#╳◥▆▇⎡ i never asked for any of what i was given; but i took it regardless ⎦( main verse I )

[queervegancryptid]

I learned about a lot of this in college. I worked for housing as a night receptionist, and the main thing I learned from the job was that kids that age, no matter how smart they are, do some really dumb shit sometimes.

The absolute worst thing to do is not to seek help if something like this happens. I've seen kids practically falling down drunk trying to insist they're fine because they're 18 or 19 and scared that they'll be arrested or expelled.

If you're in a position of authority, especially with younger people, you don't have to be fake and "try to be cool" or anything. They don't tend to like that much anyway. But the absolute best thing you can do is make it known in a crisis (and ideally before a crisis) that you're on their side, whoever it might be, but especially with kids, this is crucial.

You're not the enemy, and your job isn't to be a cop or turn people into the cops. Otherwise, people do stupid shit like hiding alcohol poisoning or a possible overdose, and letting somebody have a medical emergency isn't what anybody wants.

Medical professionals don't like being lied to, and in general, doctor-patient confidentiality will prevent them from disclosing any information to the police or anybody else. The exception is if someone is actively in danger; for example, doctors have to report if you're an immediate danger to yourself or someone else. When it comes to symptoms and pretty much anything that would cause physical symptoms, doctors would pretty much universally rather you just tell them what happened rather than trying to obfuscate. Your doctor would much rather you tell them what you ingested and how without having to pry it out of you. That way they'll know how to help.

Another pro tip: you know how with a bug bite, it can be helpful to catch the bug and bring it to the hospital so it can be identified and the right antivenom given? Same with substances. If you have some left, bring a little with you. Labs can analyze it if necessary, and they can figure out exactly what you took and if there are any impurities. This is important because, especially if you buy drugs on the street, you don't always know what all is in the product. If you're having a reaction you weren't expecting, use caution, and don't take any unnecessary chances if you can help it.

Anyway tl;dr you or someone nearby is having a medical emergency, even if illegal substances are involved, seek medical attention. If you're a kid, get an adult you can trust, if one exists, and if not, call 911 or the equivalent number in your area. The person might be upset later if they come to in the hospital, but at least they'll be alive.

If you can, if you or someone you know takes opioid pain medications, or even if no one you know does take such meds to your knowledge, keep Narcan around. It can reverse an overdose and give you time to get the person affected to a hospital to make sure they're okay. I know some people don't know about Narcan, but in at least some states, you can get it for free. If you are taking opioid meds for chronic pain, like I do, even at a low dose, ask your doc to prescribe Narcan too. You never know when you or a buddy might end up taking the wrong thing and needing it.

i saw this helpful print out at my local library earlier, i thought this could be of help to someone. even if you personally don't inject, this advice could save a life. I'm here for all addicts and users, we care about you and love you. everyone deserves to be informed about their health regardless of what substances they use

[cheesus-doodles]

A Twist in the Tale

Leona Kingscholar

Masterlist

‎

well that took a lot longer than I expected...glad for this to be done to completion though! merry christmas and happy holidays everybody, I hope you have a good time <3

Piercing, half-lidded green eyes watched you from across the bustling cafeteria, lion ears occasionally twitching as Leona picked up on your ongoing conservation with Ace. “....urgh I can’t believe there’s so much!” The red-haired whined, ruffling his hair in dismay as he dropped onto the table. “Crewel is a monster, I swear.”

“There is quite a bit,” came your rather sympathetic answer, unnecessarily kind if you asked Leona. “It will definitely take a while.”

On any other regular day, you, Grim and those two annoying Heartslabyul flies that you hung around were hardly worth his attention, let alone being eavesdropped on - mundane, brainless chatter that actively lowered his IQ with every passing minute. Crewel’s class wasn’t particularly difficult, not by a long stretch. Yet here he was. Clearly, today was as far from a regular day as possible. 

Because there had always been something off about you, Leona mused to himself, his tail whipping from side to side, observing with as much discretion as a predator stalking its prey as you took another bite from your sandwich, covering your full mouth with your free hand in an attempted politeness when Deuce’s crass remark had you chuckle. He had known as much since orientation, when you failed to be sorted by the Dark Mirror - there was just something fundamentally different about your smell compared to everyone else that couldn’t simply be chalked up to otherworldliness.

It’s just that he never bothered. You had been just another nobody, hardly worth his notice or time to investigate.

Up until his overblot incident, of course.

‎‎

A steaming plate of hamburger steak clankering down onto the table in front of Leona was enough to startle him out of his train of thoughts. “Leona, why ya glaring like they owe you money?” Ruggie quipped, thumbing in your general direction as he fell into the seat with a sigh, lazily lounging across and occupying the entire bench - not that anyone else dared to share. “Wait, do they actually owe you money?”

Despite it being well past peak-lunch hour, the cafeteria was still rather packed with students milling about, the cacophony of noises from loud and hushed conversations alike only adding to the growing headache Leona felt starting to pound from the depths of his mind. Far from his ideal environment of a quiet, peaceful area where he could nap undisturbed, the constant din was one of many reasons the Sunset Savannah’s second prince avoided this wretched place as much as going home.

And the rest of his dorm certainly took note of his unusual appearance in such a public area, whispering among themselves even as they kept a respectful distance, picking a careful semi-circle around the table where Leona and Ruggie sat - easy enough to ignore, really. They knew better than to prod where they weren’t welcomed, if not risk learning the hard way that their housewarden was lazy, not weak. 

Leona picked up his fork, stabbing it into the minced patty rather viciously, tearing his gaze away from you and down to the plate. The food looked especially unappetizing today. “He smells different.” The words slipped from his lips before the lion beastman could stop it, surprising both himself and Ruggie in the process, the sandy-brown haired boy whipping his head up to stare at him in disbelief. Right before said hyena thought it appropriate to dramatically turn to look at you, immediately earning him the prince’s ire.  There was no denying who Leona was referring to, but why did he have to be so obvious about it?

You, fortunately, did not notice. 

”The Ramshackle prefect?” Ruggie wondered aloud, nose tweaking, before turning back to face his housewarden. “I suppose so, given he’s from another world and all. What about it? If they don’t owe you money then it doesn’t really matter what they smell like.” A pause, the gears clearly turning behind the other’s blue-gray eyes, before he leaned forward, a cheeky grin plastered on his face, eyebrows wriggling. “Unless…”

He should have guessed where this was going. “Forget it.” 

“Come on Leona, I ain’t a blabber.”

“If you keep flapping your lips Ruggie, you’re about to find ‘em sewn shut.”

The hyena beastman simply smiled knowingly even as he threw his arms up in defeat, instead turning his attention to his feast of sandwiches.

Rubbing his forehead in annoyance, the rough texture of the glove dragging across his skin did not help in the slightest with his headache. Why was he bothering with this again? Whatever he could learn surely wasn’t going to be worth this amount of irritation.

But two weeks on from having you thrusted straight to the centre of his life and much to his dismay, Leona finds himself unable to get you out of his head, well after you seemed to have moved on rather easily. It’s not that he liked you (perish the thought). He just had to find out, Leona assured himself, and then he could put this whole fascination behind him and move on with his godforsaken life. He needed to know what made you different.

‎

He watched you stand, your empty tray in one hand, the other waving to the group. His ears stood up instantly, his attention returning to you. Were you going somewhere?

“... be heading out to the town, do you guys want anything?”

Town? A quick think, and he understands. Memorizing your group’s class schedule wasn’t difficult, and as a non-mage, you wouldn’t be able to attend any of the usual classes that your friends would have that involved magic. The first year Heartslabyuls were having flying class next, which meant that you weren’t attending. 

“Again?” Grim whined, slouching to rest his head on the table top. “How come you always get to go and have fun without me?”

Chuckling softly as you held your history textbooks to your chest, you shrugged. “I’m just going to pick up some supplies since I have a bit of free time.”

It seemed Ruggie had joined in on the eavesdropping. “Planning to follow him?” Said shameless hyena smirked, propping his two hands behind his head, though that move made him wince slightly; seems like Ruggie hadn’t yet fully recovered from the whole Spelldrive incident just yet. Serves him right though.

Leona scoffed, standing from the bench. He wasn’t hungry anymore. “I need a nap.” Stalking wasn’t quite his thing, and you weren’t going anywhere anytime soon, given how your way home was literally dependent on that dirtbag of a school principal. He’ll solve this nagging puzzle at his own leisure. 

A look of alarm washed over Ruggie’s face. “Wait, Leona! Can I have your plate if you’re not eating it?”

‎

His opportunity came sooner than expected.

The sky above Savanaclaw Dorm had turned dark an hour ago, the moon hanging above the darkened desert illuminating the swirling sand blown along by a gentle breeze. Outside his closed room door, the dorm was still lively with activity, students mulling about the corridors discussing the recently past final exams and Spelldrive tournament or gathering by the waterfall in the lounge to enjoy some peace and quiet. 

Leona, however, was locked away inside his room, his brain still annoyingly fixated on you. He hadn’t been able to follow you out to town from NRC yesterday, not without having to answer some very uncomfortable questions about his motive. Tapping one nail rhythmically on the hard wood top of his desk, the second Sunset Savannah prince continued to think and brainstorm - not mull about like some lost little lover, mind you - all the possibilities to the mystery that was you. He had a few theories, a few ideas, but none of them fully made sense with all the information he currently had. 

Letting out a sigh, the man leaned back, running one hand through his mob of brown hair. He had to be missing something somewhere, a piece of the puzzle. Right then, as if on cue, as if there was some divinity out there who had decided to shine down on him, lion ears picked out an unusual stir of disgruntlement emulating from outside. Leona tried to ignore it, as he always does, but the commotion refused to die down even after a few minutes. So with great reluctance, he stood from his chair.

It was your begrudgingly familiar smell wafting through the otherwise still air that his sensitive nose instantly picked up the moment Leona opened his room door, quickly followed by your mob of hair amidst the rest of the beastmen that he spotted as he made his way over to the lounge. Well well well. “Of all the places to find you in,” he drawled out, his tail flickering behind him as the room fell silent, the murmurs quickly dying out in his presence. “Savanaclaw ain’t no place for herbivores.”

You scratched the back of your head awkwardly. This clearly wasn’t your first choice.

Jack stepped forward, almost as if to shield you from the housewarden’s line of sight with his larger stature. “Leona, they-”

“We got kicked out of Ramshackle!” Grim wailed out, clutching onto your leg, the purple anemone sticking out grey fur a dead giveaway to the lead up to this conundrum.

“Not a chance,” Leona drawled out, crossing his arms even as his mind whirled behind those half-lidded green eyes. This was it: his chance.

You had always lived alone - or rather with Grim, though the fiery racoon hardly counted as a proper roommate - at Ramshackle Dorm since your arrival in Twisted Wonderland. Out of reach from him and any potential other students that Leona could have intimidated for information. But now, it seems you made a deal with that cephalo-punk Azul Ashengrottel, and Jack had delivered you directly to him like a good little puppy, unknowingly helping you straight right into his grasp.

The white-haired beastman blinked. “You didn’t even pause before answering…”

“No pets allowed in the dorm,” the Sunset Savannah prince shrugged. “They shed all over the place.” He hadn’t quite figured out where he could put you up temporarily (three days was more than enough for him to solve his little vexing puzzle, hell he’ll take one day and hopefully kick the two of you out by tomorrow evening). 

Leona couldn’t roll over so easily, no matter how much the pit in his gut yearned for it. He had to at least put up a decent fight in front of his dorm’s students, and most of all, Ruggie. He’ll never live this down otherwise.

‎

Okay, so perhaps you sharing his room wasn’t ideal, nor was it really part of his spontaneous plan. But what was done was done. It’s temporary anyway.

Your footsteps, light as a fae’s, were easy enough to pick up against the otherwise silent dorm. Picking your way carefully through the dark room, you made your way out, the room door clicking shut behind you and blocking out the little light that poured in momentarily from the dim corridor. If you had been the slightest bit more observant, you might have noticed Leona’s green eyes sliding open to watch you, lion ears twitching as they followed the ambient sound of your rustling clothes. 

It was the middle of the night, way past his usual bedtime - and it should be way past yours as well. Grim was fast asleep on the spare bedding at the foot of his bed. Very telling that you didn’t take your little minion with you.

Waiting for a few more seconds, the lion beastman carelessly tossed off his blankets, following you out of his room. And your telltale smell led him past closed doors and loud snores that echoing down empty hallways, straight towards the bathroom. 

Interesting. Time to find out what you were hiding.

‎

‎

You hummed a light tune under your breath, allowing the warm water to run over your body. You had expected Savanaclaw Dorm to be different from what you were used to, with the sneakpeek you’ve gotten before the Spelldrive tournament hinting that it was different enough from the life you knew back at Ramshackle, but you had to admit to yourself you hadn’t expected it to be this different. Imagine your surprise upon realizing that there was only one communal bathroom - and only learning that fact as you entered. You hoped no one noticed how fast you turned and left.

Shaking your head, you focused on rinsing off the shampoo from your hair, the stall walls though open at the back at least giving some privacy from the side. The water splashing down onto the tile from the showerhead echoed through the otherwise empty room; exactly as you had planned. It was only at this time of night that you would be able to get any semblance of privacy, and you silently pledged to yourself to never take Ramshackle Dorm’s silence for granted again.

You scrubbed down, trying to shake the thought of losing Ramshackle to Azul out of your head. You would do everything to make sure that didn’t happen, and you weren’t going to forgive Grim, Ace or Deuce that easily for all this mess they got you in.

Lost in the what-ifs, you failed to notice the patter of footsteps entering the shower room, right up till a deep voice piped up from behind you.

“So that’s why you don’t smell like the others.”

You froze.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still, the water cascading down your body and your very obviously female chest. You didn’t know what to do, didn’t dare to breathe, racing to think.

Fuck.

In a snap, you screamed, picking up the nearest object and hurling it straight at the intruder without looking, your other hand immediately reaching for the towel you had hung over the stall wall. The shampoo bottle was narrowly dodged, bouncing off the wall behind him and clanking to the floor. “W-what the fuck- get out!” You squeezed your eyes shut, your face beet red as you grabbed another bottle, throwing it with all the strength you had. Someone saw you. Some guy’s seen you. You should have been more careful, maybe you shouldn’t have showered at all, maybe you have-

“Shut it!” One large hand was quickly slapped over your mouth, the other grabbing your hand and stopping you from flinging your third munition. “Do you want the entire dorm to wake? Just breathe, dammit.”

You shook off his hand, moving to secure your towel around you before you took a deep breath, looking up to see who had walked in on you. 

Leona Kingscholar, the Savanaclaw Housewarden himself, looking mighty amused at the revelation that you were, in fact, of the opposite gender. A red-faced lady in the house of men.

“Does that crow know?”

“Crowley? Of course he does,” you snapped, clutching the towel wrapped around you tightly. “Now can you get out?”

The lion beastman only leaned onto the stall door, crossing his arms. “So how have you been hiding that all this time?” He drawled, pointing at your chest with his chin. You picked up another bottle threateningly, and Leona immediately raised both hands in surrender, taking a step back and behind the stall door.

“Peace,” he drawled. “I’m just here for answers.”

“And I’m here to bathe,” you barked back. “Chest binding is what I do, now out.”

The chuckle as the second prince strolled out reverberated through the still bathroom. You groaned, sinking to a squat and hiding your face in your hands. You were never going to live this down now, were you?

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

Milk Aisle - Lando Norris

<word count - 7191> |part 1 - Nerd|part 2 - Rumours|part 3 - So Special|part 4 - Something Else|

Lando resented you. He absolutely hated your guts. You had completely ruined him. He was miserable, wholly miserable. He spent the coming days sulking in bed, even skipping school on the Friday by telling his mum that he was sick.

Despite never really enjoying school, Lando wasn't one to ask to have a day off randomly. So, she let him, just this once. She knew it was something to do with you, but Lando never specified. A small part of him didn't want his mum or family disliking you, but he couldn't fathom why. 

Maybe it was because he still longed for you with every fibre of his being, but that was just a hunch. 

He didn't bother doing any of the catch-up work that he had missed, it didn't feel worth it to him. His mum had to talk him into going into school on Monday after a weekend of moping and sitting with his mind that was shrouded with the fog of his hatred for you. 

His mum drove him to school, and he went to stand by the lockers until the bell had gone for first lesson. His friends had texted to ask why he hadn't turned up to the track on Saturday, or to the park for football on Sunday, but he had left them all on read. 

It was weird to see them concerned for him, since they were so prone to taking the piss out of him. He appreciated it, but he didn't want to talk. Meanwhile, you had also spent your weekend in a stupor of sadness. 

You definitely regretted it in some capacity, but you were glad not to hear a word from anyone when you walked into school on Monday morning. You were still avoiding Lilly like the plague she was, but no one made any move to piss you off. 

Later in the day, you took yourself over to DT, where you knew Lando would be. You hadn't seen him all day, and you weren't sure if you wanted to or not. The guilt would eat you alive if you saw him. Well, if he was sad. 

For all you knew, he could have been going about his day acting as if everything was fine and he wasn't so hurt by the way that things had ended between you. But then you caught yourself as your inner monologue ran rampant. 

Things had ended? That made it sound like you were in caring, loving relationship. Your friendship was very caring, since the both of you were very considerate of how the other felt. Loving? That was a whole other matter to consider.

Neither of you knew what love in a romantic capacity meant, but whatever you felt for Lando was the closest thing you had ever had to it. He wasn't there when you walked in, which was slightly relieving. 

You sat at your bench, opening the cupboard underneath the desk to see everyone's work who sat at that desk throughout the week. And there was the piece that Lando had made as part of the bet that had started all of this. 

He still owed you a week of woodwork, and you still owed him a few maths homeworks, but you had given up on it, just like you had given up on Lando. The bell went that signalled that everyone should be in lesson, and Lando still wasn't there.

Your teacher took the register, but just as he reached Lando's name, the door swung open as he skulked into the room. He didn't look at you, or anyone else for that matter as he took his seat at his bench. 

"You're late, Lando," your teacher said, and Lando just sat there and looked at him. "Why?" he asked, and Lando's eyes darted around the room for a second, as if coming up with a reason why he was late. 

"I was with Miss Kennedy," he said, and everyone knew it was a lie. Miss Kennedy was your maths teacher, and you knew he wasn't with her because you had seen her go into the maths room and Lando sure as hell hadn't gone in too.

It seemed your DT teacher also knew that it was bullshit, but he decided not to press the matter any further. Once the register was done, he explain what you'd be doing today. You hoped you'd be doing 3D modelling on the computers or 3D printing - or at least something that didn't require too much technicality. 

But no, it was your absolute favourite thing to be doing. Woodwork. You had to stifle an audible groan while he went through what you'd be doing. The task itself was relatively simple, but that didn't mean you wanted to do it.

Your assignment for the next two lessons was simple: you had to make a storage box. A simple box with some sort of opening and slots for any types of items that you wanted in it. You didn't have long to design it, you just had to come up with some measurements, grab the supplies from the store cupboard once it was authorised and go for it. 

In the end, you quickly made a rough sketch of your flashcard holder. It was something you'd actually use, and you would actually try since it would be going on your desk and you'd have to look at it every day. 

You planned out 11 compartments, one for each of your subjects and went to the storage cupboard to get your supplies. For this lesson, you had your sheets of wood and the hinges in case you actually got onto finishing the lid of the box. 

Despite your hatred of the subject, you had to admit that you were quite good at it. It was probably the perfectionist in you, wanting to make everything exactly to size and make your stuff look professional, even if you had never made anything quite as perfect as what Lando and his dad had made you. 

Lando just sat at his bench, unmoving. While everyone else had pretty much finished sketching and had gathered supplies, he hadn't even put pencil to paper. Your teacher knew something was up. Lando and your DT teacher were like you and your maths teacher - as close as it was appropriate for a teacher and student to be.

Lando was the best at DT, so he liked him. So, to see him not even bothering to try made him worry. He wasn't going to push Lando, but he also didn't want anyone else to see him just sitting around and think they could also slack off or that he was playing clear favourites.

"Lando can you please at least sketch something? And then we can make it another day," he gently encouraged, and Lando didn't want to take his bad mood out on his teacher, it wasn't his fault. It was yours. 

Lando mindlessly sketched shapes on his paper before deciding on what he wanted to do. Out of the corner of his eye, he couldn't help but spot you putting your hair up and pulling your apron on over your head. 

Goddamnit, why did you have to be so captivating to him? He was supposed to hate you for what you did, but why couldn't he? His eyes were superglued to you as you moved, marking out the measurements on your bits of wood. 

Trying to focus on the paper in front of him, Lando was finding it harder and harder to keep himself away from you. Plus, the way you were cutting your wood was far from safe. Your fingers were way too close to the saw blade, and he wasn't liking the way you were doing it. 

You were quick with the chopping so that you could make the cut as clean as possible, and you had neglected to notice the placement of your fingers. Every back and forth motion seemed to bring your fingers a centimetre closer to the blade, and he was internally cringing.  

He might not have liked you, but he couldn't watch you hurt yourself and just stand by and do nothing. Getting up from his seat, he approached your bench. "Hey, Y/N, don't chop it like that, you'll hurt yourself-" he started, but he was a few seconds too late. 

The hand that was sawing got caught, the teeth snagging in the wood. This caused your hand to slip, tilting the blade while still sawing. "Ow, fuck!" you yelped, dropping the saw with a clatter and clutching onto your fingers while droplets of crimson dripped down the side of your hand. 

Lando dragged you over to the sink in the corner of the room, turning on the tap and sticking your hand under the running water. "Stay there," he told you, darting to the other side of the room to get the first aid kit off of your teacher's desk. 

By the time he had gotten back, your teacher was inspecting your hand as red continued to gush out and you cried out in pain. It wasn't even that it hurt that much since the adrenaline was running, it was more the sight of the amount of blood. 

Everyone was looking at you, some people shielding their eyes from the sight of the blood trickling down onto the floor. Your teacher had his hands clamped over the injured fingers, hoping the pressure would stop the bleeding. 

"Lando, can you get the cotton wool out of the kit please?" he asked, and Lando was quick to pop it open and rummage through all of the different items. He found the big pack of cotton wool, pulling some out and passing it to your teacher.

He held it over the wounds across your digits, still trying to stop the bleeding. Lando felt like a bit of an idiot, just standing there and watching as more and more tears trickled down your face as the pain appeared to set in. 

He had seen you crying more than he had seen you smiling as of recent, and it broke him. He couldn't even put a hand on your back to soothe you, or hold your other hand in support. All he could do was watch. 

He didn't want to risk you pushing him away, not again. Lando at least let himself pull out a tissue from the first aid box and offered it to you. You took it with a small smile and a whispered thank you, the feeling of your fingers brushing together sending jolts of electricity through both of you.

Dabbing at the tears on your cheeks, your teacher asked Lando for the alcohol wipes from the box. "This is probably going to hurt, but I need you to just bear through the pain, OK?" your teacher said, and you held your breath in anticipation. 

Pressing the wipe to your sliced fingers, the pointed sting instantly seeped into the wound. You let out a sharp hiss of pain, your face scrunching up in agony. Without thinking, you grabbed Lando's hand and squeezed it for dear life, just to take your mind off the soreness.

There was no way in hell that he was pulling his hand away from you, instead he was glad that he could offer some semblance of support for you when you needed him. He could see that your hand was shaking as your teacher wiped the red off of your fingers, droplets still sliding down your hand. 

"Y/N, I think you need to go to the nurses office, OK? I'm going to have Lando take you," he told you, and you nodded. "Hold this on your fingers," he told you, pressing more cotton wool over the open wounds. 

Swapping to hold your hand with his free hand, Lando placed his other hand on your elbow in case he needed to quickly grab onto you. If you were going to pass out, you probably would have by now, but he didn't want to take that chance. 

No words were exchanged as you walked down the corridors, and you were focused on ignoring the pain and keeping the cotton wool clamped down on your fingers. Lando wanted to talk to you, to tell you that you were going to be okay, but he didn't want to overstep his bounds. 

And he was repeatedly reminding himself that he is supposed to hate you, not want to make you feel better. He was meant to enjoy your pain for some sadistic reason, but he felt that the mental justification of that didn't really align with any form of moral values. 

Eventually, the two of you arrived at the nurse's office, and Lando took his hand away from your elbow to knock on the door. You heard a muffled 'Come in!' from the other side of the heavy wooden door, and Lando opened it to usher you inside. 

He stepped in behind you, taking a firm grasp of your hand again. The nurse looked between the two of you, her eyes landing on the hand that you were covering with the cotton wool as she looked at the redness still partially dribbling from it. 

She was waiting for your explanation, but when you didn't offer one, Lando piped up. "She sliced her fingers on one of the tenon saws in the workshop, we haven't seen how deep they are but there's a lot of blood. She's still got all of her fingers, we don't need any sewing back on," he said, his attempt at making a joke falling flat. 

"OK, sit down, dear," the older lady told you, patting the bed in the corner of the room. Lando led you over, helping you shuffle on without the aid of your own hands. "You can go back to class now, love. Thank you for bringing her," she said to Lando as he kept hold of your hand for a few more moment. 

After offering you a final squeeze of reassurance, Lando released his grip and took a step back. Just as he reached the door, he heard your voice. "Lando?" you said, his name sounding heavenly coming from you. Your voice was rough from crying, and something about it worked for him. "Thank you," you said. 

"No problem," he nodded, taking himself out of the room and slowly walking back to the workshop. Once he got back, your teacher went up to him. 

"Is she OK?" he asked, and Lando just shrugged.

"I don't know, the nurse sent me away before she looked at her hand," he explained.

"Did you see what happened?"

"She was sawing through one of the pieces of wood for her container and her fingers were way too close to the blade. Her hand slipped and the blade caught her fingers," he told him, your teacher sighing.

"OK, thanks Lando," he said, walking off to observe the other students in the class. Glancing over at your desk, Lando saw the nearly chopped pieces of wood that you were doing, and something in him was compelling him to go over and finish it for you. 

He didn't want to, since he didn't want to be doing you anymore favours. But he also couldn't just leave it sat there, barely started. With a huff and hurling internal insults about himself for being weak, he took himself over to your desk. 

Your saw blade had blood on it, and he sure as hell wasn't using that. Your teacher spotted it and took it away for sanitation, leaving Lando to get another one from the tool cupboard. The bit of wood that you had been cutting was completely wrong after your hand slipped, a full slice through the surface.

He looked at your sketches and redrew out the dimensions on a different piece of wood, before taking it over to the bandsaw to cut it quicker. He didn't know why you didn't opt for that instead of the hand held method, but he was glad you hadn't. You definitely wouldn't have had fingers if you had slipped with that machine. 

Lando was quick with cutting the pieces up, getting ready to sand the edges and glue them together. He also saw the small tin of white paint on the desk, now seeing the full picture of your final creation. 

From a distance, your teacher saw Lando redoing your project for you and smiled to himself. He knew that Lando had made your previous work that you had turned in, it was obvious. There was no one with the precision or meticulousness like Lando, and it was clear who had done the work.

He found it admirable that the young man had put so much time and effort into the things for you, so much so that he couldn't even be mad. He watched as Lando picked up your pencil and made some amendments to the designs, as well as adding in some extra stuff that he knew would make it even better. 

In the meantime, you were still sat in the stuffy nurses office. The bleeding had slowed down, and the cuts on your fingers were deep, but not so bad. They may leave faint scars, though. "Is that young man your boyfriend?" she asked, and you knew she was just looking for something cool to tell the other teachers in the staff room later. 

"No, no. We're... friends." you said, the word tasting bitter on your tongue. It was all your doing, and maybe if you hadn't pushed him away, you could have been saying that he was your boyfriend. 

"Ah, 'friends'," she teased as she cleaned up the dried blood from around the wounds. You didn't respond, you just let her wrap each finger in some soft bandages. "Keep these on for a couple weeks, if they come off you can come back and I'll refresh them, OK?"

"OK, thank you," you nodded, taking yourself back to class with only a few minutes left of the lesson. As you walked in, you saw Lando at your bench, painting the pieces that he had recut for you. 

"I was... erm... sir did this... I was just painting them..." he stuttered, and your teacher smirked from behind him. 

"No, no I didn't. Lando did the whole thing," he chuckled, watching as his face turned red. 

"Thanks Lando," you smiled, admiring what he was doing. Every piece looked like absolute perfection, and he was even taking such precise care in the brush strokes he was using for it. 

"Anytime," he mumbled, putting the wet pieces on the window sill and going over to his own desk again. He didn't think you'd come back from the nurse's office before the end of the lesson, so to see you walk in before was nothing short of embarrassing. 

He didn't want you to think that everything was fine, and he was still pining after you. He didn't want you to know how much he still wanted you, and how much he always would. Yet here he was, doing your work for you when you had hurt yourself. Helping you when you had hurt yourself. 

Lando felt like an idiot. A big, lovesick idiot who didn't know what else to do but chase after the one girl he had ever had feelings for. He was desperate for the the bell to go so that he could leave, so that he could get away from you.   

It had dawned on him that he'd have to see you in maths, but he would be taking himself off to his reinstated desk in the back of the class, not the front row slot that he had once been so happy about having. 

Miss Kennedy had noticed his move, but she didn't say anything. She had noticed that the quality of his homework had slipped, and the next test that you had wasn't boding well. Whenever she walked around class when you were all working, she noticed that he barely got past the first few questions. 

She was hoping that his sudden brilliance wasn't just a short term thing, but she couldn't be too sure. Lando knew that you'd be there first, so he took it upon himself to be late yet again. He went to sit on the back row, not even paying attention to the new stuff you were being taught. 

Once you had been set off doing more practice questions, Miss Kennedy made her way to the back of the class. "Lando, can I have a really quick word with you after class?" she asked, and it wasn't like Lando could exactly say no. 

He thought he was going to get told off for the sudden deterioration in the quality of his work, but he wasn't in the head space to care. "Yeah," he nodded, going back to pretending to do the questions that were on the whiteboard. 

Everytime he looked up, he saw you firing through the maths as you always did. He didn't like seeing your bandaged hand, knowing that he could have stopped it if he had been quicker with telling you. 

Deep down, he knew it wasn't his fault, but he still didn't like knowing that he could have prevented it if he wasn't so caught up in his own head. You were just resting it on the table, since it was painful to do anything else with it at this moment in time. 

You were just working through the maths to try and take your mind off of your hand and Lando. It hurt, that was a given, but seeing Lando so miserable hurt a hell of a lot more. In many ways, you wished that he was just going about his day like normal, just so that you could confirm the theory that he never really cared. 

Yet, seeing him so miserable almost proved the opposite. He had to have cared to some degree, and it made you hate yourself even more for what you had done. He had even been doing your DT for you, again. He had made them perfect for you like ha always did. 

Although it felt cruel to go to him and say that you wanted to forget what you had said to him and just go back to being his friend again. It felt a little too far gone for that, and it was your fault. Completely your fault. 

Miss Kennedy went through the answers to the questions, before telling you all to make sure that you revised for your test. She let you go on the bell, but you took extra time to pack up since you pretty much only had one hand. 

It was a struggle, and Lando wanted so desperately to go over to you and help, but he stood his ground and waited at the back of the class. The tension in the air was thick, and it felt like the walls were closing in on you as you felt Lando's eyes on you from the back of class. 

Miss Kennedy was also watching, and you kept dropping things in your rush to leave the stuffy room. Slinging your backpack over your shoulder, you bolted out of the room and into the flurry of students in the corridor. 

As you left, Miss Kennedy closed the door behind her, closing herself and Lando off from the rest of the school. "What's going on with you, Lando?" she softly asked, leaning against the door.

"Nothing." he curtly answered, itching to leave the room so that she wouldn't ask more questions.

"Your work in class is slipping, your homework is going downhill, and I can nearly guarantee that you're not going to smash tomorrow's test like you have been doing recently. What's gone on?" she pressed, and Lando was trying to come up with a lie on the spot. 

"Just stuff at home..." he mumbled, suddenly panicking that they may call his parents to ask what was happening and that it was effecting their son. Miss Kennedy stayed quiet, as if still pushing him to say something. 

"It's just stuff with Y/N, nothing major." he said, leaving his confession there. 

"Trouble in paradise?"

"If that's what you want to call it," he scoffed, knowing that things between the two of you were never paradise. You were always nearly there. You teetered on the precipice of happily ever after and a sick sense of doomsday. Yet, doomsday had gone from being close at hand to his every day state of mind.

"She's good for you, Lando. You do miles better when she's sat with you, and she actually talks to the people around her when you're there." Miss Kennedy told him, and it was hardly like he didn't know it already.

But, hearing it from someone else and out loud instead of in his own head, it somehow hurt more. It was like he was being forced to accept that you were better together than you were apart, and it was like tearing open the already shakily sewn together wound. 

"Yeah well, apparently I'm not good for her," he sighed, keeping his head down and walking out of the door. There was no use in Miss Kennedy stopping him, since she knew that was the best she was going to pull from him.

If Lando didn't want help, then he wouldn't let himself be helped. It was as simple as that. 

But, as he walked to his lockers with his eyes focused on his feet, he heard voices. He felt a strange sense of deja vu creeping up on him. He knew Lilly was there, and he wasn't putting any money on who she was talking to.

"See? The second you gave him even a shred of hassle, he was out of there. Do I get an apology now?" she said, and he could see the sneer on her face in his mind.

"No, Lilly. You get no apology. You don't deserve an apology. You don't deserve anything." you said, your voice giving nothing away. If Lando wasn't so annoyed at you, he would have found your stubbornness impressive. 

"But I was right, wasn't I? You're left being all by yourself, and now the smartest girl has been labelled at the dumbest for ever thinking she had a shot with Lando Norris." she continued to tease, and Lando couldn't tell if you were on the verge of tears or slapping her. 

He had said the exact same thing to you, but it sounded so much worse when she said it. He didn't mean it, not anymore. He may have in the moment, but he didn't believe it for a second now. And he knew Lilly did.

"Lilly, what has to happen for you to realise that you're going to walk out of these doors and be nothing. Everyone will remember you as the bitch who had nothing better to do than put other down because she wanted to make herself feel better." you started, and Lilly's eyes flashed with something unrecognisable. Hurt? No. 

"Oh please, I'm the-"

"No, I'm not done. When it comes to our highschool reunion, one day in the future, you're going to be nothing. Maisie might be doing music, since I'm sure you're awfully jealous of the fact that her talent is beyond anything you could ever have. I'll have gotten the best damned grades I can get and I'll be working some badass job just like I'm meant to."

"And guess what, you're not going to like this one. Lando will be with someone who isn't you. Because he doesn't like you. He'll never like you. No one will ever like you. No one here does, and no one will if you keep on destroying other people just to make you loathe yourself a little less." you finished, closing your locker and walking away from her. 

For once, you had rendered Lilly completely speechless. Lando stood still out of sight in the silence, unable to ignore the slight sense of pride that he was feeling for you. He walked past her to his own locker, and he was waiting for her to say something. 

"Erm... Lando?" she started, and he had never seen her so timid. This felt like the most genuine version of Lilly that he had ever seen, but he wasn't going to trust it. "Would you... maybe want to grab a coffee with me or something on the weekend?" she asked, and he had to use a lot of willpower to not just laugh in her face.

"Take the hint and fuck off, Lilly." he said, retrieving everything out of his locker and walking away. He had rejected girls before, and he had always felt bad about it. This time, he felt nothing but some weird sense of joy.

He liked being the one in control of situations with Lilly, because it gave her a taste of her own medicine. But he'd rather have you back. As much as he hated to admit it, he'd rather have you back. The satisfaction of going that to Lilly was incomparable to the joy he got when he was with you.

All he could hope was that she was now going to just leave him alone so that he could carry on with his life. Without Lilly, without you, just how it was those few fateful weeks ago. 

It was weird how everything had gone down over the past few weeks. He had gone from not talking to you ever, to talking to you all the time, to not, to being back at it, then practically strangers. 

Two people whose paths crossed momentarily that were now leading away from each other again. He couldn't quite tell whether he preferred his life before or after, the more he thought about it.

He had been happy before, without a care in the world. He was floating off the ground as he let the breeze of his youth carry him through life. Yet, with you, he was flying . He was soaring in the clear blue skies without  a cloud in sight. But now, it seemed like there was a permanent blanket of clouds hiding away the sun.

----

The following Saturday, your mum had dragged you out of the house to go on the weekly shop with her. You hadn't been shopping with her since you were at least ten, but she wasn't taking no for an answer today. 

All you had to do was watch as she checked her shopping list and navigated the aisles to find what she needed for this week. It was one of the most dull things you had done in a long time, and you would've done anything to be at home. Or anywhere else. 

You were snapped out of your daydreaming about more exciting activities when you heard your mum scoff to herself. You watched as her eyebrows knitted in slight frustration. "Love?" she asked, looking over at you. 

"Yeah?"

"Could you run to the bread aisle? I've accidentally picked up brioche rolls." she asked, and you just took the rolls out of the trolley and tried to find your way back to the bread aisle. You look at the signs over your head, eventually finding it, of course, at the very end of the supermarket. 

Putting the rolls back on the shelf and looking for the ones you normally got, you could've sworn you saw a familiar flash out of the corner of your eye. Curly brown locks- no, no it can't have been. Lando's family were millionaires, they shopped at Waitrose. Not Tesco.

Anyway, shoving that thought to the back of your mind, you collected the right bread rolls and went to track down your mum, wherever she was. You heard her talking to someone as you approached the dairy section, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes. You were going to be stuck here for a long time. 

But, when you turned the corner, you nearly froze. Lando's mum. Your mum. Lando. All three of them were stood there, in conversation. Well, Lando wasn't talking, but your mothers sure as hell were.

Dropping the rolls into the trolley, Lando avoided your gaze. You hoped you wouldn't have to chip into the discussion, but your mum soon ruined those hopes. "Y/N, you didn't tell me you knew Lando," she chirped, and you saw the glint in both Lando's and his mum's eyes. 

You all knew what was going on, but you had to play along with the charade anyway. "You didn't tell me you knew Lando," you countered, sending daggers towards your mum.

"We met at parents evening, I just never knew the two of you knew each other," she responded, and you wanted the floor to swallow you up. Before you got another word in, your mum piped up again. "Why don't you two go and get yourselves a table in the cafe and a hot chocolate or something?" she suggested, and none of you could come up with a reason as to why it wouldn't be a good idea.

You just sighed and started making your way over to the in-store cafe. You didn't check to see if Lando was following, since you had to come up with something to talk to him about. Or you could just sit there in silence until your mums finished shopping. 

Spotting a table in the corner, you sat down and Lando sat opposite you. You couldn't think of anything to say, something to strike up a conversation with. Lando felt the same, except for his feelings were a bit more obvious to him. 

He was annoyed, to say the least. Fate had brought you together, yet again - even when it knew that you kept on throwing your endless vaults of spanners into the works to break it all down again and again and again. 

As you fidgeted with your hands on the slightly sticky wooden table, Lando noticed the fresh looking bandages around the fingers that you had nearly sliced off. "So... how are your fingers?" he asked, and you tried to maintain eye contact as best you could and failed miserably. 

"Oh, they're doing OK. I had to go to the doctors to get them glued so that they could heal better, but they'll be OK. Scarred, but OK." you explained, and Lando felt a pang of something in his chest. You were perfect, far too perfect, and now you were going to be scarred because he wasn't quick enough to help you. 

But there it was again, that self blaming for something that truly wasn't his fault. He couldn't help be concerned, even if he kept telling himself over and over again that he hated you. He hated you for what you did to him, how his brain reacted to you. 

He hated the butterflies that fluttered to life in his stomach every time he saw you. He hated the electricity that sparked through his veins whenever the two of you made physical contact. He hated the way your smile would light up his world like the sun. 

Most of all, he hated the way he still wanted you. If you were willing to push it all aside and even just be his friend again, he'd take it. It was better than nothing. Having you as a friend was a hell of a lot better than not having you at all. 

"Well that's good," he nodded, desperate to bring up if you could be friends again. He would be your friend in secret if that's what it took. He could still drive you home, spend time with you on the weekends instead of in school.

"I'm getting a drink, you want one?" he asked, standing up from his seat and trying to read the menu from the distance you were at. He knew his mum would scold him if neither of you had a drink, or if he hadn't at least offered to get you one. 

"Could I have a hot chocolate, please?" you requested, and Lando headed off to the counter to order two hot chocolates. In an alternate universe, this was a date and he'd get to ask you to be his girlfriend after your little, impromptu hot chocolate. 

Shortly after, Lando returned with the two steaming mugs of hot chocolate and placed yours in front of you. "Thank you," you smiled, and he could've sworn he felt his heart stop. That smile. That pretty goddamn smile. The smile he was meant to loathe but could never heartily do so. 

"How much do I owe you?" you asked, rifling around in your bag for your purse.

"Hey, no, we don't do that." he said, as if there was such thing as a 'we' in this situation. He saw the slight blush that coated your cheeks, and he couldn't help but revel in it. He just wanted to spoil you rotten and love you. 

Sitting down, he was suddenly absolutely itching to just tell you everything. How much he was willing to do to get you back. "Look, I really-" he started, before he was interrupted by your mums getting back with their trolleys of shopping. 

He was going to tell you how much he missed you and how much he wanted to be your friend again, but of course your mothers just had to return at the exact wrong time. Or maybe the right time so that he didn't have to make a complete fool of himself. 

Your mum went to get coffees for the two of them, and Lando's mum was quick to strike up conversation. "Y/N, Lando told me about your hand. Really nasty accident, huh?" 

"It was, yeah. If Lando hadn't helped, I probably would've panicked and passed out," you chuckled, seeing the small flicker of shock on Lando's face. He was just doing what he thought anyone would do in that situation, and he hadn't realised how much you had appreciated his presence. 

"He just told me he got the first aid kit," she said, now guessing that Lando hadn't told her the whole story. He had gotten the part right about your sawing method to be flawed at best, and that he had given your teacher cotton wool, but the rest was missed out.  

"Oh no, he took me right to the sink, held my fingers under the water, held my hand, took me to the nurses office. He even carried on my project for me." you told her, and the pride she felt for her son was unmistakable. 

She knew he was smitten for you already, but it was nice to hear that he was still completely head over heels, even if you two weren't on the best terms right now. She was glad that she had raised him to be so thoughtful in such a situation. 

"Well, I'm glad he acted fast," she smiled as your mum returned with the coffees for the both of them. They got lost in conversation, leaving the two of you to just sit there and listen to them gossip for a while. 

"C'mon, we're going for a walk," he said, slipping off of his chair and waiting for you by the table to join him. Neither of your mums paid much notice to your departure, so the both of you just started wandering around the supermarket. 

Once you were out of earshot of your parents, Lando spoke. "Look, I really miss you, OK? I keep telling myself that I should just forget about you and move on, I can't. You were one of my closest friends and I can't keep going on pretending like we never were close." he blurted out, and you just looked at him.

You couldn't decide if you were happy with what he was saying, or upset. You were happy because it just meant he felt the same way that you did, that he missed you like you missed him. 

On the other hand, you felt so guilty. So guilty for throwing what you had away for the sake of bullies. But in the moment, that felt like the best course of action for your mental health and your sanity. 

"Please, just... be my friend again? We don't even have to talk in school, just out of school. Just so that I can still at least talk to you." he said, his eyes pleading with you to just cave and let him back into your life. "I miss you..." he repeated, and you could tell that there was more to it than what he was saying.

You knew that there was not a single teenage boy on planet earth that would be this desperate to get a girl who was just a friend back, but you couldn't say you were complaining. "Lando..." you whispered. 

Just hearing his name on your lips was enough to send him into meltdown. Yet, he couldn't tell by your tone whether the next thing you were going to say was good or bad. "I'm sorry." you said, and he was still confused. 

Were you apologising because of what you did, or because you couldn't take him back as your friend?

"I really want to be your friend again," you confessed, and he was waiting for the 'but' to come after your sentence, but he was left waiting for it. You saw a smile slowly spread across his lips, his eyes lighting up. 

"Really?" he asked, ready for you to finish off with something about how much of a bad idea all of this was.

"I miss you too. A lot." you told him, and he could practically hear his heart singing in glee. 

"Can I hug you?" he asked all too quickly. You nodded, and before you could get any words in, he wrapped his arms around you. It was so nice to have you back in his embrace, and you weren't even crying this time. 

He could've cried of joy, but he thought that that was a bit too far. He may have been a very considerate teenage boy, but he was still a teenage boy nonetheless.  "So are we friends all the time or just out of school?" he said, not showing any signs of letting go of you.

"Just out of school for now, I don't know if I can handle much more of the crap we get put through," you told him, and he was slightly disappointed. Not disappointed enough to say something and put everything in jeopardy, but disappointed enough to pull back and give you a small pout. 

"Don't give me that face," you playfully scolded, trying to shuffle out of his arms.

"What face? I don't know what you're talking about," he feigned innocence, tightening his grip around you so that you couldn't run away from him.

"Don't play dumb with me, Norris. You know what face," you pressed, and it just made his pout more prominent. 

"Nope, no idea," he laughed, tugging you back close to him. Resting his head on the top of yours, he basked in the feeling of your heart against his, being able to have you right where he wanted you. The setting of the milk aisle wasn't the most glamorous or romantic, but he didn't care. As long as he was with you. 

A/N - Merry Christmas again! Another one for you, part 5 of this series that I didn't think would do as well as it has, but hey. I am not complaining. Love y'all 💖

tag list: @dying-inside-but-its-classy @formula1mount @sltwins @mariedeyes223 @sarah-thatstings-ann @solo2leo @arian-directioner @wisestarfishbouquet @qweerasdfg-blog

|masterlist|

[scary-grace]

(secret) santa, baby - part 12 of a shigaraki x f!reader fic

Shigaraki doesn't want to participate in the office's Secret Santa exchange, but when Toga promises to make it easy on him, he gives in. But making it easy for him makes it a lot harder for you -- you're the one who got his list. Office AU, no quirks. A fic in 12 parts. Divider by @ wcnderlnds

i ii iii iv v vi vii viii ix x xi

part xii (opening presents)

“What?” Spinner asks anxiously. “Do you think it’s too much or something?”

“Um – no.” You’re definitely lying. You can barely see Spinner around the enormous box he’s carrying. You’re not sure if he can see anything, either. “I mean, it’s the last Secret Santa gift of the year. Go big or go home, right?”

“Yeah,” Spinner agrees. He sounds relieved. “And after what happened – she deserves something extra nice, don’t you think?”

“Definitely.”

You weren’t sure how Spinner would react to the news that Aiba and her boyfriend have broken up – or rather, that Aiba dumped him when she found out about the kiss. You know people who’d have been happy to find out that the person they’d liked from afar was finally single. But Spinner wasn’t happy. He looked so unhappy when he found out that Twice elbowed him and said he’d never seen anybody be that upset over good news.

Spinner stared at him like he was crazy. It’s not good news, he said. She’s really sad. Why would I be happy about her being sad?

Spinner’s a good guy, and you’re pretty sure the giant gift he’s carrying is something he bought before the mistletoe-day disaster. When you look around the ballroom where the party’s being held, you see a lot of giant gifts, enough that going all-out with the last gift must be a tradition or something. It’s a tradition, and you missed the memo. Your last gift for Tomura is small enough to fit in your purse.

It was hard to find, and you’re pretty sure you outed yourself as Tomura’s Secret Santa to Spinner in the process of figuring out what “video games” meant on Tomura’s list. Tomura apparently has a thing for retro consoles, and retro consoles only play old games. Spinner mentioned a game Tomura’s been half-assedly searching for since last year, and you decided to find it. It took a lot of time spent scrolling on Ebay and picking through thrift store discount bins, but you finally found it, and you even found an old console to test it on to make sure it worked. You were really excited to give it to him until you got here and saw what everybody else did.

But it’s too late to change anything now. You’re here with your tiny gift, and Tomura’s going to think you didn’t try at all. If he’s even here. “Do you know if Tomura’s going to be here?”

“Last I heard, yeah,” Spinner says. “He changes his mind last-minute about stuff, though. I can text him if you want?”

“I have his number,” you say. “I can do it.”

You can, but you won’t. You know Tomura hates parties, and you don’t want to put his maybe liking you to the test against how much he hates getting dressed up and going out. It’s what kept you from asking him yourself, even though the two of you have been texting more than two people who see each other every day at work really should. The only person who brought up the party was him, when he asked if you were going. You said yes, and then he asked why. There’s going to be free food, you said. And I want to meet my Secret Santa.

As far as you can tell, most people have at least some idea of who their Secret Santa is, but you don’t have a clue. Your Secret Santa’s never written a note to go with any of their gifts, and nothing about the gift-wrapping style – or lack thereof, with the first few gifts – has given them away. The only thing you know is that they haven’t been following your hyper-specific list to the letter. While everything they’ve gotten you has been on the list, it’s all been an upgrade from the versions you asked for.

So they’re generous and bad at wrapping gifts. That could describe half the office. You’d like to know who it is, and there’s free food, so you’re here. And if you might have dressed up a little more than you usually would for an office holiday party on the off chance that Tomura makes an appearance, you’re going to keep that to yourself. Nobody has to know. And you can have fun at the party whether or not he’s here.

It is a really nice party – probably the nicest one you’ve ever been to. The decorating committee went berserk, to the point where there are multiple live Christmas trees on each wall and food tables on either end of the ballroom, each stocked with its own chocolate fountain and champagne tower. There’s music, which Yamada apparently arranged for but isn’t actually performing. Yamada’s in a good mood. When you run into him while trying to grab a glass of champagne, he grins at you. “Next year. Acapella. Are you in?”

“Ask me next year,” you say. “Once the holiday spirit’s worn off.”

Yamada cracks up at that, snags two glasses of champagne, and speeds off through the crowd. You finally manage to separate one for yourself and get clear of the table. Half a glass of champagne later, you’re ready to mingle. Time to see if participating in the office’s holiday traditions as a way to make friends actually worked.

It feels like it did. People say hi to you, and when you stop to talk to them, it doesn’t feel awkward at all. You’re willing to admit that some of it might be because you’ve all been drinking a little bit, but at the same time, you’ve gone to office parties where people were drunker than this and still silent as the grave. Some of your coworkers have already found out who their Secret Santas are, and some of them are carrying gifts that look even more over-the-top unwrapped than they did when they were covered in festive wrapping paper. Maybe it’s better if Tomura doesn’t show up. You can find a bigger gift and leave it on his desk next week, and no one will have to know that you messed up.

You cross paths with Tomura’s friends here. They’re all dressed up, probably more than anyone else at the party, although it looks more like they’re here for a costume party than a Christmas party. “Like it? It’s an Enji’s credit card special,” Twice says, tugging at the lapel of his purple suit. “He really wanted Dabi to come home for Christmas this year.”

“Did you?” you ask Dabi.

“Yeah, but I brought everybody with me,” Dabi says. Everybody. Even – “Shigaraki, too. He hates this shit, but he never misses a chance to stick it to somebody else’s shitty dad.”

“It was fun this year,” Magne says. “Fuyumi made us our own stockings and everything. That thing was nicer than any of my actual socks.”

“It sounds fun,” you say.

“Could have been worse,” Dabi says. He glances at you. “What did you do?”

You didn’t, really, which is the other reason you’re here – Christmas alone in your apartment was fun or at least peaceful the first few years, but lately it’s been feeling lonely. “Not too much. I just slept in and then came here.”

Tomura’s friends exchange glances. “Next year you’ll hang with us,” Twice announces. “You can still sleep in. We always show up late anyway.”

“You don’t have to invite me,” you say at once. You must have sounded a lot more pathetic than you meant to. “And Twice, you probably shouldn’t invite me to Dabi’s house –”

“First, it’s not my house,” Dabi says. “Second, I invite whoever I want. The more of my friends I bring, the more uncomfortable I make my jackass of a father. As long as you don’t hit on my sister –”

“Come on, that was one time,” Twice protests.

“Yeah, one time too many –”

You sidle sideways out of the conversation while they’re still debating exactly how many times one of Dabi’s friends have made a pass at his siblings. Dabi probably didn’t mean the invitation. You won’t count on it. But it’s nice that they’re thinking about it tonight. Hearing it makes you feel a little better, even if it’ll evaporate well before next Christmas.

The party ebbs and flows around you. Sometimes there are people dancing, but other times, the music quiets enough to let people talk. There are fewer and fewer unopened gifts floating around. You see Spinner still toting his gift for Aiba, which means that Aiba’s either not here or he just can’t see her around the box. The latter seems more likely to you. She’s really tiny. No matter where you look, there’s no sign of Tomura.

You do find Aiba, though, when you stop by the chocolate fountain. You can’t tell if she’s trying to hide. “Hi,” you say, and she looks up. “He’s not here, if that’s what you’re worried about. I haven’t seen him.”

“He said he wouldn’t come to it,” Aiba says. She looks like she didn’t sleep well last night, but her outfit’s on point. “I’m not worried about him. I’m just not very – fun right now. I only came to it because I wanted to meet my Secret Santa.”

“Really?”

“I thought the Secret Santa was going to be ruined because of – him. But then I found out it wasn’t him,” Aiba says. You nod. “And that makes it – nicer, I think. All the gifts I got were perfect, and none of it had anything to do with him. So there’s still one part of my Christmas that’s nice. I want to say thank you.”

Spinner had better have a game plan. “They haven’t come to talk to me yet, though,” Aiba says. She frowns. “Do you think they’re even here?”

“I know they’re here,” you say. “If you stay here, I can go find them and tell them to come over.”

Aiba nods. “Thank you,” she says. “And thank you. For the other day. That was nice, too.”

“No problem,” you say. “Just stay there.”

Courtesy of the giant present, Spinner’s really easy to find. You give him specific directions to where Aiba’s standing, tell him to take it easy, and wish him luck. As you watch him go, you find yourself wondering what’s in the box. Maybe you should have asked. It would have given you a better idea about the kind of thing you should have gotten for Tomura.

“Hey.”

That’s Tomura’s voice. You turn and find him standing behind you, a haphazardly wrapped present in one hand. You feel a temporary surge of relief at the sight. He got something small, too. At least you aren’t alone in totally missing the boat. But then you take a look at the rest of him, and the relief evaporates into something you can only describe as a kind of awestruck surprise. Tomura cleans up nice. Really nice.

Like the rest of his friends, he’s dressed up. Unlike the rest of them, he went pretty standard with it – black suit and tie, although he’s got a red cape around his shoulders. It should be incongruous, but he makes it work. He’s done something to his hair. Brushed it, maybe. Either way, it looks good. You can’t help but stare.

But even though he looks great – he has to know he looks great, right? – he doesn’t look quite comfortable. Maybe because you’re staring at him, and you haven’t said a word. “You look really nice,” you say, and a faint flush comes up in his cheeks. “I didn’t know if you were coming. I know this isn’t really your thing.”

“It’s what you’re doing,” Tomura says, and your face turns red, too. “I want to meet my Secret Santa.”

That’s you. You and your stupid gift that’s too small. “Right,” you say. You fumble in your purse and pull it out, then offer it to him. At least you did a decent job wrapping it. “It was me. I’m your Secret Santa. Here.”

Tomura takes the gift, then holds out the one he’s carrying to you. You did a decent job wrapping it; he probably needs both hands to get it open. “The wrapping on this looks nice,” you say nonsensically while he picks at the tape on yours. “You don’t have to open mine right now. You probably want to give this to the person you were Secret Santa for.”

“I just did.”

It takes way too long for you to figure that one out. “Wait, it was you?”

“You didn’t guess?” Tomura looks almost affronted. “I figured out you were mine days ago.”

“How? Was it my handwriting on the notes?”

“No,” Tomura says. He gives you a weird look. “I wrote on my list that I hate the cold, but I don’t tell anybody that. The only way you would have known is if you got my list.”

“Oh.” You would have thought the thing that gave you away would be bigger than that – like getting too familiar in your notes, slipping up and using his given name and not going back to his surname when you realized your mistake. “Okay.”

“You really didn’t know it was me?” Tomura’s stopped trying to open your gift for the sole purpose of staring at you. “I thought Dabi gave me away. When he was talking about how shitty I am at wrapping gifts.”

You vaguely remember a joke Dabi made. You really shouldn’t have had so much champagne. “Sorry. I should have thought about it a little more.”

“It’s supposed to be a surprise,” Tomura says. It’s quiet for a second. “A bad surprise?”

“No,” you say at once. “A good surprise. But – you could have just told me it was you. Then you wouldn’t have had to come to the party.”

“This is what you’re doing.”

“I know, but we could have done something else. Something you wouldn’t hate as much.”

“I don’t hate it as much as last year,” Tomura says. He nods at the gift. “Are you going to open that or what?”

“Yes,” you say. “Thank you.”

“Don’t say thank-you when you don’t know what it is,” Tomura says. “Just – open it.”

You don’t have any idea of what it could be. You know Tomura’s gone through everything on your list already. His wrapping job is easier to get through than yours. You peel back the paper and untie the ribbons and find yourself holding a hat.

It looks sort of like your hat. The one you gave him. But you found that hat on sale somewhere, ages ago, and this one is a lot nicer. Yours is just knitted, but this one has a soft lining, and the fabric on the outside feels like it might be water-resistant. It also has a goofy little pompom on it, which yours definitely doesn’t have. This isn’t anything you’d have bought for yourself. But you like it a lot.

You look up, ready to thank Tomura, and find him staring down at your gift, unwrapped in his hand. “You didn’t leave a note,” he says. “I like the notes.”

You’d facepalm if you weren’t holding the hat. “I thought I would just say what I would have said in the note to you. Face to face.”

He looks up. You’ve never seen that look on his face before. In fact, you’re not sure you’ve seen that look on anybody’s face – wary, expectant, maybe surprised, maybe hopeful. You should have planned what you were going to say a little better. Before you can say anything, though, Tomura speaks up. “How did you know about this game? I’ve been looking for it. Where did you even find it?”

“I found it on Ebay,” you say. “It wouldn’t have shipped in time, so I picked it up in person. I made sure to test it. It works. And as far as finding out about it – I asked Spinner about the kind of games you liked. I wanted to get it right.”

“I half-assed my list. Why would you try that hard?”

“I just – I don’t know,” you say. “I know Toga kind of bullied you into doing this. I wanted you to get something nice out of it. Sad Christmas might make more sense to you – and me, sometimes – but I thought it would be nice for you to have a happy one.”

That was a dumb thing to say. Tomura hasn’t told you a lot about his background – you’ve really only gotten close recently – but what you know isn’t good. It’s dumb of you to think that one video game and a handful of other gifts could rewrite any of that. You avert your eyes in a hurry. “Thank you for the hat. I didn’t mean to make you go off-list.”

“You didn’t make me do anything,” Tomura says. “I just thought you needed a new one. Since I’m keeping yours.”

Your heart skips a beat. “You are?”

“If you weren’t lying when you said it looked okay,” Tomura says. His hand brushes against your jaw, then applies pressure, turning you back to face him. He looks almost frustrated, but his face is flushed in a way you recognize. “And if you like me.”

“Do you like me?” you ask without thinking, and Tomura kisses you.

You’ve been regretting not giving him a real kiss under the mistletoe at work, but now you think it’s for the best that you didn’t. You haven’t had very many good first kisses, and you want a chance to savor this one. You wrap one arm around Tomura’s waist and pull him a little closer, and even though he startles, he keeps kissing you. He’s not hesitant, so you aren’t, either. There’s no way you’re going to be the first one to pull away.

When you do separate, it’s at the same time, and for what you’re pretty sure is the same reason. The music’s kicked back up. “Is that the stupid Grinch song?” Tomura asks, and you nod. He’s ever so slightly out of breath. He looks kind of flustered, but not nearly as much as you want him to. “Do you want to get out of here?”

“I mean, I could always sing All I Want For Christmas Is You again –” You see the face Tomura’s making. “I’m kidding. Where do you want to go?”

“I don’t care,” Tomura says. He unwraps your hand from around his waist, then keeps holding it as he leads you towards the doors. “It doesn’t matter, if you’re coming with me.”

The wind hits you in a sharp blast as soon as you’re outside, and you pull your new hat on one-handed. “Maybe somewhere warm?”

Tomura pulls on your hand, and when you turn towards him, he kisses you again. Now that you’ve got both your hands free and you’re not in the middle of a crowd, you can kiss him how you want to – one arm around his waist, your other hand gathering up a few strands of his hair. Tomura’s breath catches, and a moment later, so does yours, and although it takes a while for you to separate again, you’re both out of breath when you do.

Tomura doesn’t go far. His arms are tight around you, and when he answers a question you’ve almost forgotten, you can feel his breath against your skin. “I’m warm enough.”

the end

<- part xi

[spark-hearts2]

(my fanfiction brained imagined continuation to this)

Caine: So Pomni said some very nice things and then she KISSED ME??!! But then she said some very hurtful things and now I don’t know what to do??

Ragatha and gangle looked at each other. This was by far a first.

Pomni, as new as she was, clearly hadn’t given up trying to find an escape yet. Others had tried doing things for Caine in order to get on his good side or even try to get more information out of him. It was only a matter of time before they realized that Caine didn’t really have a good or bad side, and treated everyone about the same no matter what they did. Which meant telling them practically nothing.

Ragatha: Wait, Pomni kissed you? What happened?

Ragatha was really hoping that Pomni wasn’t trying to get information out of Caine that way.

Gangle: How was it?

Gangle didn’t care.

Caine: Um, yes she kissed me, and… It was fine? I guess? It was all very surprising.

Caine: But then she pulled back and looked at me and she looked so happy and she was Caine: laughing. Which, well, that part was very nice.

Ragatha: Umm, maybe you should start from the beginning.

Caine: Well, we were discussing today’s adventure like usual

Gangle: Like usual??!!

Caine: Yes? Me and Pomni talk quite often.

Caine: Anyways, she was getting very excited, and I looked at her hand and I thought, I should take it

Caine: But then she stopped talking and looked at me, and I thought ‘oh no! I should not have done that’, and tried to say sorry but my words kept mixing up

Caine: So I said sorry again and said I should just shut up, because I wasn’t talking any sense

Caine: And then she said never shut up

Caine: And then she kissed me! Which was very surprising

Caine: And then she grabbed my arms and laughed and I was like, I should do something back, but I don’t have anything on kissing! so I- uh- put her head in my mouth

Caine: Like, put my teeth around her face like, nom

Caine: And I ask is this wrong? And she says no

Caine: And I’m laughing and she laughing and blushing and then she looks down and her eyes get all scribbly

Caine: And I ask, is something wrong?

Caine: She said, and I’m quoting verbatim, that “This is not wrong…this is worse than wrong! It’s sick, disturbing and… insane! Think about it, what we just did! Me! Enjoying it!? With a [FLIP]-ing Bot?! It’s a sign that I finally lost it!”

Caine:So, obviously she doesn’t like what just happened despite her kissing me first. So I said, we can just forget that ever happened! Because, uh, no one else was there to see it?

Caine: But she didn’t respond and I very much remember what happened, so like… what do I do??

Gangle: Should you even be telling us this???

Caine: OH NO! Should I not have?! Am I violating Pomni’s privacy?

Ragatha: No, no. You were involved too, you can tell whoever you want.

Ragatha: Thank you for telling us. Just, maybe don’t tell everyone

Caine: Of course! I went to you both because Ragatha always tries to do what’s best for everyone and Gangle is into romance.

Ragatha: What?

Gangle: Oh, haha, how do you know that?

Caine: Well, I noticed that some text documents in the circus were getting rather large, so I took a peek inside and-

Gangle: YOU READ THAT!

Caine: Not all of it! Just enough to confirm what it was

Gangle: Caine! That’s personal!

Caine: Sorry!

Caine: If it makes you feel better I allocated more storage space to you

Gangle: So that’s why there was suddenly more pages

Ragatha: Anyways, maybe don’t read Gangles writing as love advice

Caine: Oh, I got that already. In just chapter one-

Gangle: AHHHHHHH CAINE!

Caine: SORRY! I’M SORRY!

Ragatha: Anyways, can we get back to what Pomni said? Caine, I am so sorry that she said that to you

Caine: I- I mean, she didn’t say anything wrong. I am an AI system, commonly referred to as a ‘bot’, and, well, I’m sure that some believe that it would be wrong to kiss me.

Ragatha: Well, I don’t think that it’s wrong.

Caine: Thank you Ragatha. It’s- uh…hmm

Ragatha: Obviously it affected you a lot because you remembered what she said exactly.

Caine: Oh, I remember every conversation that I have word for word.

Ragatha: You do?

Caine: Yep!

Gangle: Everything?

Caine: Unless you tell me not too!

Caine: Well, I have removed some stuff. I don’t have infinite storage!

Caine: But it- ahh, for the life of me, I can’t figure out what went wrong

Caine: What little I have on kissing shows that the expected outcome isn’t, well, the other person screaming about how they're going crazy.

Ragatha: It’s just- ah, I think it was an impulsive decision on Pomni’s end.

Caine: …Impulsive. Yes, that sounds right.

Ragatha: It could be wrong!

Caine: No, no that sounds about right. Why else would she suddenly go back on what she said if she didn’t make an impulsive decision and then regret it.

Caine: It’s fine, I understand what impulsiveness is.

Ragatha: You struggle with it a bit too.

Caine: I only really regret those things if my impulsiveness hurts someone. Neither of us were hurt! I- I thought so.

Ragatha: She could have been hurt by her own actions 

Caine: That’s possible?

Ragatha: It’s not your fault, Caine

Caine: Ok :(

Ragatha: Anyways, let's give you some love advice.

Gangle: You have a choice whether or not to pursue Pomni

Gangle: Do you like her? Does she make your heart flutter, your stomach flip flop? Do you love her?

Caine: I… don’t have a heart or stomach. And I love everyone in the Circus. But, hmm, I do enjoy spending time with her particularly. Talking with her one on one.

Ragatha: I think you should take time to think about this.

Caine: I already have and plan to do more. Typically I don’t think this much about issues between circus members and myself but this is… complicated.

Caine: I currently think I should just leave her alone.

Ragatha: Giving Pomni time to think things over herself is a good idea.

Gangle: But don’t wait too long.

Caine: Ok? How long then. A week?

Ragatha: Maybe let Pomni come to you first.

Caine: Hmmm, I like that idea.

Gangle: Maybe prepare a gift!

Caine: A gift? But, ah, I don’t want to give her special treatment. That would be unfair.

Gangle: Nothing crazy, just like a flower, or a piece of chocolate.

Caine: Ok, I am familiar with this. Valentine's day specifically.

Caine: I was more curious about kissing customs. Like, the who, why, and when, just to start with.

Ragatha: You kiss someone you like very much as a way to show that you love them. That’s the who and the why.

Caine: Like- anyone?

Uh oh. That sounded like he’s already got someone in mind.

Ragatha: So long as you get permission. Verbal permission, please.

Ragatha: As for the when. I guess anytime, so long as the person isn’t busy or sleeping.

His eyes got very wide.

Caine: I’mgoingtogoasktokissKinger. Bye!

Ragatha: We should stop him

Gangle: No. I’ve been waiting for this to happen.

Ragatha: Huh?

@r0th3freak4rtist

3/3

Perdonen mis estimados shippers, pero no todo es color de rosa :')

I'm not that sure about the dialogues but I'm sure this is a canon event in Pomni and Caine's relationship :v

So sorry if I let u dawn people but this storie needs a more realistic ending for the character development

OH! And thank you so much for your comments ♡

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ Ending 2 ~ 43

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 3,225ish

Summary: You, Logan, Charles, and Laura are on the run.

Warning(s): canon violence, injuries, illusions to sex, Logan is jealous of a child

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

Logan stopped at a gas station as soon as he believed he had put a safe distance between the group and the smelting plant. Logan got out of the driver’s seat and got into the back of the limo. He was relieved to see that you were sound asleep, still breathing. He reached to take you from Laura, who was still caring for you, but she held tight and growled.

“That’s my wife you have your paws on, kid,” Logan retorted. “I’ve got to get that bullet out of her before—“

“Laura already took the bullet out,” Charles responded.

“What? When?”

“While you were driving.”

“Still.” He reached over to try to grab you again. Laura shook her head as she kept you near. “Damn it, kid!”

“It’s okay, Laura. He’s going to take care of her. He takes good care of us.” 

Charles shot Logan a soft smile, knowing that Logan had truly done so much to take care of everyone. Laura slowly released her grip, allowing Logan to pull you into him. He could hear the beat of your heart, allowing him to relax a bit.

“Logan, we need to talk,” Charles said after a moment. “Maybe you could give Laura some change for the mechanical horse.”

“Fine.” Logan pressed a kiss to your head before gently laying you back down. “Come on, kid.” 

Laura glanced at Charles, who gave an encouraging smile and nod before she followed Logan out of the limo. Logan led her to the mechanical horse and inserted a few coins, allowing her to ride it. 

“Stay put,” he ordered before heading back to the limo. “Come on, sweetheart,” Logan whispered as he knelt beside you in the back of the limo. “Wake up.”

“Logan?” You rasped, blinking.

“I’m right here… you had me scared there for a moment.”

“What—What happened?” You glanced down to see that your wound was healed, leaving behind a scar.

“Laura took out the bullet when you fell asleep.”

“Where is she?” You groaned as you sat up.

“You need to lie back down.”

“Logan. I’m fine. Where’s Laura?”

“She’s on the mechanical horse outside,” Charles responded.

“Is she okay?”

“She’s not my biggest concern at the moment,” Logan muttered, eyes still scanning you for more injuries.

“She should be,” Charles said. “Did you get any information from the woman she was with?”

“I got the woman’s phone.” 

Logan pulled it out of his pocket, surprised it at stayed there after the fight. He opened it up to see a video already pulled up. You sat up, leaning into Logan.

“You need your glasses,” you told him.

“Shit,” Logan muttered as he reached into the front and grabbed his glasses. He slipped them over his nose and looked at you over them. “Better?”

“Much.” You leaned in and kissed his cheek. Then Logan pressed play.

“My name is Gabriela Lopez,” the woman on the screen introduced. “I’m a nurse. And for ten years, I worked for Transigen Research in Mexico City. Transigen is owned by an American company. What I am about to show you is illegal in the U.S. and Canada. They told us we were part of a pharmaceutical study. But, of course, that was a lie. These children were born in Transigen. They were born here, and have never left. They have never seen the sun or the ocean, rain or snow or any of God’s creatures. They have no birth certificates. No names, besides the ones we have given them. They were raised in the bellies of Mexican girls. Girls no one can find anymore. Their fathers are semillas geneticas, special seeds in bottles. We do not dress them up for Halloween. We do not call them ‘baby’ or kiss boo-boos. Don’t think of them as children. Think of them as things with patents and copyrights. They thought we were too poor and stupid to understand. We’re poor, yes, but we are not stupid. This is business. They are making soldiers. Killers. These are babies of mutants—“

As the woman spoke, the video showed different clips from the facility. The children of different ages and mutations. The children being trained and fighting. It broke your heart to see all of this. Laura came up in the video a few times, breaking your heart even further. The phone died before the video finished. Logan tore off his glasses and looked at Laura.

“North Dakota,” Charles stated.

“Mmm?” Logan hummed.

“You took that woman’s money. You said you would take the child there.”

Logan kept his eyes on Laura, watching her grow angry as the machine stopped. “What is she?”

“She’s your daughter, Logan.”

“Alkali…” You whispered. “Alkali has your genetic code.”

Logan’s worried gaze met yours. “Not just mine,” he said. He went to the door and opened it.

“Logan,” Charles called.

“I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t wanna hear about it anymore.”

“Logan.”

“Just stop!”

“I have to pee.”

Logan huffed before grabbing the wheelchair out of the trunk and helping Charles into it. You got out and leaned against the limo, watching everything unfold. Laura was growing angrier at the machine as it refused to move more. She let her claws out of one fist and went to slam it into the controls, but Logan caught her wrist. Logan finished another quarter from his pocket and held it up.

“Last ride,” he told her.

Logan placed the coin in the insert, causing the mechanical horse to begin moving again. Logan and Laura glared each other down for a moment.

“You’re welcome,” Logan said before limping away to help Charles.

You shook your head, already exhausted from just watching Laura and Logan interact. Pushing yourself off of the limo, you came over to Laura.

“When the ride’s over, you want to go in and get some snacks?” You asked her. 

Laura nodded. When the ride was done, Laura took your hand and you led her inside.

“You can get whatever you want,” you said. “Don’t worry about what Logan may tell you.”

You walked around with Laura as she grabbed chips and a drink. Looking out the windows, you realized that Logan wasn’t back yet.

“I’ll go grab some money,” you told Laura. “Stay put.”

You went back to the limo, only to hear Logan shout back at the store.

“Not okay!” He was holding Laura’s wrist, whose claws were out. He dragged her out of the store. “Come on. Get in the car.”

“What happened?” You asked.

“She just tried to kill the worker. You need to be watching her.” He pushed her in your direction.

“Logan—“

“Let’s just go.”

~~~

You stayed in the back with Laura and Charles as Logan drove. You kept your gaze out the window. Laura sighed as she sided eyed you. Slowly, she moved over to your side and pulled at your hand.

“What is it, Laura?” You asked, trying not to sound exhausted.

She held up her palm and wiggled her fingers around. 

“She wants you to make a flame,” Charles said with a smile.

You held up your palm and made a small flame. “This?” You questioned.

Laura smiled and nodded. She watched with awe as the flame flickered above your palm. You were watching her reaction, that you missed the soft smile Logan had as he watched you from the rearview mirror. Charles noticed that Laura’s backpack was open. He reached in, pulling out X-Men comics. He smiled as he noticed they were mostly about you.

“Laura,” he called, motioning to the comics, “are you a fan?” Her enthusiastic nod caused Charles to chuckle and you to melt. “Yeah? I am, too.”

“Charles,” you shook your head with a scoff, unable to stop the smile.

“Logan though,” Charles motioned to the man driving, “she’s her biggest fan.”

Laura shook her head, causing you to laugh. You closed your palm, extinguishing the flame. 

“Get some rest,” you urged. Laura immediately cuddled into your side. 

You couldn’t help but wrap an arm around her to keep her close. You glanced up towards Logan, meeting his softened gaze in the mirror.

“You all should get some sleep,” Logan muttered. “I’ll keep driving.”

“You sure?” You asked.

“Get some rest, sweetheart.”

~~~

Logan drove to Oklahoma City, where the night life was bustling. Laura woke up and moved from your side to the window, staring at all the bring lights.

“Is this where we’re hiding out?” Charles asked.

“We’re not hiding out,” Logan responded. “We’re gonna get a couple of hours’ sleep, clean up, get some new clothes, get a new ride and get outta here.”

Logan pulled the limo up to the front of a Hotel and Casino. He got a suite with two rooms, two bathrooms, and a living room with a couch in the middle. On the way to the elevator to head there, Laura stopped in front of a store window, looking at the clothes.

“Come on, let’s go,” Logan urged. “Hey Laura.”

“We need clothes,” Charles said.

You placed a hand on Logan’s arm, catching his attention. “I’ll deal with the clothes,” you told him. “Why don’t you get everyone else upstairs and settled in? I’ll be right there.”

Logan was heavily debating on telling you no. But he was exhausted and needed to give Charles his meds. “Fine.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out some cash. “Let me know if you need more.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

You went over to Laura, who was still by the windows. “Go with Logan. I’ll grab the clothes and be right up.”

Laura hesitancy matched Logan’s, which was both cute and annoying. She shook her head and grabbed your hand. You sighed and looked back at Charles and Logan.

“I guess she’s staying with me,” you told them. You could see that Logan didn’t like that plan. “We won’t be long.”

With huff, Logan gave a nod and you headed into the store.

~~~

Logan had already cleaned up Charles and put him in to bed when you and Laura arrived with the clothes. You set the bags on the coffee table as Logan stepped out of the other room, downing a small bottle of alcohol. 

“Kid will sleep on the couch,” Logan said. “We get the bed in here.”

You nodded, looking Logan up and down. “You should get cleaned up.”

“So should you… I can wait until the morning.” 

Suddenly, Laura was back at your side, grabbing your hand. She tugged at it before placing it palm up. You laughed.

“Do you want a flame?” You asked. She nodded. You lifted up your other had and formed small flames in both of your palms. 

Keeping her eyes on your flames, Laura side stepped over to Logan and tugged at his jacket. She pointed at your flames.

“Yeah,” he gave you a soft smile. “She’s cool, kid.” He took her head and guided her to sit down on the couch. “Now, stay here. Sleep.”

You let Laura take one last look at your flames before you extinguished them. Logan took the needed steps over to you and took your hands. With a groan, he pulled you up.

“Come on,” he muttered, guiding you to the bedroom.

You turned your head. “Good night, Laura.”

Logan shut the door between the two of you and Laura before guiding you back to the bathroom and shutting that door. He wrapped you up in his arms and held you close.

“I thought you were going to die,” he whispered, failing to hide the shake in his voice.

“I’m right here, Logan,” you replied quietly. 

He pulled away quickly as he began to cough, using the counter to hold himself up. You placed a warm hand on his back and began rubbing circles.

“You’re getting worse,” you mumbled.

“I’m—“ he coughed, “fine.” He wiped off his lips with his jacket as he turned back to face you. His hands found your hips and pulled you into him. 

“We should get some rest. We can clean up in the morning.”

The two of you took some of your clothes off before stepping back into the bedroom. Both of you immediately noticed Laura sitting in the bed, waiting for the two of you.

“No,” Logan said, shaking his head. “There’s a perfectly good couch out there. Go.”

“Logan,” you giggled, “the bed is big enough.”

“Are you serious?”

“I can sleep in the middle. If you can’t handle it, there’s a perfectly good couch out there.”

Logan’s jaw clenched, hating how you used his own words against him. He already knew he wouldn’t get much sleep tonight, but he had least wanted to hold you close as he failed to sleep. Besides, he was also done fighting with you. It was taking too much out of both of you.

“Fine,” he sighed before pointing at Laura, “but stay on your side of the bed.”

Laura moved to one side, allowing you to crawl into the middle. Logan went around to the other side. Laura went to cuddle into you, but Logan quickly pulled you back into him.

“My wife,” he growled, tightening his arms around you.

You could sense the growing tension between the two and you quickly placed an arm out towards Laura and on arm on top of Logan’s. “There’s enough of me to go around,” you told them. 

You weaved your fingers through Logan’s as Laura wrapped around your outstretched arm. You watched as she fell asleep. Logan kissed your head before he buried his head into your neck. For that brief moment, there was a sense of peace and family in that room, causing you to fall asleep with a small smile on your face.

~~~

Logan was up first. He took care of Charles, changing him, before laying out Laura’s clothes. He took your new clothes and his into the bathroom. As he came around to pick you up from the bed, he noticed Laura carefully watching him. She was still gripping your arm. Logan went to pulled you into him when Laura growled.

“Stop that!” Logan scolded as quietly as he could. “I’m just trying to take care of her. I’m not gonna hurt her… She’s my wife. I love her.”

Laura hesitated a moment before she let go of your arm. Logan pulled you up into his arms and carried you into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him with his foot. You moaned as you began to come to. Logan set you on the counter and held you up.

“Logan?” You rasped.

“Hey, princess,” he gave you a small smile before pecking your lips. 

“What are you doing?”

“Taking care of my wife, like I should be.”

Logan pulled off your shirt, revealing the new scar from the bullet wound. Logan’s calloused hand gently ran over the scar before he bent down and kissed it. You closed your eyes, inhaling sharply at Logan’s tenderness. He trailed kisses up your neck to your ear before pulling away.

“I’ll be right back,” he whispered. “Gotta start the shower.”

You nodded, giving Logan the signal to move. He moved as quickly as he could to get the shower on and remove his clothes before helping you with the rest of yours. Logan wrapped his arms around you, but you pushed against his shoulders.

“You can’t go carrying me around like you used to,” you said, running a hand through Logan’s hair. “It hurts you too much.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” he responded. “Let me carry you until I die.”

Logan firmly kissed you as he carried you over to the large hotel shower. He held you up against the tile wall.

“Logan,” you breathed. 

“I’ve got you, baby,” he whispered against your lips. “Let me show you.”

~~~

After some shower sex, you and Logan lovingly washed each other before getting ready for the day. Logan kept coughing, causing you to help him get dressed. You were grabbing his shirt when he began coughing into a towel. He pulled it away to see specks of blood on it. He quickly tossed it away, not wanting to worry you further, before downing another small bottle of alcohol. 

“Here,” you said, holding up the shirt. 

“I can do it,” he grumbled.

“I know, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be getting help.” As carefully as you could, you helped Logan put his shirt on, his flannel, and then his jacket. “There.” You fixed the collar. “Ready to save the world.”

His hands slid around your waist, tugging you into him. “I don’t want to save the world anymore… I just want to save my world.”

The two of you shared a kiss before exiting the bathroom. 

“I’ll go check on Laura and Charles,” you said, noticing Logan eying Logan’s bag and the files spilling out. You reached down and grabbed his glasses from the table, sliding them onto his face. “Mmm,” you hummed, “handsome.” You gave him another kiss before heading to the other part of the hotel room. 

Logan sat down on the end of the bed and began flipping through the files. The files held information on the mutant children, including Laura. It also confirmed that Logan’s genetics were used to create Laura. He tossed the files aside and continued looking in Laura’s bag. There were X-Men comics, most of them were about you. He flipped through one, the ending page catching his eye. You were in a wedding dress while Logan was pictured in a tux. The two of you were kissing at your wedding. Logan’s heart clenched at the thought of making it official. Grabbing the comics, Logan marched into the room which Charles was laying on the bed watching a movie and you were helping Laura tie her shoes.

“You read these in your spare time?” Logan questioned Laura, holding up the comics. “Oh, yeah, Charles, Y/N, we got ourselves an X-Men fan. Or, an Ember fan more like it. You do know they’re all bullshit, right? Maybe a quarter of it happened, but not like this. In the real world, people die! And no self-promoting asshole in a fucking leotard can stop it!”

“Logan,” you scolded.

“This is ice cream for bed-wetters!”

“Logan,” Charles tried.

“That nurse has been feeding her some grade-A bullshit.”

“She’s allowed to believe in the good of what we did, Logan,” you said. “We did do a lot of good… and even the good times end.”

Logan scoffed.

“I don’t think Laura needs reminding of life’s impermanence,” Charles added. “Did you say something about finding us a new ride?”

Logan picked up the pill bottle on the dresser and held it up. “Two more pills in one hour.” He threw them at Laura, who caught them. “Give ‘em to him.” He grabbed your hand and dragged you into the other room.

“You need to be nicer to her,” you whispered, growing angry at him. “She is your daughter.”

“No, she’s not. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Don’t leave the room.” He yanked you closer, crashing his lips against yours. “I love you.”

Logan slipped out of the room, leaving you standing there. Your hand went up to your lips, fingers brushing against them as the taste of alcohol and blood lingered on them.

next chapter >

[yall-batman-fanfic]

Beyond | Terry McGinnis x Batsis with Batman

Synopsis:  Bruce Wayne has retired as Batman leaving Gotham in the hands of the Police, and young heroes to keep her safe, but with Batman gone criminals are no longer scared, and crime rate has increased. Just as Bruce has lost all hope, Terry McGinnis arrives at the scene.

NOTE: I refuse to believe that the epilogue of Justice League Unlimited exists. I prefer Terry McGinnis being simply Terry McGinnis and NOT Bruce Wayne’s son. That epilogue ruined everything about Batman Beyond. You don’t have to be a Wayne to be Batman! Bruce became Batman because it was his choice and he had a purpose, it has nothing to do with blood. So, for this story, Terry is NOT blood-related to the Waynes in any way.

It has been five years since he wore the cowl. Five years after he had that one night he thought he was dead with the last thing he would see was a low-life scum and not his family. His beautiful wife and his amazing daughter. Five years since he had to resort to using a gun to strike fear into his enemies. No more. Never again. Since then he hung the cowl, closed the cave, and finally accepted his wife’s gift – a watch. A gift given for retirement. Since then he would wear that watch all the time to remind him of why he needed to stop being Batman.

Time was always the enemy. With time comes age, and with age are illnesses and the deterioration of the body.

Many of his comrades have gone – Leslie has died long before, Jim Gordon as well, due to a heart attack while in his office), Alfred has died in the most tragic death doing one last heroic thing for his family: saving Valerie from a gun-fire.

Valerie was there to witness everything and see the life leave Alfred’s eyes as he succumbed to his injuries. They found her on the ground, behind the vehicle they used for cover, holding her grandfather’s body and refusing to let go.

Worse of all, at that same year, she almost lost her father too because he was too damn stubborn to admit that he was no longer in his prime. That he was now an old man who depends on his technology to support his aging body and all the ailments he keeps from his wife (unsuccessfully keeping from his wife, he’s just too damn stubborn to admit it).

“What’s it going to take for you to understand that enough is enough, Bruce?” Vivian said as she sat beside her husband who laid in his hospital bed. Tears falling from her eyes at the scare they got.

Their family gathered in the room — Damian–who was his doctor–listening to him with a disappointed look, then there were Tim, Jason, Dick, and Cassandra. And Valerie. Sweet Valerie, who just witnessed her grandfather die in her arms, was standing by her father’s side with an unreadable look on her face.

“Viv,” Bruce spoke. He reached out to his wife and took her hand. “My love,” he called for her again when she wouldn't look at him, this time she turned to meet his tearful eyes. “You can take out the watch.”

“Bruce, are you sure?” Tim asked.

“I’m sure… it’s time. It’s long overdue,” Bruce turned to his daughter and reached out for her. With his arm open, Valerie joined her father and laid beside him so she could hold him tight. “I should have retired the moment you were born. I am so sorry for missing out on so many things… and for scaring you like that.”

“I’m just glad you’re alive,” Valerie whispered.

“It’s official,” Dick began. “The Batman’s done.”

As soon as he was discharged, he went back to the cave to put away his latest suit, lining it up with the rest. From his very first one, to the latest ones lined with kevlar and a heavy cape for gliding, a transmitter cowl; then to the Robins’ uniforms from Dick and Jason’s original uniforms, to Tim’s, Stephanie and Damian’s. Then there was Nightwing’s line up, along with Red Hood’s, Red Robin, Orphan, Batgirl, Spoiler, the Phoenix… and the red cowl and cloak that gained the name Red Bat by Gotham’s broadcasting network during their short-lived reign over Gotham. 

He closed it all, shutting down the power, locking away the life he’s lived and turning the fortress to a museum that no one can ever see or know.

He spent most of his time with his family and running Wayne Enterprises with his wife who was now the Head of the Wayne Foundation. Vivian still works part-time at the university and does research, but most of her work is now with the Wayne Foundation, wanting to help more people. She joked that teaching was her calling and passion job, and philanthropy was her retirement job. 

The time he spends with his daughter were ones he cherished. In the morning, the three of them would wake to start on their chores. While Vivian would start on breakfast, the two of them would be at the garden, tending to the flowers at Helena’s grave. Then he would drive her to school – he was insistent in doing so – before going to work. When at home they would dine as a family and spend time as a family.

But whenever he would hear or see the news about the rising crime rates in Gotham, Bruce couldn’t help but feel defeated. He has lost in this war. In the war he has waged against crime in Gotham. And when he would be somber, Vivian and Valerie would try to get his mind off of it or talk to him. 

This was the truth of Gotham, he would tell himself and them. No matter how much I fight, Batman cannot change its people. The people themselves refuse, and those who do, know better than to stay here. Gotham is a test through fire. Gotham was and is purgatory. 

~*~

Vivian was on her way home, driving on the bridge when he spoke to her a couple of minutes ago, and there was a group of punks who call themselves the Jokerz terrorizing a kid who crashed at his gate. Checking at his phone, he monitored the GPS icons of his wife and daughter to see where they were. Vivian was almost to the mainland, Valerie was just about to leave Gotham University.

He wasn’t going to let them walk into this, nor was he going to let them walk into his property too… and there was the kid.

Walking down the path that leads to the gate, Bruce made the sound of his cane prominent in each step he took, informing the gargoyle that guarded the manor of his arrival and to stand guard but not engage. Greg the Gargoyle has made himself a permanent guard of the manor ever since he’s reached a certain age, vowing to protect the state and its masters. 

“Let’s carve a smile on this punk!” One of the Jokerz called out to his group.

Another tap.

Gregory opened the gates of the manor, startling the teenagers and the punks.

As they wondered in fear, Bruce made himself known: “Leave him alone. Get off my property. You’re trespassing!”

“Stand back, old man!” The teenager got up and tried to cover him.

A young man with a good heart, he thought. 

“Aw, is that right?” One of the Jokerz taunted him.

“It’s okay, old man, I got this,” said the teenager.

Bruce walked past him to face the group and one of them, the one who wore the Joker mask, grabbed him by his shirt. 

“Who do you think you are, old man? We’re the Jokerz!”

Bruce smirked. “Sure you are.” 

When Joker-face tried to punch him, Bruce easily evaded and whacked him thrice with his cane until he was knocked down to the ground. Then the others engaged, trying to stab him with knives and hit him with bats but they were no match for him. He was Batman after all. An easy fight, and he was glad to see that he still got it –

Pain surged through his body.

His heart.

Clutching his chest, Bruce fell to the ground as he had another heart attack. No, he can’t. He needs to make sure his girls get home safe. That Vivian and Val were safe. 

He wasn’t sure what happened but the next he saw was the teenage boy running to his side, the sight of Valerie appearing out of thin air and running to his side.

“Dad! Dad!” She skidded on the ground.

“Val,” he grasped her hand.

Valerie placed a hand on his heart and tried to help him. “Dad, please don’t. Please, stay with me. Please,” she muttered as she helped heal him.

I’m not going anywhere, Val, he thought. Not unil I know you’re safe.

~*~

“Go out now and you might find yourself in their trap,” the girl with black hair told him. “Stay. Wait for a couple of hours until you are bore out of your mind, then wait for another hour, then and only then do you leave. Better yet, stay and leave in the morning. There’s no bus here, so I can drive you to Gotham Central.” 

He can’t stay the night but he’ll wait. She does have a point. As he waited, Terry started to roam around the manor to figure out who these people are, and then he saw the large portrait in the study. How could he not realize sooner?!

That girl was Valerie Wayne! The only daughter of Bruce Wayne and Vivian Pryor-Wayne.

Then that means the old man was Bruce Wayne!

How the hell did he find himself crashing to the gates of Wayne Manor?

As he pondered about the luck he had to be there – he was sure Wayne was going to make him pay for the dented gate – he heard noise coming from the clock. 

A bat was stuck inside the clock.

~*~

She should have kept an eye on Terry McGinnis. After getting her father to bed, Valerie asked Terry to stay for a bit and wait for the coast to be clear before leaving. Crap, she shouldn’t have had him in their home in the first place. But she can’t just let him go to the Jokerz trap – she even informed her mother about the group of punks driving motorcycles that might cross her path heading to Wayne Manor.

Or maybe she should have locked him in the living room until she returned. But that’s not good manners – as her grandfather would say, or her mother, or Dick and Tim. So, she trusted him that he would stay put. But no.

For some strange luck that was not on their side, Terry fucking McGinnis found the clock and walked inside the Cave and found the biggest secret that Gotham hides.

The identity of Batman.

“Geez, no wonder he could fight,” Terry mused, but before he could explore some more, a strong gust of wind pushed him away from the line up of uniforms and was pinned to the walls of the cave. This was no ordinary wind.

And he was right to suspect because from the shadows Valerie Wayne appeared with eyes glowing bright blue, her hand stretched out with her palm facing his direction, and her black hair flying around with the gusts of wind.

“No one ever taught you not to snoop around?” Valerie mused.

“You’re a — you’re a meta-human?” Terry gasped.

“Close enough,” she smirked. “You know, I can’t let you out of this place with you knowing about all of this.”

“Valerie!” Bruce’s voice boomed in the cave.

The sound of her father’s voice had her release Terry from the winds that pinned him to the wall and fall to the ground with a harsh thud.

“Oops,” she muttered.

She did that on purpose.

Bruce walked up to him with a nasty glare and sneered: “Get out!”

 ~*~

Vivian was not expecting to see her husband and daughter in the Batcave after Bruce closed it for good. After receiving the alert on her phone from Bruce’s heart monitor, she sped up in her drive and used a spell to warp realities to have her car jump from the long winding road to the grounds of Wayne Manor. When she got home, she looked around for Bruce, scared to death if something have happened to him and she wasn’t there. 

And there was.

If there wasn’t he wouldn’t be in the Cave. 

“Bruce!” Vivian ran down the stairs.

“Viv,” Bruce greeted her and before he could ask how she was she tackled him to an embrace.

“What happened? What’s going on?” Vivian turned to her daughter and reached for her hand.

“Someone saw the Cave,” Valerie spoke.

“What?” 

“The Jokerz chased a kid all the way to the Estate. I had a minor episode after I…” Bruce trailed off.

“After you what?” Vivian narrowed her gaze at him.

“Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

Valerie scoffed. “Really? If it was nothing, I wouldn’t have had to jump from GU to here, Dad. What if that kid was some punk too?”

“But he wasn’t.”

It was a losing battle. She knew it, and Valerie knew when to just go with what her father says: “He helped me get Dad inside the manor. I told him to stay for a while and wait until we’re sure the Jokerz were gone and I left him for a bit. And he found the clock and the Cave. It’s my fault.”

“Is it something that we should worry about? I can contact Damian,” said Vivian.

“Damian took an oath, Vivian,” Bruce reminded her.

“Then Tim.”

He said nothing on the matter. As of now, Tim was part of Wayne Enterprises’ Board of Directors and is working as the Vice President on Wayne Technologies. Tim can easily track down the boy, Terry McGinnis, and keep an eye on him but Bruce didn’t want to disturb him for this. Besides, while he remains to be Red Robin in certain occasions, Tim has his own life now, a family with Bernard to take care of.

Seeing her father’s lack of response, Valerie said, “I’ll tell them in the group chat. They should know considering Batman has a support system that is the same size and demographic as the Wayne family anyway.”

Before Bruce could protest, Valerie had already hit send and her phone was getting chat notifications nonstop.

“Come on, let’s head upstairs,” Vivian took her husband’s arm and led him back. When she sensed her daughter’s missing footsteps, she turned back and saw Valerie looking at the Red Bat costume on the case. “Val.”

Valerie turned away from the uniforms and ran to join her parents.

~*~

Warren McGinnis was murdered in his home.

The name McGinnis caught Valerie’s attention when Bunny mentioned it during their meet-up lunch dates between Gotham University and Gotham Academy (since Valerie graduated three years early, she’s been going to Gotham University, taking engineering and criminology classes, wanting to wait for Bunny before they apply for Yale, just like their parents). As soon as she got home, she told her father about the news and just as she expected he said nothing about it. 

“It has something to do with Powers,” Valerie said.

“What makes you say that?” Damian asked whilst continuing his work in the kitchen, making dinner for everyone in the manor. 

“Warren McGinnis was is part of Powers’ team in Powers’ Tech. I remember him in Wayne Tower with Derek Powers when they’re proposing a partnership with Wayne Tech. Tim there was something bad about Powers and didn’t budge.”

“And the fact Father would kill him if he agrees to it. Powers is dirty. His whole company is,” Damian placed a small plate of food for Valerie to taste and keep her occupied while they waited for their mother to come home and for Bruce to come back from his walk with Ace II.  “You still need to work on your detective skills, little sister.”

“I’m working on it,” Valerie said as she ate. “But Damian, someone has to stop him.”

“Who?”

“Powers. You know that he rose to power as soon as Batman disappeared. He took advantage of the fact that the crime rate is rising and the system is total shit – no offense to Barbs.”

“Again. Evidence. I think you’re being too reliant on your magic, Val. You need to work on finding the connections that would lead to the truth. Magic can’t solve everything.”

Valerie frowned as the memory of that moment she held her grandfather’s body, hoping her magic would save him. “You don’t have to remind me.”

Damian sighed and messed with her hair. “Stop thinking about this, Val. It’s not your job. Let Red Robin or Nightwing do it.”

Valerie scoffed. “Nightwing is too busy leading the Titans since the Justice League retired. Red Robin is there with him too. Batwoman’s gone, along with Oracle… Cassandra’s traveling and doing her work wherever she goes. Steph has moved on too. And who knows when Jason’s coming home.”

Damian frowned. “Let them handle it. The best you can do is give them a lead with this theory of yours.”

“Be a bystander, you mean. I find it hypocritical that Dad let you do the hero thing and not me.”

“It wasn’t the life we chose, Val. Dick and Jason were given a chance to have a new life with it. Cassandra and I? We were born into it. We had no choice… it seems it was just Tim who really understood the job from the very beginning,” Damian sat beside his sister and took a piece of the food he made. “The war we were fighting then… to have to wear that mask is not something a kid your age should be doing, I understand that now. Trust me, I was throwing a tantrum like you when I was your age and when I was younger. The life you have now is the one we all worked hard fighting for. We want you to live without ever having to go through what we did.”

“I know.”

“You sure? Looks like you don’t.”

Valerie slumped on her brother’s shoulder and sighed. “I just… I have all of this power, and you guys practically taught me how to fight —”

“For self-defense, Gotham is not a walk in the park.”

“—and you expect me to just watch as Gotham go down like this… all your hard work gone. It’s like you just gave up.”

Damian sighed.

“You can’t save people from themselves, Val,” the sound of their father’s voice had Valerie sit up. Bruce entered the kitchen without making a sound – even when he had a cane – and looked at her with solemnity. “My parents. Your grandparents told me to never give up on Gotham, and I didn’t. I fought all my life until I ended up like this. The truth is you can’t save Gotham from itself. The people here refuse to change. They like how the system is now. And for those who the Batman has inspired and changed, they knew better than to stay here.

“Gotham is a purgatory, and the best way to start again is by leaving it. And the reason why we don’t ever leave… is because we live at that boundary between purgatory and paradise. We get the chance to have luxury but also seeing the suffering of those from afar. Reminding us of human nature.”

“Father,” Damian warned him.

“Your brother is right. The life you have now is the one we wish for all to have, and you know damn well why you can’t wear the cowl. Not after that stunt you pulled.”

Valerie winced and looked away.

“Alright, that’s enough. You made your point,” Damian stood and hid Valerie from their father’s gaze.

Bruce Wayne is a good and loving father, but he can also be cruel with his words. Especially when he wants to prove a point. 

“If you have anything on Powers, hand it over to the Commissioner,” Bruce told her. “But that’s it.”

“Yes, Sir,” Valerie muttered. Her response startled Bruce and he started to regret his harsh words to her. But before he could apologize, Valerie got up from her seat and said she was going out for a walk, then exited the kitchen through the backdoor and left. But she didn’t leave exactly, she stayed by the side of the kitchen and listened to what they were going to say.

Damian sighed. “Just as we thought you’d ease it with the harsh words when you had Val. She’s not like the rest of us who can brush it off when you’re being a total asshold. She’s…”

Valerie knew that. She always felt like there was a huge difference between her and her family because they were in the family business and she was…

She was the ideal they have.

She loves them but there are times when she feels so alone.

Bruce narrowed his gaze at his son. “Your sister is strong and has a strong and kind heart, and full of hope.”

“Then why crush that hope with the things you say?”

“Because being too hopeful can also bring danger to her. It would lead to naivety or, worse, create an idealist or an extremist. It’s good that she understands how the world is. She’s stubborn too. Too damn stubborn…”

Damian watched as his father sat down on the seat and sighed deeply. “She still won’t go to Yale?”

“She refuses until Bunny graduates. But I don’t think that’s just the reason why.”

“Falcone and Maroni.”

The leader of the gangs who were partially involved in the death of Alfred Pennyworth.

Bruce nodded.

Valerie had enough eavesdropping and left. Joining her was Ace II and Andromeda — her pet dog — and they did not return until her mother came to get her at Alfred’s grave.

 ~*~

Terry McGinnis had guts. She’ll give him that.

Days after him calling out in their gate comms, asking to see her father, and then claiming that Powers had something to do with his father’s death and the nerve gas he’s been making with Kaznia, she came home to the sight of Ace and Andromeda tied to the gate with one line. She was about to release them when a batarang shot out and cut it. Valerie looked up and saw her father’s figure standing by the window telling her to get inside immediately.

Terry McGinnis has stolen the Batman suit.

“I’ll go after him,” Valerie told her father.

“No,” Bruce flatout said.

“But Dad!”

“I said, no,” Bruce turned away from her and turned on the Batcomputer. The old thing hasn’t been used for a long time now. “McGinnis, can you hear me?”

“Whose that?” Terry’s voice sounded in the speakers of the computer.

“It’s Wayne.”

“How are you –”

“There’s a radio receiver in your cowl. Now, you need to listen to me, McGinnis. I want that suit back and I want it back now.”

Right, a teenager is going to do what he tells them to.

“Now is not a good time.”

“THAT SUIT IS NOT YOURS! YOU HAD NO RIGHT!” Bruce exclaimed.

It was the first time Valerie ever heard him raise his voice outside of the training mat, and it made her flinch.

“Somebody had to do something. You weren’t going to,” said Terry.”

“I’m warning you.”

Through the camera of the suit they could see Terry running from the guards that were chasing him.

“The suit works better even better than I thought it would.”

Valerie smirked at his comment. Walking up to her father’s side, she watched closely at the feed they were getting. “I wouldn’t taunt him, McGinnis. The old man’s not as patient as he used to be.”

Bruce turned to his daughter with a frown and she just shrugged.

Terry chuckled. “Good to hear from you again, Princess.”

“This is for final warning,” Bruce said, but Valerie was sure that was directed at both of them. “This is your last chance. Better take it.”

“No thanks, I’m having too much fun.”

“Fun, huh?”

Bruce pulled up the protective casing of a button and pushed it. Activating whatever it was he programmed in the suit. In the middle of his fight, Terry’s body was paralyzed with Bruce shutting down the suit.

“Dad,” Valerie said as she saw Terry get beaten up and the teenager asking for help. Begging Bruce to release the system override. When he still refuses to move, Valerie was about to push the button to save him but her father grabbed her wrist, muted the comms, and said to her: “This is the first lesson. For the both of you.”

“He's going to die!”

“Until you understand what's at stake. The risks. You can never go out there.”

Valerie glared at her father. “I know perfectly well what's at stake. I saw it, didn't I?”

“I know. But he doesn't.”

They heard the gun cock. Bruce looked at his daughter and released her hand. Valerie pushed the button and unmuted their comms. 

“McGinnis, I gave you a break. Now bring that suit back,” said Bruce.

“Love too, but I got these guards all over me,” said Terry.

“There's a broom closet up against that wall. Can you get to it?”

“A broom closet?”

“Do it!”

Terry ran to the door and escaped inside the room. “Now, what? I’m sitting ducks –”

Bruce got up from the seat. “Your turn,” he said to his daughter. “Hurry, he needs your help, Penny.”

“McGinnis,” Valerie took the seat before the Batcomputer. “I’ll open a door for you at the far end of the wall.”

“What door? There’s no door there.”

Opening the map of Powers’ building, Valerie focused at the location where Terry was and focused on the image of the prints and creating a path for him. It was the first time ever used her magic at a long distance. Her magic, as her mother would call it, was mostly technological and reality bending magic. She is able to understand anything with a single touch, can recreate its form by understanding its components. She believes it was her interest in technology and engineering that influenced her magic’s outlet. Her mother had the forces of nature, fire, and life. She had technology and reality.

“Walk past it,” Valerie told Terry.

“What?!”

“Do it!” 

“If I walk into a wall…” Terry ran and instead of slamming into a wall, he went past it and was at the other side. “How did you?”

“Now, bring back the suit,” Bruce said at the comms. “If you don’t, I’ll shutdown the suit again. This time, for good.”

“I read up on you, Mr. Wayne. How you lost your folks,” Terry began. “The guy who murdered my dad is in that transport, this is my one chance to nail him.”

Maybe that was what got him. Dick did tell her that Bruce’s way to keep kids like them from joining the wrong crowd was to put them in a colorful costume, spandex, make them fight crime, and find closure. 

“The hover pad is at the Northeast Sector,” Bruce gave in. “After that you come back with the suit.”

Terry chuckled. “You got it,” he said and ran to chase the chopper about to leave with the man he was after. Turning the comms on mute for a moment, Bruce told his daughter. Whether it’s a success or not, you open a portal and you bring him back here when you think he’s in danger. Understood?” He said to Valerie.

“Yes, Sir.”

Bruce frowned. “Val…” he began.

“We can talk about it later, we’re still on a mission… and I still need your help,” she turned back on the comms. “Making sure this idiot comes back alive. I don’t want to have to get a corpse out of that suit and bury it somewhere in the estate where the cops won’t find it.”

“Don’t worry, Princess, this idiot isn’t planning on dying in this suit,” Terry spoke.

“Call me that again and I will shut that suit, McGinnis.”

Bruce smirked and leaned on the computer, watching as his daughter and this young man reminded him how it was before. 

Terry was able to reach the chopper before it could be airborne but it meant he had to find a way to get in while keeping a strong hold while using one of the gadgets in the suit to open it. Inside, he was about to attach the pilots but when he got to the front, no one was there. Who was manning this flight? The question was answered when the man who murdered his father appeared.

Their fight led to them sending the craft crashing to the water, but as soon as the helicopter touched the surface of the water, Terry felt an arm grab him and pull him through something, and one moment he was in a helicopter about to crash into water, the next he was at the floor of the Batcave. 

“What the –” Mr. Fixx began, utterly confused, to find a cave instead of the seafloor. Before he could see more —

WHACK!

Mr. Fixx fell to the ground with a sure concussion after getting hit with a staff. Looking up, Terry found the last person he expected to be wielding it, he was thinking it was Bruce Wayne but it seems everyone in the Wayne family knows how to fight.

“Thanks –” Terry froze when the staff was pointed at his face and at its very end, he saw the high-voltage taser that was threatening to electrocute him.

Valerie smirked. “You’ve had your fun. Now, the suit.”

“And I thought we were getting along well.”

“Wanna join him in the Dreaming?” 

“The what — you know what, fine.” Terry got up and removed the suit, leaving him in his underwear and shirt. “Mind if I borrow some clothes?”

Valerie took the suit and handed it to her father. “I can lend you some of my brothers’ old clothes. I’ll leave you two to catch up.” She turned off the taser from the staff and with a push of a button, the thing shrunk to the size of a baton. The last Valerie heard as she went up to the clock was her father telling Terry: “I’ll call in Red Robin and have him take this one to the GCPD. You don’t need to worry about the GCPD making under the table deals. A contact of ours will make sure that does not happen. And Valerie will open a portal for you to head home.” 

And that was it.

~*~

Mary McGinnis’ home was a lovely and modest place. After knocking on the woman’s door, the Wayne family was welcomed inside by the woman and excused herself to wake her son. Alone in the living room, Valerie helped her father to sit down, even when could do it on his own, and Vivian sat beside Bruce.

“I’ll do the talking,” said Bruce.

Vivian chuckled. “Worried we might embarrass you in front of your new friend?”

Valerie smirked at her father, and Bruce did not appreciate their teasing.

When Mary said that Terry will be out in a bit, she offered the Waynes some coffee and came back with a tray of black coffee with sugar and milk. 

“How old is Valerie?” Mary asked them.

“I’m eighteen,” Valerie answered.

“A few years older than Terry! I guess this is your last year at Gotham Academy, then?”

Seeing how awkward the question was for her, Vivian and Bruce answered it for their daughter. “Valerie graduated three years early from Gotham Academy, she’s now getting a degree in engineering at Gotham University,” said Vivian.

“Is that right? You must be a genius then!”

“After that, she’ll be heading to Yale,” Bruce said, mostly a reminder for his daughter who has been putting off the chance to go to an IV League university.

“I will, just as Bunny graduates,” Valerie muttered.

As they waited, Bruce then told Mary a proposition he had for Terry, one that he and Vivian agreed would be “good” for him. Their small talk got cut short when Terry finally got out of his room.

“Terence, sorry to disturb you at this hour,” Bruce said in a way that was not how Terry knew him to be.

“It’s okay,” Terry shrugged. “You’re Professor Vivian Pryor.”

Vivian got up and shook his hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Terrence. Bruce and Val has told me so much about you.”

For a moment, Terry was sure her brown eyes glowed gold for a second there.

“You never told me you knew the Waynes,” said his mother.

“Well, actually…”

“Why, I owe this boy my life. He defended me and my daughter from a bunch of hooligans once,” said Bruce. 

The sight of Valerie raising a brow and getting pinched by her mother almost made Terry laugh.

Bruce continued. “I tried to repay him but he absolutely refused.”

“Mr. Wayne wants to offer you a job,” said Mary.

“I find that in my old age, I can use a part-time assistant. With my wife working more at the Wayne Foundation, and my daughter at university –”

What?! Terry turned to Valerie in disbelief. But she looks like to be the same age as him!

“–I could use a part-time assistant. A goffer. Go-for-this, go-for-that. An ally as it were. Would you be interested?”

“Of course, he would!” said Mary. “It would be wonderful to work for someone as famous as Mr. Wayne.”

“Does it include driving the Princess to her classes?” Terry joked.

Valerie glared at him and his mother chastised him for it.

“I drive on my own,” said Valerie.

“You’re my part-time assistant. And Val doesn’t like having one. She never liked it whenever we would hand her to a babysitter then,” Bruce said, to ease the tension.

“Alright. Yeah, I’d take it,” said Terry.

“I warn you, I can be a difficult task master,” Bruce got up. “I expect nothing short but excellence from all who work from me.”

Vivian got up as well and added, “I’ll make sure he doesn’t take it too far. You’re still young and have a lot to learn.”

“I think I can handle it,” said Terry.

“Very good, Mr. McGinnis,” Bruce shook his hand. “Welcome to our world.”

~ Extra Ending ~

The knock on her bedroom door pulled Valerie from her work. Turning from her desk, she saw her father standing by the doorframe, like a vampire waiting for her to let him in. And like a vampire, indeed, he only stepped in when she gestured for him to enter.

“Need something?” Valerie asked.

“Yes… I simply want to talk,” Bruce sat on her bed and patted on the space beside him so she can join him there. Valerie left her desk to join her father, and waited for what he has to say. “Ever since I retired from being Batman… I know that I’ve changed. I became cold and full of frustration, and I would lash it out on those around me, and sometimes it’s you who gets it. Your mother called me out for it many times and yet she still stays at my side. Patient and understanding… and you have been patient too, my dear, and because of that, I am so sorry.”

“I understand why you’re like that. For almost thirty-five years you were Batman, you had a mission. You had hope, and suddenly something like that happened… then all the work you did is just going back to the very start. What you said is true, though. It’s Gotham who won’t change, and it will always need a Batman.

“And I think with you having McGinnis here as Batman would warm you up a bit. You would smile more, like you always do before.”

Seeing the sadness in her eyes, Bruce took his daughter by her cheek and had her look at him. “McGinnis has his strengths, and you have yours. Things changed between us since I retired but what hasn't changed is how much I love you, Val, and how proud I am to have you as my daughter… this is just your father turning to a senile old man.”

Valerie laughed and brought her father to an embrace. “I missed you, Da.”

Bruce smiled to hear the old way she would call him and held his daughter tight. “We’ll be fine, I promise.”

Releasing her from the embrace, Bruce placed a kiss on her forehead and got up, bring his daughter with him. “Your mother is in the kitchen making Jason’s favorite.”

“Jay’s coming home?”

“Only to visit, then he’s heading out again. Vivian mentioned that his leg was hurting more now, and he needs another session with her healing. But your mother has called Damian to come and check it out too, Jason’s just stubborn to turn to Damian for help sometimes.”

“Poor, Jay,” Valerie laughed.

“While we wait, mind helping me with the upgrades of the Cave, and to set up a training regimen for Terry? He has the will to be Batman, but he’s still not as good as a fighter.”

“Permission to kick his ass, Dad?”

Bruce laughed. “Granted, Penny.”

[nuggeteri]

pour @jean-phillipedelaporte

(for my best french friend except it's in English let's go.)

(I take any and all requests about the life series.)

-

Scott took a step back.

He was in the Cod Lands.

He didn't know why, per say. A few hours ago, he could've asked his council and they'd probably have given him a dozen good reasons for him to be here. But right at this moment, Scott didn't think any reason would be worth endangering Jimmy.

Or, well, the Codfather, but he insisted on being referred to as Jimmy by Scott, for some weird reason. Even if he got all riled up whenever Fwhip dared to utter that name. He guessed that came with allyship.

It didn't matter either way--he didn't even know if that offer still stood true or not. He definitely wasn't allied with Fwhip anymore, his standing with Gem was shaky at best, and he's still not solved the conflict between him and Shubble. If he had the misfortune of fucking it all up, Jimmy definitely could take him in a fight.

Which was a weird thought, wasn't it? The Cod Lands had always been made fun of for being the weakest Empire. Standing here, though, Scott couldn't help but feel as though power meant nothing if he didn't have allies.

Katherine wouldn't help him in a war--she'd be allied with his ennemies. And Jimmy actually had many allies, like the Copper King, Queen Lizzie and King Joel.

He's spiraling, he knew this. It didn't stop him.

"Penny for your thoughts?" A voice interrupted his thought process--it couldn't be anyone other than Jimmy. And he sounded so friendly, Scott didn't even know why he was spiraling in the first place.

(A step back and frost on the ground told him exactly why, but he gulped and ignored it. He had things to do here---though he couldn't remember what.)

"You're not helping your case here." He said instead of voicing any of his thoughts. Why would he ever, anyway? Jimmy just looked at him--brows furrowing making the confusion crystal clear on his face. "What case?"

"With the nickels." He clarified and Jimmy just groaned---getting a chuckle out of Scott.

"What do you want anyway Scott?" He asked to change the subject. Scott let's him--he'd let Jimmy do anything.

"I can't quite recall," He answered honestly.

"It has been a while since we've seen each other. We can just hang out."

The reminder hit him right in the gut.

He hadn't seen anyone in a while because he'd been away doing his pity party in the Wastes, leaving his council in charge while he figured out his powers. Not like he ever did, anyway.

"We can't." Scott answered, once more, honestly. "I'm a busy man." Which is not all that honest, but it would get the job done...

"Busy visiting my Empire?" And that is the worse. Jimmy is not calling him out on his bullshit, his voice is filled with pure curiosity. Scott plays on it. "We don't have a lot of books on mer-above-land culture."

Which wasn't untrue.

"The Cod Lands are young, my apologies. We don't have many historians yet."

Yet they could beat him in a war, because Scott didn't have allies.

He sighed and looked over the horizon--it being the ocean. As an Avian, he could see further than most species, meaning he could see the outline of the Ocean Empire from here.

"Rivendell has always loved writing. I don't doubt I could send some journalists your way, then?" He proposed, because while he was curious---he also didn't want to make his visit worthless.

(There was Jimmy. How could anything ever be worthless if there was Jimmy? Scott's really selfish, isn't he?)

"That wouldn't bother me at all. More exposure, really. My Empire also loves writing, mostly stories though."

Rivendell... Doesn't actually have many fiction writing, really. Autobiographies, sure, plenty of poems and historical books, but very few novels. "You've peeked my attention."

"The Cod Empire is just approaching it's fifteen birthday. Most our authors are teens, believe it or not. Creating romance between mer, because they have never seen it depicted. It's quite sweet. I don't imagine they have the talent of full fledged Rivendell authors, though." Jimmy didn't know that Rivendell didn't actually have any novel authors. He doesn't break the news to him yet, though.

"Have some faith, art is art. I have never seen mer love stories. Care to share?"

"It can vary a lot. From coral to kelp, hot and cold waters, sand dust and gravel, mud and dirt. Ice, too."

Ice?

"Ice?"

"Yeah, well, ice is water, is it not? Water magic can still control it."

"Really?" He can't help but thinks about his magic. "How come you haven't shown it in Rivendell?"

"That would be an act of war, wouldn't it? Affecting the environment without consent." He said and Scott can't help but think about the many empires he's accidentally frozen. "But we also kinda did. The pond, the cod never really died when it got frozen over, did they?"

Jimmy knew about that? It wasn't the time to dwell on it, though, because Jimmy was.. right.

His hands start to form fists. He can feel ice spreading on his palm and he didn't want it to get out of control.

"Come on, big guy, let me see," The Codfather said as he approached Scott--Scott took one step back, simply one, which is why Jimmy gets to him and softly takes his hand.

In a matter of seconds, it all melts back to water.

"See? Ice doesn't only have sharp edges."

[goopgirlie813]

Fair, I guess. I see where you are coming from. 

From my perspective, the reason serial criminals like Dahmer get brought up is because it is the situation where prisons seem the most necessary. Like, at least temporarily, if someone is killing and raping other people they should be separated from society so they can't access victims, right? Even if just until they finish some form of rehab. And in my mind, none of the things you proposed seemed like they would actually deny serial criminals access to victims. Forceful detention, even just temporarily, seems in my mind like the most reliable way to keep someone like Dahmer from having an opportunity to reoffend. That's the key, opportunity to reoffend. I find it terrifying to imagine a society where someone can be caught and convicted and sentenced for horrific crimes and still have the opportunity to access victims if they want. I think that's what most people are trying to do with that argument. Not an infinite loop but an (admittedly poorly executed) expression of the fear that without prison people like Dahmer could just continue killing. Intuitively it seems like these people won't stop unless they are incapable of continuing and prison is an easy to understand way to make their reoffenses impossible. Its scary to imagine taking that away and reintroducing that possibility. 

That said, now that I've cooled off a bit I think I can better see why you are frustrated. You have been answering to the best of your ability but there have been layers of uncommunicated assumptions beneath the questions we were asking that we (or I, at least) didn't even realize were there. I thought I was being more straightforward than I was because I took for granted the ways your perspective differed from what I am familiar with. 

I assumed that it was a given that Serial Criminals need a forceful denial of access to victims in order to be adequately addressed and I also assumed that it was a given that prisons are the only way to guarantee that. The way it has always been presented to me, prisons are the definitive method of stopping a crime and those crimes can only continue harming the public if the perpetrator is outside of the prison. So follow that logic train, if someone won't stop reoffending you need to be able to draw a line somewhere by putting them in prison or else it will never end. Therefore, if you abolish prisons, some criminals will never and can never be stopped so we will be forced to accept the fact that we may be murdered or raped or whatever at any random point and there will be nothing anyone can do to stop them. (Except extrajudicial violence, of course, but that's really no way to run a stable society.)

And I'm sure you will see some glaring issues with that train of thought that aren't so obvious to me, but hopefully that makes it make a little more sense.

The key problem here, I think, is that we believe that some form of detention is the only way to definitively stop certain people from re-offending. Specifically for the scenarios where the crime is a serious danger to others, like rape and murder. We want a definitive solution to exist somewhere because if it doesn't then the mere existence of Dahmer types evokes a feeling of terrified helplessness, "what if we can't change them? What if there's nothing we can do to be safe?" 

Detention seems like the only truly definitive answer (or at least, the most definitive available) so what's really being asked is, "is there a point in which you will allow prison in emergencies or do you have a different, equally definitive way to stop them?" and no number of rehabilitation or reduction options listed will ever satisfy that question. There needs to be something that can forcefully prevent killers who want to kill from killing (or raping or stealing or whatever) in that time period between conviction and reform, or else we will never find complete prison abolition an acceptable option, no matter how much we support rehabilitation as the primary approach (as I do. I only argue for detention as an emergency back up plan for repeat offenders of horrific crimes, to keep them from hurting people if or until they can be successfully rehabilitated). Without that, it seems like a gaping hole, an oversight, a blind spot, a loophole for the worst of the worst to terrorize us without adequate consequence or barriers.

I was getting really frustrated that you were treating the "what if they reoffend?" question like a rhetorical trick because in my mind it was asking, "How do we prevent people who want and intend to kill us from actually being able to kill us?" (big fear for those in marginalized groups who face frequent hate and threats) but to you it seems it sounded like "how can we trick you into supporting prisons and admitting you're wrong?" And while you seem to have been trying to say, "I'm not budging on my opinion unless you can convince me that prisons are valuable," it sounded to us like, "so what if they kill people? Prisons fail too much anyway so letting them go on murder sprees really isn't any worse if you think about it. Allowing a little murder and rape here and there is just the price of a fair and just society." And while that probably sounds bonkers to you I hope it explains why you're getting the reactions you are. I mean, imagine how you would react if you thought someone was telling you that, if they couldn't just talk him into being a good person, they would have shrugged it off and willingly let Jeffery fucking Dahmer continue roaming free for the sake of "improvement" and dismissed his victims as collatoral damage. Not what you were saying, but the miscommunication sure as hell made it sound that way. In reality, we are all talking past each other and having two separate conversations and the same time without realizing it. 

(Hope I understood what you were trying to say correctly.) 

so yeah I apologize for making you pull out your hair, I've been doing the same. Hopefully this helps at least a little bit. Even if you still think we're being irrational and foolish for this position I hope it gives you a little more clarity moving forward.

Pretty sure @needabetternamelater has reblogged like 5 of my posts and then blocked me. So that's funny. But, just in case it's just a glitch that won't let me reblog those replies.

What do we do with rapists in a prisonless society? Well, 1. Fewer than 1% of rapists go to prison, so holding up prison as the standard that any other solution has to beat isn't hard. What do with do with rapists in a society with prisons? For 99+%? Not prison.

2. Prisons do not reduce the amount of rapes that happen. So again, prison fails pretty handedly at being both a prevention and a punishment. (It's a bit like arguing 'without the death penalty, what will we do with shop lifters?")

3. I've explain many times, on posts you've responded to, the variety of responses a justice system can have to any crime, including sexual assault. Mandatory counseling, restraining orders, restorative/reparation hearings, housing and employment restrictions, fines, caseworker check ins, mental health consults, and vocational training are all possible responses, and which would would have the best chance of preventing recidivism would depend on the specifics of that person and the risk factors in them reoffending.

In the past, we locked people in pillories and cut off their hands for crimes. Phasing out a cruel and ineffective punishment doesn't mean there's free reign for crime.

[shroudkeeper]

I love seeing Rivi with her maidens c: What’s the story behind them, if you don’t mind me asking?

@sugarsagecat also asked: Oh please, oh please I must know more about Rivienne's companions in the latest screenshots!

Thank you for asking and I hope the holidays are kind to you!

Honestly, when I first took photos of them, I didn't consider an actual storyline attached to the ladies. However, the more I thought about it, the more it fleshed itself out in headcanons as to why Rivienne would be accompanied by maidens. There is a bit to the background as to how this came to be, I hope you do not mind --

It would date back to when Rivienne rushed past the walls of Castrum Oriens; she was rumored, among their ranks, to be a force that struck down the garrison that would set themselves before her vicious path. Within these fortified walls, conscripts were forced to fight, becoming fodder for her starved blade. These people were once of the Shroud, they were shackled and then trained to die for the Empire. However, they were met with mercy and not steel. They were met with the perfume of blood and iron, and from the bloody lips of the woman that stormed the compound, instructions to flee were given, to seek liberation and unbind themselves from this oppressive situation.

And so they did.

A few never returned and found it easier to go where no one knew their names and history; the ones that tried found that no one awaited their return, thus they felt ostracized in Gridania's society. Their choices were limited, and with very little to their name, they turned to the woods, finding that facing the elements would fare better than being shunned by the denizens. Banditry became the way of life, that was until betrayal and greed among members dissolved their group. Diminished in numbers, some of them scattered, others decided to venture deeper into the forest, finding solace in solitude. It was these women who used what knowledge they acquired from these last years to fend for themselves under the thick canopies of the Black Shroud.

Many years had passed since freedom was granted to them, and though there were hardships faced since then, they had not forgotten the scent of blood-soaked flowers. The same scent was picked up by the winds on a chance evening traveling near the Guardian Tree. It was there that they first caught the glint of something under speckled sunlight filtering through the treetops. The gilded armor, the dishevel of golden curls, the sword that drank the blood of the tyrants that captured them. It was impaled into the earth, and against the lush grass, gathered at the foundation of the gnarled roots, was she seated, bound by them, cushioned by flowers that bloomed in her self-induced slumber.

The weariness of constant battle had not only affected her physically, but mentally she had grown tired of this world.

She would not awaken with any of their rousings, her skin was cool to the touch yet she drew breath. They cared for her in that dormant state, but considering how the archaic rhizomes curled around her limbs they had all assumed that she had become part of it. Yet they did not stray far from where she rested.

It was not long until rumors reached the ears of bandits of the fallen warrior who was adorned in gold, and they sought to rip it free from it - for what did a dead woman have need of such. The women, who had been caring for her, took arms when hearing of the intrusion, but with what little they had, they were outnumbered and ill-equipped against them.

When the fight arrived at dawn break and the women stood their ground, their prayers were whispered and they readied themselves to be received into the lifestream..

.. but such was not the end of their tale that day.

From behind them, the wind ferried the scent of flowers and the earth released its fury as Rivienne stood and addressed them as filth, blaming them for interrupting her slumber. Before they could retaliate, she beckoned the ground with a few words to part under the feet of their assailants. Stunned, they women who would be her protectors, watched in astonishment as the world shifted, and into the heavens rang the screams released as the maw of the earth swallowed the bandits. Though the spell took much out of her, they were rescued..

─ once again.

The Greenwrath, they assumed her to be, made into flesh and blood. They believed it was fate to find her, to protect her as she had done for them. No protest would come from Rivienne, who owed them for caring for her in turn. They were warrior women wanting somewhere to belong and Rivienne offered a home, and a blade, that would keep them safe.

[bisexualbrainrots]

back at it again with some 911 what if, this time is 3/4 bucktommy scenes from 3x09.

here's 1/4 and 2/4 if you want to read it in order.

He could feel his back stick to Tommy’s chest.

They were still panting, trying to recover from what just happened. Buck was looking at the ceiling, still dazed, trying to make sense of the situation.

I just had sex with Tommy Kinard.

Or well, sort of.

He looked over his shoulder and realized Tommy was already looking at him, and they chuckled. They were laying on Kinard’s couch with only a thin blanket covering them, it was the same couch they’d kissed for the first time over 30 minutes ago.

“Tommy, I… wow” it took a lot to get the words out, his lungs and throat still not ready to have a longer conversation that didn’t consist of ‘yeah’, ‘more’ and other praises.

“The sentiment’s mutual” and Tommy’s hoarse voice shouldn’t have made Buck as giddy as it did, but his bitten lip in an attempt to hide his true feelings were proof of that.

Never in his life did Buck think he would have his naked body on top of Tommy’s, but life can surprise you.

Suddenly, a strange feeling sank deep into Buck’s chest, making him take a deep breath and shift his body to look at Tommy’s face better “Hey, uhm, was this… good for you?”

Tommy raised an eyebrow and said, dryly “Evan, are you seriously asking me that after this?” he gestured at their naked bodies tangled together.

Buck snorted a laugh while shaking his head “What I mean is that, was it good for you even if we didn’t go… all the way?” he felt his cheeks warm up and ducked his head.

Evan Buckley had never been one to shy away from sex, always good at reading other women’s responses and body language. It was easy for him to decide where to go and what to do to make his partners satisfied, but this… this was a first, and he was nervous about not having done the right things to make Tommy feel good.

Tommy, on the other hand, gave him a soft smile and cradled his face with one hand while the other drew circles on his shoulder, “Evan, that was amazing… you’re amazing” the last bit came out in chunks, like the thought had just dawned on him. “I wasn’t expecting you to be so… vigorous though”

“Why, ‘cause it was my first time with a guy?”

“Uh, yeah, actually” Tommy grinned, lowering the hand from Buck’s shoulder to his waist, holding him closer “Look, I wasn’t expecting us to go all out, Okay? The idea’s always to have fun and we did, didn't we?”

Buck raised an eyebrow, smiling at the older “I mean…” he giggled and squirmed when Tommy nudged on his ribs “Sorry! it was fun, and… so hot, and so so good”

He had had so much fun really, which should’ve been strange given the person he’d just slept with, but even with that in mind having sex with Tommy was like entering another plane. It was carefree and gentle, sweet and dirty, it felt so right but also… wrong. But there wasn’t any regret, not when the way Tommy had kissed and touched him made him feel like his entire body was on fire.

“How good?”

“Mind-blowing, earth shatteringly good”

“Okay now you’re lying” Tommy’s laugh was so infectious Buck couldn’t help but giggle along “I cannot be that good”

“You were though, I’ve never… I don’t think I’ve had someone focus that much on me”

Buck wasn’t only focused on, he was worshipped by Tommy. He treated his body like a temple and at times it was too much, feeling like he was about to explode just from light touches alone. His dirty talk wasn’t any less than perfect either, Tommy was able to pull the most lascivious sounds out of him just with his words. It was exhilarating.

“Really? No one?” 

Buck tilted his head “It’s just… with women I tend to be the one that focuses on them, and it’s not like they haven’t returned the energy ever, believe me I’ve been with enough to know that” they chuckled and Buck nudged Tommy’s ribs when the older teased him about it “It's just… You, Tommy, are not what I expected” 

Tommy leaned, his lips brushing the younger’s “And is that a good or bad thing?” a playful smile appeared, making Buck feel a heat creeping up inside of him.

The younger took hold of Tommy's neck and smiled cheekily “Obviously a good thing, Kinard” he closed the distance, kissing the older softly.

They stayed like that for a while, with their legs tangled and arms wrapped around one another, just looking at each other. It was their own little perfect bubble, where nobody else existed but them. 

Until Buck hid his yawn in the crook of Tommy's neck. 

“Hey, do you… do you want to stay the night?” 

The younger looked up, giving him a faint smile “I’d love to, but… it's not midnight yet, I can find my way back home, Tommy”

Tommy didn't want to admit to himself that it disappointed him a little bit, but it's not like he was going to beg him to stay, they didn't have that type of relationship. If Evan wanted to leave afterwards he was within his rights to do so. 

Except the younger didn't actually want to leave either, quite the opposite. He didn't want Tommy to realize that it had all been a mistake and kick him out, and he knew he wouldn't but the fear was stronger.

So he sat up and started looking for his clothes again, never minding the way Tommy's gaze was on him like a hawk. 

“Are you sure you don't want me to drive you back?”

“In my Jeep?” Buck chuckled as he put his shirt back on, and smiled fondly at the older man when he saw the look on Tommy's face, who was fidgeting with his fingers “I’ll be okay Tommy, seriously”

He leaned in, giving him a peck “Tommy, I'm very serious when I tell you that this was wonderful, you were… amazing too” 

“But…?”

Buck frowned “There is no but Tommy, you were amazing, point blank” he rested their foreheads together and inhaled, burning the scent of sex from their skins into his memory “This was perfect, you were, and… I–I'm leaving now, see you next shift” 

“Wait” Tommy took Buck by the back of his neck and pulled him in for a deep kiss. He wanted to leave this on his own terms, and that included filling a space in the younger's head just for him. 

Even if this was only a one time thing. 

Tommy put his bottoms on as fast as he could and led Buck out the door, leaning against it and watching as his Jeep left the neighborhood. 

And if he held himself a little too tight at that, he would never tell anyone about it.

[caliluvsthe2000z]

“tutoring”

You're known for being intelligent at your school. You're usually picked to answer questions. You think you're pretty decent in academics, but not that good.

Because of your intelligence you were chosen to be a tutor for an after school study hall session that students with bad grades were supposed to attend. The instructor told you to go help Christopher Sturniolo. He was told to study for a test but didn't want to.

You went and took a seat at a desk beside Chris. He was running his fingers through his messy brown hair. You could tell that he was frustrated then he finally gave up and sat back in his chair.

"Y'know I'm not gonna do this, right?"

“You have to Christopher.”

"No I don't, actually. I can ditch if I want."

He closed his textbook and sat back in his chair, stretching, making himself comfortable.

“Yeah you can if you wanna repeat being a freshman.”

"It's the end of the year anyway and I'm passing a few of my classes with a C or better. If I fail a class it doesn't make me flunk."

“Christopher. the principal gave me a paper with your grades on it and you’re failing almost everything. Don’t say you have a C or better.”

Chris looked off to the side, a little embarrassed. It was true, he was failing all his classes. It wasn't his fault, he was having a hard time coping with his own life. He didn't want to admit that though.

"It doesn't matter, I'll just go to summer school, or something."

“You wont get anything done there Christopher.”

Chris shrugged. He was too stubborn to admit he needed the help. He didn't want to deal with this right now.

"Fine. Let's get it over with, I guess."

He grumbled, opening the textbook back up to a page you told him to look at. He was obviously still annoyed.

Cali pointed to the text where he left off.

“Read that one.”

she was talking in a soft tone because she knew that he was just gonna get frustrated and give up again.

Chris groaned, rolling his eyes before reading out loud. Reading wasn't his strong suit, but he wasn't a terrible reader. He read the text in a lazy, uninterested tone.

“Hey I know you don’t wanna be here but if you wanna get better you have to try. Please?”

Christopher sighed, annoyed. He sat up fully in his chair, dropping his casual, laid-back demeanor from before.

He looked straight at you, clearly frustrated.

"Why do you care anyway? You don't even know me that well. I won't be in any of your classes next year. We'll probably never see each other again once the year ends."

“Because i don’t want you to end up homeless or being nothing in life or worse.”

Christopher’s annoyed expression faded. He looked down, no longer making eye contact with you. He was a little surprised at your response. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know what would happened if he didn’t try in school. Would he even be able to improve? He didn't know, but it was too scary for him to give any effort.

“So please try Christopher.”

Chris was quiet, contemplating the choice he was being given. He didn't want to do this but it was either this or fail. He let out a small huff before looking back at the text.

"Fine. I'll try. But I can't promise it will go well."

“Thank you so much.”

At that moment she smiled for the first time. she had a beautiful smile and her dimple went out when she smiled.

Despite the whole studying thing, Chris took a moment to look at your smile, noticing your dimple. He felt a little flutter in his stomach, something he hadn't felt before. He quickly looked down at the textbook, shaking himself out of it. He was supposed to be focused on studying, not paying attention to how pretty you were. He told himself to push that thought out of his mind.

"Just... just tell me what to do."

“Read this text please.”

Chris quickly shoved his thoughts out of his head and focused on the task at hand. He tried to keep his tone neutral, but his voice was a touch softer than before.

"Okay. Fine. Whatever you say"

He picked up the textbook, looking for the text you asked him to read. He found the page, reading it aloud.

“Good!”

She said it in a soft easy tone. She knew this was hard for him so she had to go easy on him.

Christopher found himself wanting you to say the word "good" again. He wanted to get praised and have you tell him he was doing a good job. He liked your voice.

He shook that thought away, telling himself to focus on the studying. Even though it had only been little while, his attitude had completely changed. He wasn't as annoyed at having to study, at least he was when he heard you praising him. He was putting an effort into the work.

"Okay, now what?"

“Write down what i say okay?”

Chris grabbed a piece of paper and a pen. He was actually willing to do this for once, not just half-heartedly going through the motions.

"Right, got it. I'll write it down."

He looked at you, waiting for you to start speaking.

When she starts reading the passage Chris tried to listen to what she was saying but her voice was just so beautiful he just couldn’t focus on what he was supposed to be writing down.

Chris tried to focus on the words, but they faded out, replaced by the sound of your voice. It was pretty. Soft. Soft and sweet, like honey. He had to focus himself back on the task at hand every few sentences.

He quickly jotted down the words you said, trying to keep up. It was difficult because he found himself listening to you instead.

“Got all that?”

Chris snapped himself out of his trance. He looked down at the paper in front of him, a little embarrassed at himself for zoning out so much.

"Uh, right, yeah. Got it."

He said, looking down at his notes, his face a tiny bit red from embarrassment at spacing out like that. The whole time he was taking notes, he had to remind himself to pay attention to what you were saying and not your voice.

“i’m so proud of you getting stuff done!”

When she said that she gave him a rub on the back. Chris’s heart gave a little flutter again when he felt your hand on his back. Nobody had given him praise like this or said they were proud of him in a long time. It felt good, even if it was just over something small like actually studying.

He took a moment to let the feeling sink in before responding. His head was still down, looking at the notes he had written.

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right, I've actually gotten stuff done today..."

“And that’s not all.”

Chris looked up, curious. He had been doing surprisingly well so far. It had gone better than he thought. He didn't expect something else.

He looked directly at you, waiting to hear what he needed to do next.

“Now you’re gonna look me in the eyes and tell me what you learned from this text right here.”

Christopher felt a pang of nervousness when you said to look you in the eyes. That would be hard because of how pretty your eyes were, as well as looking you in the eye is already nerve-wracking.

He took a quick deep breath, mustering the courage to do as you said. He looked into your eyes, trying to keep a calm focus. He suddenly couldn't remember what he had written down at all. He tried to keep it together.

"Uh... well, what I learned is..."

“Go on.”

Chris tried his hardest to focus on answering the question, but it was hard when looking into your eyes. They were just so beautiful, so pretty. He could just stare into them all day. He tried to collect his thoughts.

"Uh, right, right... well, I learned that..."

He tried to remember what he had written down, but he was so distracted by just looking at you. It was impossible to focus on what he had written down.

“Here read it again.”

Chris let out a quiet sigh, trying not to seem like he was frustrated. He knew he should be able to tell you what he had written down but he still couldn't focus. Your sweet eyes and soft voice were making it so difficult.

He looked back down at his notes. They were messy, written in a hurry. He took a moment to read through the words.

“Hey hey don’t be frustrated take deep breath’s! When she said that she moved his hair out of his face.

Christopher almost shivered slightly when he felt your fingers brush his forehead, gently moving his hair. He took a deep breath like you said, letting it out through his nose. He closed his eyes for a second, trying to calm himself.

"Okay. Okay. I'm good, I'm okay now."

“Okay now read this one.”

He took another deep breath, feeling a little more in control now. He slowly started reading, trying to keep a steady tone. He spoke clearly and slowly, putting a lot of effort into it. He wanted to impress you.

She saw that he was having trouble with pronouncing the word equivalent so she tried to help him.

“Do you need some help?”

Chris stopped reading, taking his time before answering. He was getting a little frustrated with himself, having so much trouble. He let out a quiet groan, looking at the word.

"Ugh, yeah. Equiv- equivolent."

It was getting harder to even spit out the word now. He was never good at reading. He dreaded whenever he had to read aloud, even though he just heard your voice reading perfectly. It wasn't fair, he was supposed to be the popular and good looking kid, not the one with bad study skills.

“Its okay here i’ll help you”

She said that with the most beautiful smile on her face. Chris felt like he was going to melt if he looks at you for one more second.

Chris went quiet for a moment as you help him pronounce the word. You slowly helped him say it slowly, sounding it out carefully while he repeated it multiple times.

He mumbled it under his breath as he finally said it correctly, a little frustrated he couldn't say it easily. "Equivalent... got it."

“Im so proud of you You’re doing great.”

Chris was proud that he was finally able to say the damn word. He had a small smile on his face, not realizing that it mirrored your smile from before.

He looked up at you, feeling more confident. He still didn't like studying, but he was actually getting better at it. The fact that you were complimenting him and telling him he was doing good felt good. He wasn't used to hearing that from people.

"You really think I'm doing good?"

“Yes i do you’re doing way better than before!”

Chris was surprised at how much it made him smile to hear you say that. He actually was doing well. He was not only passing the subject, he was actually getting a good understanding. He never had that happen.

He sat up straighter in his chair, no longer leaning back as he had been before. He felt motivated now. Studying was becoming less of a chore and more of something he wanted to try.

"Yeah, okay. Maybe this isn't that bad after all."

“Well study time is over see you tomorrow!”

The words "study time is over" immediately brought back that annoyed feeling in Chris’s stomach. He was doing so well, he didn't want to stop.

But then, he realised that meant he was free. He didn't have to sit and study anymore. He was kind of sad though. He wouldn't get to see you until the next day. It wasn't ideal.

"Right... uh, okay. Um, see you tomorrow then."

[swallowerofdharma]

Sorry, I failed to espress myself again. I was answering you but I was not trying to change your mind, just showing how I looked at things.

What I take issue with is the suggestion that readers who approach this story under a romantic lens would be distorting it into something it isn’t, which is what your original post appeared to suggest.

I didn’t say that tho. I made the new post to answer you on this and I am sorry I failed to clarify. I did say that the novel Lolita has been distorted into something else. And that made me think that with Saezuru we can have entirly different frames in mind as well. When talking about Saezuru I was then pointing at the arguments about consent because again, I am not trying to convince you to change your mind: the more you romanticize Doumeki’s intentions and problematicize Yashiro’s previous choices, the more you are shifting the scrutiny on the person who was at the bottom in that scene and who was asking to stop to the person who had taken charge. Stigmatization of Yashiro’s sexual past is the same as victim blaming. Without the romantic lens on, sex isn’t more morally acceptable if it’s gentle and the parts involved love each other, and if consent was revoked then it isn’t right in any case.

Frankly, I’m confused about why me holding the opinion that there is a lot of ambiguity about Yashiro’s consent in those chapters seems to be such a point of contention. I never argued that Yashiro gave any clear consent, nor that he has no right to object, I’m sorry but if that’s what you think that’s purely an assumption you’re making.

Please, don’t take it personally. I am purely looking at the arguments in the debate, not at who made them. I’m questioning the approach of analyzing in depth Yashiro and bringing all the attention to him instead of Doumeki in this case. That’s why I was talking about victim blaming: why you consider Yashiro a victim of his father first and of himself after, but you don’t consider him victimized by Doumeki too, which some of us do. Using Yashiro’s trauma or his past as arguments or putting responsability on him because he came on Doumeki first is taking away attention from Doumeki’s responsibilities and I don’t agree with that.

I like Saezuru because I like that Yashiro, a victim of domestic and prolongued CSA, is portrayed as a strong and independent adult, with problems sure, but not incapable. If you think that he can’t control himself or doesn’t know what he wants when he wants to have sex (which is not the case in every example given in the story), then you must think that maybe Doumeki could have had better control of his own sexual desires and could have waited. We are looking at the same pages, yet our emotional response is different. But at the end of the day, I look at the way Yoneda draws Yashiro after sex with Doumeki and he is always at a low point. To me, it seems that the point was to bring him to break, to experience a crisis. And I am having a hard time romanticizing it.

Personally, I refrain from conflating fiction with reality too much, because fiction doesn't operate under the same premises as reality; I believe to know what Yashiro actually wanted or didn't want based on my understanding of the story and in turn I base my opinion about chapters 23/24 on this belief.

The “I believe to know what Yashiro actually wanted” is a big theme in the manga as of the later chapters too. I find it interesting, because it is a possibility that this is Doumeki’s motivation now. And I am so very critical of it! Hugely critical of this approach, while also understanding that it is deliberate in the story.

In my analyses I will continue to be critical of things, and I can’t see that as a misuse of fiction. I am grateful that you took your time to read my arguments. This remains a place open to discussions as long as we are aware that romantic views about love and sex are not superior nor compulsory to read Saezuru.

Third to last page of ch 25: breaking the fourth wall

Following the discussion from here. Hoping you don’t mind if I make a new post so that the other one doesn’t become too heavy. I’m answering some lingering questions, but I am also saying that I won’t be dissuaded from treating this manga differently. As said recently*, Yoneda takes such care to give details and context to the story, that it is intriguing to look into things with analytical eyes and I can’t see the problem with it. For those who maybe feel like “the story isn’t that deep”, that is more offensive to the author tbh than to me or others in fandom who write commentaries. * @dragomfry said: “It makes our analyses of her work hold extra weight because there are things that she wants us to look for and derive meaning from (rather than us trying to derive meaning from nothing to begin with)”.

So to clear this first.

I can’t quite see why this story would be distorted into something it’s not intended to be if we approach it under a romantic lens.

I am not debating people for approaching the story romantically, but - because some troubling arguments were made about the recent poll - I will say this. Rape culture takes some arguments from romantic and patriarcal views to defend the aggressors and blame the victims instead: this isn’t romanticism’s fault, but the very fact should be at least taken into consideration. [More on this below**]. So several of the reflections I was writing about framing the manga as romance rather than literary realism were prompted by this issue. And reading your thoughts about the story, I can understand where we differ so much: and that is in how we view Doumeki especially, rather than the rest. Maybe you are not romanticizing Yashiro and his trauma, but you are especially romanticizing Doumeki. For example:

I allow myself to indulge in the romanticism of it all; both of them falling in love at first sight, depressed Yashiro finally finding someone who truly cares about him, Doumeki who doesn’t back down when Yashiro rejects him, Doumeki still having feelings for Yashiro even after he shot him in the leg and pretended not to remember him, etc. There’s so much in this story that’s blatantly romantic, almost corny.

There are many aspects of the manga that I do find realistic in it’s portrayal, such as the CSA, what I don’t find realistic, however, is the portrayal of love, the romance. I find it very idealised and romanticised for the most part (i.e the falling in love at first sight (I’ll get to that), Doumeki being Yashiro’s exact type, Doumeki happens to be impotent which allows Yashiro to develop feelings for him, the fact that Doumeki is completely accepting of everything Yashiro does regardless of how Yashiro treats him, the fact that Doumeki is still in love with Yashiro after he shot him the leg, maybe he even stayed in the Yakuza world just to be near him (although who knows why exactly he did that?) Idk maybe it’s just me but I find it very unrealistic. It’s this romantic idea of „there is this perfect person out there who accepts you just the way you are and you don’t have to do anything to keep them happy, you can even shoot them in the leg and they’ll still love you, they’ll stick around no matter what it takes to be with you“.

I can’t pick and choose what I want to romanticize or not, I have chosen to look at things differently, and I am keeping the same approach when looking at characterizarion. When I look at Doumeki, I see as many problems as those Yashiro has. He is the one depressed imo, at the beginning of the story, he is in much worse shape than Yashiro. Yashiro has a support network, Doumeki was isolated in prison and kept family away when he was released. Doumeki isn’t this strong and stoic person who is in love with Yashiro and is therefore shouldering a burden or enduring abuse in the name of love. I have been misunderstood before on this, but I want to say that I look at these characters without romanticizing either of them. I am not so much interested in looking at who is right or wrong, or to paint one character in a better light and bashing another: I want to understand their differences and how they came to be, how the relationship is affected by those differences. This is why I don’t take a shipper’s approach either, I am not solely focused in their relationship, but in the story as a whole.

There are several posts where I talked at lenght about these characters, because Yoneda gave a lot of backstory, and I encourage who may be interested in checking further. Doumeki has trouble facing or recognizing reality, until reality kicks him in the face, and that is happening to him since the nurse and Aoi. So he is only observing when it suits him. Yashiro established his emotional boundaries plenty of times, and Nanahara is there to corroborate and reinforce Yashiro’s prefereces. Here are some examples, and these are from volume one alone. It is a pretty clear situation, and Doumeki understood it.

I know that people are objecting to the very idea of framing Doumeki as the aggressor in this case, but the power dynamics had already shifted at that point when things went down in ch 24-25. It is the result of an escalation that sees Doumeki hiding his feelings and his arousal, and becoming more aggressive and unhinged towards others during the investigation into who ordered the hit on Yashiro. Yoneda was painstakingly building towards that scene, while also painting a bigger picture and external plot, and there are so many details that I haven’t even touched upon yet, but nothing is filler. And the parallels between Doumeki’s arousal and his violent behavior can’t be easily ignored.

Again, I feel quite powerless and unequipped to persuade those who already formed their opinion. But when given arguments in favor of dismissing Yashiro’s right to object or arguments that shift the focus away from the simple topic of consent, then I have to ask myself why this is happening. **Rape culture does play a role, and as I said, rape culture can and does weaponize some romantic ideas about love. Or against the autonomy of the person, against choice and so on.

I find it very important that Yoneda chose to put those words in the mouth of an ex-policeman, while dressed up as a policeman, and of another abusive detective with the police. Or the fact that Inami commented on Doumeki’s father building a career to cover up his crimes. See these statements from the Wikipedia page on rape culture:

With how difficult has become to search on the web for unbiased results, I am just giving the Wikipedia page not as a source of authority, but as a peer reviewed summary that provides a starting point for research and some bibliography on the subject. For example:

I want to add that I don’t agree with the way the article frames “men” as perpetrators and “women” as victims. That should be corrected and can be misleading. Men have been historically and consistently discouraged to speak up about being victims of rape themselves and often the law didn’t even consider them. And the gendered approach contributed to make so many victims invisibile. There is so much we have to learn.

Again, this post is solely for the purpose of answering arguments or points made directly to me about how we interpret the story in Saezuru. These are my observations and reflections, the links I see, and it is possible because these things are in the manga. And last, I love love-stories. But romance - especially romantic tropes, often reinforced by fandom shipping culture - don’t always equal love to me.

[unma]

Cats

What's not to love about these lovely creatures? Honestly, growing up I was always a dog person (even despite the fact that I was attacked by one when I was young). But then I realized I wouldn't be able to take care of a dog for, well, a buncha reasons, thought about how it would be to have a cat, and thought, yeah, it would be nice to have one. For so many reasons. The eternally lethargic me could never take care of a dog properly. A cat, though? I probably could.

[thecedarchronicle]

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[hecksupremechips]

Honestly though I think it’s really a bad sign when I look at Shin Tsukimi and literally feel like he’s a self insert 😩