#(she eventually gives in in the first instance too but for her to only need the tiniest bit of prodding from him in the second...

[lisbonsteresa]

what a difference a couple of years makes

[darkcircles4lyfe]

it's a story about hands (reprise)

Yeah, okay, today's the day.

I gave my blog that title for a reason, you know, and it has loomed over me for years because the hand motif is absolutely everywhere and you could go on about it forever.

Maybe that's something I'll never actually attempt to do, but this chapter, we reached a breaking point.

Before I continue, I need to give a big, big disclaimer: I do not have a physical disability, so I'm not able to speak about that from the standpoint of representation as a first-hand perspective. I have at least listened to enough disabled people to know that fictional characters who become amputees only to miraculously gain their limbs back is, um, a trope. Disabled people in general being "healed" is a conception we would really prefer to avoid here. Not to call people out, but I don't think we're giving enough space to acknowledge that.

I don’t feel comfortable making the judgement call about what should happen. I’m leaving that open. I also don't want to downplay people's emotional reactions. Honestly, I don't know if I can accurately define the line between acknowledging real pain vs. ableist pity. But I’d like to talk about the possibilities of what could happen. Other characters have definitely gotten permanent disabilities as a result of their hero work, or even just the side effects of their quirk. But, for better or worse, I don't think this case is really about representation. Not that Horikoshi won't do that justice. He might. What I'm saying is that's not his purpose for having Izuku lose his arms. It's meant to be symbolic, so we can explore what it means. The other thing I’m keeping in mind here is that Horikoshi is notorious for playing with our expectations, like, alllllll the time. I mean, just take a few chapters ago for a classic example. Eri appeared at the end, and we all assumed she was about to take some sort of action to save someone with her quirk. Then, immediately following, we were given an explanation for why that wouldn’t be happening. And now it’s clear he wanted to do that “fake out” not just as a silly cliffhanger prank, but specifically so we would know not to suspect that Eri could be the miraculous solution to Izuku’s loss of his arms. Rest assured, there is no easy way out of this.

The expectation at play in this particular instance is an old one. It’s very understated, but its subtext has burned so brightly, you’d be a fool not to notice it. It sits with anticipation like one half of a call and response. Man, I was so certain. Lots of people still are. I was really looking forward to printing the panel where it happened onto a t shirt and wearing it proudly. All the hand motifs in this story radiate thematically from a single moment, the one that started it all for Izuku.

It raises all kinds of questions about the act of saving, who needs saving, why, what does it mean, what are the dynamics of power, politics, honesty, exploitation, compassion, pity, disdain, sacrifice. Katsuki has dealt with many of these since he first rejected Izuku’s hand. While Izuku was the one who was convinced Katsuki would keep on rejecting him…

…Katsuki was the one who kept that moment in his mind all these years and eventually came to regret it.

Katsuki is the one yearning for that hand-hold, the one who has imbued it with so much more weight than it ever originally had. Izuku, in contrast, does not allow himself to dwell on what he wants. To illustrate this difference, we need to look at another piece of foreshadowing:

Ugh, do y'all remember when lots of folks were complaining about how there never seemed to be actual consequences for Izuku's destructive treatment of his own body? I don't blame them, I was concerned and confused about it too. There were several "fixes" along the way. Recovery Girl healed him, but left a physical reminder. Then he started training to fight with his legs… sometimes. Then he got support items. All of these were unsatisfying non-conclusions because they didn't present Izuku with a lasting enough impression to change in a meaningful way. They didn't address his core, his origin.

Of course, that all changed this chapter. Now it looks like our frustration was inflicted intentionally. With the current context in mind, all of these moments look more sinister, like this day was always gonna come because they kept putting bandaids on a deep emotional and psychological wound. The problem is pretty much spelled out for us here:

As Katsuki put it, he just doesn’t take himself into account, ya know? He doesn’t care what happens to him. And he lies about it, to keep others from worrying, to keep them safe. To keep them from returning the favor and putting themselves in harm’s way for his sake. His motivations are noble,

…but what about the little boy inside Izuku? Who saves him?

This is all about Izuku giving himself up to the point that he literally has no more to give. The thing is, I bet he saw this coming. He knew his limits and decided to keep going anyway, because his personal safety and wellbeing are not important. Now that way of thinking has come back to bite him because the fight isn’t over yet, and he’s already made his sacrifice. So now we know who will be more distraught over this. Not Izuku—Katsuki.

It’s not about Izuku becoming disabled, it’s about how Katsuki wanted to use the intertwining of their fingers to communicate that he would never let go. Never stop valuing him most. Never let himself make the mistake of rejecting him again. Never let Izuku be so reckless with his life. To say: “we are in this together.”…if only Katsuki believed he deserved to be able to say such things. To reach out his hand would have been the ultimate way to simply imply them and let Izuku be the one to decide. Then, to feel their hands clasped together would be more than either of them dared hope for, but so beautiful, so right. A moment they’ve waited their whole lives for.

Yeah. That’s what we were expecting. We’ve been so comfortable. Horikoshi gave us all the signs. He tempted and teased us over and over. BUT. You know he does this thing were he gives us a desirable, completely plausible and simple thing to look forward to, and then he snatches it away. And THEN he replaces it with something much better, something we were not expecting at all because it seemed too good to be true. That’s exactly what happened when Himiko snatched Izuku away, and we were robbed of the chance to see him and Katsuki fight together. In hindsight, though, I’m glad things went a different way because now there’s so much more depth and angst on display. Likewise, in the present moment, we may consider how, as one door closes, another opens.

As wonderfully meaningful as the hand-hold would have been, perhaps it is still too simple a resolution for Izuku, for his and Katsuki’s relationship. Tbh, it could have been done like 100 chapter ago. At this point, there’s so much more potential. There are a couple of ways it could go. If Izuku stays armless, Katsuki will be forced to use other methods to get his point across. He’ll have to do something else, or say what he means, or both. Yes, I’m talking about what you think I’m talking about. If I say it, I just might jinx it (lol), but I mean it. I’m being serious. Either way, if Izuku did get his arms back in the end, I’m sure that it wouldn’t be an easy fix. It would be hard-won against Izuku’s self-destructive mindset, and/or by Katsuki’s conviction. Again, I say this knowing it is not meant so much as a representation of disability, but as a representation of Izuku’s greatest character flaw taken to the extreme. I know this might sound harsh, like, hasn’t he been through enough? I get that, but… I’ve said it before and I say it again: Izuku is stubborn as hell.

I wish I had a resounding final note to end this on, but I kinda don’t. I’m not sure what’s best. Now we just have to wait and see what Horikoshi has in mind.

[kingtomura]

Vitality | 4

Summary: You were always told heroes and villains had no place in your home.  Not when there’s an increase in crime, not when there’s monsters on the loose in Hosu and certainly not when the man in your home raises a hand to you.  All it takes is one impulsive decision to change your life forever. content: shigaraki tomura x female reader, slow burn, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, reader has a quirk, graphic depictions of violence, past abuse, past sa, angst, pstd, eventual smut, dark themes, found family LoV, mdni wc: 5k | prev | chapter 5 | m. list | read on ao3

Shigaraki is avoiding you. 

You don't have any definitive proof, but you can read between the lines.

It’s not obvious, but you have seen him a lot less than usual, and even though you could be wrong, you just can’t shake the feeling. 

The lack of his presence in the bar, for starters, is one instance. He hasn’t needed any healing help from you either even though he’s been out and about. You can only assume he’s been fine, but it doesn’t take the sinking feeling away from the pit of your gut.

There is something else that’s been bothering you as well. Pulling at your thoughts and living within the walls of your mind.

You can’t stop thinking about what happened a few nights ago. 

The distressed look on Shigaraki's face haunts you, and it doesn’t help that you haven't had a chance to apologize. Hell, you haven’t even seen him at all since that night. Your days have consisted of training and healing, with no sign of your leader. 

Today you are with Toga once more, in a field you have become more familiar with, sparring. 

Twice has joined you both, stating that he was the best person to help — and you agree. He has been making clones of Toga to help you spar and the addition takes away the consequence of harming her.

As for her clone harming you…

Well, you just need to improve — and you believe that you have, as you’ve ended up less on the ground and more on top by the end of the week. 

She comes at you without a care in the world and a knife in her hand, but you’ve learned how to dodge. You know well how to duck and then swing, how to sway is just the right ways that would give you an opening to knock her off of her feet. During your time training you have learned how to get the upper hand. 

Every time you can dodge an attack it makes you feel good.

It reminds you that you’re learning and that this isn’t in vain. 

There’s a moment right as Toga’s clone is about to strike that you see it — the perfect opening. 

Your right hand forms a fist and you don’t think as you do it, just swing and hit the mark, right against her left cheek and it takes the clone down completely. It turns to sludge before you and the claps of Twice and Toga catch your attention.

“That’s one hell of a right hook!” Twice yells to you and you can only muster a small smile, tired out from the spar. 

“Thanks. We can call it here, right?” you ask and Toga nods, the smile never leaving her face.

“Yeah, and your swing is pretty good.” She compliments, hopping off the boulder she sat on and walking towards you, guiding you back to the meeting area Kurogiri tells you all to gather.  “You should ask Tomura about a support item. I think you’re almost ready for one.”

The portal opens before you and it's a relief to see that you were one step closer to heading to bed for the night. Training really drains your energy.

“You think so?” It's a feeble question, one to merely fill the air as you all walk through. 

Toga nods, already making her way towards the door of the bar, no doubt ready to head to bed herself. “I do! You’re pretty strong, little bird.” 

And she’s gone, leaving those words to echo in your mind as you stop in your tracks. 

You’ve never thought of yourself as strong. Not when you’ve lived the way you have for so long. Your first instinct is to deny, but you fight it — instead opting to push the compliment to the back of your mind. 

You should find Shigaraki. 

It's late, but not too late. He should still be awake, and you would like to at least mention the idea of a support item before your confidence slips.

The strength stays with you as you trudge the tunnels, making your way to Shigaraki’s room. 

You’ve never been there, and there has never been a reason to, but you knew it wasn’t very far from yours. The nerves you’ve been so confident stomping out have returned in full force as you approach his door. The worse he could do was tell you to go away. 

So, with your solid reasoning, you inhale and knock at his door, waiting for a gruff reply, but when there is nothing, not even movement, on the other side you debate knocking again. 

Against your better judgment, you try it again and are met with the same silence. 

It feels eerie and your brain is screaming at you to turn tail and go to your room, but curiosity eats at you. 

You bring a hand to his doorknob, pausing as you debate opening his door.

The worst he could do is tell you to go away.

You turn the knob and…

It's locked. You should have known. Shigaraki doesn’t seem like the type to trust others enough to have his bedroom door unlocked and open for all to explore. 

With a sigh you move on, not to your bedroom, but back to the bar. Shigaraki was absent there as well, but you believe Kurogiri may have a clue of his whereabouts. 

The apparition is exactly where you assumed he would be — behind the bar, cleaning a glass, expression impossible to guess behind the wispy shadows that cloud his face.

“Kurogiri,” you start, glancing around the bar once more for good measure, and sure enough, there was no sign of your leader. “Have you seen Shigaraki anywhere? He wasn’t in his room.”

There's a beat of silence between you two, you can only assume Kurogiri is scanning his own mind for places Shigaraki may have gone, but his response surprises you. 

“Have you checked the roof?”

Your brows furrow at the mention. 

The roof?

There is a ladder you have to climb to get to the roof. It's not very high and it's through the red curtain behind the bar’s counter, but it’s there. 

Once you’ve made your way onto the roof and dusted yourself off, you take a look around. 

Lo and behold, there he is, his form relaxed as he looks out onto the city of Kamino, drink can in hand and distinct lack of hand dawning his face. 

“Fancy meeting you here.” you announce as you approach, cringing at your own words, but knowing you had no other greetings in your arsenal. 

He doesn’t spare you a glance, only taking a sip of his drink as his eyes are lost in thought. 

But he doesn’t tell you to go away, so you take that as a good sign — slowly making your way to where he’s sat and taking your own seat. Not too close, but near enough that it’s not awkward to have a conversation. 

You decide to follow his gaze, looking out into the city of Kamino as the sea of buildings light up the area. 

You wish they were stars instead.

The thought makes you look up and see the gray sky above, murky as the fog settles onto the city. You wish there was more to look at, but from this angle you can barely make out the silver glow of the moon through the clouds. 

The naivety in you wishes there was more up there, like a meteor shower or some other natural occurrence you’ve read about in books.

But there's nothing here. 

Nothing but light pollution and fog. 

“So,” you begin, words eager to leave your mind, “training with Toga is going well.”

“Good.” His eyes are far away as he responds, sipping more of his drink as his thoughts swim through his mind. 

You wonder what he’s thinking about, but forgo asking.

Instead, you opt for a nod, excitement showing in your small smile as you go on, “Yeah, since Twice has been with us he’s made clones of her to help me train. They say I have a pretty good swing.” 

This time Shigaraki does look at you, interest piqued and it makes you feel warm that he’s at least a little interested in your training progress. 

“Yeah?” He asks and you nod again.

“Mhm, Toga said I should ask you about a possible support item soon, but I'm not sure what would fit me best.”

“I have a few ideas.” He takes another sip of his drink and from this distance you can tell it's an energy drink. Odd choice for a late night snack. “I’ll check in with you by the end of next week.”

Your eyes widen, a little shocked from how fast you’d be able to have something to help you, it makes your previous excitement grow as you bite back more of your smile. 

“Thank you.”

Shigaraki hums in response, sending the space between you into a lull. It is not unwelcomed — the wind whistles and the breeze is nice as you both watch the city from above. You’re beginning to understand why Shigaraki would want to be out here in the first place. 

It’s peaceful. 

The quiet stretches until the nagging voice in your head begins to catch up with you once more, drawing attention to your earlier struggles.

You want to apologize. 

“Hey, Shigaraki.”

His eyes cut to yours and his red gaze feels intimidating. You hate to admit it, but it’s the truth, even more so in this vulnerable moment. 

So you divert.

“Have you heard any updates about my father?” you get the words out and now that the dam is broken you cannot stop. “It’s been on my mind a lot lately and I've stopped seeing articles. It’s just making me feel uneasy.”

You pause, your heart is racing and you feel a familiar sense of panic in your veins. The same panic you felt at home when you would mess something up in front of your father. Even the mention of him shakes your core.

You move to speak again, but Shigaraki stops you. 

“No, he’s probably done with the charades.” He takes the last sip of his drink, leaning his head back and you watch as his adam's apple bobs with each swallow. 

Once he finishes the drink, he presses one, two, three, four, five fingers down on the can — disintegrating it into ash before your eyes. 

You’ve never seen his quirk with your own eyes, but it happens quickly — the bottle fading into dust and then nothing, swept away by the winds as if it never existed at all. 

“Besides,” he continues, the hint of amusement in his tone makes your heart clench for reasons completely different from before. “If he looked any further he’d only build a case against himself.”

He looks at you again, hint of a smile on his face, “and I don’t think he’s that fucking dumb.”

You look at him and you feel light, the worry from before dissipating in the wind just like the drink can before. You bring a hand to your chest, an old habit that made you feel as though you could heal your own heart — stop it from racing out of your chest and far away from you. 

“Yeah,” you finally respond, a small uptick of your lips calming your nerves, “yeah, he would have to be insane.”

Shigaraki is satisfied with your answer, moving to stand and you follow suit. 

There’s the booming sound of rolling thunder falling over the space between you both. 

It’s going to storm soon and neither of you wanted to get caught up in it.

—--------------------------

They’re sending you on a mission soon. 

It’s somewhere further out and in a different city, so it should be nowhere near your father’s jurisdiction. It’s being led by Dabi since he is just as strategic as Shigaraki and well within his rights of intelligence. They tell you something about it being a part of a larger, more important mission to come along soon. 

You’ve been improving in fighting everyday — the support item Shigaraki gave you really helps. He believed a bat would be a great help in your combat and so far it has. 

They don’t expect you to fight but they do expect an altercation and it’s best to have a healer where they are needed instead of somewhere not within reach. 

“It seems we have some rats in our ranks.” Shigaraki told the group at the meeting, carmine eyes shining in delight at the idea of a challenge to his goals, “and I think it’s time we take care of it.”

It makes you nervous since there's been no reason for you to leave the base beyond training with Toga. As much as you would like to go out and see more, this mission makes you feel uneasy. 

It feels like once you’ve done this you truly are a villain and there is no going back from that. 

The images of your father’s reaction and raging face makes you shiver, but you steadily remind yourself that you are no longer there. That is not your reality anymore. 

However…

You will be on a mission with Dabi. The same man you’ve barely interacted with. The one who is hardly around to get a read on. 

He paid you no mind as Shigaraki explained the details of the upcoming mission further — even going as far as staying behind once the discussion was finished to delve deeper into more details. He was nothing if not thorough. 

You’re not sure what to expect and the thoughts plague you all the way to your room.

It’s difficult to find sleep, but you try, giving in to the tiredness you feel and slipping into the welcoming feeling of nothing. 

You wake with a start. 

Your chest heaves as you look around your bedroom and realize its only you. Nothing is out of place and everything is quiet. 

It must have been a nightmare you were having but the memories are hazy. The dream is already fading away as you blink the sleep from your eyes. 

All you know is that the nightmare was unsettling. It left a pool of dread deep in your gut and you needed to get out. So, making your way out of bed, your feet move to the one place you believed could be relieving at this hour. 

You’ve gone up to the roof a few times before, Tomura is always there. Always silent. Always with a drink of some kind. 

You don’t speak much as there isn’t much to say, but you find comfort in it. The silence is calming and it comes with the lack of pressure from either side to say what’s on your mind.

Shigaraki never tells you to leave. 

He’s told you before that you’re free to do what you want and you suppose this is included. As long as you don’t bother him during his quiet time, you were fine to share the space. 

It’s three in the morning and you hope he’s gone to bed for the night. The roof has become some kind of safe haven but you’ve never been up alone. You would like to see what it’s like. 

But he is there, and you can’t really bring yourself to be upset.

You actually feel a little relieved — the hazy remnants of the nightmare still had you a little shaken, the lack of company would only make you feel worse. 

“Do you ever sleep?” you wonder aloud as you slowly approach. Tomura has another energy drink tonight, but this one is unopened. It looked to be long forgotten by his side as he watched the city below. 

“Sometimes.” he responds, voice low, but you were close enough to catch it.

Shigaraki is wearing his gloves, the black partial ones that you never see him sport inside the bar. Only up here. 

Only with you.

You haven’t gathered the nerve to ask him why that is yet. 

(You’re not sure you will be able to, either.)

So instead you sit — it's always a respectable distance away as you both look out into the city. The calming feeling of the open night feels freeing. It's unlike anything you’ve felt before. Especially not in recent years. 

You wonder if he has nightmares, too. If he’s plagued by visions at night, if they keep him up the way they keep you up. 

Excessive energy drinks in the middle of the night aren’t really good at helping you sleep. 

You wonder what he’s running from — your leader in the League of Villains. 

You stay like that for a while, comfortable silence stretching between you both and you don't mind it — until Shigaraki starts shifting and draws your attention. He’s shuffling around in his pajama pockets and piques your curiosity. 

It's only when he pulls out a gaming console that you tilt your head in confusion. It's small and portable, but he’s never brought anything like that up here in the short time you’ve joined him. 

Your confusion only grows as he extends the device to you. 

“What?”

“Take it.” He offers, and you cannot help the way your brows furrow and frown deepens. 

Why would he offer you this?

You meet Shigaraki's eyes, deep red and passive, then down at the console — even through the partial gloves he wore, Shigaraki still held the system in an odd way. It’s black and holds a few scuffs and scratches. Well worn. Well loved. 

“What’s this for?” you ask, no longer worried to question the man. 

He only scoffs, look of confusion now painting his own features. “Don’t tell me you don’t know what a gaming system is.”

“I do!” you shoot back, embarrassment bringing heat to your cheeks. It's gone as soon as it’s arrived — your confusion dissolving into curiosity. “I mean, why are you giving this to me?”

He looks at you like you’ve asked what the year was, “You said your father took your console away.”

Your eyes widen at his words, shock evident in your movements as you take the device from his hand. He’s quick to pull it away as well, but you don’t think about it further. You only look at the scuffed gaming console and ponder why Tomura Shigaraki of all people would give it to you.

“It’s old and I don’t really use it nowadays,” he starts, causing you to meet his eyes once more, “Sensei said the games there were good for learning to strategize. It helped, but I don't need it anymore.” 

You stare down at the device — scratched and worn, no doubt played for hours. 

Although it seems like a half thought of an offer, there’s still a vulnerability to the situation that makes you warm. A genuine effort that makes you want to be genuine in return. 

“He’s not my real dad.” You start, shaking Shigaraki out of whatever thought he may have been lost in. “My real father skipped out on us. And he married my mom when I was young. Then… we lost her.” 

You’ve never had a chance to talk about your past. To open up. Growing up he had always drilled into your mind that he was your father, then your only guardian after your mom passed.

His behavior became weird — he became obsessive after the loss of her. 

Said that you needed no one but him, and he needed you too. 

Only you. 

Shigaraki says nothing, and you continue, “Sometimes, I like to pretend my real dad is out there, somewhere. Maybe lost at sea or something.” 

You laugh, a sad huff of breath. “I don’t think anyone like him could be a father, even though that’s all I know him as.” 

It feels weird talking to someone you barely know about your innermost thoughts, but it’s a faint relief off of your chest.  

“That sounds awful.” he starts, “Being at sea for months on end. I would probably get seasick.”

Now you laugh, genuinely. “Have you ever seen the ocean?” 

An innocent question, but one that makes him ponder. “No, and I don't think I want to.”

“Why not?”

He shrugs, nose scrunching at the idea. It's cute, you have to admit. “Too bright, too noisy and it probably smells bad.”

You smile, light and innocuous. What a negative nancy. “I’ve never been either. I would really like to. I had planned to, but…” you pause, mood souring. “But he wouldn’t approve.”

You don’t know why you're still talking, but the dam has burst, contents of your heart spilling over and out. 

“I'm an adult, you know? Twenty! It sucks seeing all my friends move on and do other things with their lives. But I was stuck.” you pause, looking at the ground, “I told him so, too. That’s where it all went wrong that night.”

That night.

You remember. 

You remember it clear as day. 

The argument happened during dinner.

A night like any other, so you hadn’t seen the escalation coming. Your friends had been telling you about a program, a little study exchange in a small beach town where anyone could go to research and learn about the animals in the area. 

You didn’t have many friends, but the few you held dear would be going. It would be a shame to be left behind — to have to spend another year in this house. 

It was a simple thing, you brought the idea up to your father, told him about how good of an opportunity it would be for you. 

That’s where it all went downhill. 

He got so angry, furious at the idea of his only daughter running off to some beach with god-knows-who doing god-knows-what. He told you to go on and forget it — it wasn’t happening.

Not on his watch. 

This was it, the final straw. You couldn’t possibly spend another minute at a table with someone who was so deadset and keeping you down and caged.  

So, you do something you never had.

You yell at him. Tell him he’s being ridiculous, that you should be able to go out and do your own thing. All your friends were able to.

By the time you realize you’ve chosen the wrong words it’s too late. 

Your father stood to his feet, the screeching of the chair ringing in your ears as he stomped his way over to you. 

“Where did all this energy come from?” 

You felt your heart sink as he stopped in front of you, his form towering over yours as you regret even opening your mouth. 

“Was it a boy?” he hissed and you wished then and there you could take it back. The outburst, the trip, everything. But it's out now and in the open. You would have to face the consequences. “Have you met a boy and he’s gotten into your head?”

You shake your head, desperately denying the claim, but he didn’t want to hear any of it. You move to stand as well, feeling powerless from your chair and he grabs your wrist.

“You’re not going.” He spits, voice stern and grip achingly tight, “you won’t be some back alley whore as long as I’m around.”

“You’re being ridiculous!” The panic is evident in your eyes as you try to pull away and talk some kind of reasoning into him. “There’s nobody, I’m telling the truth!”

The struggle you put up to release your wrist only makes you lose your balance, dropping to the dining room floor and landing on your elbow. The pain is pushed to the back of your mind as the towering, angry man before you drops with you, pinning you to the ground.

You feel frozen as he continues, too far gone in his anger to hear you out any further. 

“What does he have that you need so badly, hm?” There’s the strong odor of liquor on his breath, he’s always had a problem with drinking. Even more so after your mother passed.

“You’re being crazy.” Your voice is a whisper, trembling in disbelief at his actions. It’s never gone this far. 

“Oh, I’m being crazy? Look at you!” His eyes are wild and you’re sure he’s lost it. “My little girl would never raise her voice at me.” 

His tone lowers and the alarms in your head start to go off as your panic swells, spilling in the form of apologies and pleads for forgiveness. Anything you could think of to end this fight and go to your room. 

He doesn’t listen to you, only murmuring odd comments about your appearance. How much you look like your mother. 

It made you feel sick. So, so sick as you realize the apologies will not work.  There are no heroes coming to save you and your guardian has gone off the deep end. 

All the lingering leers, all the not-so-casual touches in the past have led up to this. Your breathing feels heavy as your heart beats relentlessly against your chest while you try to make sense of your situation. He finally tells you that you won’t leave him. Even if he has to break you, he’ll make sure of that.

Your brain kicks into overdrive as he reaches for his belt — the chiming sound triggers your fight or flight to kick into action. 

Adrenaline pumps through your body as put all your strength into a punch that lands right against his jaw. It's not much, but it's enough to knock him off kilter as you kick — successfully knocking him off of you and shakily stand to your feet, wasting no time running for the living room. 

It’s naive to think you could make it, but you try, only to have hope crushed as he grabs the back of your shirt in his fist, keeping you locked in place and the door well out of reach. 

It couldn’t end this way, you wouldn’t let it. 

You reach for the closest thing to you and it’s a potted plant in a vase. A glass vase. You don’t think, just grab the object with all your might and swing—

It shatters and he’s down. There's blood pooling below his head, but everything is quiet. You can’t believe what you’ve done. You reach your hands out, your natural instinct to heal has become muscle memory for you, but you pull them back.

He’s out like a light. He’s done.  

You look around the silent home and realize it’s only you. No bystanders, no prying eyes. Just you. So you do the only thing you can at that moment. 

You run. 

You run as fast as you can and as far as you can. 

Your first steps to freedom. 

The air is crisp. It's the only thing you can think of as your short inhales shake your body. You can’t remember where you are, what you were doing who you were with—

Until… until there's the crack of a can, the fizz of its contents bubbling and you can smell the sugary sweet soda inside. 

Tomura is in front of you, he’s still sitting and his expression is as neutral as you’ve ever seen it, but he’s holding something out to you. His energy drink. 

You blink once, twice, three times as you look from his carmine eyes back down to the can again. He’s shoving it towards you again and you can only assume he wanted you to take it. 

So you do.

You’re careful not to touch his fingers, even though they remain gloved, and bring the can to your lips. You chanced one last glance at Tomura, worried that deep down this was some kind of test that you were sure to fail, but he had already turned back to the open city. 

The drink is sweeter than you thought and you wonder how he could even drink these — in the middle of the night, no less. But it grounds you. It gives you something else to focus on.

You turn back to the sky,

“It’s getting cold out.” You speak, wanting nothing more than to fill the silence.

“Yeah.” 

The sun is starting to rise over the horizon, the tiniest peek of light through the dark, and the buzz from the energy drink was starting to rouse in your veins.

It’s a fleeting feeling — temporary, like the hazy memories of your nightmares. 

“Do you think I did the right thing?” The question falls from your lips before you can catch it, but you don’t regret asking. 

You liked to hear Shigaraki’s opinions. 

“Yeah.” He looks off into the distance, mind as far away as his gaze. He is deep in thought and you wonder if it’s about his past. “I do.”

You wished the sky looked different — a little less gray and a little more bright. 

Like there were actually stars looking down on you both. They’re not visible with all of the light pollution of a busy city, but you wished they were. At least it would be something to keep your eye on while you sat out here with Shigaraki. 

Something to distract you from the gnawing feeling in your chest. The one that screams at you about how close you were to danger. 

It’s easy to ignore. Shigaraki makes it easy. 

He is stoic by nature, but there are little actions, small things that show you he listens. 

You’ll have to prepare for the mission soon, but right now moments like these are nice.

Fleeting, like ash in the wind.

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Can we have more tea from the mansion? 👉👈

Click here for part 4, which has links to the other three parts

Some of the upstairs floors several years ago had not yet been reinforced (as they have in the present day), and so they were quite weak and fragile. Due to this, everyone was told to be careful and not do anything like roughhousing upstairs. Well, before the floors were reinforced, there were two specific instances. Firstly, Toby got a new pogo stick and Tim warned him NOT to use it upstairs. Toby did, in fact, use it upstairs and he ended up breaking through the ceiling. The second time, Sully and Jeff had gotten into a fight, and Sully suplexed Jeff into the floor, causing both of them to go through. Toby, Jeff, and Sully were required to partake in doing the renovations.

The only time LJ and Jason have ever really had a lasting fight was before one of Jason's galas. As I've said before, he attends many balls and galas in the Underworld so he can remain in the upper class in the Underworld. Well, for these he always dresses up to the nine's in very fancy and original outfits every single time. Before an important one, LJ and Jason were joking around, but as Jason was getting dressed he told Jack to calm down. Jack did not calm down, and he ended up accidentally breaking and spilling a bottle of red wine Jason was going to gift someone on Jason's outfit. Jason was the angriest Jack had ever seen him, and the two didn't speak for months because Jason was so upset, although they talked through it eventually.

Most of the residents have a variety of stuffed animals of some kind. When Sally feels lonely, sometimes she borrows some of their plushies before returning them because she's too shy to ask for them. If anyone notices a plushie is missing, Sally sneaks the plushie next to Smile Dog and says it was him. They all know it's actually Sally, but they don't want to make her upset so they always give Smile a fake lecture and some consolation treats after.

Slender has an incinerator on the property for disposal purposes on the side of the mansion, kind of close to it. When managed correctly this causes no issue, however, Toby one day through some stuff in there he shouldn't have. This caused the incinerator to light on fire, which almost caused the mansion to light on fire. Luckily the damage once they'd finished putting it out wasn't too bad thanks to the incinerator being on concrete, but had it been on the grass Toby would have started a forest fire. Everyone has now lost privileges of access to it and only Slender may use it.

When Jeff first came to the Underworld he was scared and nervous and that caused him to lash out a lot. However, he nearly gave Slender a heart attack one day because Jeff, having to meet Zalgo (as Zalgo is aware of all residents in the Underworld and needs to be aware of any other demons bringing in humans), was not really aware that Zalgo was the king of the Underworld. In fact, he looked up at him in all his anxiety and said, quite loudly and obnoxiously, "Who the fuck is this guy? Why do I have to meet him?" Slender nearly strangled him then and there, but it was pretty obvious Jeff regretted it the moment he said it and Zalgo thought it was funny. Zalgo still teases Slender about that instance to this day.

[apocalypse-shuffle]

RED HOOD | BATFAMILY (assorted canon)

—

“Long Overdue” (Jason Todd & Batmom!Reader) and (background Bruce Wayne x Batmom!Reader)

| Reader was with Bruce in the past but grew distant after Jason’s death. No one tells her when he comes back from the dead until Bruce is forced to bring her in on a raid when they’re overwhelmed. -Jason and Batmom!Reader reunion.

| SFW, canon typical action/violence, cursing?, crying?

| This is like half fanon half UTRH/Batman:Hush. I’m really just fucking around with canon rn. Also the pictures used are just for aesthetics and have no contextual meaning to the story. (pic source - Batman: Three Jokers comic)

| 2k+ words

| parts: one, spurt, two, three, four, five, six/six point five, seven.

Ma. God, no one called you that anymore. The way your eyes begin to prickle is a clear indication.

With you Dick wasn’t the type. Once he’d worked himself up to it he’d called you mom; slightly different from the few ways he referred to his bio mother, but something shared between the two of you all the same.

And Tim? Well he wasn’t your child plain and simple. Tim still had his parents for one, and for two he was intrinsically Bruce’s. By the time he’d figured his way into the Batcave you’d been gone, most of your shit moved out of the manor, and desperately waving divorce papers Bruce refused to acknowledge in the air. You didn’t have anything to do with his indoctrination outside of exactly one instance of him finding you to ask if you’d reconsider the separation. Some Batman needed a Robin and Bruce Wayne needed his wife type shit.

Either way Tim didn’t call you any rendition of mom because you weren’t his. The most you got was him addressing you by your maiden name and then eventually your first and you were content with that.

Then if he didn’t call you mom, the girls sure as hell didn’t either. Outside of Barbara the others never even became regular conversation partners. Cass was a rare sighting in your life and Stephanie and you’s relationship would never progress past the casual advocacy you tried giving her because she was another dead Robin to add to what’s now technically a list.

At the end of the day, out of all the people who considered you a mother, only Jason added that ‘a’ and you wanted to grip that name tight and hold it to you. Break your ribs open and force it into your chest cavity. The need to fulfill that ache cuts deep and you take a step forward.

Jason startles though, undoing all his own forward progress, and you falter. That’s right. Jason didn’t like for people to touch him. Definitely didn’t like hugs either. Not surprise ones at least. Before his death you’d gotten close enough he didn’t mind when you swooped in, but now?

“Can I-? Can I hug you?” You press trembling lips together for another horrible swallow. “Please…?”

Jason jerks, two hastily aborted movements at once, before his obstructed voice meets your ears.

“Fine.”

You practically fall on him before pulling him into you. Unfortunately he’s just as stiff as his voice and you have to take a second to figure out how to slot against him.

Jason fits in your arms differently than he used to - broader and taller by a mile - but after a few beats he relaxes into them just the same. The subtle addition of weight makes a sob bubble up your throat.

You rap your knuckles on the side of the helmet.

“Take this shit off.”

He hesitates and a sharp pang manages to worm its way into the already shitty cocktail of emotions you’re feeling. It hits your spine like lightning, forces you up and has you an arms length away in half an inhale.

Maybe before now you’d been going through too much all at once for the trepidation to hit, but it was hitting now. You’d never seen Hood without- well without the Hood. Only Jumbie raised from the dead the way Jason did, and while you’d take your son anyway you could get him you wouldn’t accept some Thing parading around in his skin.

Reading your burst of movement for what it is, Jason backtracks, rising arms dropping to his sides. “Maybe I shouldn’t…”

“Jason Peter-” you inhale deeply, catching yourself, and hold a hand up to stop him. You both ignore the obvious way it trembles. “-only… if…if you want to. I’m not trying to force anything.”

He’s slow to nod, weight shifting from his left to his right leg and back again before he says something too low for you to hear. You’re about to ask him to repeat when he speaks up, this time aiming his voice somewhere around your shoulder while bowing his head.

“No, I- Alright. Just hold on.”

Haunches suitably raised and heart in your throat you pay close attention as the helmet comes up, Jason having released some catch in the back.

It goes over, the helmet clatters to the ground, and the man who stares back at you is…hard to place.

The low fluorescent lighting of the narrow room combined with the concrete walls casts soft enough shadows over his face that while his features are warped they’re not discernible. Which means you can’t completely rule out the uncanniness wafting off of him as just your brain (along with your entire perception of the universe) splinting in half.

It makes your face heat up. He looks familiar, but you can’t say you wouldn’t have passed him straight if you’d seen him on the street. He’s too big for one, even for how you’d all imagined he’d look grown up, standing more than a foot taller than the last day you saw him. Taller than malnourishment would’ve ever let him be.

The sob you let out makes you both flinch.

One hand snaps to your mouth, the other waving him off.

“I’m sorry I- I don’t-. This is just-”

Even with the way he’s leaning away from you he shakes his head. “I get it, it's fine.”

His voice is faint, cut up and hoarse like he hasn’t used it in a while, and it’s the prettiest thing you’ve heard in ages.

“Oh,” you laugh. The wet kind that makes your throat sticky. You can only stare at him, blurry form and all, words lost to you.

Eventually, after watching your fervent effort to wipe away tears that are in no way inclined to give you a break, arms crossed Jason takes a half step forward with a shrug.

“We can…try again?”

The next little laugh you let out you practically choke on but you nod all the same.

When Jason’s the first to move your heart starts speeding away like an overexcited middle school drumline. You roll with it though, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes so they’re dry enough for you to actually see him clearly for a few seconds.

When he’s directly in front of you your hands come up slowly, giving him plenty of opportunity to move away. Or maybe to vanish.

When he does neither, only giving you a guarded look, you allow yourself to touch.

Problem is, the domino mask he’s wearing very quickly gets in your way and on your nerves when you move to frame his face. Quickly feels like if it’s not gone, if you can’t see his eyes, you’ll throw up.

To stop yourself from taking the risk and ripping it off you have to take a deep breath. Have to force down the thick build up of saliva gathering in your mouth so it pushes back the bile climbing up your throat.

“I’d like to see my son, Jason. All of you.”

To emphasize your point you tap the tip of your nail against the mask. There’s no intention on your part to cross his boundary but Jason’s hands snap up to hold onto your wrists all the same.

You look into the white lenses of his domino, fingers buzzing along the corner of the mask closest to them. His mouth twists into a frown.

“Please?”

You beg with the same ferocity a grieving mother once used when begging for her child back.

“You’re asking for a lot.”

He lets go and he takes a couple steps back and you don’t cry.

No, instead you swing your hands behind you. Clasping them together in a poor attempt to stop the buzzing sensation that travels from the tips of your fingers to take over your entire hand.

“Mmm,” you incline your head. “Well. I did help a boy get over first date jitters with a made up song once. Let that same boy talk me through an entire dissertations’ worth of his analysis of Their Eyes Were Watching God - as choppy as it was - because TWMS wouldn’t allow him to present it in class. Let him skip going to that same school and cry to me for hours after the death of Gloria Stanson. Remember a knife hidden in the corner on the highest shelf in his closet, and I remember not revealing any of that when I gave his eulogy because he once asked me to keep the important things between the two of us. So you don’t have to show me, but I think I make a pretty good qualifier when it comes to keeping this safe.”

You point straight to where his heart is tucked safely behind layers of gray armor before shrugging.

From the way his brows furrow over the domino you know he’s at least thinking about it so you step away to pick up your disregarded mask and stuff it in your waistband.

One blink. Six.

“You remember Rena?”

In front of him again, you rock back on your heels. “Mhm. And the ‘how to tie a tie’ lessons me and Bruce walked you through even though you didn’t wear a suit to that date. Remember that too.”

Jason’s smile is crooked on his face but it’s nonetheless present as he makes a noise of agreement.

“I’d just wanted to spend time with you two, I was never planning on wearing a suit to go to the skating rink.”

“We figured.”

You’re rolling onto the balls of your feet when that small smile drops and he shakes his head.

“I’m not that same boy anymore.”

You take in the way he could raise his hand and so easily touch the ceiling without having to jump. You clear the phlegm from your throat.

“I can tell.”

Jason grunts and makes a general gesture indicating something somewhere behind you.

“And I got no interest in trying to live up to whatever fucked up embalment Bruce’s got going on with my burnt suit in that case.”

That suit. Bruce’s memorial. His warning. Your breath hitches as you think of the smell of crisped blood and methanol. If Jason didn’t want to talk about it you sure as shit weren’t going to.

“I will one hundred percent take that into account.” You keep it simple, rocking on your heels again. He wasn’t asking for anything unreasonable so there wasn’t really any debate to be had. “You wanna be treated as you are? I can do that.”

Moments pass once you’ve said your peace where Jason does nothing but stare at you. The only indication he’s at all alive being his shoulders still moving - and you are watching. Eyeing that tell tale up and down like your own life will end at its falter. The pattern is slow enough to come off as pacivity but the time between each rise and fall is too measured to be uncontrolled. Exactly three point eleven seconds one way and three point eleven seconds the other. Every time.

Then he sighs, curses, and the little veil of dissolvent for the adhesive that adheres the mask to his face is in his hand. A different vial and color than when he was Robin; you don’t know why you thought it’d be the same. Or why it makes your heart clench that it’s not.

Between one thrum of the fluorescent lights and the next Jason is peeling away the domino, and you would be lying if you claimed to know where it disappeared to after that. Too caught up on what he’d been hiding to track it.

Blue. Nothing more and nothing less. Just blessedly familiar, vibrant blue. Not the dull gray they’d become by the time you were given the chance to put a gruesome sight of a child six feet under.

The “Oh wow,” tumbles from you without permission and then there’s zero hope for the waterworks you’d been holding back. The levee fails and you’re bawling before you know it. Barely holding back snot and who knows what else since you already feel like screaming.

At that point there’s no carefully thought out sentence for you to spew, no more hesitancy, no more measured breathing, and linear thought. Just the crushing need to have him close to you again.

You’re rushing forward before you know.

Wrapping your arms around Jason the next go around is both the best and the worst thing. You accommodate his new size faster, already writing over the ways he used to fit against you with the ways he does so now, but he’s still so stiff and he’s not reciprocating the hug either.

Maybe you should let go. You crossed the boundary too fast. Were too reckless. You literally have training on this and now you’re crowding him.

Okay, you’re pulling away. It’s a herculean effort but you’re forcing your arms from around his middle. You’ve got to, you don’t want to scare him off. Not when you just got him back.

There’s a soft “Not yet,” mumbled into your shoulder and then arms finally come around yours and you don’t hesitate to snap your own back into place.

He’s hugging you back.

You cry a little harder and bring one of your arms up to drape across his shoulders, pulling him closer. When you start rocking and Jason copies your momentum you press a kiss onto his temple.

“Hi,” you stutter out. Another sob. “Hi baby.”

Since he’s finally letting his arms wrap around you you don’t hesitate to run dark fingers through the truly unruly mass of black curls on his head. His hairs’ damp - most likely from sweat - but cool. Probably being tempered by the cold air blowing into the room.

It’s when you press a kiss to his forehead that you feel something else wet and your breath stutters.

“It’s okay. I got you, everything’s okay,” you whisper.

“God Ma-” his voice cracks and then you can hear the sobs he’s trying to muffle into your suit. “No it’s not.”

“I know,” you sob. “I’m sorry- so so fucking sorry.”

You sniffle and pull away to see him better. Jason’s face is flushed, his eyes wet, and cheeks streaked with tears shed. You hold your hands up to frame his face for a second time and run your thumbs through the tear tracks. His chest heaves as his body tries to regulate his breathing.

Jason clears his throat, gaze boring into yours. “Hi,” he says.

You smile, finally beginning to map out his face. First you move to frame his cheeks, too feel the warmth in them. To see if they still feel familiar. They don’t; you force yourself to accept that fact without letting it show in your expression, letting out a measured exhale before continuing. You find his jaw is more defined now too, cheeks devoid of the baby fat of five years prior.

From then on brushing your thumbs along his brows, over the bridge of his nose, traveling over his ears and skirting around his hairline - it all fills your mind with incoherent cheers.

Your thumbs hover over Jason’s eyes and you hum when he closes them for you.

The skin underneath your shaved off pads is soft. The thin layer of protection allows you to feel how his eyeballs shift, to see the way his veins show stark under light skin, to clock the life thrumming through him.

It makes your heart feel so goddamn light. You can’t stop smiling at the sight of him. Eyes still wet but clear.

“I feel like such a horrible mother,” you hiccup, hands slide down so you can once again cup his face. “I barely recognize you.”

Jason’s breathing shakes nearly in tandem with yours and his eyes squeeze tighter shut, head turning away.

“Don’t.” He takes a second to look up. Look right through you. Lashes wet and glassy eyes open, voice grating over his next words. “Don’t blame yourself. It’s not your fault. I don’t blame any of you for that, but especially not you.”

What you want to do is argue. You should’ve never let him put on that suit in the first place, one fucked up son should’ve been the end of it. You should’ve dropped the case you were working the second you’d heard he’d run away and you should’ve found him. Instead you keep your thoughts personal, pinning them to your brain as if it’s a cushion so that you’ll never forget, and pull your son closer. An action which he allows, resting his head on your shoulder.

“I’m glad you’re back,” you whisper into his hair. The way he instantly shakes his head makes the cool strands tickle your jawline.

“You can’t mean that.”

“If I didn’t mean it I wouldn’t have said it, Jay.”

Jason tenses before responding, words spewing without warning.

“Yeah except I’ve killed people, and I don’t regret it, and Bruce hates that - and you probably do too - but his way isn’t good enough. The people in this city deserve better so I’m doing what’s necessary-”

And that has you bristling. He must notice too because he stops short and edges away, face steeping. Caught somewhere between wanting to leave and wanting to fully kick start an argument.

…TBC

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed! I had to split this bitch in two cause it was 5,000+ words and I’m not in the business of under-indulging myself.

Listen, I’ve looked into it. Every mother/mother figure Jason’s ever had he’s referred to as “Mom”, but me personally, I didn’t grow up addressing my own mother that way so I wanted to play around with “Ma” (differentiate a little). What's funny though, is that I’ve read Dick referring to his mother as both “Ma” and “Mom” so that’s fun.

• TWMS = Thomas Wayne Middle School

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it. this is a sideblog tho so I won’t respond.

Tagged: @aarinisreading, @niphredil-14, @mxtokko, @calsjack, @brunnetteiwik

[yoosungisbabie]

between night and morning - day three

@juminweek2019

jumin x mc

rating: T

prompt: green daylily - romantic love, "forgetting painful events from the past," "the flower that helps forget"

warnings: nightmares, slight spoilers for Jumin's route

word count: 1.4k

ao3 link

Jumin wakes from a nightmare and goes searching for comfort.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

Jumin…Jumin…

JUMIN!

Jumin snapped awake, jostling his chair and inhaling raggedly. He looked around, seeing that he was still in his living room and most importantly, still alone.

Jumin leaned forward and put his head in his hands, unable to shake himself from the nightmare he’d been awoken from quite yet. It was one in the same vein as they all were; memories he’d tried to forget even though he knew he couldn’t. Memories from his and his father’s past.

Jumin wiped the sweat from his brow and worked on slowing his breathing, keeping his eyes open and focused on the carpet beneath his chair. When he’d calmed down just slightly, he sat back up, glancing over at the paperwork he’d been working on before he unfortunately dozed off.

His eyes ached at the tiny print on the paper, and just as soon as he picked it up, Jumin put it back down and sighed slowly. He felt useless for so many reasons, and having that ridiculous nightmare made him feel less and less in control. He needed to be in control, in that moment more than ever.

An image of her flashed in his mind. His heart palpitated strangely, like it had been doing for the past few days, but it wasn’t dizzying anxiety like he’d felt just moments previous. If anything, thinking of the woman in his bed nearly made him forget why he was so on edge in the first place.

Jumin took a deep breath before he stood from his chair. After not moving for quite some time, the tension in his body was uncomfortable. He started towards his bedroom, remembering all he’d said to her last night as he felt his body untie some of its knots.

As he approached the door, he heard her light breathing and couldn’t help but smile. Peeking in, he admired the way she looked so peaceful, so carefree. He was sincerely thankful that she was able to get rest, despite all of the events that had transpired over the past week. He felt a flash of envy before it melted into gratitude for her presence.

How could he bear to let her go in the morning?

Jumin had taken a step into the room before he’d thought about it, unable to think of a reason that made sense for him not to move closer.

He stopped just next to the bed, able to hear her breathing much more clearly and realizing his own breaths had calmed back to normal.

Staring down at her, the only label for the emotion that was burning in his chest was love. He was in love with her. The feeling itself was not what frightened him, but the thought was horrifying. How could he love someone, let alone someone he’d met only days ago?

In multiple instances, his father had been beguiled by women he mistakenly put his trust in. He watched him ponder over it and inevitably give in, no matter how much Jumin urged him to see reason. Eventually, Jumin stopped trying.

But as soon as he no longer outwardly cared, that’s when those women began to focus on him too. The thought nearly brought him back into his nightmare, blinding rage flashing across his vision.

MC shifted in the bed in front of him, pulling him from his thoughts. It felt almost wrong to be upset in her presence. How could he lose himself in thought when she was right in front of him?

Jumin sat down slowly, working to clear his mind as he watched her sleeping peacefully. His eyes scanned over her face, taking a long look at her lips. Her kiss was like magic, some kind of force he’d only read about in books. Thinking of her smile made his chest feel fuzzy, and when he moved to look down at himself out of slight worry, Jumin realized he’d laid down next to her.

He paused, feeling his heart rate quicken. He had never lost control like he did when he was with her. It perplexed him, but he was equally as confused as to why he didn’t want that fact to change.

She was so close to him in that moment, so beautiful and so serene. His hand moved out towards her, lingering above her face before he brushed the back of his index finger along her cheek. Her deep breaths shallowed, prompting Jumin to wonder about how heavily she slept.

Taking his hand back, he waited as she returned to a deeper sleep, his eyelids growing heavier as he lay beside her. After a moment, he reached out again, pulling the blanket back over her shoulder. This time, he couldn’t pull away, and he rested his hand on her upper arm. She was warm, contrasting with his cool hand. He felt the hairs stand up on his arm, his fingers tightening around her minutely. She reacted with a short, low hum from the back of her throat, but she didn’t move an inch.

Despite the feeling that was burning in his throat, Jumin decided to let her rest, praying that he would have time to explore his curiosities on another calmer night.

A thought flashed in his mind for him to remove himself from the bed, from her arm, but the thought was quickly buried by fatigue. Jumin worked to keep his eyes open, to look at her for just a second longer, but his exhaustion got the better of him.

Hours later, when the sun had begun to rise, Jumin innately roused. Some days he wished that his bodily rhythm would allow for longer sleep, especially this past week.

He willed his eyes open, starting to sigh before his breath caught in his throat in panic. Her face was inches from his, and as the blood began to rush through his body, he realized that she was touching him too. She was still asleep, breathing slowly as Jumin looked down to see both her hands outstretched to him. One of them was draped over his upper arm, her hand reaching down towards his back, and the other had a small handful of his shirt. It had come slightly untucked in the night, leaving just enough fabric to be gripped by her hand just above his heart.

Jumin looked over her features, knowing that his heart should be racing with anger, resentment, or guilt. But when he searched, there was nothing but peace and eagerness to learn more about her. To hold her like she was holding him, and to love and cherish her for the amazing soul she’d offered to him in kindness. He would forever be indebted to her for the solace she’d provided him in his lowest moments.

Jumin watched her until drowsiness began to take over him once more. He was tempted to stay, to let her hold him as long as she wanted, but he knew he needed to keep himself grounded. It was important for him to let her go today or else there would be no possibility of them being together in the future. He had to regrettably detach from her, just for today, just enough to let her leave, so that he could be bound to her forever.

Jumin longed to reach forward and press a kiss to her cheek, her forehead, her nose, but he didn’t want to wake her so early. He slowly began to move backward out of her embrace, holding his breath as she twitched and took her arm back. But her hand still gripped his shirt, and even as he continued to move, that fact didn’t change.

Jumin reached down, his fingertips brushing over her wrist as a test before he gently placed his hand over hers. Hooking his pinkie finger under hers, he pulled her hand from his shirt achingly slow, nearly hearing his heart rate pick up as she latched on to his finger instead. Jumin placed their joint hands on the bed in front of him, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb until he could pull his finger free. The loss of warmth from her touch made his chest ache in a way he had become too familiar with these past few days, but he steeled himself.

Standing from the bed, he imagined himself waking up with her every day, kissing her good morning, and leaving her to sleep more. Jumin felt a small smile come to his lips, shaking his head and lightly scolding himself for daydreaming.

Taking one last look at her, he left the room, closing the door behind himself and realizing he finally felt rested.

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thank you for reading! thank for you for all the support on my first two days! I have had long nights and work, so I know I'm late, and then on top of that, I got a concussion this morning...

but! I'm still going strong, and I'll do my best to catch up! (even though I shouldn't be looking at screens ladglsjbgljgb)

mel x

[demonslayedher]

Yushiro & Takeuchi friendship headcanons

--Takeuchi got through the final battle relatively unscathed, so he is quick to check up on Yushiro in the aftermath. Having just lost Tamayo and still being overwhelmed by everything, Yushiro just wants to hide and be swallowed up by his emotions for a while, so Takeuchi's company was initially unwelcome, but it turns out to be really good for Yushiro and he unloads more than he thought he would. Takeuchi is a little confused and can't put all the pieces together, but he it accepts it pretty readily.

--Takeuchi continues to enforce his friendship and company upon Yushiro, even once Yushiro insists he's fine by himself (with Chachamaru, whom Tamayo especially left to him). Takeuchi can't be dissuaded so Yushiro gives in and lets him hang around.

--If there's one thing Takeuchi knows about demons, it's that they are ravenous for human flesh, so it finds it concerning that Yushiro never seems hungry, so this leads to Yushiro explaining why he's a special case who subsists on small amounts of blood collected in ways that don't harm humans. He doesn't like that he has to consume it at all, though. Takeuchi offers his own blood again; because he was a strong Breath-powered swordsman, consuming his blood would mean Yushiro could subsist on even less blood. Yushiro refuses because he'd rather pay poor people who need the money; Takeuchi has a Corp pension and doesn't need it. (More so, it's because Yushiro would find it too weird to consume the flesh of someone he knows personally.) This is an ongoing bit in their friendship, Takeuchi continuing to offer and Yushiro continually refusing.

--Takeuchi takes up painting (based on a Murata-related headcanon stated in this one-shot about Murata & Giyuu finally getting dinner together), and he's eager to show Yushiro one of his early works. The most beautiful thing he could think to paint was a sunrise, for it was always such a long-awaited moment throughout many battles Takeuchi fought while in the Corp. Then it occurs to him that Yushiro doesn't get to appreciate such a beautiful sight, which is why he wants to give him that painting. Yushiro, too much of a tsundere to accept it, snaps back that no sunrise could ever be as lovely as Tamayo was. Takeuchi, not offended, sadly states that he never saw Tamayo, so he wouldn't know. Now in an awkward position for having snapped at someone who did a nice thing, Yushiro has to follow through and attempt to show Takeuchi what Tamayo looked like by making a painting of her. Yushiro has a natural talent for it, and Takeuchi is stunned and praises his skills, but Yushiro is frustrated by not having managed to capture her beauty or essence. He has to try painting another. And another. And another. And another.

--Since Yushiro has already lived a long time, it's hard to see Takeuchi as an equal at first; he seems like a small child. Little by little, it's like watching Takeuchi grow up. For instance, one night Takeuchi happily announces that he's courting the daughter of an old wisteria house who he was always sweet on, some months later he's heartbroken because she was only dating him out of a lingering obligation to the Corp. Yushiro winds up falling into a lot of self-reflection about how hard it must had always been for Tamayo to see him as anything more than a child, for the gap between them was so large that even feelings as deep and sincere as his own could never overcome it. This is around the time Yushiro starts really accepting the companionship of Takeuchi, Tanjiro, and Kiriya (whom he sees like more of an equal more quickly than he did with others, seeing as Kiriya has experience beyond his years than closes the gap Yushiro feels with others).

--Takeuchi, despite being busy with the never-ending affairs of the human world and eventually raising his own family, always makes sure to pop in on Yushiro, for he knows Yushiro will never go out of his own way to seek company. It has to be forced upon him. Yushiro acts annoyed when Takeuchi visits him, but he is always a gracious host and they spend hours talking together. Chachamaru says hello and accepts some petting from Takeuchi but typically stays on Yushiro's lap. Yushiro doesn't drink it, but he serves Takeuchi black tea in fancy dishes, and they sit around on velvet chairs in a low-lit basement filled with Yushiro's paintings. Takeuchi never stops with his outpourings of praise and wonder for Yushiro's talents.

--Takeuchi brings Yushiro new copies of "The Legend of Zenitsu" so he can laugh and be entertained by Yushiro's scathing reviews of them. Takeuchi doesn't know this, but Zenitsu brought out an inferiority complex Yushiro can't stand to admit even to himself; it drives him mad how Zenitsu could paint Nezuko with such perfection on a first try, and in his defensiveness he insists it's because Zenitsu has the model to look at. Yushiro pulls from years of dedicated observation that has honed his memory, so their works can't even be compared (or at least, that's what he tells himself).

--Takeuchi eventually falls ill, and Yushiro goes out of his way to pay visits to him. Takeuchi tries to stay positive about it, but the frustration of feeling himself get weaker and weaker and his own inescapable mortality do get to him from time to time. He tries to be as brave as the people who didn't survive their battles in the Corp, but it's hard. He jokingly insists that even though he's weak and wouldn't make for an appetizing meal anymore, he wishes Yushiro would just eat him for his own sake now, if it gives Takeuchi some means of living forever. But that's all it is, a joke. Yushiro, having been in Takeuchi's position before, is heartbroken to watch him go through it, but admires Takeuchi for handling it so much more bravely.

--He's not able to say so at first, but eventually Yushiro is able to open up and talk about his own experiences with illness, and how he would never wish it upon anyone, he has no regrets about being a demon, for even without Tamayo, he still has a zest for life.

--It's a long decline, but Yushiro hangs around as a hospice nurse, and especially as a friend. By this time, he and Takeuchi truly feel like equals. After Takeuchi's peaceful passing, Yushiro doesn't really keep in touch with them, but he keeps a special eye on on Takeuchi's descendants.

[ihugzminseo]

needed me. pjh x reader. part I.

pairing : toxic!gf!jihyo x afab!reader

synopsis: 5 years. 5 years of hell to you, 5 years of sadism to her. 5 whole years, you and jihyo have been on and off. why? she's toxic. it's completely insufferable the way she treats you, because she just treats you so badly. that is, outside of bed. god, she's so good in bed. but the on and off is too much, so you decide to leave her. for all. as you said the previous three times. so, you inevitably come crawling back, because you both know deep down, you need her.

warning : non-idol au, unnie!jihyo (jihyo is 27, reader is 25), slight s&m, possessive!gf!jihyo

word count : 0.7k

a/n : this is the first (of many) songfics!! this fic is heavily inspired by needed me by rihanna (hence the title ykyk); 

to feel a little more, and give a little less. know you hate to confess, but baby, ooh, you needed me.

disclaimer : this fic has been on the brain for a while, but PLEASE, for the love of all things sacred, do NOT by any means depend on a partner, especially one that's toxic. speaking from experience, it crushes you. seek the help needed, and do not lean on them. at all. this is a work of art, and does not depict any real life instances.

october 2nd. today would've been you and jihyo's five year anniversary. and hypothetically, it is. because this is the day you two got together. for the first time. you weren't fond of college, so you applied for a part time job as a boutique assistant. you've worked at this boutique for nearly eight years, and jihyo was a fairly frequent customer. from her long dark hair, to her big doll-like eyes, to her sweet-as-honey voice, you were in love.

you could go on and on about what you loved about her. her hair looked so healthy, you hated big eyes but godthey suited her so well, her figure was everything you aspired for, her style was top tier but most of her clothes were from the boutique you worked at anyways, her voice was so sweet sounding it drove you crazy. and most of all, she always came directly to your register. not your coworkers, you. and god forbid you were out one day, she'd have another one of your coworkers hold whatever she was planning to check out that day and she'd come back when you came back.

it seemed like the people around you could sense the chemistry between you and jihyo before either of you even sensed it yourself. jihyo had only been shopping there for four or five years, but she was so inclined to walk right over to you, as if she'd known you since day one. and a stranger would think you had on really tacky makeup with the way you blushed everytime she came around.

the two of you initially only engaged in small talk, but that led to the two of you having genuine conversations while you checked her out, like you were two best friends meeting over coffee. and she was just such a sweetheart, it damn near hurt.

she'd smile and nod while you spoke, pretty long lashes batting against her cheekbones when she blinked. and when she spoke? you could listen to her forever. she spoke slowly, almost sensually, and that smile she'd had while on the receiving end of the conversation never faded. she would "unintentionally" touch your hand while handing you her card, feeling the rough prongs of all your rings against her soft hands.

and one day, she slid you something while you took her card. a sheet of paper. "call me? XXX-XXXX-XXXX ♡" . didn't even take you a second to reread it, just a glance up mimicking her sweet smile and a mouthed "you got it".

in all honesty, you hadn't really expected her to pick up. you'd expected to listen to that eardrum-bursting ringing sound for the next 20 seconds before you were eventually told to leave her a message. but, it was definitely a bit of a shock to hear that honey-like voice answer the call with a "aww, you remembered to call?". her voice was much raspier than usual, and she tripped over her words trying to say 'remembered'. jihyo was drunk, very obviously drunk at that.

"jihyo, you sound drunk. really drunk. are you alright?" did it feel right outwardly asking that? no, but it was on your mind so you did. what wasn't on your mind was hearing "you don't question your elders, y/nnie. im not drunk." three things. one, you could hear the slur in her voice. two, she was a really bad liar. three, elder? she didn't look much older than you, so you hadn't thought to address her as such.

"elder? jihyo we look the same age." was all you could get out. jihyo was charismatic, but understanding what she said was like a rubik's cube. "i can just tell im older than you, im 27 y/nnie. and you look younger than i do." oh. 27. like you'd thought, she's barely older than you. 2 years was not that much of a difference, but it must've counted for something to the pretty drunkard on the other end. "i see. jihyo, im 25 though. you're like, barely older than i am."

should've stopped talking earlier. wayyy earlier. as you learned, jihyo didn't really like being proven wrong.

"so? im still older, even if it is 2 years. so be respectful." her voice was still raspy but now it sounded like she was almost snarling at you. god, you would've hung up right then and there if you knew what your misplaced quick wit and her very well hidden sadism would do to you. because it did barely anything, if anything at all, right.

[mapofthemazeinthemirror]

I have been meaning to yap to you about this because I am a certified mafia jjun enjoyer but….listen!

two things: one (1) reader is hired by said mafia group to protect the leader (yeonjun) gosh I imagine like enemies to lovers? she hates yeonjun at first, and thinks he’s so so mean. At first he thinks “how is she going to protect me?” but she’s protecting him more than physically. he eventually eases up on her and ends up being mean to everyone but her. gahhh something about meanie jjunie that has a soft spot gets me.

two (2) this might be quick but reader and mafia boss tyun being from rival families, but they cross paths and end up falling for each other. aaaah forbidden romance <3

ASH I LOVE YOUR MIND. Thank you for feeding me with this. I’ve been craving gang txt ever since the new gbgb choreo, the part where it looks like they’re fighting 🫢 Number two (2) with Taehyun is so yummy, just imagine the banter they'd have with each other!

words: 1.8k oops

warnings: a bit of workplace discrimination, mentions of attacks, criminal activity, blood briefly, treating wounds, probably too soft at the end

If there’s one thing you’re going to do, it’s do your job damn well regardless of your personal feelings towards the man you’ve been hired to protect – and especially if said man seems to think you’re not fit for the job. It appeared Yeonjun was not pleased when you first showed up to work, pulling a member of his team aside and having what looked like a tense conversation. It only made you more intent on proving your position. You often butted heads, unable to agree on the right approach to many things. Yeonjun prioritized quick gains, confrontations and aggressive plays, recurrently willing to forgo his security or the safety of the more expendable members of his organisation to get what he was after. On the other hand, you wanted him to undertake less risky tactics, ones that were better for his reputation, his long-term safety. There were a couple of instances where he tried to plan some dealings without you, locking you out of his office and leaving you to stand outside fuming and trying to hear what little of the discussion you could through the crack in the door. The men took you even less seriously after that stunt – if the boss didn’t respect you, why should they?

Using your intel, you cleverly plan out routes for the driver to take that steer clear of trouble. At first Yeonjun is annoyed and questions the detour, but later that night, he learns through his informant that police were doing a random car check on the usual route, due to the crimes of a gang in the area. When he thanks you the following morning, you think you've earned the respect you've been craving. However, the good feeling doesn't last. As the day goes on, not only does Yeonjun give you his drink order, as if you're a simple assistant or coffee runner, he also laughs at a joke one of his men makes about you, right in front of you.

And maybe from time to time you fantasize about the young, stupidly good looking, ridiculously well dressed mafia boss getting what he deserved; about letting his laundering fall through, letting his shipment go to the wrong country, or turning a blind eye to the betrayal of one of his most valuable men that you have discovered. But you're a professional, and professionals don't let their sour thoughts derail their career.

It's only when the truth about the disloyalty of Yeonjun's right hand man is laid out for him that things begin to change. You had supplied all the proof, having hired a private investigator of sorts to get the incriminating photos you needed, accumulating dirt on the man who was Yeonjun's favourite, his oldest friend in the business, until there was no room for doubt in his mind.

What you hadn't expected was for the boss to show up at your place a few days after your exposé, looking more exhausted than you'd ever seen him. The betrayal had hit him hard. He seemed despondent as he glanced around at the place you lived, showing no reflection of his opinion. You weren't even sure how much he was taking in with those tired dark eyes. His hair was not to his usual standard, and his coat which was usually tied fashionably at his waist hung open and loose on his thin frame. You felt more awkward standing before him in this state than you ever had when he'd been laughing at your expense. You offered him a seat but he turned it down. All you could do was stare and wait for him to speak.

“I'm very grateful,” he began. His voice was hoarse, bringing a deepness to it you'd never known. Finally he looked you straight in the eye for the first time since he'd arrived. “I never would have seen it for myself. I was blinded by my… If you hadn't disclosed this to me…” It was the first time you'd seen him struggle to articulate himself. You nodded in understanding, and he seemed relieved.

After that, you were given a raise – a silent one, since he applied it without saying anything to you about it – and an office of your own. Not only did the jokes and snide comments from the other men stop, but they seemed to eye you with caution, some with reverence. You had become the one Yeonjun trusted most, the one he came to with his concerns, and nobody would ever question your value again. Not unless they wanted to face the boss's fury.

Things have been good for a while: you love your job – and maybe, as much as you hate to admit it, your boss, just a little bit? – when something unforeseeable happens. You're busy handling communications when you spot Yeonjun's ride pull up in the underground lot on the security monitor. Watching as the two front doors of the vehicle swing open and both the driver and the ridealong dash to open the back doors, your anxiety is thrown into gear. Then Yeonjun stumbles out from the back seat. You're on your feet before you see them check him over, out the door before he can wave them off.

By the time he's in the building, there are more men around him, asking questions and putting their hands on his shoulders in concern. He shakes them all off in annoyance, ordering them to get back to work. As the men fall away he spots you standing by, and he softens. When he approaches, you see the sharp red lines that are scratched into the side of his face, notice the bloody cuts on his hand as it sweeps his black hair up over his forehead.

“What happened?” you ask when he reaches you, even though you have a pretty good idea in your mind. You need to know anyway, as you keep a record of all offenses committed against him.

“It was an ambush,” he says simply. He watches your hands take his bigger ones from his sides and turn them over, inspecting. His hands suddenly feel cold in contrast to your warm skin as you make contact.

“Are you okay?” You glance briefly up to his eyes, indicating that your question does not refer to his obvious abrasions.

“That bullet proof glass might need a touch up,” he states rather matter-of-factly in reply, looking away from you. He sounds so nonchalant, as if it's not a big deal. Your heartbeat has picked up significantly, an unexpected reaction to hearing about danger that has already passed, and you realise that a threat to Yeonjun's safety means more to you than it should; more than a professional responsibility for his security.

You usher him into his office and locate the medical kit. This is the first time you'll be putting your first aid training to good use, you muse silently as you pull the lamp down close to Yeonjun's face. It's an intimate position you've found yourself in; Yeonjun seated on the large plush sofa while you hover above him, one knee on the seat of the sofa to steady yourself. You don't even register that your knee is between his spread legs, so focused on treating his injuries. You've never touched him before, and yet it feels like one of the most natural things you've ever done as you work instinctively, the fingers of your non-dominant hand along his cheek without your noticing. His warm eyes, which had seemed distant just a moment ago, check your face occasionally, until he abandons subtlety and they unabashedly train on you as you treat him, lit by the glow of the lamp. You try not to notice it, though you definitely do.

“I usually do this myself,” he says quietly as you reach for a new cloth and the bottle of disinfectant once more. The tug of a lazy smile appears on his mouth. “This is much better.”

Your eyes meet his, and all at once you feel much too warm. Now that you're not concentrating, you notice the placement of your knee, and your whole body seems to come alive. Retracting it as casually as possible, you hold your hand out to him, hoping your flushed state will go unnoticed. The feeling of his palm against yours sends sparks through you, making you feel like a stupid high schooler. He's still smiling, which makes it even harder to ignore. You suppose he's used to his life being threatened, used to targeted attacks, and that's how he's so calm after the ambush. Unless the starry look in his eyes speaks of an oncoming concussion.

He doesn't flinch once as you disinfect his scrapes and cuts. You're glad there's no glass to be picked out of the wounds. He watches everything you do quietly, and you find yourself having to remind yourself to breathe occasionally. It's new to be this close to him, and you don't hate it – not in the slightest. Most of his wounds are superficial, thanks to the bullet proof glass, and once you've applied coverings to the cuts on his hands, you're all finished. When you go to move the lamp away, you notice that his face has changed. He looks drained now, all his earlier charm and blasé attitude abandoned, maybe a little paler than usual even under the warm light, and you wonder if he's starting to feel the effects of the ordeal.

“I'll get you some water,” you tell him. Before you can move away, you feel his fingers softly grasp your hand. Your eyes come back to his face in surprise.

“Wait,” he says, a little weakly. His eyes are looking away from you, his brow quirked as though he's trying to figure something out. “I'm fine. Can you- can you just…”

There's only been one other time he's not been sure of his words before, and he'd been through something rough then, too. Something inside you begins to warm up and slowly melt as you realise that Yeonjun is not as unbothered on the inside as he plays on the outside. He may be tough, but he's not invincible. He may have had this kind of attack on his life before, he might even be used to it or expect it, but his body still undergoes the shock, even if it’s a delayed reaction.

His eyebrows are still slightly furrowed as he looks up at you. Without words and with the gentlest, smallest tug at your hand which you may not have noticed in another circumstance, which could probably have been played off as nothing if it had been rejected, he asks you to stay. You can't hide the smile that twitches at your lips. With something that feels like courage coursing through you, you step towards him. Turning slightly, you set yourself down on his lap and feel him relax. His arm winds around you to keep you snug to him and you lean your head onto his shoulder, getting a breath of expensive cologne. He sighs deeply before breathing evenly, dropping into a deep rest.

You're content like this, though you never imagined being this close to him, glad that he's resting when he clearly needs it, and proud that you could help. If this is how you can protect him physically, even if it's only in this small way, you'll take it. Though, in your head you've already begun thinking through methods of retaliation to whichever rival faction made this attempt on his life.

[irisposts]

rosyln - reader x ellie

part two & part three

a short blurb of ellie taking the drunk reader home and they have a cute interaction

highly recommend playing the song roslyn by bon iver while reading this :) might make ian extended version idk lemme know

You’re eyes caught Ellie’s the first day she came to school—the first day that her and Joel had fully assimilated into Jackson’s society. She sat in the back, head turned to the window. Seemingly lost in thought, she’d do that the entire first week. Ellie spoke only if she was spoken too. Having enough of it, you gathered the courage to approach her. It was like a match made in heaven, the two of you were inseparable and eventually you’d introduce her to your own group of friends. On one instance you ask if she wanted to sneak out of Jackson for the night with those friends. To your surprise she accepted. Without much care, you, Dina, Jessie, and Ellie left jackson. Only to be swarmed by infected, you remember distinctly how a stalker clawed it’s way over to ellie. And how you climbed atop of it,

“and slashed its throat, I mean clean off the fuckin bone…and that my friends… is how ellie is with us today.” You drunkly rest a hand atop Ellie’s shoulder. Giving it a gentle squeeze, you notice her stiffen under your touch.

The group of your friends squished around the campfire laugh amongst themselves. Cat throws a knowing look to Ellie, you catch Dina watching that interaction with intensity. Jessie chuckles to himself at the memory, “God, weren’t we stupid?”He shakes his head.

“Yeah.” Ellie let’s out a sigh. Bringing a bottle of booze up to her lips. She takes a quick swig, her head thrown back. “You totally saved my life, y/n” her head drops, eyes falling down to yours. There’s the slightest grin on her lips.

“Your welcome.” You scrunch your nose, and find your arms looping into Ellie’s. Your cheek rests along her arm.

Pat, one of the youngest of the group whistles at the interactions.

“Fuck off.” Flustered, Ellie looks to the group of people watching. Her hands smooths down the hair atop of your head. “It’s been a long night,” Ellie bends to get a better look at you. But you’re in your own mind, blabbering about nonsense at a whisper. “I should take her home.”

Jesse claps his hands together, then let’s a hand rest on top of Dina’s knee. “You need any help?”

Ellie starts to lift you up. Letting your body weight lean against her. “Nah,” Ellie pulls your arm over her shoulder. “I got her.”

Your chest thumps st the feeling of Ellie’s hand along your waist. Her fingers slightly digging into your skin. You slightly sober up, a new found energy flows through your body.

You two wobble away from the little crowd. You try to wave back to them, but Ellie almost you drags you away.

You inhale the cool air, admiring the lights of both the sky and of jackson. You close your eyes, letting the sound of both your footsteps trudging through the snow fill your ears. You think back to when you were younger, and how incredibly close you and Ellie both were. You still were close, but in recent years, Ellie’s become more distant. The smiles and puns, becoming a rare occurrence. You now open your eyes, looking over to Ellie. Admiring the redness on her nose and cheeks. The small white snowflakes sticking to her lashes. The soft cloud of her breath in the winter air.

“Mm,ithinkiwannastaywithyoutonight.” You mumble, squishing yourself closer to ellie.

She looks at you with curiosity. “What?”

You roll your eyes. You lick at your lips trying to simmer this burn of alcohol in your chest, but also utilize the sudden confidence it’s given you. “I don’t…want to go home.” Ellie furrows her brows. You look up with those determined eyes. “I want,” you poke a finger at her chest. “to go home with you….”

You finger is just above her heart and you swear you feel it thump beneath your touch. The two of you are stopped in the middle of town, snow fluttering down around you. Ellie stands frozen—that hand still on you’re waist. Her eyes dart to your left eye, then to your right, and down to your lips. To your surprise, Ellie raises her hand. It ever so slightly cups at your cheek, her thumb rubbing softly at the rosiness below your eyes. “Okay.” with a soft smile, “…let’s go home.”

Your gaze softens with a feeling that can only equate with love…

[blackpatrxnum]

(too many) thoughts and headcanons on life post mockingjay for hayffie and everlark

- it's just pure fluff with some hurt/comfort thrown in there, whoopsie -

Haymitch becoming Katniss' caretaker is so beautiful, I truly see him keeping sober after the war - maybe he bingedrank once back at twelve because the old demons are hard to chase away, but the next day when he sees Katniss depressed he realises he is far more useful sober. He had to take care of her, he still had a purpose. He is slowly helping her get better, maybe accompanying her to the woods for the first few times. He's just there

And even though Peeta goes back home, moves in with her, loves her, keeps the nightmares at bay... Haymitch keeps coming back, keeps making dinner for them, keeps going on walks, teasing, fussing a bit (it seems like he's learnt a lot from effie)

One time, when Peeta and Katniss both have influenza, Haymitch goes full doctor/dad mode - and for the first time, a highly feverish Katniss calls him dad. I'd see Haymitch stopping whatever he was doing for a sec and fight back at smile and then giving Katniss a kiss on her forehead and telling her a less charged version of stay alive.

Eventually, I think that Effie would come to 12. She'd move into Haymitch's house and at first, that feat would bring Katniss and Haymitch even closer. Effie was everywhere, she nagged and she prodded, she got on his nerves. So Haymitch sometimes runs away to Katniss' house, he took solace in the other's kindred spirit. They'd have a laugh, she'd let him bitch about her. She liked Effie but she didn't know her well enough yet. I think in these instances Peeta would be either at the Bakery or he just knew to let them have their time, he saw what they were to each other, how important they were for the other's well being.

But then, during the last months leading up to Prim's death anniversary, right around the time Katniss starts closing in on herself, getting broodier - moodier. Haymitch and Effie's relationship changes, after months of living together, learning their tricks and ticks; they fall in love, properly, absolutely. Haymitch gets lost on the high of the honeymoon stage. It also serves as a bit of a coping mechanism to keep the nightmares and horror from the war at bay.

It's not that he ignores Katniss, or Peeta for that matter. He's just... less aware, looks at everything with rose coloured glasses. After a long time, they are fine, content. The past is past.

Katniss feels like Effie is EVERYWHERE. She's the only one out of the three victors that isn't as happy with her presence. Effie loves Katniss, she considers Katniss as hers but Katniss isn't there... yet. (I feel like this would steem from her own relationship with her biological parents' - her dad left, he couldn't help it, he died but he always took care of her and her family, he taught her how to survive / SEE THE PARALLELISM WITH HAYMITCH TELLING KATNISS TO STAY ALIVE / but her mum... she abandoned her, from a young age, Katniss had to make do, she put bread on the table, she protected Aster and Prim, and her mom at the end, once again, CHOSE to leave her behind)

So yeah, Katniss is naturally wary of Effie, pair that with her Capitol self and it could be a recipe for disaster. At some point, they'd have a row - she says stuff that hurts Effie to her core - and Haymitch hates that. He tries to mediate but he gets "scalded". Katniss starts to avoid them, him. She gets worse. The demons are louder than ever.

And Haymitch two weeks into it, finally has to take matters into his own hands. They fight like they've never done before. Katniss yelling "You're not my dad" stops them in their tracks, 'cause at some point Haymitch really forgot. He just thought they didn't do the mushy shit and say it, there was no need for more acknowledgement after that feverish night. She was his to protect, she was his to care for, she was his to love.

It'd hurt him more than he'd let on.

They'd sulk, for a bit. Haymitch would storm out, but he'd also be the one to patch them up. I think they'd talk. It would go well, even though they're not such open books. They'd compromise. They'd acknowledge in the open air what they meant for the other. They'd move on. I think this would be the point when they start working on the Tributes book; because Katniss needs to do something with all the grief inside her. The woods and the happy family was not cutting it anymore.

And the four of them would sometimes get better, other times' they'd get worse. But they're always there for each other, like proper family. After sometime Katniss would leave behind the flight/fight mode. And yeah, life goes on.

I see her relationship with Effie getting better, to the point that sometimes she goes to her instead of Haymitch for stuff. Because she knows she won't leave. She learns to accept her flaws, she learns to love her happier and more optimistic demeanor. Effie also lets Katniss see, finally, the other side to her - the more human, vulnerable side that only Haymitch was privy to. Peeta's always seen through the cracks tho, so it doesn't surprise him as much. Peeta does know he's hers. Katniss learns to see herself as hers too.

And Peeta's and Katniss' wedding comes. They're forced to make a bigger spectacle than what they wanted to. Mama Effie and Papa Haymitch come to the rescue and fight to get them as much privacy as they can. Effie plans the whole thing to their liking.

I think she'd insist on adding a bit of Capitol tradition to it: the bride and the groom spending the night before the wedding apart. At first Effie would spend the night at Peeta's and Katniss' house, to keep him company in case he has an episode. And Katniss would go to Hayffie's. But Peeta makes a funny comment "It's not like you and Effie are getting married too, there's no need to make you suffer through the night alone" and Haymitch...just gets this little twinkle in his eyes. They accept with the promise that if Peeta has any troubles he'd come to them. So Katniss is the one that spends the night at Hayffie's.

They'd have a mostly quiet night in, Effie has more outward nerves than anyone else. The next day, Effie wakes Katniss up with her "big big day". But in a flurry she's gone to Peeta's, to make sure he gets dressed and is right on schedule. It also gives Katniss and Haymitch a bit of space to sneak out to the comfort of the woods for a bit. They make sure to come back before Effie catches them. She comes back to help Katniss get ready, she's teary eyed. Haymitch too, when he sees Katniss coming down the stairs. She looks soft, beautiful.

Effie leaves with Peeta, 10 minutes before them. Haymitch is in charge of getting Katniss to the justice building, that's when she asks him to give her away. And he does. The whole thing is perfect.

After an evening of partying, they bid their farewells. And go to have their private toasting. Peeta and Katniss want this part to be just theirs.

It's winter so at Effie's and Haymitch's the fire is roaring too. And she gets... curious; she's never been privy to that part of twelve customs so Haymitch takes the hands on approach and shows her how it's done. Effie understands what he's doing halfway through, Haymitch can see the recognition in her eyes. The slight stopping, the widening and surprise in her gaze. But she lets him go on, doesn't stop him even when he leaves enough space for her to make a run for it during the last part. He says wife, she says husband and she kisses him with all her fervor. All the love she has for him, all the love she's kept from him during their time as escort and victor.

She still makes him promise they'll have a proper party after a year.

They don't tell the kids what they've done tho. That ceremony is only theirs too.

[b3achysurfur]

If we notice in the webtoon, Taylor and Ben are the only ones who have not been seriously injured...

Aiden was crushed

Tyler was impaled

Ashlyn had a concussion

Logan ended up with a big cut on his side

Do you think something worse could happen to Taylor and Ben?

I think eventually all of them will face some sort of serious injury, so I highly doubt Ben and Taylor will be safe. I think ashlyn and Logan will also get more deadly wounds soon (hope Logan is first in line 🙏)

But I do find it interesting that they are the only two unharmed. Especially since they had a mini romance going on in S1. awwww I miss them 😢

Whats also interesting is how impulsive, destructive, and agressive Taylor has been lately as well as her increased screentime 😈

We’ve also unfortunately seen Logan get a lot of panels lately as well. And idk if u guys remember S1 but Tyler, ashlyn, and Aiden were the ones who got a lot of attention. But now that Tyler and Aiden are out , the attention has shifted to Taylor and Logan. But not Ben!!!!! (I want more Ben screentime, fuck Logan no body gaf what’s going on with him 😒 tell me ab Benny boy NOOOWWWW!!!!!!)

my point is Taylor or Logan may be the next to experience a major event. They’ve also been the ones exhibiting the most “phantom traits” , MOSTLY Taylor tho. also there’s a few other things that point to Taylor being in harms way very soon.

but basically the signs are telling me Taylor is gonna go through smth much worse than what’s happening rn. Back to Taylor and Ben’s relationship tho. Ben always tries to give back to things that treat him well, idrk how to word it. In S1 Taylor is very considerate of the whole group, but there are a few instances where she focuses on him.

in S2, ben mirrors this act by physically protecting her and attempting to comfort her to the best of his abilities

taylor leans into this comfort and support, even if it’s only by a little. taylor needs people, and ben can easily become her person. they both value their family and friends a lot and are willing to put their lives on the line/distance themselves if it means protecting them. they both have lost someone who has guided them out of a dark time in their life to the phantom dimension. they both are kind hearted people who are gentle. they are both a pea to someone’s pod (Aiden and Ben, Taylor and Tyler). they understand each other better than anyone else.

Ben cares about Taylor a lot. we don’t get scenes of them like we do with aidlyn anymore, but we do get little snippets. he is willing to protect her , even if it puts himself at risk. HE COVERED HER COMPLETELY WITH HIMSELF!!! HE DIDNT EVEN COVER HIS HEAD OR ANYTHINGG IGHWHEHA!!??? He had been holding her in place ever since the phantom had started chasing them. HE CARES SM IT HURTS ME.

ben has been such a neglected character, but I don’t think this was for no reason. I believe Ben’s time will come. I was honestly expecting a reaction out of him when Aiden ‘died’ but we got aidlyn so idrc 😈🙏. anyways a lot of people want to see Ben tweak AND I DO TOO!!! but you also have to remember, him not getting mad and bearing with the situation shows how much he has grown from his past. Ben has intense anger issues that he’s HEAVILY ashamed of. keeping himself in check is already hard enough with day to day triggers, but add his new phantom situation onto that? mans is STRUGGLING, but since it’s in silence no one ever talks ab it 🙁 we’ve seen Tyler crack under this pressure, Logan getting madder, and taylor has gotten angrier too! ashlyn is more stressed and tired than angry, and Aiden is having fun most of the time. but Ben? he’s been trying his absolute hardest to not flip out.

so that combined with his affection for tay, if something bad really does happen to her, I do believe it will be his final straw. There’s only so much self control a 14 year old has (even though most adults would’ve went insane by now). Whether Taylor turns into a phantom or she gets injuries/dies, it will hit Ben HARD. Tyler will also be affected, but I really hope it doesn’t overshadow Ben. Losing Taylor would mean Ben wasn’t able to protect her like he wanted to and after Aiden also got hurt, I don’t think he would be able to take it. I think it’ll also extremely upset him when he finds out his family got caught in the crossfire of the kidnapping.

I was thinking about it, and we might actually see ben use his voice out of desperation. I really hope we don’t, bc I think ben not being verbal is nice representation, it’s so important to his character, and I love seeing how ben expresses himself without words. but I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he used it to call out to someone. The way this scene (⬇️⬇️) is worded is like, “he CAN (might even) talk, he just doesn’t WANT (have a reason) too”. i really hope he doesn’t, but it’s definitely a possibility 😢 especially if we get a ben centered arc that’s caused by his anger and the loss he’s experienced.

All in all, I don’t think Ben be the next one to be injuried really, but I do think Taylor will. And Taylor getting hurt will finally open up a arc centered around/that includes ben 🙏

hope red gives us the craziest angst we've ever seen for them two and then kills Logan 😛

(sorry for rambling sm 😓 I tried to shorten it but now i feel like some parts don’t make sense. UGH WTV!!! I’m very passionate about Ben and the affects Taylor has had on him 😒)

[gillies-girl25]

Yandere Red Door Elijah with Willing Female Human Darling

WARNING! READ THIS FIRST

In no way is this an endorsement of behavior similar to this. It is a work of fiction. In no way do I own this fandom or the characters associated with it. Please don't plagiarize, it's mean and rude. There is no use of a name or name insert. There is no detailed description of the girl in this. There are mentions of sex and/or violence. The mentions are not explicit and as such this would be labeled as mature. The alphabet outline itself is by dear-yandere on Tumblr. 

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Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

-Elijah would not hesitate to kidnap her. The Original wants her to know and experience the love he has had for her since the moment he saw her. He needs her to know the emotions that burn inside his very soul for her. His beautiful Sweetling was his one and only. Elijah also wouldn't hesitate to show her how far he would go, how much he would give her if she would only become his. As for affection, he is very cuddly. He holds her to his chest and gives rumbling growls, almost purrs, to soothe her. He also loves spooning her in bed. He's the big spoon of course. Elijah dotes on her. He's always touching her in some way. Whether or not Elijah's arm is around her waist with his face buried in her neck or his fingers are running through her hair while she lays next to him, he's always touching her. 

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

-Elijah would kill anyone that became a problem. Anyone that got in between the Original and his Sweetling would discover the darkness inside him. Normally Elijah isn't one for drawn out torture. Unless of course that person attempted to take, harmed, or inappropriately touched his Sweetling. Then that person will be begging for death by the time he is done with them and finally grants it. In the case of her having some other romantic interest, Elijah would swiftly dispose of that person so as not to frighten her. Although, there are instances where he would kill someone in front of her. One example would be if she had exs, especially if they wronged her in some way before the separation or if they had tried to get her to sleep with them. Elijah would want her last image of that person to be of their maimed, dead body. No one but him can know his Sweetling's touch. No one but him can have her and no one that even got close to having the chance will survive his wrath. 

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them? 

-Even if she's a genius, Elijah sometimes treats her like she is some naive little doe that has to be protected from everything in the world except for him. The Original does this because of how much the world had already done to her. He is her protector and the only one that gets to leave a mark on her skin. She is his innocent doe and he is her strong stag. He can be condescending in a mean way and sort of sarcastic sometimes but he's kind to her. Maybe a little too kind sometimes. But she loves him just as much as he loves her. 

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

-Elijah would make her feed from him and he would feed from her. However, he does it gradually. First, he has her drink his blood. He enjoys having Sweetling sit on his lap and watching as she sucks at his bleeding wrist. Before he ever suggested feeding from her, he would suck at her neck, leaving bruises and tiny bites that barely broke skin. Eventually, Elijah doesn't even have to ask, she suggests it. He does it gently, biting in quickly and letting his fangs sit for a moment before actually drinking. Once he does, it's like he experienced ecstasy with every drop. Immediately after he finishes and pulls away, Elijah would bite his wrist and make her drink so she would heal. It is sort of a surprise that he doesn't compel her. 

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

-Elijah is upfront about what he wants with her. He's not afraid of his feelings anymore and he certainly won't hold back from her. The Original is only vulnerable with her. He tells her about his life, about the things he had done in the past, and expects her to be scared. Everyone else is scared of him. So why shouldn't she be? Except she's not. And Elijah isn't sure why. 

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

-It's part of their game. She fights back, he puts her into her place, and his vampiric urges are quelled for a time. He enjoys it when she fights back before submitting. He likes putting his hands on her and putting his Sweetling back where she belongs. Next to him, in his lap, under him. Wherever he needs her is where she belongs. 

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

-It is a game. That much was already said. He enjoys it very much. He enjoys the chase, the hunt. Elijah loves running through a dark forest in pursuit of her, listening for her heartbeat in the stillness of the forest, and finally claiming her when he does catch her. It feeds the primal beast inside him. 

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

-There was one time that Elijah lost control of his jealousy. He took his Sweetling home after murdering the man that was flirting with her. While they were kissing, Elijah had her pinned to the bed and he bit her several times playfully. However, one bite was deep and at that point he was lost in a haze of instincts that were shouting in his head: Claim! Mark! Take! Mine! In the haze he put a little too viciously and she screamed in pain. That jarred Elijah from his headspace and he quickly healed her. Needless to say, it took Elijah a while to allow his beast back out after that. 

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

-Eventually, Elijah intends for his Sweetling to be turned. He wants her to be by his side indefinitely and she wants that too. Not to mention she would be a lot more durable as a vampire. Elijah wasn't sure about it to begin with though. He didn't want to take away her chance to have children. But, she didn't want kids and was quite happy with just Elijah. 

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

-Extremely. His possessive beast doesn't allow for any other man, or woman, to touch what is his. Elijah needs her to be entirely his. Tatia also had Niklaus. So did Hayley. Celeste was a whore; Elijah had realized that. None of the women he had loved over the centuries had been completely his in any sense of the word. But his Sweetling was. She gave herself to him and he would ensure no other would ever have what was his. 

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

-He is obsessed. From the moment he set eyes on her. From the second he smelled her delicious scent. From the first touch of their hands. She had and would always be his. Elijah doesn't try to hide his beast from her because it was his beast that found her, that craved her. That creature inside his head found his Sweetling and took her. He has no reason to hide anything of his true nature. He is an Original Vampire. But he is also kind and sweet. Elijah may have a beast inside that craves her but he is thoughtful of her needs. 

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

-Elijah didn't even realize that she was with him until three days after they had their first encounter. A scent had led Elijah through the French Quarter. He wasn't one to normally follow his instincts like that but the scent he was following had intoxicated him. When he saw a girl looking at postcards on a rack, he knew. She was the one. He settled up behind her and when she turned around, his Sweetling bumped into him. Their eyes met and with his arms around her waist, Elijah blacked out. That was where his beast took over. He stole her away for the next three days and nights, they got to know each other. Even though Elijah woke up next to a girl he didn't know, something told him that he cared for her. Deeply. 

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

-Somewhat, yes. Elijah tries to be good and noble but when it comes to her, that goes right out the window. It's like a switch flips inside him. One minute he can be talking to someone in a very professional and conscientious tone and the next he goes feral. Either it's because someone made a comment about her or looked too long at her. For her, he is both Elijah and the beast. But with everyone else, he is just regular old Elijah, until he's not. 

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

-Elijah enjoys spanking her. Sometimes she acts naughty just so he can spank her. However, what is more common is after their games, he bends her over his knee and spanks her as a 'punishment' for trying to 'escape'. But this is more of an action to quell the urges that come with his beast. There really is no need to punish her. But, Elijah enjoys seeing her squirm against him. 

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

-She can't leave him. She can't go home to her family and live as if she never knew him. Elijah wouldn't allow it. He would keep her with him at all times. If his Sweetling isn't with him, she is locked in their room behind a spelled barrier, courtesy of Freya. Elijah was taking no chances in losing her. His vampire instincts were so strong that when she went to the bathroom and forgot to mention it, Elijah practically tore the compound apart looking for her. He even went as far as to beat Niklaus up thinking that his hybrid brother had taken her from him. 

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

-This version of Elijah has no patience when it comes to her. If he does it comes from his deeply embedded gentlemanly manners and it is very, very thin. This Elijah takes what he wants; he doesn't wait around for it to come to him. But despite his thin patience and his beastly instincts, Elijah would always let her say no. It's actually what he asks every time they play one of their games. He hesitates a few seconds just to see if she says that two letter word. 

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

-If his Sweetling died, Elijah would be distraught. If it was natural causes, Elijah would be depressed. He would refuse to feed or do anything really. However, if someone had killed her, Elijah would torture them. He would enact every dark torture fantasy he had over the course of his thousand years. By the time he was done with whoever snatched her from him, death would be a mercy. Once that was over, he would decide to join her. Of course that could be years because of his siblings or other circumstances. If she tried to leave, Elijah would beg her. He would get down on his knees and beg her not to leave him. He would offer anything she wanted if she would just stay with him. If she decided not to stay, Elijah might just cross that line and compel her to stay. But that is a very big if for the simple reason that she loves him too much to try and leave. That would be the only instance he would compel her to do something against her will. If she successfully escaped during one of their games, they have a longstanding agreement that if she escapes him somehow and gets back to a prearranged spot, she could be dominant for a day. Take that as you would, dirty or not. 

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

-No. Elijah would never feel guilty because everything in him is telling him they were meant to be. His beast had waited a thousand years for a woman just like her. None of Elijah's other lovers were anywhere close to her. And despite everything, his Sweetling says she wants to stay. So why, why in the wide world, would he let her go? 

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

-Having siblings, two older ones and four younger ones, Elijah never had much to himself. He never had privacy as a human nor as a vampire. He loved his siblings, he really did. But, for once he had just wanted something purely his. And that something came in the form of someone. His Sweetling was entirely his from the very beginning. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. She was his. Elijah needed her just as much as she wanted him. 

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

-If the screaming and crying is during one of their games, he delights in it. He enjoys it. Seeing tears streaming down her cheeks and those beautiful sounds coming from her mouth, Elijah becomes even more intoxicated by her. He falls further into the deep abyss of their love. However, seeing her crying or screaming in pain from something else is agony for him. He hates seeing her cry because she is sad or in pain. Hearing her screams is torture and he would do anything stop them in that moment. 

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

-Elijah doesn't stalk her. He didn't have to. His beast kidnapped her then they spent days learning about one another. He talked with her about him and his vampiric world, explaining everything. In turn, she told him about herself. When Elijah woke after blacking out, he suddenly had all this knowledge of a person he only remembered seeing face to face for two seconds. Despite that, Elijah knew he loved her and needed her. 

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

-Since she doesn't really want to escape for real, there isn't really anything she would exploit. However, during their games she usually uses scent. She drapes her clothes all over the forest before rubbing leaves and dirt on her skin. Elijah finds her anyway but she likes the outdoors and the exhilaration of being chased. 

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

-Yes. Elijah would hurt her. He bruises her. He bites her. Elijah's beast causes pain but the physical pain was nothing. Elijah saved her from emotional pain. He would never hurt her emotionally or mentally. Physical pain was a part of their relationship. They enjoy the pain because it makes them forget about what had happened before. So yes, Elijah would hurt her but he would also take her pain away. 

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

-Elijah's beast spent three days with her. In those days, he explained his attraction and need for her to an extent. His Sweetling didn't take much to win over once she realized that he wouldn't put her through the pain she had experienced in the past. He would never force her to do anything and that promise was what made her realize he was serious about what he was saying. 

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

-Elijah didn't pine. He didn't even know her when he took her. It was something inside him that drew Elijah to her. He needed her to be his and she was. Elijah's beast knew that she was the one. He didn't need to pine. He took her. And that was that. 

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

-Elijah didn't need to break her. She was already broken from what the world had done to her. Elijah put her back together and cared for her. So no. Elijah never broke her. He took a broken spirit and put it back together. His Sweetling loved him for that. She became his Always and Forever. 

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[showtoonzfan]

So to sum up, here’s what Viv did to Ken regarding the document:

1. Saw their fanart of Cherri Bomb, asked if she could use their pose as a reference for Cherri’s character sheet, but instead traced the pose and despite saying she’d give credit, never did.

2. Excuses the fact that her idea for Sir Pentious’s third eye being an emote to him was a copy of Ken’s character they refer to as “TF”. Ken mentions it made them uncomfortable and suggested that his hat be an AI or something Pen created himself, but obliviously in the final product of the pilot, it was never explained what Sir Pen’s hat was or why he had it.

3. MOST importantly, NEVER credited Ken for their involvement with writing the Hazbin pilot. Viv goes to Ken multiple instances, admitting she isn’t the best at writing and only comedy, and needs help. She shares some ideas with Ken, and here are the following ideas and scenes that Ken came up with THEMSELVES that appeared in the final product of the pilot:

The joke scene where everyone laughs at Charlie, but Angel dust is brought up with her proudly saying he’s making great progress, only to cut to him on the news helping Cherri out and everything being screwed up for her, saying “oh shit” or “oh fuck”.

Angel being the only patron of the hotel, and only being there for a free room, with Vaggie and Charlie scolding him that he would change and him not caring

LITERALLY WAS THE ONE WHO CAME UP WITH ALASTOR APPEARING IN THE PILOT AND WANTING TO INVEST IN THE HOTEL BECAUSE HE’S BORED.

Alastor and Husk knowing each other PERSONALLY and Alastor being the one who hired Husk to help

The joke scene where someone brings up that they’re trying to help sinners not encourage this stuff and Angel immediately says “shut up we’re keeping this”-

The joke scene of Angel telling Al he can do the deed and Al immediately going “haha! No!”.

Came up with the idea that Al’s introduction on who he is should be through Angel asking Vaggie and came up with the “wait you don’t know him?” - “eh not big on politics”- dialogue.

Alastor’s line of “If I wanted to hurt anyone here, I would have done so already”-

And yet, despite being responsible for these jokes and plot threads, when Erin had confronted Viv about being credited, Viv had all this bs to say:

At first she rambles on about how she didn’t credit because apparently the stuff Ken came up with was early draft shit? Despite the fact that everything I listed above was in the actual pilot? And then didn’t want to credit them because she wanted to make a “promotional” post despite Spindlehorse not even being created yet and Ken had every right to ask for credit since it’s true that people DO assume that Viv does all this stuff by herself. And apparently telling everyone what members did what is too much for Viv, because Ken’s getting paid anyway so that makes it okay! Then Viv being Viv thinks Ken is attacking her and pulls the poor pity me card simply because she couldn’t understand what Ken was asking her I guess, but I suggest y’all read the entire doc because I’m scratching the surface, I just bring this up because the writing was the most important part.

4. Blacklisted and talked horrible of Ken behind their back. Ken was hesitant and late into signing the document, but eventually Viv had started to speak negatively of Ken to other members, calling them an abuser ect:

Again, read the document for full context, but this is just fucking awful, especially since at the same time when this was happening, Viv had been talking to Ken at the time and being all nice. It’s just amazing how awful Viv sounds, how she thinks Ken is out to get her and her show, all for wanting credit and wanting to make sure they didn’t sign their rights and characters away. Someone who had literally helped Viv on the pilot and was there for her in a vulnerable time of need, got treated like dirt, and it is NOT okay.

Please spread the document link:

[nyqii21]

Hello!!! I hear you need some inspiration and oh my goodness if I don’t have millions of thoughts running around in my head about Butcher!!!!!!! If it’s not too much to ask, maybe a Butcher story where Hughie brings reader into The Boys and she’s really shy and kind of quiet until you get to know her, but she develops a massive crush on Butcher. Hughie keeps encouraging her to tell him or to pursue it but she’s so shy and thinks he would never feel the same way. (Considering his past, she’s not sure if he would even want to pursue something) until one day when Hughie is off on a stakeout type mission with Billy he accidentally says something about it to Billy and he’s stunned but wants all the details. You can decide the ending if you’d like 🥰❤️

Hey guys, I apologize that I am only posting now, I was so busy with exams and studying. I got this great idea from @pipsqueakkitten, I decided to make this one into various chapters, because there is just so much to do with it. Also in this story, Becca really did die at Homelander's hand. xoxo

WARNINGS!!:

violence, fluff, angst, implied smut, eventual smut, guns, death, blood, drugs, fear, language, if you haven't watched it yet; spoilers, romance.

SHY BUT DEADLY (Chapter 1)

You met Hughie when he was in high school. He was always such a sweet kid, and he was the first to talk to you when you ended up being the new kid on the block. He took his time to befriend you, as you were always a very shy person, especially if you didn't know the other person or people. You always kept to yourself, until your best friend came along. He has always been there for you. You talked to him on a regular basis, so you knew about what had happened to Robin and you saw A-trains half-assed apology on the news. Sadly, you caught yourself in a similar situation.

Miss Stillwell had ordered the seizing of your parents, which unfortunately turned very sour. My dad worked for Vaught for more than a decade, he handled all instances of Compound-V, whatever that is. Your mother, she was working on something called V-24. They were both formidable scientists. Homelander fried their heads off, when they didn't want to comply with going with them. You saw everything while watching the camera footage on the tiny screens in the attic. Fuck, you just got back from deployment, and now your parents are dead in the fucking living room, what the FUCK, the thought flashed through your mind. How Homelander didn't hear you up there, you'll never know, but you're grateful that he didn't and if he had, he didn't act on it.

Once the supes left your house, you waited about 30 minutes, before you called Hughie. You told him everything, and he said, "Meet me at this pawnshop in East Flatbush, I will wait outside, wearing a hood, make sure that you aren't being followed". With that he hung up, and you figured you will be away for a while, so you threw some essentials in a backpack and left. Not sparing another glance at your now dead parents, you didn't need to see that image again.

You kept to the sides of the streets, checking behind you every few meters, to make sure you aren't followed. After a while, you manage to spot Hughie, with his hood up, and he looks like hell. You make your way to him, and he quickly guides you into and through the shop, and down a few stairs. The smell alone was enough to make you gag, but you had to keep a straight face, at least until you are alone and away from prying eyes. Suddenly he stops when the man named Butcher called out for him, "Oi, Hughie, where the fuck were you?" You immediately freeze up, oh fuck Hughie, what have you just pulled me into? you think to yourself. "Just give me a minute and I will explain everything to everyone......Alright?", he says to Butcher and continues to pull you down a smaller passage to where he was apparently sleeping. Once the door shut behind you, you broke down. Falling to the floor, you cry, your limbs like jelly, that's when you feel Hughie sit next to you and hold you. You don't know how long you've been crying or when you passed out.

You woke up, no Hughie in sight. Cautiously you opened the door, and you heard Butcher and Hughie having a screaming match. "You can't just bring anyone here!", Butcher shouts at him. "Yeah...well she just saw her parents get offed by fucking Homelander!", he shouts back. "Look, she won't be a liability, she can fight, she knows her way around this type of shit", Hughie said in a calmer tone. MM points at you, and both men spins around, looking at you directly. You wish you could just disappear. Butcher sighs and walks up to you. "Ello, luv", he says, his tone much softer, but you can hear a faint smirk in his voice.

You don't reply, instead you just look at your feet, feeling your cheeks heat up. You can't deny the fact that he is handsome, and you've always had a thing for British men. You feel nervous, you have heard stories about this man, how he is insane and how he managed to kill Translucent. You glance up at Hughie and he gives you a small smile. "Hi", you finally whisper. Your eyes spot some guns on the tables and that piqued your interest. Guns were always a guilty pleasure of yours, which is why you made a point of being the best shooter in your unit. Your shyness is what kept you form taking a closer look at them.

Lost in your thoughts about guns, you jump slightly as you feel small but firm hands on your arm. You look to your left and saw a girl, with a smile on her face, but her eyes held so much pain. This must be Kimiko, the supe in the group. She guides to you a couch and you sit down; she nods and leaves. Hughie sits next to you and says, "I should probably get you caught up on everything." He tells you everything, from how they killed Translucent to what Compound-V is and how fucked Vaught is. You stare in front of you, trying to process all of the information. Holy, shit, your parents were working with these people for decades, how... why would they? You feel like you don't even know who your parents really were. "Hughie, can I trust these people?", you whisper the words to him. Sighing he says, " They...We're not the bad guys here, we're trying to take down Vaught, so that this shit stops, for good." Even though it wasn't a direct answer, it was still an answer. "Petite Guerrière, what exactly does Petite Hughie mean when he says you know how to deal with this shit?", the Frenchman asks. That must be Frenchie. Looking at him, you reply softly, "I-I was in the military, top shooter in my unit".

Butcher and Frenchie both raise their eyebrows at that. They are probably thinking how anyone so shy could run an entire unit. "How come you're not there anymore?", comes the question from Butcher. "I took a leave of absence, to visit my family." I keep avoiding eye contact.

BUTCHER'S POV:

Hughie brought this woman here; she is awfully shy. She claims to be in the military on vacation, I can honestly not see how that is possible. She is not hard on the eyes either, her (y/h/c) is in a neat bun. She showed some interest in the guns on the table. I can tell she was trying not to show any interest, but the way she stared at them, I can't help but wonder if she is just as fucked as the rest of us.

Changing the subject, I say, "There is a supe that needs to be taken care of, I have a plan, and we'll need to execute it perfectly." I see MM rolling his eyes and sighing. I grab a shotgun from the pile on the table and walk up to her, handing her the shotgun. I am taken aback when she frowns and grimaces at the gun. "No offence, sir, but I prefer using my trusted friend," she softly says pulling out a M1911 colt pistol. I groan internally as she calls me sir. She has to be bonkers, because this means she needs to be in a closer range to get a proper hit, I think to myself. I scoff, "Luv, no offense, but if ya gonna be part of this, ya gonna need something that can get a good shot from a distance." Hughie bursts out laughing at that, shaking his head. "Man, you don't know shit", he says between laughing. She just stares at me from next to Kimiko on the couch, I can see Kimiko trying to show Frenchie something.

Later we're rollin' out at the location. We're all in position, and I can't see her anywhere, for some reason, I feel panicked that I can't see her. Fearing that she might disappear as well. I remember this feeling all too fuckin' well, but for now I have to shove this down, because we have a job to do.

It's a bloody party shop, it has just about everything inside. Hughie is on my left, Frenchie and Kimiko is in another part of the shop, MM is somewhere. But I have no idea where she is. Suddenly, I hear gunshots to my right. There she is, she looks so focused and different from the shy person she was mere hours ago. I can't keep my eyes off her, she has me hypnotized as she moved. She moves like water, smooth and fluid, firing bullet after bullet. I get pulled out of this trance, because there is a loud crushing sound. Suddenly the metal frame above us is falling down on her. I try screaming out, but my voice is lost.

Hughie slaps my shoulder, pointing to Kimiko and the other supe. They are embracing each other and crying. Before I can stop myself, my body acts on its own. Aiming at the male supe, before Hughie redirects my gun, and I shoot the ceiling. "Stop, it's her brother", Hughie shouts. "I don't fuckin' care if he is the fuckin' King of England", I spit back.

I don't know why I am feeling this way. I am angry, yet worried and anxious at the same time. I don't know this woman, yet I can't shake the dreadful feeling inside me.

[theweeklydiscourse]

I think one of my biggest grievances with ACOTAR is how the family dynamics is written and how the author offers no explanation at all, just expects the readers to move on. Feyre's father not even acknowledging the existence of the youngest daughter who was keeping them all alive, nesta's general cold indifference to feyre's life and an obvious preference for elain (we honestly don't see any prove of that aside from some words, typical of sjm) should've been explained by now yet we still don't get an answer for any of it and if we do the books as well as the fandom gaslights you into thinking you're just "hating" "move on" or "feyre forgave so it's okay" like idc about forgiveness I just need answers! I think the readers totally deserve to know why the main freaking character was treated in such an abusive way as by her family when their treatment of her is what shapes her and her falling for the first man who took care of her, a direct consequence of their treatment. Your MC's backstory is too important to just brush off like that.

Nesta's strained relationship with Feyre was such a huge part of her character like she was almost defined by that so it absolutely boggles my mind that she and feyre don't have a single meaningful conversation that gives the readers some answers and of nothing else then a resolution (kind of what we got in book 1 before sjm destroyed it). I feel like it's the lack of resolution between the sisters Nesta & Feyre in particular, that has made the fandom so divided.

But their relationship isn't the only such thing, SJM has a habit of mentioning things that absolutely should matter and then forgetting about them just because wasn't feeling like it. For instance: the weird triangle between Cassian/Mor/Azriel, how Cassian was pissed that Mor never went back to him after one time and her telling him to not "be her keeper" in acomaf (or was it acowar?) none of it is ever explained. As soon as Cassian as a new shiny mate all is forgotten and we're all supposed to move on to without getting any proper answers. It's so frustrating to read a book like that yk. No wonder the fandom is ready to implode.

It’s not just a lack of resolutions because there are resolutions to the emotional conflicts between the Archerons, the issue is that Maas consistently rescinds the development that occurs throughout the story to instead write indulgent and gratuitous retreads of emotional beats that already happened.

But the true issue at hand here, is that it just doesn’t make any sense.

Sure, if we take the family dynamic in ACOTAR at face value then yes, it’s horrendous for Feyre who is essentially running herself ragged to support a family of spoiled and ungrateful individuals. Taking it at face value would mean accepting the plausibility of Feyre, a young illiterate amateur huntress, supporting 3 other adults for 5-8 years with her efforts alone. But I don’t believe that scenario to be plausible, and Maas does not do a good job of convincing me that the Archeron family dynamic is believable.

The family dynamic is manufactured for the deliberate purpose of serving ACOTAR's wish-fulfillment narrative. Feyre's suffering is supposed to be indulgent and gratuitous because it makes the eventual reward of luxury and power in Prythian that much sweeter. The problem though, is that Maas expands upon established characters later on in a manner that contradicts her initial characterizations of them. So, she doesn't consider that readers actually remember previously established concepts and characterizations and feel the friction of the story's retroactive continuity. So even when Feyre DOES forgive her sisters, readers feel frustrated because the conflict never stays buried for long (because Maas constantly retreads the same plot threads) It’s not surprising that many people cannot let go of Nesta’s previous mistakes when the narrative is still grasping onto it with a cold iron grip for NO REASON.

Also, Nesta’s obvious preference for Elain is not only nonsensical, but never truly explained. I could believe it if maybe Elain was sickly and Nesta took on the role of her protector, or if they had a degree of separation from Feyre like a significant age gap, were half-siblings or if Feyre was adopted, but there’s nothing like that in the text. I just find the idea that Nesta would treat her youngest sister like chopped liver while prioritizing the elder to be unrealistic and unnecessarily frustrating.

You’re right about this lack of resolution being a factor on the division of the fandom. People debate and argue over what information they’re supposed to take seriously and remember and what can be disregarded due to its inconsistency.