She pursed her lips, glancing toward the ANBU guards stationed at the entrance to her office.

“Is there someone we can call for you?”

“There’s no one.”

“I see.”

“What if I go after him myself? I can hunt him-”

Tsunade’s lips were pressed together in a grim line. “We can’t afford to send another jonin out of the village on an extended mission. There’s no guarantee you could find him quickly, and we’re still too vulnerable.”

You closed your eyes. 

“I’ll keep you stationary in case he returns.”

“There’s no need for-”

“Take a few weeks for yourself.”

The harsh edge to her voice told you that it was an order, not a suggestion. She likely didn’t trust your judgement in this state, and her assumption was fair. There was also no guarantee you wouldn’t go rogue from the mission and still attempt to search for Sasuke.

Still, you ached for an assignment. The thought of staying in that empty house without Sasuke, while Orochimaru could be doing anything to him, was already driving you mad. But Tsunade’s decision was final. You knew there was no room for argument.

“Thank you, my lady.” Your voice was nothing more than a hollow whisper.

“Genma can escort you home if you’d like.”

“There’s no need.”

You slipped out of her office, running completely on autopilot as you made your way through the village. The sun was too bright. It beat down on you as you drifted down the streets, paying no attention to anything in front of you. 

You must have bumped into several different people, but you barely noticed. All you could think about was Sasuke. His promise had seemed sincere the day you departed. You thought he would at least think about giving up on his quest for revenge, that he was truly considering your words. 

You had been naive.

The house was quiet and still when you entered. As you stepped inside, you realized there was a scroll sitting on the front table. You snatched it up and tore it open, knowing that it was from Sasuke. Tears filled your eyes as you scanned the page. You pressed your fingers over your mouth, suppressing the sob that threatened to erupt.

Nee-san, 

I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you from Itachi, and I’m sorry for breaking my promise and hurting you like this now. I will get stronger. I will be able to protect you one day. When I restore the Uchiha clan, there will always be a place in it for you.

Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.

Sasuke.

You sank to your knees in the doorway, unable to hold yourself up any longer. The peace you fought so hard for Sasuke to attain had slipped right through your fingers. No matter how hard you fought for it, for him, your worst fear came true. 

He was gone.

—

Itachi sat at his desk in the Akatsuki hideout, drumming his fingers on the dark wood and debating with the demons inside his head. He had promised himself that he wouldn’t return to you. He swore he would stay away, refusing to draw you any further into his web of misery.

He fully intended to keep that promise, but the latest report from his summons set him on edge.

When the bird arrived, there was an eerie silence in the home that lasted for days.

Sasuke was no longer coming to or from his training sessions. An extended mission, perhaps?

He hardly saw you either. You didn’t leave the house once, and all of the curtains were drawn. The bird could hear you occasionally moving through the halls, but it was none of your usual bustling around. It was like you were a ghost in your own home.

Had something happened to Sasuke? To you?

One morning, his summons watched as Kakashi ambled through the deserted compound. The man walked over to your front door and knocked.

He tried repeatedly for about ten minutes, softly calling out to you. The look on his face was grim, almost guilty as he shoved his hands into his pockets and walked back down the steps.

Itachi’s summons could sense your chakra in the house. He was confident Kakashi could do the same. You were ignoring him, but why?

As he passed the branch the crow was resting on, Kakashi glanced up. He met the crow’s beady eyes, almost staring through them, as if he was looking right at Itachi.

A sick feeling churned inside his stomach. Something terrible must have happened, for you to be isolating yourself inside the house and ignoring your former captain.

Kakashi held the crow’s gaze for a moment before glancing back toward the main house. Then, he turned and slipped out the front gate.

Itachi was going to have to break his promise.

—

The next two weeks passed in a blur. You slept for most of it, hidden away under the darkness of your covers. The sun rose and set outside your curtains, but you paid no attention to the time.

Sasuke’s bedroom door remained firmly shut. You couldn’t bear to look in and see his empty bed any time you walked past. It was still neatly made from before he departed the village.

The space he had left in the home haunted you like a ghost. There were no loose weapons to trip over, no TV blaring loudly to interrupt your meditation. No sharp-tongued retorts or badgering for new jutsu.

Just silence. Dust.

You heard knocking at the door a few times, but ignored it, pressing the pillow firmly over your face to drown out the noise. Kakashi kept showing up to check on you, but you couldn’t face him. If you opened the door, he would want to talk about Sasuke, and you couldn’t stomach the thought.

In the end, you couldn’t protect Sasuke from the Uchiha’s curse of hatred. 

Why did you assume you could?

“Y/n.”

You heard the low rumble of Kiyoshi’s voice before you saw her.

She padded over to the bed in the dim light. It was growing dark outside.

Her soft, wet nose bumped against your palm. You ignored the gentle touch, drawing your hand back and under the covers.

“I didn’t summon you.”

“Pakkun sent for me. Kakashi said you haven’t been answering the door.”

You closed your eyes, burrowing further into the blankets. Her hot breath huffed against your face as she came closer.

“He is worried.”

“I’m fine.” 

“You are clearly not fine. When was the last time you bathed?”

You ignored her, pulling the comforter back over your head.

Her teeth sank into your ankle, tugging you down the mattress until you landed onto the floor with a thump. You didn’t even protest. You stared up at her pitifully, still tangled in your sheets.

“You are a sorry excuse for a kunoichi,” she muttered. “If someone attacked right now, they would cut you down in seconds.”

“I don’t care.”

Her resounding snarl caused you to flinch. “Stupid girl! Get off the floor or I’m dragging you into the shower myself.”

You simply stared at her, misery plain on your face. “There’s no point, Kiyoshi.”

“So you’ll just let Orochimaru have him then?”

“He wanted to go,” you whispered. “He wants power and strength. I can’t give him that.”

“Pakkun said there is a three year timeline, that Orochimaru will only take Sasuke’s body after that time.”

“So?”

Kiyoshi bared her teeth once more. “So you have three years to convince him to come home!”

“Lady Tsunade forbade me from going after him.”

She snorted. “When has that ever stopped you? I seem to remember you defying the direct orders of your captains many times.”

“This is the Hokage,” you muttered. “I doubt she meant forever. Just until the village recovers. Then you will be free to search for him.”

Your hands curled into fists. If only it were that simple. Even if you found Sasuke, there was no guarantee that he would return to the village, even for you. What could you possibly say to convince him, if you hadn’t been able to before?

Kiyoshi latched onto you again, causing you to yelp as she dragged you across the wooden floor.

“If you won’t pick yourself up,” she mumbled around your ankle. “I will do it for you.”

True to her word, she dragged you into the bathroom, despite your protest. Finally, you sat up, shoving her furry head away. 

You pushed yourself up from the tile and stepped into the shower. You tossed your clothes to the floor and allowed the steaming water to run over your back. Despair still sat heavy on your shoulders as you ran through all of your possible options. You had thought about this for weeks, over and over.

If you tried to take Sasuke back by force, Orochimaru would tear you limb from limb. If you tried to convince him to return, Sasuke would likely refuse, at least until he achieved the power he so desperately ached for.

At that point, would he still work with Orochimaru? Would he be strong enough to protect himself?

“Wash your hair too!” Kiyoshi called. “It’s greasy!”

You sighed, but did as she said.

When you stepped out of the shower, towel wrapped tightly around your body, she trotted over with your toothbrush.

“You have it in your mouth!” 

“Not the brushing part,” she grunted through her clenched teeth.

Exasperated, you yanked it from her jaws. You stood in front of the mirror as you squeezed out toothpaste, staring at your haggard appearance. 

You looked utterly exhausted, and you felt it too. Despite all your time hiding away in bed, you were barely sleeping. Even when you managed to fall into a restless doze, you were plagued with nightmares.

You saw Orochimaru torturing Sasuke behind your eyelids. You often woke with the sound of his screams echoing in your ears.

Kiyoshi urged you to eat something, and you placated her by slurping half a thermos of soup. Finally, she let you be, with the promise that she would return in a few days.

Once she disappeared into a puff of smoke, you settled back into bed. You fell into a fitful sleep once more, sinking back into the nightmares.

—

You woke several hours later to the sound of distant shuffling. For a moment, you were sure you were still dreaming. No one else had been inside the house for weeks. Sasuke wasn’t there. He wasn’t coming back.

You allowed your eyes to fall shut once more, ready to sink back into the haze of exhaustion.

That was when the noise came again. This time, you were sure it was real. Soft footsteps, and the unmistakable sound of the fridge opening and closing. Condiment bottles and glass jars rattling slightly against the plastic.

You shot up. Only one person would be fumbling around in the fridge late at night.

Your bedroom door was thrown open as you stumbled out of your room and headed toward the kitchen. He was standing there, a dark-headed figure, illuminated just barely in the glow of the fridge bulb as he crouched in front of it.

“Sasuke!”

Itachi straightened, turning at the sound of your voice. He hovered there, guilt clouding his expression as he met your gaze.

You deflated like a balloon. Disappointment, heavy and bitter, settled inside your stomach. You wanted to slump against the wall and sink down to the floor.

Sasuke hadn’t come home.

“Y/n.”

When Itachi spoke your name, it was barely more than a whisper. Confusion washed over you.

“What are you doing?”

He let out a shaky exhale. “I know my presence isn’t welcome-“

“No. I mean…what are you doing in the fridge?”

“Oh.” He gestured to the brown paper bag on the counter. “These were just sitting on the porch.”

You blinked. He was putting away the groceries Kakashi had left?

You stood there, dumbfounded at the sight of him doing something so casual and domestic. The last time you had seen Itachi, he had broken your wrist in one fluid motion. Now he was carefully placing yogurt and tomatoes onto the shelves of your fridge.

He let the door fall shut with a soft click. When he turned back to you, he didn’t step forward. He leaned back against the counter, resting his hands on the granite.

“Something has happened.”

It was a statement, not a question. He must have been watching, but you hadn’t caught sight of any summons. Not that you had been leaving the house much.

“Sasuke.” Your voice cracked. “He left the village.”

Itachi blinked. “He left? Where did he go?”

“Orochimaru.” The name dripped with venom as it left your lips.

“He went to him willingly?”

You didn’t answer. You were too stricken to speak, to even offer him a nod of affirmation. Instead, you dropped to your knees. They hit the wooden floor as you buried your face in your hands and began to cry.

Itachi was at your side in an instant. Distance be damned.

You glanced up when you heard him approach, tears still dripping from your eyes. He reached out, intending to wipe them away. You flinched back as he reached forward. 

He froze, letting his hand hover in the air for a moment. Guilt washed over him. Did you think he was going to hurt you? Or maybe it was simply your body’s reaction after what he had done to you.

Itachi moved forward, slowly. When his thumb gently swept the tears from your cheeks, he realized it was the latter. The soft sigh that left your lips confirmed that you weren’t afraid of him.

“I am sorry,” he murmured. “For everything.”

A choked sob left your throat. “I failed him.”

“No,” Itachi breathed, reaching for you. “No, that’s not true.”

He tugged you closer, and you didn’t stop him. You let yourself be pulled flush against his warm chest, let him hold you as you sobbed.

“He’ll kill him, Itachi.”

He shook his head, running a hand softly over your hair. “It will take more than Orochimaru to kill Sasuke.”

“He’s twelve, Itachi. He’s a child.”

“We were children too,” he whispered.

Your watery eyes met his. For a moment, they were glazed over with distant memories. You were suddenly a little girl again, back on a muddy, rainy battlefield. Small, frightened, and far too young to have blood dripping from the end of your blade.

“I didn’t want that for him.”

Itachi closed his eyes. “Neither did I.”

“Maybe I should have told him,” you said softly. “Maybe it would have changed things.”

Itachi shook his head. “It would only have endangered him. Danzo is still-”

“I’ll kill Danzo myself.” Your voice trembled with sudden anger.

After all, he was the reason for all of this. He was the one who had issued the ultimatum to Itachi in the first place.

Surprise flashed across Itachi’s face. You knew what it meant to kill a high-ranking official like Danzo.“You would become a traitor to the village?”

“There’s nothing here for me without Sasuke.”

Itachi frowned. “What happens if he returns?”

“What happens if Orochimaru kills him?” you shot back bitterly.

“It will not happen. I’ve always known Sasuke would surpass me one day. He will not allow himself to become a vessel.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. I know because he’s my brother, and he’s yours as well. His will is strong because that’s how you raised him. It will not be broken.”

You shook your head. “I have to get him back. I don’t care what it takes.”

Itachi’s arms tightened around you. “Then you will.”

You looked up at him, meeting his firm gaze. Itachi had always believed wholeheartedly in your abilities and the strength of your heart. It was the reason he had fallen in love with you, the reason he trusted you to raise Sasuke. If anyone could bring his little brother back into the light, it would be you.

Your lips suddenly slammed against his, needy and breathless. The sensation was dizzying. It caught him off guard for a moment.

But soon, his fingers came up to brush against the small of your back, urging you closer on instinct. Your thighs settled over his hips, creating a delicious friction that set his skin ablaze. You reached up, tugging at the dark, silken strands of his hair.

The two of you parted for air, and Itachi brushed his lips against the edge of your jaw before pulling back. Your face was still wet with tears.

“We shouldn’t,” he murmured. “You’re upse-“

You cut him off with another passionate kiss. Itachi let out a strangled gasp as your teeth grazed his bottom lip. Every coherent thought suddenly flew from his mind.

He was suddenly standing, his hands resting under your thighs as he scooped you up and wrapped them around his waist. He groped along the hallway, stumbling a bit as he attempted to move without breaking the kiss. 

His heel bumped against your bedroom door, pushing it open as he carried you into your room.

The heat of his body pressed you down into the soft mattress. You felt the weight of his hips against yours as he slid his tongue into your mouth. He was already hard.

Your body bucked in response. One his hands slid under your shirt, tracing the smooth skin of your hip before traveling further up.

A soft gasp escaped your mouth as Itachi’s fingers grazed your nipple. He swallowed each new moan with another kiss, savoring the way you squirmed beneath him at the simple touch.

He began to make his way down your jawline, peppering kisses into the hollow of your throat. He slid the shirt from your body, intending to dive right back in. That was when he noticed something.

“Is this one of my old training shirts?

You flushed. “It’s comfy…”

He laughed softly at your bashfulness. “Wear it as much as you wish.”

His lips found their way back to your neck, continuing their downward path. 

Your body lifted from the mattress as he sucked at the sensitive skin of your breasts, eagerly leaning into the sensation. His fingers slipped under your sleep shorts, sliding beneath the fabric of your panties.

They delved into your slick folds, and his thumb began to toy with your clit.

“Itachi,” you gasped, fingers tugging at his hair.

He groaned as you tugged, and pulled his hand away. You let out a small whine, upset at the loss of contact. He huffed out a laugh against your lips and began to pull your pants and panties down.

“You truly missed me that much?”

You nodded, brushing your lips against his. “It’s been so long.”

“Since me? Or since you’ve…”

“Both. Not since our last time.”

Itachi blinked, hovering over you for a moment in shock. “There’s been no one else?”

“No,” you admitted. “But it’s okay if you-“

He shook his head. “No. No, there’s been no one but you. I just…I would have thought…”

“Every time I got close enough to someone, it felt wrong.”

Itachi leaned down, capturing your lips once more.

“Then we’ll make up for lost time.”

He kissed his way down your body, stopping to nip and suck at the inside of your thighs. He reached up as you began to squirm, pinning your hips back down against the mattress.

“Itachi,” you breathed. “Stop teasing.”

He hummed noncommittally against the supple skin, before he decided to stop torturing you.

The moan you let out when he began to lick and suck at your clit was far more satisfying than your squirming.

He slid two thick fingers into your soaked core, and you whimpered at the stretch. It had been so long. Too long.

You rocked your hips against his hand, bucking against his mouth, and he cooed in appreciation. “You need me this much, my sweet girl?”

The only response you gave him was a frantic nod.

You cried out as he lapped at your clit, relishing the feeling of his fingers curling inside you. He continued his punishing rhythm, reaching up to palm your breasts. He tugged at your nipples, causing you to let out another whine.

A sweet warmth began to pool in your stomach as he coaxed you toward your first orgasm. Itachi took his time with you, refusing to rush as he stroked your fluttering walls and dragged his tongue along your slit. He wanted to savor your sweet taste.

He tugged moan after moan from you until you were white-knuckling the sheets and grasping at the silky strands of his hair. 

Everything else was fading away, disappearing into the ether until the only things that existed were you and Itachi.

You were grasping at him, frantically attempting to ground yourself to something solid as your thighs trembled and rocked around his head. 

One of Itachi’s hands came up to thread through yours, pressing it down into the mattress and pinning it there. His fingers squeezed your own, steady and insistent, urging you to let go for him.

And you did.

When your orgasm finally ripped through you, you came with a shudder, crying out his name.

Your one-handed grip on his hair tightened, tugging him down. Itachi didn’t stop. He continued to work you past your orgasm, tongue still buried in your folds. It wasn’t until you were shoving weakly at his head and attempting to squirm away that he pulled back. 

Soft kisses were pressed against your sticky thighs, before Itachi made his way up to your mouth. The taste of yourself on his tongue was intoxicating. You would never get enough of the way Itachi worshipped your body. He chased your pleasure doggedly, harder and faster than he had ever chased his own.

“Itachi,” you breathed.

“Yes, my love?” he murmured against your lips. 

“I need you inside me.”

He was more than willing to oblige you. The rough pads of his fingers brushed against your knees, spreading you open once more. He reached down, grasping the base of his cock. Pre-cum oozed from the head, smearing across your folds as he slicked himself up with your wetness. 

His lips slotted over yours. His tongue slid back into your mouth as he began to ease inside you. Itachi moved cautiously, keenly aware that it had been years since he last stretched you open. Despite the dizzying need to slam inside you and take what he had been craving, he held back. 

Itachi was patient. Gentle. So gentle that, soon, you were wiggling your hips and begging for more. And who was he to deny you?

He began to thrust into you, gripping your hips so tightly that you knew there would be bruises there later from the pads of his fingers. The intense darkness of his eyes had given way to the glowing crimson of the sharingan. The tomoe began to spin in lazy circles, and you knew he was memorizing this moment for later. 

All of it would be captured in painstaking detail. The blissful flush of your cheeks, your soft whimpers, the feel of your walls clenching so beautifully around his cock. Itachi would picture it all  as he stroked himself in the shower, wishing he could be back between your legs.

Your ankles locked around his back, urging him closer as your walls fluttered around him. He grabbed one of your legs, hitching it even further up on his hip. A guttural moan flew from his lips. Judging by the way your eyes rolled back into your head, the new angle was hitting the perfect spot for you too.

Itachi listened to you whimper and keen beneath him. He shuddered as your nails began to scrape down the soft skin of his back, leaving bright red marks in their wake. He wanted you to scratch him up, to brand him as yours.

His thrusts soon grew quicker, shallower. He breathed your name, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he came. The warmth of his seed spilled inside you, pulling a soft moan from your lips. The bliss of being this close to him set your body ablaze.

Itachi leaned up, pressing a passionate kiss to your lips. “I’ve missed you so much.”

You nodded, brushing your lips against his. “Me too.”

“Not just this,” he murmured. “Everything about you. All of it.”

“I know, Itachi. You don’t have to explain.”

“Can I hold you?”

“You don’t have to ask.”

He pulled out of you and came to rest on the sheets beside you. You shivered at the loss of heat, but he was quickly pulling you against him, his chest at your back. Itachi brushed his fingers against your mussed hair as he curled around you. 

He could feel the rapid rise and fall of your chest under his arm. You were both still breathless. His lips pressed soft kisses to your face, brushing against your jaw, your cheek, your forehead.

You laughed softly as he pulled the sheets over your body. As the sound left your lips, you realized that this was the first time you’d felt anything but misery in weeks.

Itachi closed his eyes as he nestled closer to you, breathing in the scent of you.

A soft gurgling noise caused him to open his eyes. 

“Have you been eating?” he murmured into your hair.

“A little.”

A displeased hum left his throat. “We’ll have to do something about that.”

“Not now,” you muttered, reaching up to brush your fingers over the hand resting on your bare stomach. “Just lay with me.”

Itachi wanted to argue, but he could already feel the soft lull of sleep calling to him. You were so warm in his arms, so content. He hadn’t laid like this with you in years. It was better than anything he ever could have dreamed up, better than any illusion his sharingan could craft.

He sighed against your neck, pressing one last soft kiss to the skin before he drifted off.

—

He woke later in the night, with a familiar, unpleasant ache in his chest. Moonlight peeked through the crack in your curtains as Itachi untangled his arms from your body. He bemoaned the loss of your warmth immediately, but it couldn’t be helped.

He slipped into your bathroom and shut the door softly behind him, just in time to erupt into a coughing fit. He spit blood into a wad of toilet paper and paused, listening for any indication that the noise had woken you. You didn’t stir. 

He flushed the evidence and rinsed any remaining blood from his mouth. You already had enough on your mind with Sasuke, and he didn’t want you worrying over him.

Soon he was sliding back underneath the covers, smiling to himself as you curled back into him. Your cheek came to rest on his muscular chest as you snuggled against his body. You sleepily mumbled his name.

“I’m here,” he whispered, stroking his fingers over your hair. “I’m here.”

[blakeswritingimagines]

Dating Yandere John Smith Would Include:

Obsessive, controlling, manipulative, and protective to an extreme extent. He tends to be highly possessive, often stalking you and making sure you are never with anyone else. He is prone to bouts of jealousy and violence, and will not hesitate to use force to keep you under his control. He also tends to have a strong sense of entitlement over his partner, believing that he has the right to dictate all aspects of your life.

His main goal is to keep you isolated from the rest of the world, and will do whatever it takes to achieve that goal. He may also display signs of emotional dependence on you, expecting you to be there for him at all times and becoming upset or hostile if you ever try to distance yourself from him.

In the relationship, power dynamics are heavily skewed in his favor, with him making all the decisions and having ultimate control over your life. He also has a tendency to gaslight and guilt trip you into submission, making it difficult to resist or escape from his clutches.

Despite his dangerous nature, there are times where he can be quite charming and charismatic, using these traits to manipulate you into doing what he wants. He will often go to great lengths to make himself seem caring and loving, even if it is just an act to keep you under his control.

In front of others, he appears to be a charming and friendly person, often masking his true nature. He is able to convincingly fake normalcy and often uses this to maintain his image and keep people from suspecting his true intentions. He is particularly good at appearing to be polite, helpful, and respectful towards others, even when he is actually harboring thoughts of possession and control over you. He also tends to be quite good at manipulating people to get what he wants.

He typically gives you frequent reassurances of his love and devotion, telling you how much you mean to him and how he needs you in his life. He will often say things like "I can't live without you" or "You're the most important person to me", which is all part of his attempts to control and dominate you. He may also use fear and threats as forms of "reassurance," telling you that he will hurt you or himself if you ever try to leave him.

He often uses rewards to reinforce your compliance with his demands. This can include things like gifts, trips, or special privileges. He may also use the threat of punishment to motivate you to do as he says. Rewards can be used as a way to keep you from trying to escape or resist his control, as he may withhold them if you don't comply with his desires.

His punishments can take a variety of forms, depending on the situation. He may use emotional manipulation, guilt-tripping, or even physical violence to punish you if he feels you have disobeyed him or gone against his wishes. He may also use more subtle methods such as ignoring you, withholding affection, or making veiled threats. Ultimately, the goal of his punishments is to discourage you from doing anything that might go against his desires and keep you under his control.

He can be quite generous with praise when he feels you have done something right, especially if it meets his expectations or helps him achieve his goals. He may shower you with praise and affection, telling you how perfect and special you are, and how he is so happy to have you in his life. He may also use praise as a way to control and manipulate you, with the goal of making you feel dependent on him and his attention.

When you do get into fights, He will likely try to shift the blame onto you and make it seem like you are the one in the wrong. He also uses emotional manipulation tactics to make you feel guilty for starting fights or not giving into his demands. In general, he will do whatever it takes to avoid taking responsibility for his actions and to maintain control over you, even to the extent of blaming you for the fights himself.

He can be very affectionate, especially when he feels like he has been able to maintain control over you. He may give you physical tokens of affection, such as hugs, kisses, or pats on the head, or may simply show affection through his behavior towards you. He may also use physical touch to remind you of his power over you, hugging too tightly or touching you in inappropriate ways in order to assert his dominance

Dates are mostly about him showing off, and trying to impress you. He will often take you to very expensive restaurants or other expensive activities just to flaunt his wealth and status. He may also use the opportunity to tell you all about his accomplishments and successes in order to make himself look good. He may also use the date as a way to get you to do what he wants, offering gifts or other rewards if you comply with his requests.

He is usually able to keep his true nature hidden from others, so they often just see him as a charmer or a nice guy. He may even come off as a bit over-the-top or possessive, but people are usually willing to overlook it because he's generally considered an attractive or successful person. He may even have friends or family who are aware of his obsessiveness, but are too afraid to confront him about it or don't think anything of it. However, as time goes on, people may begin to notice that there is something off about him.

It'd depend on the circumstances. He definitely has the capability to kill for his darling if he feels like it necessary (for example if he perceives someone else as a threat, or his darling tries to escape). He is also likely to have a deep sense of entitlement over his darling, believing that he has the right to do whatever is necessary to keep you by his side. So while he may not actively seek out opportunities to kill for his darling, it's possible that he could be driven to it by circumstance.

He may have a shrine or some sort of secret room or place that he has dedicated to you. It may include things like photos or mementos of you, as well as items that he has stolen from you (such as clothing or personal belongings). He may also use this space to write about you, or to simply think about you and how to keep you under his control.

He would likely not take it well at all. He would probably become very angry and aggressive, doing whatever he could to convince you to change your mind. He threatens you, tries to manipulate you into staying, or even physically restrains you from leaving. If he couldn't convince you to stay, he would probably become enraged and might even use violence to try to keep you.

He would likely view anyone trying to help his darling as a threat to his control over them. He would probably try to isolate you from them, using manipulation or even threats of violence to keep you from seeing them.

He would also likely start to badmouth or smear the person who is trying to help you, trying to make them seem untrustworthy or dangerous. In general, he would do whatever it takes to keep you away from anyone who could potentially help you escape his control.

He uses the idea of marriage as a way to further his control over you, either by using it as a means of manipulation (saying things like "If we're married, I can protect you better") or by using it as leverage in the relationship (saying things like "If you marry me, I'll give you anything you want"). He also uses it as a way to isolate you more, as getting married would make it harder for you to escape his control.

He may want to have children as a way to further secure his control over you, as having children would make it even harder for you to leave him. He may also see having children as a way to "secure his legacy" and ensure that a part of him will always be with you. Additionally, having children would mean that you would be tied to him forever, as you would not be able to fully escape him even if you were to physically separate from him.

If you couldn't have or didn't want children, it would likely cause a lot of tension in the relationship. He tries to convince you to change your mind or use guilt tripping or manipulation to attempt to force you to have children anyway. He may also use it as an excuse to justify his possessive and controlling behavior, saying things like, "If you loved me, you would give me children."

"You're mine and mine alone. You belong to me, and I'm never going to let you go. I love you more than anyone or anything else in the world, and I'll do whatever it takes to keep you by my side. You are mine, and I am yours. Always and forever."

Foot worship - Having a foot fetish, either for his own feet or yours. Possibly requiring oral service or massage.

Leather and bondage - Getting turned on by leather gear, restraints, and other BDSM paraphernalia. Enjoying the visual of you bound and helpless.

Sexual perversion - Engaging in taboo acts, fetish play, or non-consensual activities to make you feel dirty, ashamed, and reliant only on him for sexual gratification.

Public displays of ownership - Parading you around, making sure everyone knows you belong to him. Possibly engaging in degrading acts in public to reinforce his control.

Rough sex - Enjoying intense, painful intercourse as a way to assert dominance and leave marks on your body.

[masterj]

Only thing he's ever "guilty" of is being impossible to stay mad at

Police: It’s the police. Open up! Buddy [behind the door]: Sometimes I get sad…

[ghcstao3]

(scrapped) hogwarts professor!ghost x zoologist!soap very very old draft but :3 also peep ghost with glasses

-

Ghost’s social life has never been anything spectacular to begin with, but when he somehow manages to become the newest potions professor at Hogwarts, he finds it to be entirely lacking.

The balance he requires among work alone is enough to keep him busy nearly every waking hour of his days, and adding his personal life to his list of things-to-do, Ghost would surely end up with prematurely greying hair. 

(And who is he kidding—he’s already just about reached that point.)

So, it is safe to say that Ghost doesn’t get out much. It’s an unfortunate truth for his first couple of years teaching, but honestly, it isn’t much of a bother. Ghost is mostly happy, if a little stressed, and he’s more than lucky to be in his current position—that’s what he thinks, and that’s all that matters. Work gives him purpose.

At least, it’s all that matters until the universe decides it has other plans and introduces Ghost to a mildly bizarre man by the name of Soap.

Soap (real name currently unbeknownst to Ghost) approaches the professor while he shops for ingredients for a personal potions project. Soap is broad, attractive, and looks like he lives off one too many Invigoration Draughts a day. He greets Ghost with a manic smile in an attempt to act friendly, though the gesture isn’t at all helped by a body otherwise buzzing with energy. Everything about the man screams eccentricity, but then again—Ghost is a wizard. He’s always been bound to meet… interesting people.

“How much might you know about potions?”

Ghost blinks, genuinely surprised. Just from the stranger’s odd behaviour, Ghost had feared he’d earn a proposition, or that here, in the safety of the apothecary, the man would push to sell him something most probable to be illegal. 

But alas. An innocent question.

Ghost shoves the wiry bridge of his glasses further up his nose with his thumb, clears his throat. His fingers curl tight around the vial of mistletoe berries he holds as the stranger waits patiently for a reply.

“Well,” Ghost starts slowly, “considering I teach how to make them for a living, I would hope I’d know a thing or two.”

The man beams, eyes bright with gratitude Ghost is not yet worthy of.

“That’s perfect,” he says. “Then do you think you could help me with something?”

Politely, Ghost nods, though he has to wonder why the man hadn’t just gone to the shopkeep for advice first—but then, with a quick glance to the counter, he sees that said shopkeep is nowhere to be seen. His brows dip in a mild frown, not deep enough to be noticeable to anyone but Ghost himself.

“Alright, so—I have this hippogriff that I’ve been takin' care of and normally she isn’t so restless, but for whatever reason nothing I’ve done has worked to keep her calm for very long,” the stranger explains. “Potions are typically a last resort for me so I’m… I’m not sure what I should be making.”

“Uh,” Ghost says intelligently, sifting through his mind for an answer. He knows, he does, only, “I’ve never administered anything to something that wasn’t a wizard, but it should still work the same, with some adjustments.”

The stranger laughs. “‘It’ being…”

“Right, sorry.” Ghost clears his throat. His face warms with a blush, chest filled with passing embarrassment. He’s meant to be good, knowledgeable about these things. “The Draught of Peace. An anxiety reliever. But it’s a difficult potion to brew. You’d have to be experienced in potion-making to be certain nothing goes wrong.”

The stranger’s face falls. Ghost has already come to learn him to be rather expressive.

“Of course,” Ghost adds in a breath before he can stop himself. He isn’t sure why his mouth is still moving. “I could always make it for you.”

It's unfortunate that he can't find it in himself to regret the offer in any regard, after seeing the sheer and open look of hope it instills on the man's face.

[kteezy997]

6 Months- Part Ten//t.c.

Warnings: cursing, ex being toxic, lots of fluff, boob-obsessed Timmy

Cameron met Hayden for lunch a few days later. She picked out a really casual spot that had a nice brunch vibe. She didn't want it to feel too much like a date. She didn't want Hayden to get the wrong kind of idea.

She saw him come into the restaurant and she stood up as he came to the table. She gave him a friendly hug and smile. "I'm so glad you agreed to meet me."

"Yeah, I was surprised. I figured you were just gonna let your boyfriend take care of things." Hayden said smugly.

"Well, I wanted to talk to you, Hayden. Things got screwed up and I wanted to apologize for everything."

"Okay," he raised his eyebrows, waiting, "I'm listening."

Cameron did her best to ignore his arrogance and said, "I'm sorry for the way things ended. I owed you more than just a text." Even though at the time it was out of her hands, her break up with Hayden, she was ready to officially move on with Timmy. She was happy with him. "I want you to know that I always cared about you. I hope you find someone great."

The waiter came over, asking Hayden what he would like to drink and he said, "I don't care, something strong." he nodded to Cameron across from him, then looked back at the waiter, "This is my ex that cheated on me, broke up with me by text and now she's so sorry about it." he said, mocking her. The waiter, not knowing what to say, just walked away.

"Hayden, I didn't cheat on you." Cameron said in hushed tone.

"It fucking feels that way. I never thought you'd be such a whore, Cameron." His words were harsh and angry, but his eyes were melancholic. It was a hard blow for him, losing her, she could tell.

"What I did was wrong, but if you're going to continue to be nasty about it, then I'll leave." She knew she could have done more to ease his heartache, but she refused to continue to endure this verbal abuse. She knew it wouldn't make anything better. Not even Hayden.

He chuckled, "Well, all I gotta say is: I hope you and psycho Chalamet will be very happy together."

"He's not a psycho." Cameron retorted.

"Oh yeah? What do you call a guy that would manipulate photos to make it look like I was cheating on you in order to win you over? What kind of relationship is that anyway, sounds more like obsession to me. He'll probably end up killing you or something Cameron." he said taking a swig of his drink the instant the waiter set it down on the table.

"That's a horrible thing to say. You're completely wrong about Timmy." she said.

"Mmm, I wouldn't be so sure. Oh, and tell him thanks for the courtside seats, it was a lovely gesture." he raised his nearly empty glass to her. "Didn't do much to cushion the blow of him stealing my girl though." Hayden took another big gulp of his drink.

"Maybe you should slow down with the drinking, it's still morning, Hayden." Cameron cautioned, with genuine care.

Hayden scoffed, "I'm not any of your concern anymore, sweetheart. You made damn sure of that."

Their waiter came back over, "So, are we...ready to order?" The poor guy was obviously feeling awkward with the way Hayden was speaking to her.

"No, actually. I'm just leaving. But his drink is on me." Cameron looked at the waiter, kindly saying, "Thank you."

The young man nodded politely, "Very well, you can meet me up front whenever you're ready." He then walked on to service another table in the meantime.

Cameron smiled fakely at her ex-boyfriend, "Consider it another lovely gesture."

Hayden gave her a phony grin.

He wasn't ready to be an adult about the situation. But Cameron was ready to move on. With or without the closure she was hoping for. Perhaps this was the closure, and the reminder that her relationship with Hayden was doomed in and of itself.

She stood up, picking up her purse, "It's a shame it has to be this way. I hoped we could end things with good closure and some maturity. I guess that's not gonna happen. Have a nice life, Hayden." she turned and walked away to pay and didn't listen to another word from him.

.........

"So, how did it go?" Timmy asked her anxiously as she came into the house.

"Not great. But at least I tried."

"He didn't hit you, did he?" Timmy joked.

"No." she laughed, "He's just mad, which is understandable, I just wish it could have went better."

Timmy pulled her close to him, promising, "I'll treat you better than he ever did."

"I know." she grinned, "I never would have fallen in love with you if my relationship with Hayden was actually solid." she kissed his cheek and said, "I'm hungry. I left the restaurant before we even ordered, have you eaten?"

But Timmy didn't answer. He was frozen. She had never used the phrase 'fallen in love' about him, to him before. He was in a daze, not believing that she actually said it, even offhandedly.

"Timmy?"

His attention was now back on Cam, "Yea-yeah?"

"I asked if you had eaten yet." she giggled.

"Oh, no-no. Let's go, lunch should be ready any minute." he said, taking her hand, leading the way to the dining room.

.........

As time went on, Cam and Timmy got into a happy routine together. She got moved back into the house and she put her new office to use, returning to her work, and writing a new book. Timmy was elated that she was inspired, of course, but he was impatient to know what she was writing about.

"I'm not ready to tell you yet." she'd say to him. She wanted to give herself more time to see if her ideas bared fruit.

Paparazzi had caught them out together a couple of times. They looked quite like a couple, because they were. They held hands, walked arm in arm, and stole kisses from one another, not caring that they were being watched or that photos were being taken.

Those occurrences, as well as photos from the party they attended together a month prior, had sent the press and the internet into a frenzy. Neither of them made an attempt to deny anything when news outlets reached out to their agents. They just let the world talk.

The couple was excited to find out that Cam's agent scheduled her a book signing in London at the same time that Timmy was due to promote his new film, Wonka there. Even though it would technically be a work trip for them both, they were thrilled to spend time together in an entirely different setting.

...........

Cam felt like herself again, getting to meet with fans of her work, and talk to them, get to know them for a moment, and really put faces and names to the people that made her a successful author. She felt so happy and grateful.

She couldn't think of any better way to spend her time other than signing books for such sweet fans. Well, maybe spending time with her boyfriend was a close second.

The Wonka premiere and the book signing were happening at the same time, so she couldn't join him for that. But she was going to accompany him to the after party.

They had gone about getting her party dress as a little project to do together. It turned out absolutely stunning, Timmy had it designed and fitted especially for her. He had connections like that, of course. She was giddy, taking a part with him and the designers in making such a beautiful garment. She couldn't believe it was just for her.

Timmy met Cam at the hotel as she was getting her hair and makeup finished. "I gotta go get ready, babe." he said, standing behind her chair, looking at her in awe in the mirror. "You look...immaculate."

Cam smiled and leaned into his kiss that he placed on her cheek. "I'll see you soon." she cooed.

"I can't fucking wait to see you in that dress." he said with a sly grin.

..........

Cam was corseted into her dress with the help of some of her hair and makeup crew. She felt like an actual princess. Like Willy Wonka's princess of the chocolate factory. She knew that Timmy would absolutely love it and freak out once he saw her.

And he did.

Timmy came in just as they were making final adjustments to her look and he just stood there, looking at Cam, taking her in, all done up in her gorgeous purple dress. He was speechless, and he couldn't move.

"You need some water, Timmy?" Cam asked, with a laugh.

"Mm-mhmm." he hummed, taking the bottle of water from her, before taking a big gulp of it down and clearing his throat. "Cameron Reese, you're like a wet dream."

"Jesus, Timmy!" she hissed at him, then looked at her wardrobe helpers, "Can you please give us a few minutes alone?"

Timmy and Cam were then left by themselves in the room.

"Was that really appropriate to say, Chalamet?" she asked, slightly annoyed.

"Sorry, it was the first thing that came to my mind, fuck, you look incredible, baby." he took her hands, putting them both out to the side so he could get a better look at her. He then went off saying some stuff in French, softly and to himself, like he was awestruck.

"Timmy, I have no idea what you're saying." she giggled.

He shook his head, "Sorry, sorry. How about 'je t'aime?'" he grinned, pulling her into his embrace. He pressed his forehead adoringly to hers.

Cam melted, she put her hands on his arms, letting him kiss her forehead. She was so appreciative of and grateful for their life together. She couldn't help but think of how it all started, and she said, "I don't need six months, Timothee." she looked up into his green eyes.

"What do you mean?" he frowned, tucking a piece of her hair back.

"You've got me. You got me in two months." she shook her head in disbelief at how her life had turned out, especially the Timmy aspect, "It feels like a lifetime. I am so in love with you, Timothee Hal Chalamet."

He grinned widely, then leaned in, kissing her. They wrapped their arms around one another, lovingly ravaging each other while being careful to not ruin their clothes, hair, or Cam's makeup. It was a long, tender kiss that neither of them thought would last nearly two minutes. It was like an official declaration of their love. They pulled away and neither could speak, or even breathe properly.

"Um, we should...get going. Don't want to be late." Timmy pointed out.

"Yeah, yeah, it's just..." Cam had her hands on the bust of her dress, fidgeting with it a little bit.

"What, babe? You okay?"

"Just feels uncomfortable, under my boob. Can you help me?"

"Yeah, yeah, no worries."

Cam turned around, and he untied the corset in the back of her dress. Once it was loose enough, she brought the top of the dress down, and her breasts were free. She made the adjustment she needed to as Timmy looked on.

"Need me to help?" he asked, obviously more than willing.

"No, no, babe, I got it." she insisted.

"Cam, I'm sorry to say this, but you can't have those things out around me and expect me not to suck them." It was a wildly cheeky statement, but he said it like it was a straight fact.

Cam laughed, "You're ridiculous, you've seen them before." She recovered her chest with the dress, ready for it to be retied.

"But I love them.” he rambled on about her breasts, “They feel so good in my mouth-"

"Timmy! That's enough, now tie my dress, please."

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @chalametbich

[sgiandubh]

Hello! I am Caitriona anon. My ask was prompted by a comment from succulently speaking who commented in your post a few days ago “what has Sam done wrong and what exactly do you want him to do”? You responded he needed to step up his game. That’s why I asked about Caitriona because I thought it funny how much you post about Sam and what he should or shouldn’t be doing and I thought, I wonder why Caitriona doesn’t get that same treatment? I've been following you since you got here. I understand your position. My only quibble is I don’t think of them as one entity and I think Cait especially has pushed against this for years. She’s offended at the notion. As I said, of course it's your blog and you can post whatever you'd like and certainly don't owe me an explanation, but I thank you for the one you gave anyway. I’ll continue to read you because I enjoy you. I hope I didn’t offend or that I was impertinent.

Dear (returning) Caitriona Anon,

For an Anti, you sound pretty literate and polite. So, I am going to answer you and try to keep this dialogue line open. Try me: keeping dialogues open is my bread and butter, IRL. Has been so for twenty years.

Thank you for understanding my position, but I do not really need to be 'understood', like a minor Romantic poet by his posterity. I try very hard to rationalize yours and I believe it is your constitutional right to believe what you want about this saga. Conversely, it is my prerogative to believe exactly what I want about it, based on what I do consider to be relevant facts. Not social media, press circus or PR induced tacky blogger manipulation.

Having said that, it is also my constitutional right to express my opinions and try to encourage others to do so, in a no-drama, friendly environment. It would also seem that determined Mordor to marginally step up their game, for I seem to be the nightmare these people collectively manifested every single time they howled 'the shippers are stupid', on full moon nights.

Shippers are everything but stupid, pumpkin. They are witty, funny and completely immunized to bullshit. For rhetoric bullshit with honors is your question: why Caitriona doesn’t get that same treatment?

You know very well why and I am going to tell you a Romanian proverb: cine nu muncește, nu greșește. Loosely translated: no work, no mistakes. How do you want me to say anything about a statue, who doesn't show us anything else about her life anymore, spare her outfits, her make-up and some rare events, with or sans the PA? Oh, and marGINally, her erratic business projects, for ever ongoing, hinted and never ever, God forbid, materialized? SAG-AFTRA strike? News of it never seemed to have made it to Caitrionaland. Israel-Palestine conflict? Prudent silence, but hello Tilda, darling, how are you. Ukraine? Last I heard/seen, a short appeal for helping the refugees and then crickets. Women's rights? Again, a short snippet on Persia, then mum. Just what the fuck is this supposed to be? Surely not a coherent PR strategy for a gifted, intelligent and fun (yes, fun!!) 44 year old actress who wants to keep her lucky strike going on! Let me tell you: she doesn't come across as dignified. She comes across as despising, condescending and entitled. Too cool for school, too sexy for your car, peons.

She is not Queen Victoria, for crying out loud, and we are definitely not amused!

You then proceed to say 'she pushed against it for years'? Please, do not insult my intelligence! She pushed against shippers who deface the nice Narrative, when she needed sympathy and massive support for her Belfast promo, unwittingly making a major PR blunder and for ever fracturing this fandom in at least two savagely antagonistic camps. Then, a cold, totally DGAF attitude, including towards her stans: tough to be her stan, when your Goddess is more silent than a Poor Clare (pun totally intended) nun! And she denied being an item with S (which is a complete, pious lie), because that is the Narrative, ever since IFH.

So, it's safe to say: yes, public Caitriona Balfe is dismissive of the notion, but since when is social media indicative of an undeniable or even intimate truth, especially in that particular world of hers? Oh, and by the way: sorry to be pedantic, but - it's offended by the notion, not 'at the notion'. Simple curiosity: you translate your thoughts from which language, exactly? My bet would be either German: bei, or Russian: обидеться на - yes: literally 'offended at'.

My complete Romanian proverb includes a conclusion. In full, it would be: cine nu muncește, nu greșește, dar nici nu reușește. No work, no mistake, no success.

How I wish to be proven wrong, Anon, on that one: you can't even imagine! Thank you for the time you took to answer me. I am afraid we agree to disagree. Change my mind? Not in a million years.

[lomotunes2008]

[masterj]

Requested by @bagheerasun , here's Yippee Hodge-Podge Chugger!

Speaking of, I kinda can see him being the 'autism creature' of the show, he's usually the quiet kid and he's such a nerd about all the different engines, rolling stock, specialized equipment and trivia about Chuggington in general, did they SERIOUSLY say "Let's not only give him a BANGER unique design, but also one of the most relatible personalities of the whole show"

Tbh, I was on a bit of a kick for him when I was younger, he used to be my second favorite character after Wilson, they were also the first two diecast engines I got.

Brewster is my second favorite now, but they did both his character and voice dirty in season 6...😔💔

Hodge stayed mostly in-character though, thank God, even though I haven't yet put togethor my top ten, I'm sure he's still in it.❤️

[fruitycasket]

Moira Saw The Truth (7 of 7)

It's the end, baby! Moira meets a face Marvin will become very familiar with in his adulthood.

Word Count: 1,499

Notes: Obligatory link to the previous chapter and Ao3 version. Obligatory tag for @the-pastel-kitsune. School work has been creeping up on me so I made this one a little quicker than I maybe would have liked to focus on this. Ah well.

“Well... The prodigal has returned.”

It was probably about 1 AM (maybe an hour or two later than that) when Marvin got home, and he could not sleep.

There were many reasons for that. For one thing, there was a stranger in his house now, a magician he didn’t know who was doing her best not to be too awkward or frightening while also being stern enough that Marvin didn’t do anything he wasn’t supposed to.

There was also the fact that he’d been sent to sleep in the guest bedroom until his window was fixed, and he didn’t like sleeping in strange places.

And that Ramesses was sleeping on a spare air mattress next to him, snoring. Loudly.

Something else gnawed at him more powerfully than all that, though.

He still couldn’t wrap his mind around why everyone was so upset about the cats. It didn’t seem all that disturbing to him, but that many people couldn’t be wrong about whatever it was they’d seen, right? What if it was a problem with his head?

Moira and Ramesses said it (whatever “it” was to them) wasn’t his fault, it couldn’t be helped. It’s something beyond you, beyond anyone.

But Marvin was a prodigy! Smarter than anyone else as far as magic was concerned.

Before, he’d never been bothered that he wasn’t sure what he’d spent all his life drawing pictures of and collecting animals for, but now that Nico, Ramesses, and his own mother had made a point of telling him how little he knew… They hadn’t been trying to rub his nose in it, they probably didn’t even know that was how it looked to him, but it still drove him insane.

He didn’t know.

He didn’t know!

But he would learn. If anyone could, it was him.

He could hear the Cat now, singing to him again. It was a good sound, like music but not quite. It reverberated through him, made his teeth hum, his brain warm. There wasn’t any purpose to this one. It inspired no restlessness or want.

Beyond the ken of most people, Marvin thought, But not me.

Not me.

The next morning arrived and it was time for Marvin to go to school.

Moira hadn’t been expecting them to send Marvin back this fast. A few days would have seemed too soon given everything that had happened, but the day after? Had Marvin even gotten any sleep? Yesterday, he had returned home early in the morning and slept a little past noon. He would’ve had a hard time getting to bed at a reasonably hour, even without the nerves from returning to class kicking in.

Moira wasn’t going anywhere, and she’d still spent the whole night awake and worrying, only drifting to sleep in the long, dark hours of the morning.

Ramesses had slept like a baby, but the man could sleep through the End of Times.

And their new guest… Moira didn’t really know. Maybe she’d been just as restless, maybe all this was just as strange for her as it was for everyone else. It was hard to say, given she’d been quiet and out of the way for the night and all of yesterday.

When she was around or making herself known, she was nice enough. She had a chalk-white mask that covered her whole face, but she never wore it inside the house. She spoke softly and kept herself out of the way, but still knew how to carry a polite conversation. She didn’t even seem all that snippy with or unnerved by Marvin. But Moira knew why she was here. Their guest knew why she was here. It was hard to get too friendly with that mandatory wall of awkwardness between them.

Moira made breakfast for everyone once she’d cleaned herself up. She started at sunrise and was done by sunup. Ramesses had a coffee, her guest had a coffee and toast, and Marvin got himself a full plate and ate in the guest bedroom.

When he returned, he was dressed in his school uniform. He sat in the living room and did his best not to look askance at their guest too often. “It’s almost time to go,” he muttered.

Ramesses polished off his sugary coffee with flourish. “So it is,” he said. He looked at their guest, “Do you really have to walk us there?”

“I do.” The guest sighed as she stood, inclining her head respectfully at the old man. “Unless I want an earful about it later. Let’s not leave the Twins waiting too long.”

Moira stood, too. “Marvin, come here. Let me say goodbye.”

“Goodbyes” had been a hug and a kiss on the forehead for most of Marvin’s life, but as he’d gotten older, he saw them as childish and avoided them whenever he could.

Not today, though. He let Moira pull him close, squeeze him tight, and brush the hair from his face so she could plant a kiss on his forehead. “Have a good day at school,” she said.

“I’ll try,” Marvin said.

As Ramesses and the guest led him out the door, Moira looked through the window to watch them leave. The curtains were drawn but thin enough to allow her a tinted, translucent view of the word outside. They rippled in the breeze that slipped under the sliver of open window Moira had been using to prevent bacon smoke from fogging up her house.

Three person-shaped blobs became two as the guest pulled ahead. Moira stepped closer, curious to see who had slowed down and why.

It was Ramesses and Marvin. Ramesses whispered so low she had trouble hearing him, even now:

“…but you can’t trust the Magic Circle, not as long as you live.”

The two shadows walked past and disappeared, leaving behind empty, golden air.

Moira was alone again. She shuddered, convinced herself it was from the cold, and closed the window.

By the time she opened the front door, the guest, Ramesses, and Marvin were gone, disappeared into the dark, ever-moving building that was his school. She, of course, couldn’t see it. She had no reason to go in. Or perhaps her want wasn’t strong enough, or someone hadn’t flicked the right lever to allow her entry.

She retreated inside.

After she locked her door, she leaned her forehead against it. Every bone in her body felt like an anchor. She would have dragged herself to the couch and passed out if—

“Mrow.”

Moira blinked, startled wide awake. “Bloody hell.”

She hoped the Cat hadn’t come back. She didn’t think she could handle it, because then her choices would be to piss the Cat off or piss the Magic Circle off, and both sounded miserable.

Moira dragged herself up the stairs. “Hello?”

“Mew.” The sound led Moira to Marvin’s room, because of course it did.

She went back downstairs to retrieve a tin of tuna from her pantry, then entered Marvin’s room and took a deep, shaky breath.

Near-overripe fruit, cooking beef, cold winter air, organ meat, old paper. A strange motley of scents that was fading fast now that the Cat wasn’t there to maintain it. She cracked open the can of tuna and threw her own man-made addition into the mix. Hopefully the stink would clear up on its own, she didn’t want to think about cleaning a whole entire room right now.

“I know you’re in here,” she said. What noises attracted cats? “Um, pspspsps. I have food.”

A petite meow came from Marvin’s closet, then a set of green eyes, then a little kitten. White and grey. Normal looking, if not a little scrawny. It wobbled a little when it walked, like it wasn’t quite used to standing up yet. She feared for a moment that it was too young to eat solid food, but it meowed again and she saw it had a half-full mouth of baby teeth. It’d probably be able to eat from the tin, then.

Moira looked at the nonexistent window, which had been covered with a ramshackle setup of masking tape and plastic food wrap. It hadn’t held up well. She may as well have left its jagged edges open for any wild creature to blunder through.

Still, she would have expected an injured bird or something, to think such a tiny animal had ended up in here…

“You can’t stay,” Moira crouched down as the kitten regarded her from halfway inside the closet, “I don’t think Marvin would like you.”

Moira set the tuna down and the cat threw caution to the wind, hurrying over to eat with gusto. She scratched it between the ears to see how it would react, and when it didn’t hiss or scratch, she carefully picked it up and brought it into her room. She figured she had enough time to take a nap and find somewhere for the kitten to go before Marvin got home.

The chill touch of the outside still lingered on its plush fur.

[tales-from-nocturnaliss]

Okay people real talk. You know it's serious when someone who never watches videos actually sits down for thirty minutes to do just that.

I'm not a big typology person because basically I already love psychology and astrology and all the things that like to create labels and explanations for personalities and picking from each what I find valid. That's how I do know my typology (INFP), but I never looked more into it. I'm a Mediator. Okay cool.

Then my bestest buddy @cicidarkarts shared a couple funny videos about her typology (I laughed beyond tears it was so fitting) and I enjoyed this dude's presence and figured I'd find mine. I choked in my laughter.

I stopped laughing when I rabbit-holed into this video right here.

This is all of me, give or take some autism traits and a couple issues already worked on. But this is me - the super friendly little introverted butterfly who self-paralyzes while considering EVERYONE before herself when deciding what to say or what to do. Chronic fatigue is one reason I disappear from socials at times. Other times it's just that I choose to live in my own little bubble, sometimes at the detriment even of friends when I lose track of the world for days on end (granted there's some AuDHD here at work)

And I genuinely feel like I will not amount to anything in my own life and this part of his funny INFP video actually no longer funny now that i've watched the above.

You know what else isn't funny? Yeah i'm connecting to the INFJ type entirely and did not realize until NOW that I'm actually INFP. Or so the test said. Let's take a second here to throw rigidity out of the window, and for me to throw out "oh gods I got it wrong I should probably delete this post now" reasoning and put my foot down and state: yes, I mixed them up, but I connect to the J in all these meaningful ways so fuck 'the test' and I'ma now follow what feels like personal truth instead.

You really can't begin to imagine how much energy I spend/waste considering others' feelings and emotions before posting, or reblogging, or doing anything that might lead to problem situations. Just earlier I checked my notifications and I'd been in this convo with someone about writing, really not vibing with their state of mind but still tried to be supportive, saw today I'd gotten a response starting with "with all due respect" and I just nope noped myself outta checking the response out. But part of me feels bad for likely having been upsetting. It's my default mode of operation. I'd feel it my duty to go check out the response just because it's the 'polite' thing to do since the other person took time to respond and just. No. Please no me STOP enough. You don't want to, you don't want to; fair, done, move on.

I have been losing my mind (positively) in an AU in April and genuinely it feels god, but watchign that whole video is making me second-guess myself now. Am I just doing that apparently typical unhealthy disconnect thing? Just. Me. STOP. All that energy going into all these worries and I cannot keep myself from doing so and gods do I want to though. I'm so tired. Beyond just bad sleep. So, so fucking tired. Of me, essentially. I'm 44 and it's true: I have no idea who I am. I have thoughts on who I manage to be, what my core values are, but me specifically? Not a fucking clue. I exist. Isn't that enough? Every character of mine is a piece of me. Does that work?

Speaking of which but my decade-old friendly psycho who came back full force into my head feels like the best influence right now because he doesn't stop to care about any of the things that are my default personality. He has mean comments for everyone (including me), hit on my bestest buddy a few times (through me!) and he's the little voice in my head that just takes over and speaks up and overrides my safeties into typing up his responses. And there's something genuinely freeing about not second-guessing myself, just doing (also cuz he's mean but he is so in a way that is somehow charming. Tall lanky pale white-haired 2000-yo teasing vamp would have all the ladies in the ship comms)

I've been working a lot on me these past months (and years) but y'know what? Kinda getting tired of working on me. Kinda just want to exist as me, make it fun, not work, because I may be a work in progress always but then if I'll always be a wip, why bother trying to complete me? (that whole perfectionist part in the vid? Hit. Hard.)

Anyway I had this moment and decided I'ma SHARE the moment with y'all (who don't care lol that's fine, just doing what I needed to for me) and now Ima watch the INFJ self-motivation video (another 30 minutes) and take of it what helps because I swear I do have books in my head and I'd rather start spending energy thinking of how to share my world instead of dreading I'll never manage to. Such. Waste. of energy. When you realize that sharing is as simple as, y'know: SHARING. (okay but I also want to complete a genuine book)

You'd think I'd be tired writing this up but actually gave me energy. Funny how that works.

(edit: this part right here? I think I fluctuate between INFJ and INFP depending on how well I function on a given day because thank you autism. And this is the thing with strict labels: individuals are unique and spectrums unto themselves. Take what feels right, not what people might tell you is right because hard rules etc whatever. Psychology, especially is NOT an exact science. Generalizations are only that. They're not perfect truth)

[confusedshades]

Danny's really confused. The regular people he runs into everyday all seem so suspicious of him. It's gotten so bad that sometimes mothers with young kids will cross the road when they see him, and people automatically move away from him when he's walking around all confused after spending so much time in class that he's basically asleep. (It stops him from walking into anyone which is a great plus)

What does bug him however, is that the rogues and vigilantes have started trying to follow/approach him and he doesn't want anything to do with any of them. No Thankyou. He's done with that life.

Penguin tried sending him a job offer, Two Face straight up kidnapped him, RIddler... okay Danny doesn't know what the Riddler was trying to do but he wasn't sticking around when the whole place was basically abandoned-Gotham-warehouse meets mad-scientist-lab. Harley and Ivy were at least polite and fed him while chatting, and Catwoman dropped off a USB stick with a sticky note that had a lipstick kiss print.

Then the vigilantes started up. Batman and Robin just straight up appear from nowhere, and Danny knows they're not portalling because after Wulf was done teaching him, he can sense when portals open up around him. Red Robin and Oracle keep watching him though he's never seen Oracle in person before and Red Robin tends to either stare at him unnervingly from ground level or just perch on whichever rooftop is nearby. Nightwing hasn't made an appearance yet, but Danny's got a bet with Sam and Tucker that he'll try the Good Cop routine with him through conversation. His whole shtick is conversation and quips so Danny's pretty sure he'll win that bet.

Until Red Hood drops in on him being mugged by Black Mask's men. or well. Attempted mugging. The False Facers weren't having a good time and Danny was too sleep deprived from finals to actually pay attention. Anywho. Red Hood got him away from the mugging scene, offered him a band-aid for the small scratch he'd gotten from somewhere (Danny's pretty sure he fell face first into a wall while the goons were talking but he's not going to say that. It's so embarrassing.)

Hood tells him "Look kid, you're going to have to make a choice soon because all of Gotham's holding it's breath to figure out which way you'll go. Outsiders don't usually come to Gotham, and if they do and are as friendly as you? Hell, there's something wrong with them. so they either become capes or crooks. So you gotta decide which way you'll have to go eventually." Hood then promptly grappels away and Danny is struck with the realisation that The Crime Lord Of Crime Alley Explained Things To Him But Didn't Expect Anything From Him. So Danny of course, goes to investigate what he meant.

Some various conversations later, (several of which were interrupted, one by Waylon literally grabbing Hood's leg and yanking him into a fight?) Danny decides to become a member of Red Hood's network. Why? The guy cares about the people around him, and has dental. Plus he didn't actually presume anything of Danny. (And Danny became a bit of a sucker when he saw how charming Hood's crooked grin was and how his smoker's voice didn't hide his obvious youth)

Danny doesn't get why everyone looks at him suspiciously hes just a guy he hasn't even turned phantom since he got to Gotham like seriously this is the most normal he's been in years why are they looking at him like he announced he was going to be a villain

Gotham as a whole does not trust the new guy who moved there everyone knows who he is because he's so kind clearly a ploy to lure them into a false sense of security so they'll be shocked when he becomes a new rouge well not this time oh no

Or

Danny moves to Gotham and no one trusts him no matter what because every time a goodytwoshoes from out side the city tries to be kind and helpful they end up twisted and insane and they ain't bying that this kid is all sunshine and rainbows

[marunalu]

Friendly reminder why bakugous "apologie" sucked and is NOT good. Because it was 85% self-justification (why he did it), 14% victim blaiming izuku (because bk misinterpretet izukus personality and actions) and 1% "sorry for everthing I have done so far" (very vague for someone who normally cant shut the fuck up and always says what is on his mind!)

Just for the record, an apologie, one that comes from the heart and you REALLY mean should not be about YOUR motives and YOUR feelings, WHY YOU DID WHAT YOU DID! The only thing that matters are the feelings of the person YOU hurt with YOUR words and actions. In not one word did bk EVER mention the pain and suffering izuku went through because of him! Not once! Instead he layed the blame on izuku, for HIM thinking izuku was looking down on HIM (a completly ridiculus claim by itself). By doing that he makes it sound like as if izuku is also partly fault for their fucked up relationship, something that isnt true one bit!

Explaining to your victim why you did what you did, espicially if other people are listening, who have no fucking clue what exactly happened between you two, just serves to get sympathy points from both sides, so people will forgive you easier and give you a pass (so pretty much what 90% of the fandom is doing, because bk is their baby boy who never did anything wrong in his life. Everyone else is at fault here, okay!).

The last part, "sorry for everthing I have done so far", is not there to make izuku feel better. Bakugou said it to make HIMSELF feel better! It was something that he was carring with him for a while and he wanted this feeling to go away and be DONE with! And for that he choose a moment, when izuku was neither physically nor psychically able to handle or react to what bk said to him. Till now izuku has said NOTHING to bk about the apologie. He neither accepted it, nor did he not accept it. The apologie was something bk wanted and needed, to make HIMSELF feel better, izukus feelings had nothing to do with it. Otherwise he would have at least say a few words about izukus pain and suffering he had to endure for OVER 10 years, bakugou is a big part responsible for!

And the fact that izuku is STILL calling himself "worthless" and "shitty nerd", (exactly THE insults bk used to call him as) should actually be a big hint to readers, that he HASNT overcome his trauma and the abuse and what bk did to him over a decade is still deeply burned in his heart and soul! But yeah people, keep shipping this disgusting dogshit and thinking to romantice such abusive relationships is hot shit!

An other reminder, izuku asked bk NOT to call him hy his first name in the most polite way possible. In japan only the people you are very close with, call you by your first name, everything else is considered as extremly disrespectful. If you call someone else by his first name, but that person doesnt want that, he/she will tell you to stop. The fact that izuku told bk not to do it, with a very uncomfortable expression on his face should tell everyone enough honestly!

In the end bk said it the best: "nothing will change between us!" Bk never was izukus friend and its not something he drives to become.

So to everyone who happens to read this, here is a well meant hint. The next time you have to apologie to someone you hurt, make sure it comes from a "I want that person I hurt to feel better" place and not from a "I want to be able to sleep at night again" place.

[pennylanewrites]

Saiko Metori relationship headcanons<3

(gn!afab!reader)

I believe in Saiko Metori supremacy and I also had a dream where I was dating him so here you go <3

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→ we all know what he was like when he first transferred to P.K.

→ let’s pretend he didn’t transfer for Kokomi

→ you were seated behind him and you were pretty much the only person that talked to him normally

→ would never admit it but felt grateful to you for being so nice to him

→ before you knew it the both of you were hanging out at the school’s rooftop, eating his very fancy sushi

→ he’s actually really sweet and caring, you just have to help him let his guard down

→ he likes you so much, like he’s down astronomically bad but he would not admit it

→ you ask Aiura to find your soulmate and she says it’s metori and that’s when it hits you

→ everything made so much sense, the arm around your shoulders when passing a group of guys, the little kisses on your cheek as he greeted you

→ you tell him to meet up at the rooftop when school’s over

→ he shows up worried, thinking he did something wrong, though he played it cool

→ you basically admit your feelings, thinking he would leave but all he does is cup your cheeks with his hands and peck the tip of your nose

→ you make it official after two or three dates

→ first kiss is definitely not his first in general, but it was so innocent and sweet and eeeeek

→ happened while you were nervous about a test, he just leans down like ‘stop worrying so much’ and just kisses you

→ after that you two can’t keep your hands or lips off each other

→ he needs to have a hand on the back of your neck or around your waist and you have to kiss his cheek every five minutes (as a reassurance that you’re there for each other)

→ really fun dates! amusement parks, zoos, aquariums, strolls around town with a coffee in hand

→ you truly make him another man and he realises there’s other good in life than money

→ you bring him home during holiday season and he’s SO formal and polite and shy that you don’t recognize him anymore

→ your friends(probably toritsuka) make an innuendo about seggsy time and something dies inside him bc ‘oh my god I haven’t even thought about that’ ‘what if they don’t want to have sex?’ ‘wait, what if they do?! I’m not ready yet!’

→ you make him admit he actually likes Nendou and thinks of him as a good friend bc ‘babe, you need friends’ ‘I have you’ ‘I’m your partner’ ‘a friendly partner!’ ‘Metori!’

→ you call him Tori or Tori-chan and he blushes hard every single time he hears his nickname come out of your lips

→ he would call you love or darling or sweetpea

→ thinks anything you wear looks hot and doesn’t care if half your ass is out

→ ‘wear what you want I can fight’ mentality

→ POSSESIVE!! IN A GOOD WAY!!

→ huge on pda, but not in a disgusting, makes your friends uncomfortable way

→ will kiss your lips if someone stares at you intensely

→ will also walk behind you at school corridors

→ ‘why is your skirt so short?:(’ ‘he was looking at your butt’ ‘pull your socks down’ ‘thigh-highs are only for me to see’

→ doesn’t do it in a toxic way though, he says most of it as a joke!!

→ very self-conscious bc most people used him for money in the past:(

→ please reassure him constantly with lots of hugs and words of affirmation

→ you make him noodles every once in a while and he calls it pleb food but he loves it (this is also canon I think)

→ you go to his house everyday after school

→ hanging out in his HUGE room, trying on his fancy suits and making fun of him

→ he just sits on his bed and looks at you lovingly, chin propped up on his palm

→ kinda jealous bc his suits look so good on you

→ daily naps in the most intimate positions

→ he’s the little spoon!!!! most of the time!!!

→ or he’d just lay on top of you to hear your heartbeat

→ when he’s the big spoon he nuzzles his head in the crook of your neck and hums a song until you fall asleep

→ not in a sexual way at all, but he likes when you wear his shirts and just underwear

→ you just look so fucking cute okay?

→ he plays you the piano:):):)

→ even teaches you his favorite melodies (if you don’t already know how to play)

→ on bad days you’ll sit on his lap, facing him, and you’ll hide your head in his neck so he can play something on the piano for you

→ big fan of the Harry Potter movies idk why

→ you two have a marathon sleepover twice a month at his home cinema

→ the first ‘i love you’ came from you when he tied your shoes so you wouldn’t have to bend down

→ he says it back IMMEDIATELY with a HUGE blush on his pretty face

→ after that he says it ALL the damn time and even texts you little I love yous and paragraphs, especially when he knows you’re sleeping

→ you know that hair colour? He gets it professionally done

→ when you say you’re pretty good at dying and cutting hair, you’re his hairdresser once a month

→ he even suggested you dye a strand of your own hair the same colour as his

→ and you do!!!and it’s the cutest thing ever!!!

→ everyone teases the shit out of you both for being so cringe but you LOVE IT

uhhh the next ones are suggestive? just some intense snogging and one mention of future seggs

→ heated! makeout! sessions!!!! on his king-sized bed!!!!

→ he leaves hickeys everywhere! bc he says they look pretty on you

→ would buy you the best and most expensive concealer though so you can hide them for school

→ thigh man! squeezes your thighs, kisses them, marks them, sleeps on them later!

→ ‘they’re just so squishy and cute, love’

→ loves to play with your hair or have a hand in them, massaging your scalp

→ might pull on your ponytail bc you let out the hottest gasp ever

→ wants to have his hands up your shirt at all times, even while you’re studying or watching a movie

→ ‘your boobs make my cold heart feel warm’

→ how can you resist if he says shit like that?

→ wants you to unbutton his shirt while making out and trail your fingers up and down his abs

→ he has ONE pierced nipple and you can not change my mind

→ you kiss down his chest and peck his pierced nipple while making out and he’s FERAL

→ gets so hard when around you in general

→ but if you wear his shirt and your thigh-highs?

→ BUCKLE UP AND GET READY

→ talks and jokes about sex a lot and pretend-fucks you when you’re bent down but he’s SO SCARED OF DOING IT

→ neither of you mind it

→ you can wait until you’re 30 for all you care

end of suggestive headcanons;)

→ you both love to talk about your future together

→ like moving in together right after high school

→ he’s already renting the apartment of your dreams, just to have it ready

→ just know you’re set for life with this man

→ he won’t ever let you go, even after the worst fights

→ idek if I could bring myself to fight with this man BUT-

→ if you did fight it would end in tears from both sides and instant regret

→ you drown each other in apologies and hugs and kisses and promises for a life together

→ your birthday gift for your 18th birthday is a promise ring HEHEHEHE

→ ‘babe’ ‘I told you I’ll marry you one day, this just makes my promise official’ ‘it’s beautiful’ ‘that means it’s perfect for you’

excuse me while I go DIE in a corner in hopes of reincarnating as his partner

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