#Proof) anyways not hurt just thought it’s an odd thing to say

[kavehater]

BACK TO THE BASICS !!!

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

aita for calling my roommate crazy?

I (28f) live with 2 other people, a former college roommate who I’m pretty close with (29f) and 2nd roommate (28nb) who we both met when we moved in together 2 years ago.

Let me start this out by saying, this isn’t a fandom aita, it’s going to sound a bit weird at first, but bear with me.

I have a medical condition (relevant later) which stopped most of my bones from maturing past puberty (growth plates closing, cartilage not hardening into bones, ect.), so my skeleton is basically stuck somewhere between 13-19, (I look about 17-19, but the last time I tried to buy hard cider, the cashier thought I was 14, so that’s how young I can look). I also have very pale skin (unrelated to my disorder, just a ginger), and (related to my disorder) lack some liver enzymes so I need eat meat or I get sick (the same reason why cats need to eat meat), I ended up in the ER when I lived with my vegan sister for a week and ate the same veggie diet as her.

Trouble is, Roommate 2 is really into conspiracy theories and other fringe stuff. Nothing alt-right or anything, just like, (for example) they fully bought into that Mermaids: the body found show, and wouldn’t be dissuaded, even when Roommate 1 googled it and showed them solid proof that it was fictional. Wholeheartedly believes the US government preformed 9/11, does alternative medicine (homeopathy, ect), wishes there were ‘all natural’ vaccines (still isn’t an anti-vaccer though, just needs to be persuaded that Bill Gates didn’t put microchips in them).

Anyway, Roommate 1 and I have a recurring joke that I’m a vampire because of the meat thing and the pale thing and the not aging thing. Roommate 2 overheard us and laughed, but weirdly. She kinda joked along with us, but she seemed...odd. About a week later, they start asking me stuff about being a vampire. But they seemed friendly and not nervous then and I was hoping they were just joking and I also sincerely thought they were just asking me about how vampires work on one of my shows (I’m a big fan of Carmilla and the Originals), so I tried to explain, but I cited each show when I’m explaining a thing. This continued for several weeks, but getting worse and more weird every time, eventually culminating about 2 and a half months later into them asking me more stuff about life as a vampire and I really realised that they were serious. Bear in mind, Roommate 1 and I were trying to be very clear that we don’t believe in vampires this whole time because we both know how Roommate 2 is about this. As a result, this was the first time I really registered that they seriously seemed to genuinely believe I was a vampire. I firmly told them that I am not a vampire and that vampires aren’t real, they’re fun to joke about, but they aren’t real. They implored me ‘to be straight with them about being a vampire,’ and that ‘I could trust them,’ and I’m ashamed to say, I kinda freaked out at this point, cuz I was afraid that they would be scared of me and maybe try to hurt me, since they seemed kinda unstable because of this.

This is where I think I was an asshole, I am usually very sensitive to mental health issues. I have some c-PTSD myself and there are a lot of mental health issues in my family (unfortunately, I think some history with my own mentally ill father may have made me react this way, since he has very similar issues to Roommate 2 (vaccines, alternate medicines, specifically involving me in his delusions) and I had a very bad experience in my early teens where he thought I was a demon and ‘sent to destroy him’). Anyway, I got very upset and I yelled at them, I told them they were completely crazy and needed to get mental help and said I thought Roommate 1 and I needed to move out because they might try to stake my heart or something. I feel really bad for calling them crazy, especially because Roommate 2 has some very mental health issues and words like crazy make light of and stigmatise that and I’m very big into not blaming people for their mental health problems, but this was very triggering and in this moment I was very distresssed.

So, aita, all things considered here? I’m still gonna feel like the asshole no matter what, since mental health problems aren’t to be taken lightly or blamed on the person, but I’m curious what the internet thinks.

What are these acronyms?

[the-glorious-evolution-fanart]

This is the anon who sent the Stanwick ask.

I'd like to apologize for hurting you, your ace friends and any other ace fans of Viktor by implying that asexual Viktor is another negative among Arcane's writing flaws. It's not.

I thought I was pointing out how the confirmation of Viktor being ace wasn't good because of when and who confirmed it (Christian Linke) not the fact that asexuality being included was the problem and didn't think I was being acephobic in my remark, but when I reread my ask a few times I realized I wasn't paying attention to how I sounded to the ace community. I'm really sorry for not realizing how much Viktor being confirmed as ace means to other fans especially to those who have stuck by this character for a long time. After all, who am I to decide for others what's good ace rep?

Also thank you very much for replying to my earlier ask in so much detail even though I sounded like a stuck-up jerk.

Hey hi, you don't have to apologize to me, I wasn't hurt. I don't think you did something bad or sounded like a jerk. Personally I'm really not in the cancel-culture mindset over fandom people who aren't harming people. You're also on Anon so I don't think anyone could find you. I just wanted to point out how a particular way of thinking or rather, tunnel vision can mislead.

I don't think your wording implied being ace is bad. I think it's just about the focus of one's thoughts and goals!

I understand (and have seen) the massive pushback against that writer. I'd point out two things: Death of the Author can be applied here, especially as a character being ace or not really is not problematic as a topic; I'd say other things are, for example how Undercity (Zaun) people are described, written and talked about in a degrading or insulting manner (like saying they're jealous of Piltover's success/riches, oftentimes emphasizing Zaunites' negative traits such as sliminess and in the end strongly implying they have to work together with Piltovians if things are to "get better"). This in particular makes me a bit sad because back before 2014. Zaun was envisioned as a fantasy representation of Eastern and South-Eastern Europe, my area of the world. Viktor has my accent. Zaun was turned from a powerhouse equaling Piltover, to its slums with the lore retcon. Anyway;

Death of the Author: viewing facts in a work without taking into consideration the author's intents and feelings they wanted to convey. This is only one of a bunch of approaches to investigating a work of art. When "Viktor being ace" is viewed as an intentional tool of a writer to stop JayVik, it looks extremely toxic. (There's a larger discussion here to be had, if authors have the right to create pairings in their own works or write characters as not being in a relationship. Do we have the right to like and dislike, or do we have to be forced to like everything? But keep reading, I have more thoughts on Arcane's case.) However in the context of just the work itself (I don't recall seeing Arcane showing definite proof of Viktor having that kind of drive, unlike Jayce, Vi, etc.) it's only a character trait.

Lastly, canon is just what a group of people picked. You're not restricted nor forced to honour canon, and you aren't obligated to feel pain if canon doesn't align with some things you wanted, when it comes to your personal feelings. Be free! I've made very important friendships in my life thanks to the old Viktor lore. The pain I feel from removal of a character is because I will not be able to share thoughts and excitement about that character with more people in the future, as odds of new people discovering the old retconned lore dramatically decrease. From what I've seen, there's no threat of that happening to jayvik! That tag receives an astronomically higher note count than isolated Viktor the Machine Herald content.

Maybe it's been always like this, but modern fandom puts too much emphasis on what end points of canon are, and treat it as a war like some side can "win" it, forgetting that the choices about what happens in a linear storyline with a beginning and an end lie way way more in the hands of the authors. This creates massive toxicity over something that can't really be influenced, unless you deem death threats and petitions to authors over ships to be a valid tool for "winning in escapism". (I'm not implying you personally, just showing what is the ultimate weapon in this line of thinking.) I'd put only one caveat here, and that has to do with cases of multiple teams of writers who write opposite narratives with opposite goals, in that case it's good to analyze and figure out which narrative is better, stronger, more aligned with the story's themes and so on. I think way more weight actually lies in the middle body of work - character dynamics, how their relationships connect to the work's topics. I don't feel multiple relationship narratives was the case with Arcane (but I reserve the right to be wrong) - I feel like Arcane intentionally (sadly) used bait. I don't ship it, yet I felt bait when I watched Arcane. I think this fact strongly contributes to toxicity, and I heavily disagree with that marketing tool.

In the end, I hope I didn't frighten you with this long response, I'm sorry I don't sound more coherent, and I think you're free to ship jayvik if you like it and are allowed to discard a writer's words without need to deny a piece of information that may or may not be included by authors into Arcane! (It depends where you draw a circle around canon, do you view only the Series from opening scene of first episode to the end credits of the last, or if you include additional facts - not opinions - authors add in surrounding commentary.) For example, while I don't like Zaunites being written as jealous or required to help Piltovians, I'm not gonna say that didn't happen in Arcane because "that would be bad writing". It's a fact in the writing. It's bad. What I can do, is say I will discard that fact in my fanworks!

[stormblessed95]

I just wanted to come vent on here for a lil. Hope you don’t mind. I was on twitter today and i saw some jikookers fighting with taekookers and the taekookers kept going on with the same tired old stories of “Jikook is Fanservice” “all their moments are for the cameras” etc and storm, i realized how silly all of this is. I realized how stupid it is for people on the internet to continue fighting about who the members love the most and who they are fucking.

The truth is, the odds had been stacked against jikook and jikookers since the very beginning. Reality is never as pleasant as fiction. I honestly believe that Jimin and Jk are or have atleast been together in a romantic way considering their circumstances, that automatically means it was never going to be that pleasant. These are real people and just imagine what we normal people have to go through in our personal relationships every single day, what more of these idols who are under scrutiny almost 24/7? I used to get so and hurt when taekookers would bring out those gifs and screenshots of “Jk hating Jimin” or “Jk pushing Jimin away or making faces at him”’but when i thought about it, i realized that, that is exactly what reality looks like. It’s not always pretty and if many of us had cameras shoved infront of our faces all the time and we could sit down and watch ourselves 24/7, maybe we would all be less judgemental. I know this might sound a little crazy but i cannot tell you how many times i’ve shed tears over jikook. Their story is just so heartbreaking but beautiful. Those two never stood a chance with this fandom. When you think about the fact that their bond had been attacked since the very beginning and it just gets worse as the years go by. It doesn’t really matter what Jikook do or don’t do because some people are determined to find faults in their relationship to attack and ofcourse they will always find something or make something up because at the end of the day, no relationship is perfect.

Think about years ago when Jimin and Jungkook were everywhere together and did almost everything together. You would think that people would have atleast seen and recognized their bond for what it is but even then, people accused them of fanservice. Jikook were attacked for doing the things taekook do today and get praised for. Jimin and Jungkook hanginh out in their private time with friends meant they were a fake couple and were doing fanservice because a real queer couple in a homophobic country would never do that, but taekook hanging out and spending time together is proof that they are indeed a couple. How much evidence do we have of Jikook spending important days with each other? We have alot but taekookers literally have none yet that doesn’t stop them from coming for Jikook’s bond. Even though we have evidence of taekook themselves saying they kinda drifted apart, and videos of Jk himself saying he wasn’t with Tae on his birthday, that still doesn’t stop the cult from coming for jikook’s bond.

Now we will be getting footage of Jk cooking for Jimin in Jimin’s house and this was most like taken almost 2 years ago meaning that before Jk ever dreamed of cooking for Tae, he had already done that for Jimin several times but when taekookers heard Tae say he was going to eat at Jk’s once, they used that to attack Jikook saying Jk only cooks for Tae. We have multiple videos of Jk feeding Jimin and the other members but taekookers get a video of Jk putting food in tae’s mouth and use that again to attack jikook even though they are getting that from the same company content they hate so much.

I remember how that taekooker girl who saw Jikook at the gym in LA was insulted and called a liar by her own breed and when she eventually got vindicated, they immediately switched the narrative to “the workout date was for company content” even though Jimin literally said that he and Jk worked out together every day since they went to the US so all we got to see was just one of the workouts and see how they made it seem like everthing Jikook do is infront of the cameras. After swearing that Jk probably doesn’t even know the road to Jimin’s house, when we get actual footage of Jk cooking for Jimin in his apartment, they immediately switch narratives again to “they do everything infront of the camera”. Like do these people even truly believe the thinga they say? Do they honestly believe that the company called Jk and told him to go to Jimin’s house and cook so they can take some shots for official content? If all these years we have gotten all the content of jikook from the times they were photographed, then what about when they weren’t? Can you imagine how much time jikooo actually spend together? Can u imagine how many things they do that we never get to find out about?

I find taekookers very interesting because they keep saying that taekook is an off cam couple yet they know almost all the times taekook hang out. How private are their interactions if Tae or Jk come to tell us about it or if tae posts pictures about it? Do they think that those moments were private just because the videos or photos didn’t come from bighit’s cameras? Also, they say all jikook moments are infront of the camera but how would they know the moments that were not for the camera if those moments were private? Do they think Jimin or Jk will post pictures of themselves while they have sex or come to tell us that they had late night movies dates just the two of them? Jimin and Jk used to be somewhat reckless in the past and we got some little TMI’s from them but as pple get older, they don’t feel the need to expose certain parts about their relationship with the rest of the world. Jk literally told us that Jimin kept singing “peuriri” to him so much that he thought he was going to mistakenly sing it on stage so how do these pple think that happened if Jikook never saw each other? How do these pple think Jimin and Jk drew a whale on a yacht together?

I just realized that getting upset at the things taekookers say is kinda useless. They themselves don’t even know what they believe in and their opinions on Jimin and Jungkook’s bond doesn’t change their reality anyway. Jimin and Jungkook choosing to enlist together despite the majority of the fandom thinking they were distant should have been enough to tell people that you really cannot sit behind your screen watching parts of pples lives that they choose to share with you and think that you know it all.

"I just realized that getting upset at the things taekookers say is kinda useless. They themselves don’t even know what they believe in and their opinions on Jimin and Jungkook’s bond doesn’t change their reality anyway. Jimin and Jungkook choosing to enlist together despite the majority of the fandom thinking they were distant should have been enough to tell people that you really cannot sit behind your screen watching parts of pples lives that they choose to share with you and think that you know it all."

The most important part of this rant (in my opinion) is the last bit. Thanks for sharing your thoughts

[radioapplerevue]

I always wonder a little when people assume that Lucifer and Lilith are absolutely going to get back together.

I'm not against it -- ignore that this is a ship blog, lol. This isn't about my ship, which will never be canon (we all know this, chill), this is just my hazbin sideblog so I don't have to bother people with my thoughts on my main blog.

But going back to Lucifer and Lilith. People point out Lucifer's ring as proof that they will get back together, but it makes total sense to me that he still wears his ring. They were married for millenia. That's got to be hard to let go of.

What I have questions about largely revolve around the last 200 years. For one thing, they were married for ten thousand years, so why did they only have Charlie now? And why only one child? And how did they have her? Lilith's a sinner, and sinners can't reproduce. It's all so strange to me.

And then soon after -- for their lifespans, at least -- they separate. And we know from Charlie that she and Lucifer were "never close", which doesn't make sense, because they are so very alike and Lucifer obviously adores her. Which makes Charlie saying things like "he doesn't want to see me" so odd. What makes her think that? We know it's not true, because Lucifer was beside himself with joy when she asked him to come to the hotel. Why in the world was their relationship so fractured? I really don't think it's just because of his depression, because he's still severely depressed and jumped at the chance to see his daughter anyway.

It feels to me almost like Charlie believed those things because someone else told her they were true. Like in the pilot, when she says "maybe my dad was right about me", I find it so jarring because Lucifer never says anything disparaging about Charlie. He looks at her like she can do no wrong. Even when he's being condescending about the sinners at the hotel, his critique is never aimed at Charlie, but at sinners and at Heaven, which he believes will make her dream impossible. So why did Charlie seem to believe such things about him?

I can only suspect Lilith, and that's largely because the one flashback we get with her, she's separating Charlie and Lucifer -- something that they are both clearly upset about. Why was she even taking Charlie away? They were both so happy. It is a very deliberate choice to show her doing that in her one appearance (until the end, of course). It makes me feel like the distance between Charlie and Lucifer was in some way orchestrated. Done on purpose.

I think Lilith has a plan, and she needed a child to make it happen. And she needed that child to do certain things and believe certain things. I'm not saying she doesn't love Charlie, I'm saying that she had a reason besides love to have her. Why, after all, have a child after ten thousand years? Only to split from your husband shortly after? And make a deal in Heaven? Lilith is planning something, and I'm very curious to find out what it is.

I don't think she's evil or bad or anything like that (and I don't want her to be -- too often media depicts Lilith in a negative light). I do think that whatever her plan is, it's likely to be something that Lucifer (and probably Charlie) wouldn't agree with. I think that's why she kept Lucifer and Charlie apart. I think she's ambitious, and I think it's significant that the show points out that Lilith's reaction to and perception of Hell is in stark contrast to Lucifer's. They want different things.

And that's why I'm unsure of whether or not Lucifer and Lilith will get back together, because... while I'm sure Lucifer still loves her, that's a lot to get over. Purposefully creating a rift between him and the daughter he adores? The daughter he calls "the only thing left worth fighting for"? Knowing that would hurt him so deeply. Perhaps they could work past it, but I just don't know.

Anyway, I may be wildly off the mark and the show will contradict me entirely in season two. And that's cool if it does, haha. I'm just extrapolating from the hints I believe were dropped in season 1. Either way, I'm very interested to see what happens next.

[llimerrence]

meet gregory hes on this blog now. but like. with my canon because fuck u hes not a bad boy and i refuse the theories that say he is and i dont think hes Client 46 either. i just ,,,,hes a homeless lil boy how the fuck is he getting therapy lmao even the pizzaplex minis make him just seem a bit odd. not a killer. or at worst, hes being manipulated / corrupted. hes just a lil boy

dont turn children into villians they are just children

anyway, take my boys bio

Gregory was born to a family that seemed perfect on the outside. They loved him, spoiled him, they abandoned him for nine hours a day, and hardly spoke to him when they were home. But, he was fed, he had a bed, and a roof over his head. How could he complain? But then his parents died in an accident. A fire to be exact. Some people suspected that Gregory himself set the fire. Of course, there was no proof, and Gregory denied it. He didn’t want his parents to die, no matter how much other people tried to convince him he did.

Since then, he’s been in and out of foster homes, but often goes days without returning. He lives in the megaplex usually, having found ways to hack into the employee only system and get around locks. It takes him quite some time to do so, and he often seeks help from his friends who help him with more advanced work. He uses the nickname ‘Dr. Rabbit’ to write fun stories with his friends; and he has the top score on almost all the arcade games in the megaplex. And yes, he has managed to get him and his friends some free play passes even though he knows he shouldn’t. 

However, Gregory does not trust easily, and often causes more trouble than he means too. He also tends to get overly attached, to an unhealthy degree. Gregory often invited his counselors to see his true living situation, at which point, something.. Bad happened. The first time, Gregory thought it was just his bad luck. Like what happened to his parents. Then, it happened again. And Again. And Again. That was how Gregory found out it lived there. And it liked to copy Gregory, it liked to wear the same clothes, use the same voice, do the same things. It was kind of funny. And at first, Gregory was excited, thinking that maybe he’d finally found someone to be his family. Then, Gregory found her body. And suddenly, it wasn’t so funny anymore. Gregory tried to talk to it, to tell it to stop, that he didn’t want to hurt anyone. Sure, he was mad, and sometimes he was upset, but that didn’t mean someone had to die. 

But It told him that it was fine, if Gregory didn’t want to play, it would simply find a new friend. After all, unlike Gregory, it had plenty of friends. Such as the security guard, Vanessa. She was a great friend, after all, when Gregory refused to do anymore hacking–all it had to do was ask Vanessa to hit a few more buttons. 

Gregory wanted friends. He wants a family. And It intends to take it all away.

[sewnloveletters]

I learned how to be human this year

Somewhere this month, someone asked me “What are your plans for Christmas?” and I answered “Nothing. Maybe take myself on a reading date if I’m bored. But I think I’ll just stay at home.”

“That’s kind of sad,” this person answered sympathetically. “It’s fine, I’ve had times where I celebrated like this anyway, so I’m not sad at all.” I answered. I understand that the concept of spending your Christmas— a holiday meant to be celebrated with friends and family— alone was sad, but it was never a big deal for me. As I said, there have been times when I celebrated alone, so I stopped feeling sad about it a long time ago.

After my parents decided that I’d grown out of Christmas (which happened when I started middle school), we stopped celebrating. Or, if we did, it was just pre-Christmas parties with their friends or colleagues. My family has never been big on celebrations, and this applies to other holidays and events.

But there have been times when it has hurt me. Last year, my dad forgot my birthday and I had to spend it alone with my mom in this extravagant restaurant. I did not fully enjoy myself because, for the whole day, I was upset that my dad forgot and went out of town to golf with his friends. The year before that, he didn’t say happy birthday to me at all and invited his friends to our house for a BBQ. Yes, I got food, and it was good— my dad is amazing at BBQ— but he didn’t cook it for me. He cooked it for his friends and I just happened to be there. At least that’s how I felt.

My mom has always remembered every birthday and is always keen to celebrate holidays, but there were also times when they were out of town or just too busy to celebrate. And I was always fine with that.

From this, you can understand how used I am to being alone. In fact, I liked it very much. So you can imagine my surprise when i realized today that I was actually alone—and that i felt alone.

I have not felt lonely since I was in 3rd or 4th grade; I haven’t felt alone in years.

I thought that I would be fine, but now that Christmas is nearing, I’m starting to feel that loneliness. I’m missing the people I love the most, and I wish I didn’t have to spend Christmas alone this year. I wouldn’t have minded if I spent it alone last year (in fact, I did), but this year, I think I’ve finally learned how it feels to actually miss people and have just now realized how much these people I love care about me in return. It’s not like I didn’t have friends I was close to prior to this year, but I think somewhere along the way this year, I realized that my problem all along was that I used to intellectualize my feelings when it came to “missing” people.

I think I’ve only learned how to truly love and open up this year because I have finally let go of the one thing that has always been a great source of pain for me—my relationship with my dad. And as I’m typing this, I can’t believe that I would ever, in my life, say that I miss him. But here I am, crying in bed about how much I miss my friends and family.

I won’t get into the details of this, but earlier this year, my dad told me (through my mom) that he was sorry for treating me so harshly and that he’s getting therapy. He didn’t directly apologize to me, and I don’t think I will ever get a direct apology. But my Asian father— a very traditionally masculine man with outdated views on mental health— getting therapy is proof enough for me that he is sincere in his actions. So the moment I heard it from my mom, I forgave him for every single thing he had said or done to me. Since then, he has changed and has started openly showing his affection toward me.

It’s odd how fragile human emotions can be. Emotions are these ever-changing, fragile, unpredictable things, influenced by the tiniest change in circumstances.

Even if this thing is something that you’ve been used to your whole life (ex: my desensitization to loneliness), 6 months of change could destroy the wall you’ve spent your whole life building.

It’s a weird thing to say, but I feel like I only started being a human this year. I think I’ve regained my capability to fully love and miss people because I have let go of the thing that has for years and years, been a great source of pain for me.

I’m so grateful to have such great people in my life, and even though i’m lonely right now, it’s for a good reason. In a weird way i’m happy that i feel lonely right now because this means that i have in a way, regained my ability to feel this deeply. Maybe subconsciously, I’ve finally realized that feeling lonely may not be a sign of weakness, and i wish my younger-self knew that it’s okay to feel this way instead of blocking it out. I wish she knew that saying a genuine “I miss you” is not a sign of defeat. It’s a sign of a good life—one surrounded by people you yearn to see is a life full of love.

[runawayimaginationtrain]

It's odd how hard it can be to see the love being given to you. At times, it can be because you don't think you deserve it- surely they're just being polite or doing so out of pity. Chemical imbalances and lessons from past experience pit you against yourself, not unlike how the Romans had people kill each other for sport.

Being afraid of expressing your need for affection, attention, validation, a safe space to be able to be vulnerable exponentially worsens the anxiety. You're afraid of being too much. Having needs, historically, was too much for others to handle and you were punished (inadvertently or otherwise) accordingly.

Why is it so hard to see the love that is being given to you? Why do you believe that everything that is happening now and in the future will be just like the past, even when there's some hopeful instances where change seems apparent?

People smile when they see you come into a room. When you are unable, they tie your shoes for you. Their dog is offered as a walk companion for you even when they can't hang out. In the chaos of adult life, they reach out to you. Hugs, kisses, "hey lovely"s. Trusting you with their houses, their children, their important information, their stories. The surprise of finding a handwritten card in your mailbox. Being able to pick up right where you left off despite time apart. Coffee on their porch with bare feet and bare faces. A shared look when you're not supposed to be laughing but end up doing so anyway. Telling you they notice your efforts to be good to them. Trinkets, memes, and thoughts sent with "this made me think of you." They listen, even when you're rambling. They say no when they want to and are honest in a kind way that gets the point across but isn't meant to hurt you. Some of them even say the words "I love you," and you need to take that as it is.

Not everyone loves the same way that you do, and life happens. Down times coincide where no one can catch a breath. Months go by with waxing and waning of contact with people. Not every bid of yours has a response, for these reasons and more.

But damn you. People do love you. If you can't feel like you're worth it yet, enough to feel it even when the proof is not smacking you across the face, at least see the evidence. Acknowledge the efforts that have been made on your behalf. They deserve it.

Maybe someday you won't feel like you're going to cry every time someone does something thoughtful for you. Not to say you won't be grateful. But you'll feel deserving of kindness, of love, of someone giving back. You'll feel deserving of your emotions and needs being taken care of in ways that you should have had, but haven't had much of up to this point. So you'll smile and say "Thank you so much." This time without the tears.

Your people love you. Hurt happens and you find out who doesn't, who might not have deserved your love. But haven't the precious ones you *have* found taught you what you deserve, what you could have?

It's not perfect. It never will be. But you will find the kind of love where honesty is had and hard conversations happen and conflicts are worked through ~because of love~. Not everybody will walk away. This is the pain they relate to beauty. What a gift to have people that are willing to work through the harder things with you. People who abandon(ed) you were not going to give you this gift. They weren't capable, for whatever reason. This lack is not your responsibility, it is not your fault. And yeah, it's not fair. You were done wrong and it's okay to acknowledge that, even when these people don't want to do the same.

I'd like you to work on seeing the love that's given to you. I would love to see you come to terms with not being responsible for other people's actions, emotions, responses. I know it is hard to do this after a lifetime of being a human emotional support animal. You want to see the other side, though. Stop the fighting. No more tearing your own art into pieces to be carried away by the breeze. Why use energy to get carried away with hurting your own feelings? It doesn't make it any less worse if the stories come true, and it does make it worse if they don't. You don't know everything, can't know everything, use your energy to see how you're wrong instead.

Hurting yourself won't make others love you. You need to stop. Please.

Making yourself small and uncomfortable won't make others love you. You really, really, need to stop.

You don't want dollar store quality love, dear one. You are loved, admired, adored for who you are and how you love. Try your damndest to see it.

[bowloficecubes]

Siren, Pt.3.

<previous l masterlist l next>

They were at a music shop, Todoroki asking Jirou which sound-canceling headphones are the best, While Shoji was with Bakugo, who was trying to pick one of the many Pink Floyd shirts.

His head was spinning, he could barely stop shivering, not because of the November cold, but because of the haunting thoughts running through his mind. A sudden hand at his shoulder stops his train of thoughts, "They’re stubborn as fuck, they'd fight the grim reaper and win, ain't got shit to worry about. I was thinking we should get some groceries too, do you know what food they like?"

Getting comforted by Bakugo was definitely not something he saw coming, he was still not comprehending the amount of care the angry blond seemed to have for his classmates wellbeing.

"If I may ask, why are you being so nice?, you don’t have to go this far, I don’t really understand you, we aren’t that close so this is still a mystery to me"

A careful, calculating pause -eyes still on the shirts, then:

"I finally got a competent rival after all of these years, I bet they’re already ahead of me after this mission, I have to catch up, but I can’t have them whimp up eating that nasty ass hospital food"

While the reply did make sense for the angry teen, the blush that slowly crept up his face definitely did not. Shoji decided not to further comment, only pointing to one of the two shirts He was holding, pondering which on to get, "That one", said Shoji. "Huh, I thought so too".

May God help Endeavor's credit card, or not, Shoji didn’t care too much after he knew who was going to get the bill. It was now 8 pm, their hands filled (even the duplicate ones) with bags from various stores. As Bakugo was about to call a cab, a loud "Wait !!" cuts him off. Jirou points to a children’s clothing store, " Aizawa mentioned a little girl right? I think it wouldn’t hurt. To get her some things I mean, whatever happened to her, it’s definitely not good, how about a pajama and some comfortable clothes?"

" That’s not a bad idea, but I think it's better if Bakugo and Shoji take the stuff back to the dorms while we get the clothes?"

Katsuki simply huffed, and continued to order a cab, meanwhile Jirou and Todoroki placed the bags next to shoji and headed into the shop.

*timeskip*

Shoto's pov:

" say Jirou, wait no get the wreck it Ralph sweatshirt instead, wait do you think they have a size I can squeeze into?, anyways do you understand the relationship between ... uh, the three?"

"what. what are you on about?"

"you know, Amagai, Shoji, Bakugo, do you know what’s going on?"

"OH.."

"yeah it's.. kinda odd? I mean I would be worst judge but, I thought you might've seen it too"

"Well, Shoji and Amagai have been friends for at least 10 years from what I know, and Amagai was -IS a huge part of his life and have supported him a lot, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he was in love with them"

"But on the other hand, Bakugo is so intimidated by their strength that he uh... does that? Respects them I guess? I think Midoriya once mentioned how much Bakugo values rivalry, so maybe that explains it? But I also suspect theres a little more than just that, I'm going to wait and see..... also I think the size 13-14 can fit you as a crop top?"

"We’re buying it immediately, what about Amagai?"

"well, I genuinely can’t guess, they’ve always got a poker face on it’s actually a little scary. They’re respectful and nice to everyone, obviously close to Shoji and seems to trust him very very much, but that’s about how far I know, I obviously care deeply for them, and I wouldn’t be lying if i said I want to be their close friend -i think everyone does- but that’s about it?"

"Interesting, do you mind if you pay while i call Izuku? Here’s the card, PIN is 4319"

"Huh wait, WAIT SINCE ARE YOU ON FIRST NAME BASES?"

"I'll be outside waiting for you, i'll get milkshakes :)"

I did not proof read this i will not proof read this <3

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

Whumptober Day 4: Dead on your feet

No. 4 DEAD ON YOUR FEET

Hidden Injury | Waking Up Disoriented | Can’t Pass Out

Warnings: stab/slash wound, knife, knives, blood, blood loss, makeshift bandages, self done first aid, medical inaccuracies

Word count: 1947

In your defence, you didn’t realise you had been stabbed until the paramedics were gone and you were processing the crime scene. And sure, you probably should have told someone and said ‘hey, you know, I think the unsub has slashed me a bit and by that I mean hey look here’s a massive slash wound from his knife’, but you didn’t. You simply had an internal panic before covering the problem with your FBI windbreaker - which were waterproof, so theoretically also blood proof? Your plan also wasn’t the best (wait until you get to the police station and patch yourself up, last the jet journey and drive yourself to the closest hospital when your shift ended) but it was the most coherent plan you’d be able to come up with.

“You alright, (Y/N)?” Morgan grinned, “You’re quieter than usual,”

“Just thinking about how hard it must be for you to be second best around me,” You teased trying your best not to show your panic to the rest of the team, Derek gave a laugh, clapping you on the back, missing your wince.

You rode with Hotch, Rossi, and JJ, hoping that Hotch’s driving would make you feel less like you were going to throw up than Morgan’s driving. That wasn’t the case (nothing against Hotch, it was simply the odds were not in his favour). It wasn’t long until you were at the police station and you all piled out of the car and into the station.

You didn’t get a chance to stop at the police station and properly try and patch yourself up, as it turns out. Spencer had decided to stay behind and pack up during the arrest and normally you would appreciate that but you could have throttled the younger agent tonight. You didn’t say anything though, just gave him a smile and a nod as you slowly started to pack your things. You knew Hotch and Rossi had noticed something was wrong, but they hadn’t confronted you about it, so you were taking it as a win. It wasn’t hurting as much, not yet anyway. But you knew it was going to soon. Part of you thought the anticipation of the pain might actually be the worse part. Although, you doubted that you’d think that once the pain started kicking in full. You felt it, sure, but it was more a light dull ache than anything else.

“The caffeine addiction kicking in there?” Derek joked, nodding at your shaking hands.

You forced a laugh and a nod, “Always,” There was a small pause, “No, all that adrenaline’s after effects, apparently it decided to hit me hard today,”

“Huh,” Derek said, both of you continuing to make sure your things were packed.

“The funny thing about adrenaline is that not only does it increase blood levels to the brain and muscles, but can also decrease blood flow to some organs too,” Spencer chimed.

You nodded, “I think I remember my psychology teacher telling me that once,”

Hotch straightened up, turning to the whole team, “Are we all ready to go?”

Everyone, but you nodded, “I need to pee,” You said, Hotch fought back a smile but nodded. It had become almost a ritual, you would go to the toilet before getting on the jet everytime without a doubt.

This time, however, it wasn’t so much needing to pee as it was ‘figure out a way to stop the hole - well, gaping wound - in my stomach from bleeding so damn much'. You walk at your usual pace, despite wanting to run and crawl at the same time.

You looked around the men's bathroom when you got there, checking for officers as well as supplies. There wasn't much to work with, in fact, there was no first aid kit, nothing. All you had to go on was toilet paper and disposable hand towels. You decide on the hand towels, grabbing a handful, placing against your wound (having lifted your shirt) You couldn’t see anything to hold it in place and you very much doubted wrapping toilet paper around your stomach would secure the make-shift gauze. With a sigh, you settled with your belt, quickly undoing the buckle, you placed it over the wound and ‘gauze’ with a hiss, you did the buckle back up before dropping your shirt to cover everything - thankful that your shirt was rather baggy today. You place your windbreaker back on. If anyone asks, you can say that you’re cold. You were starting to feel a bit on the colder side, actually.

This did not look good. You had a six hour flight. You should probably tell Hotch. The thought of that was immediately knocked out of your head when you imagined his disapproving glare. Nope. You did not need that on top of a stab-slash wound. With a sigh (and then a wince) you headed out of the bathroom.

“There he is!” Morgan teased.

“We thought you might have fallen down the toilet,” Emily laughed. You gave a laugh, doing your best to hide your pain.

“You okay? You’re looking a bit pale,” You give JJ a smile.

“Yeah, I think I’m just getting a migraine,” The lie slips off your tongue easily and you feel bad, until you see the worry leave her eyes.

“I’ve got pain killers?”

“That would be great, thank you,” You smiled, it was really starting to hurt now.

After you downed two painkillers and had a glass of water, you swung by the hotel to grab your go bags (already packed). You groaned, turning to Morgan, "Morgan, be a dear and grab my bag for me? Please?" Morgan looked at you, observing the way you covered your eyes with your hand, your pale complexion, and the way you were hunched in on yourself.

He nodded, "Yeah, of course," Must have been a bad migraine.

Hotch was always the last one to board the jet. Often, the rest of the team would get on whilst he was saying goodbye to the local police before he boarded - letting them know that they would help whenever and wherever they could with any upcoming cases. This didn’t change.

Hotch walked next to you as you all made your way to the jet, “Are you alright?” You nodded, giving him a strained smile. This was all a massive mistake, but you were too stubborn to say anything now. You made your grave.

“I’m fine,” The rest of the team were now boarded. You gave a quiet huff, shifting the strap of your go-bag before beginning your slow ascent up the stairs (not wanting to push your body). You nearly made it. You were so close to the top of the stairs when the dizziness hit. Hotch right behind you, he furrowed his eyebrows.

“(Y/N)? Are you okay?” You gave a sluggish nod. You were quite cold, now that you thought about it. The dizziness hadn’t let up and you felt incredibly nauseous. But still you said nothing, determined to push on. You went up two more steps before the world blurred into a variety of colours and Hotch was the only thing holding you up.

“I need some help here!” Hotch yelled, shifting his position to prevent you both from falling down the stairs. The team poked their heads out of the door, seeing you limp in Hotch’s arms caused them all to kick into action. “Morgan, help me get him on the jet, Emily call 911, Reid get the first aid kit, we need to figure out what’s wrong.” Everyone nodded and scrambled to follow Hotch’s orders. They placed you on the sofa, Reid kneeling beside you with the first aid kit next to him. He scanned your frame, deciphering where the injury could be when a flash of blood caught his eye. There was a long and thin hole in your shirt. He lifted your shirt up gently, eyes widening when they landed on the large laceration that ran across your side, from hip to ribs - as much tissue as possible held in place by a belt.

Reid heard Hotch sigh behind him and JJ and Emily gasp and turn away. Reid got to work, apparently the paramedics were going to be ten minutes so he needed to stem the bleeding as much as possible. He could try and stitch it up but that would increase the chance of infection - plus ten minutes wasn’t too bad. Reid nodded his thanks to Morgan when he handed him a wad of gauze to apply to the wound. Rummaging through the first aid kit, Spencer grabs the saline solution, pouring it onto the wound to keep it clean whilst they were waiting for the paramedics before Spencer placed the bandages on top and put pressure on the wound.

All eyes snapped to you when you gave a groan as Spencer put more pressure on the wound. “Spence?” You asked, voice thick with sleep. “What you doing? What happened?”

“You passed out from blood loss on the stairs,” Hotch said, “We’ll be talking about that when you’re feeling better. The paramedics should be here soon.”

“I passed out?” You asked, look made eye contact with Morgan - who in this situation managed a teasing smirk. “Oh god, I’m never going to live this down.”

“Mum and Dad are so going to ground you,” Morgan said, motioning to Rossi and then Hotch, who both rolled their eyes.

“In all seriousness,” Hotch said, cutting Derek off as he went to add another comment, “I will be grounding you."

You gave a chuckle, grimacing at the pain that flooded through your side. "Sorry," Hotch said, you shook your head.

"My fault," You admitted, Hotch rolled his eyes.

"Paramedics are three minutes out,"

"That's fine," You said, waving your hand dismissively.

"I'm not sure the blood flow is reducing," Spencer chimed, eyes flicking up to Hotch.

"You sure?" You asked, "Nah, it'll be alright. The writers can't kill off the best looking character. Derek would get too confident,"

Morgan gave a snort, rolling his eyes, "What are you on about?"

"I don't even know," You said with a wince.

Morgan turned to Reid, "Is delusional a symptom of blood loss?" Spencer gently shook his head.

Hotch gave Morgan a look and opened his mouth ready to lecture you both, when the paramedics jogged up the stairs to the jet.

You gave them a small wave, "Oh, hey," Morgan face palmed.

"Can we take a look?" The paramedic asked.

"At least take me to dinner first," You muttered, before giving them a nod. "Yeah, sure,"

"We're going to need to you take to hospital, we'll give you some painkillers to help with the pain, and you'll be taken to surgery,"

"How long is that gonna take?" If Hotch’s glare was anything to go by, that was not the right thing to say. "I mean, thank you."

JJ quickly told the paramedics you had taken some painkillers, they nodded, noting it down. Before they began their work. Soon enough you were in the back of an ambulance with Hotch, high on morphine.

"Morgan’s right," You said, turning to Hotch, patting his arm, "You really are the dad of the team."

"Rossi’s going to be so happy to find out that he's the mum of the team,"

"He does tend to mother hen," You acknowledged, Hotch huffed a laugh.

When the paramedics edged the gurney out of the ambulance, Rossi stood anxiously at the entrance. "Are you okay?" He turned to the paramedics, "Is he okay?"

You and Hotch glanced at each other, you giggling and Hotch trying his best to hold back a laugh.

[kiyomai]

“Goodnight Isn’t Optional”

Featuring: Bakugou Katsuki

Summary: You don’t have to forgive Katsuki right away, but you can’t go to bed without saying goodnight.

Warnings: minor cursing

Navigation // Taglist

Bakugou doesn't think when he's angry. It's easier to yell out whatever profanities and upspoken truths he comes up with than to filter out all the unnecessary crap he spews.

He's learned how to manage it throughout the years, but old habits die hard.

"Idiot," he lets out a groan, leaning back on the couch and rubbing his temples. His head hurts, but that's the least of his worries; he deserves as much. He shouldn't have taken his anger out on you. It's not your fault that he messed up today, or the day before, or two days ago- just the whole damn week he's been messing up.

You've learned how to handle his rage. You always keep a safe distance, knowing he prefers to be alone and think things over rather than be smothered. And once he's ready to receive your love, he accepts it.

He checks the time; 11:37 pm, it's late. You've been holed up in the room doing god-knows-what. Bakugou just hopes you're distracting yourself, hopes that you're not stuck in your thoughts, overthinking all the comments he'd said.

He should be in bed with you, slowly drifting off to sleep as you brush your fingers through his hair. You'd tease him about how much of a loser he is for sleeping early, he'd push you closer to the edge of your side, and then he'd turn his back on you. You would just inch closer to him, hugging him from behind as you tell him you were only kidding. Pros need eight hours of sleep, asshole. How else are we supposed to save lives?

He stands from his spot on the couch, the indent of his body marked on it, further proof of how much time he had spent just thinking. He slowly makes his way towards the bedroom; calm steps, not angry steps. He puts his ear on the door, trying to find some sort of indication of what your mood is.

What he gets in response is silence. That's odd. He at least expected to hear voices coming from the television; you always turned something on to drown out the quiet. But this time, there's nothing, not a peep.

He knocks on the door, hoping to hear some shuffling.

He knocks again, a little more firm this time.

Why aren't you answering?

He finally opens the door and immediately spots your figure on the bed. You're lying on your side, curled up with your thick blanket. You make no move to acknowledge his presence. That's fine, he thinks. You have every right to be angry and ignore him, but that doesn't mean he won't apologize anyways.

Bakugou doesn't like it when people invade his space when he's in a mood. It's suffocating to have everyone poke and prod at him, so he keeps that in mind with you. He understands you're upset, and that negative feeling you have towards him forces him to be selfless and give you your space. So he lies on his respective side on the bed, staring up at the ceiling and sorting out his words.

"Look," he starts. "I'm sorry for saying all that shit to you." He winces at the tone he uses. "There are no excuses for how I treated you. It's not your fault I had a bad week. You've been understanding and helpful, and I'm an idiot for taking advantage of your kindness."

He slowly inches his hand towards you, hovering over where he assumes to be your arm before dropping it. You're not protesting, so Bakugou begins tracing shapes onto the blanket, hoping it's your arm and nothing else. "I don't want you to be angry before going to sleep. That's not a good way to end the night. So I'm not asking you to forgive me, just let me kiss you goodnight, and we'll talk about this in the morning."

"Y/N? Didya hear me?" He shakes your body. "Hello? I'm pouring my heart out, and you're just gonna ignore me?" He hears a muffled yes coming from within the blankets and stops his shaking.

Bakugou gets up from the bed and walks over to where you're facing. You're covering your face with the blanket, only leaving a small hole to breathe. You put up a fight when he reaches to uncover you, but you ultimately give up when you realize that Bakugou isn't going to stop until he gets what he wants. So you're left without a blanket, indignantly pouting when you see your boyfriend throw it without care onto the floor. "That's just great," you huff.

"I know you're mad-"

"Upset and disappointed," you interrupt.

"You're upset and disappointed," he relents. "You were only trying to help, and I shouldn't have yelled at you. I'm not trying to sweep this under the rug, okay? I swear I'm going to get better and make it up to you."

"It's getting late, Katsuki."

"And it'll keep getting late until we compromise." You sit up, leaning back onto the headboard. Bakugou sits on the edge of the bed, reaching out to grab your hand, playing with your fingers before looking up at you. "I'm really sorry."

"You hurt my feelings," you finally say. "Jerk."

"You can call me something meaner," he chuckles. "Calling me a 'jerk' isn't that insulting."

"I know it hurt when I said I was disappointed in you." He twists your fingers, not letting go until you call out mercy.

"Will you let me make it up to you?"

"I'm not forgiving you right now, though." He agrees.

You mull it over, taking your time to torture Bakugou before finally nodding your head. "Kiss me goodnight."

"Can't sleep without one?"

"Goodnights aren't optional. No matter how mad we are at each other, that's how we end the day—no ifs ands or buts."

"Goodnight, Katsuki," you move to kiss his cheek, shushing him before he could argue. "It's past your bedtime, loser. Be grateful I didn't leave it at goodnight."

a/n: i've had this idea for a while now. i love writing mature bakugou :) he's so dreamy when he's aware of the stuff he does and actively apologizes. like yes bby apologize to me for doing what i made up. anyhoo, likes/comments/reblogs are welcome and appreciated <33

[fruit-teeth]

Hey. I am very…nervous about making this post. Not only because the person this is about is someone who has had a lot of influence in this community, but also because a lot of young people in this community look up to her. She’s well loved by many, and it really hurts to post this kind of stuff. However it would be wrong of me to stay silent, so I won’t.

Short version: @/scrapnick is a terf, or at the very least, someone who follows/reblogs from several terfs and actively spreads their rhetoric.

Long version:

So I first saw this post that she made that struck me as odd. Now, a post like this doesn’t automatically mean someone is a terf, but…the wording felt off somehow. Comparing gender and sexuality to lactose intolerance is…strange, to say the least. Anyway, this post left me feeling a bit weird, but I shrugged it off and thought maybe I was being too sensitive.

Fast forward to a few weeks later, to now: I was going through some tf2 posts from a few years ago, when I find this blog responding to someone in the notes of a post made by scrapnick:

This blog seemed to be scrapnick’s main based on how they were talking in the notes of that post I mentioned, but I wasn’t sure so I went to scrapnick’s blog to check and see if this url was listed anywhere. However, this is the blog she has listed as her main:

I went to this blog and looked around, and the oldest post is from only nine months ago. Basically, this is not actually her main: the url that’s the assortment of 1’s and 0’s is her main.

Here’s some proof that the first blog belongs to scrapnick:

So, what exactly is on this blog? Well…

Yeah.

She also frequently reblogs from terf blogs:

I unfortunately can’t add any more pictures due to the picture limit on mobile, but just know that the blogs there are all terf blogs.

In short: scrapnick deliberately hid her actual main blog so no one would know she’s actively sharing terf rhetoric. Many trans people follow and even look up to her, which makes this even worse.

I also wanna make it clear that I don’t think she’s just uneducated or anything - I believe she deliberately hid this blog by intentionally giving it a weird url and listing a different blog as her main. She wanted to keep this hidden from everyone.

I don’t really know how to end this post so the only thing I’ll say is…please don’t keep platforming this woman. I know her OC June was (and still is, I think) extremely popular, and her TF2 fancomic is well-loved too, but I think it’s important people know what she’s really doing and saying behind the scenes.

[seijorhi]

A Thousand Words

as promised, a Valentine’s Day fic 💕 

Oikawa Tooru x female reader, Iwaizumi Hajime x female reader

TW implied dub/non-con, cheating, minor choking/abuse, nsfw(ish)

You break up with Iwaizumi two weeks before Valentine’s Day, standing in the doorway of the apartment you share with him.

And you hate that it still hurts, still tugs at the wretched, broken strings of your heart to watch that rare, beautiful smile of his fracture like glass, confusion giving way to disbelief and then finally anguish.

Iwa’s never been the best with his words, but it seems that you’ve robbed him of those too as you tell him that your relationship’s over. He just stands there, wide eyed, agonised as you shove your phone – the proof – into his face, a hoarse, strangled whisper of ‘why’ leaves his lips. 

It seems that it’s all that he’s capable of.

There’s nothing for him to say anyway. You don’t want his apologies or his excuses. The pictures are evidence enough. 

A boys weekend, he’d told you, and you’d trusted him. You loved him. He wasn’t like your ex, Iwa would never deliberately do anything to hurt you. 

He knew what fidelity meant to you.

You’d thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with him, but those pictures are enough to show you what a fool’s dream that was. Iwa, naked in bed, wrapped around some other woman.

Sleeping so peacefully, curled up by her side, like he’d done with you a thousand times.

And it doesn’t matter whether he was drunk or not. It doesn’t matter if he knew her or paid for her or found her at some fancy fucking bar downtown. He cheated on you, he broke your heart and he doesn’t get to watch you fall apart in front of him.

You save your tears until the door swings shut, collapsing onto the floor with a heartbroken wail as the man you love walks away.

—

Iwaizumi doesn’t remember much of that night. He’s never been a lightweight, but the drinks they were knocking back would’ve been enough to take out the best of them. And Iwa didn’t have to worry, not when he was out with friends. 

God knows they’d gotten him into so much shit when they were younger and stupider, but between the four of them they’ll stop each other from doing anything too damaging. They have careers now (most of them, anyway) and reputations to protect. And Iwa had you.

Out of everything; his career, his reputation, his livelihood, you were the one thing Iwa wouldn’t risk fucking up.

The night itself is a hazy, incomprehensible blur, but he does remember the girl. Not her name or where she came from, but he remembers her. A pretty face with a sultry smile, wearing some short, tight, shimmering dress. He remembers her sitting on Oikawa’s lap, fingers carding through his hair, red lips kissing at his jaw.

And he remembers Oikawa lounging back in his seat, barely paying the poor girl an ounce of attention, even when her hand started to run teasingly up his thigh, those same sinful lips whispering into his ear.

How the girl managed to find her way from Oikawa’s lap to his hotel bedroom is beyond him, but the pictures don’t lie. It’s his arm wrapped around her waist, her skin littered with love bites and fingerprint shaped bruises.

It was her mouth he’d woken up to, trailing a slow, teasing path up along his chest. He’d shoved her aside, snapped and snarled until the pretty thing welled up with tears and all but fled, leaving him to fall back into the sheets full of self loathing and disgust, wondering how he could possibly have fucked up this badly.

And when he threw up later, hurling until there was nothing left in his stomach, he knew it had nothing to do with the alcohol he’d drunk.

Iwa hadn’t known that anybody knew, hadn’t thought that there was proof – not until you were shoving it in his face, your bottom lip trembling as you tried to keep your tears at bay. And what could he say? 

It was a mistake?

He was drunk?

Iwa doesn’t make excuses, you deserve more than that. You deserve more than him.

He should’ve fallen to his knees and begged – begged you through tears if he had to – for you to give him a second chance. But the words stuck in his throat, because the look of absolute, utter heartbreak on your face felt like a fist driving into his gut, and he wasn’t sure if he even deserved it.

You break up with him two weeks before Valentine’s Day, entirely unaware of the ring he’s been carrying around in his pocket for almost a month now, and Iwaizumi doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do.

So he does the only thing he can, and calls Oikawa.

—

Moving your things out of the apartment you’d spent the last year and a half sharing with your boyfriend – your ex-boyfriend – takes less time than you think. The life you’d started to build with him, packed up in nice neat little boxes in only a few hours.  

And you’re grateful that he’s not there. He’d messaged you to tell you that he wouldn’t be, the only contact you’d had with him since breaking up. 

It’s not the pictures on the nightstand, Iwa’s strong arms wrapped around you, a dopey little grin on his face that gets to you – it’s the World’s Best Boyfriend mug he’d bought you as a joke one day, the old hoodie of yours that was actually his, the one you’d worn half to death because it was warm and smelled like him. 

It’s hard enough to do this without him hovering over you, but stupidly you’d forgotten that while Iwa had promised not to be there, he wasn’t the only one with a key to your shared apartment.

The lock clicks and the door swings open just as you’re finishing up in the bedroom and for one single, split second, your heart jumps into your throat.

But the brunette that saunters in isn’t the one you’re still in love with, and you’re quick to brush away the tears on your face before he can see.

Before he can mock you for it.

Oikawa, ever the charmer, merely grins when he catches sight of you. 

“Did Iwa send you to supervise?” you say in lieu of a proper greeting, the words slightly more bitter than you intend – even for him. 

He isn’t bothered by it, his grin widening just a fraction as he turns and settles down on the bed, long legs stretched out, ankles casually crossed over. He looks entirely too comfortable there and it’s an effort not to bristle.

“Well hello to you too,” he says, his voice a teasing lilt. “Are you always this fun in the mornings?”

Your brows draw together in a frown, but just as you open your mouth to snap a retort, his palms come up in a gesture of mock surrender. “No, Iwa did not send me to supervise you. He doesn’t know I’m here, actually.”

“Then why are you here? To gloat?” you spit.

Oikawa’s eyes glitter, amusement tugging at his lips. You love Iwaizumi, and for his sake you’ve spent the past few years tolerating the constant, overbearing presence of his best and oldest friend. Oikawa, on the other hand has never made all that much of an effort to hide the fact that he doesn’t exactly approve of your relationship with his friend.

Oh, he’s never outwardly rude or hurtful. He doesn’t sit there and spew abuse at you, and as far as you know he hasn’t tried to sway Iwa into leaving you since the very early days of your relationship, but Oikawa doesn’t need to be overt to make his feelings clear.

He treats you like a one night stand that hasn’t quite gotten the hint that it’s time to fix your dress and move right along. 

You still haven’t forgotten the night you all went out to celebrate your boyfriend’s birthday, how he’d slid into Iwa’s empty seat the moment he’d slipped out to get another round of drinks and spoken so casually, as if it was nothing but a friendly conversation. Small talk. 

“You know it won’t last; you and Iwa.”

And you hadn’t said a word, not wanting to be baited into fighting – into ruining Iwa’s night. You hadn’t even scowled at him, just sat there, pretending that he didn’t exist as you waited for your boyfriend to come back to you. 

“You’re cute together, I’ll give you that much,” he’d mused, swallowing the last mouthful of his beer. He’d studied you from beneath long lashes for a moment; a sharp, lingering look entirely at odds with the easy, relaxed tone of his voice. “But you two aren’t a good match. You don’t belong with him.”

You never did figure out exactly what you’d done to make him dislike you so much, but you suppose it doesn’t matter now. 

Not when he’s finally proven himself to be right. 

“Please,” he says with a scoff, rolling those pretty eyes of his, “as if I’d be so immature. I’m just here to make sure you don’t steal the coffee machine – it’s so much better than the one I have at home.”

He spends the next half hour trailing you from room to room, looking entirely too delighted at your misery. It’s almost a relief when you slip into the bathroom just for a moment’s fucking peace, brushing angrily away at the tears that still haven’t left you.

You almost – almost – reach for your phone to message Iwa and tell him to call off his stupid, infuriating friend, except you’d left it lying on the kitchen bench.

—

His head hurts. An incessant pounding, throbbing ache that makes him want to hurl.

Rationally, he’d known that the cure for the monstrous hangover he’d given himself wasn’t going out for a run at five in the morning, but he didn’t know what else to do. It was either that or keep drinking, and considering it was the alcohol that had gotten him into this fucking mess in the first place…

“I need to fix this,” he groans, dropping his head into his hands, letting his fingers roughly run through the tangles of his hair. “I need to fucking fix this.”

He looks like shit, feels like shit, but he can’t bring himself to care, not even as a solid weight drops itself onto the couch beside him. 

“You need to give her space, Iwa,” Oikawa comments with a sigh, passing him a glass of water that he gratefully chugs. “Give her time to figure things out. She’s hurting, and you constantly harassing her won’t do you any favours in trying to win her back.”

He wants to see the truth in his friend’s wisdom. He knows he hurt you, he knows he fucked up, but–

You’d already moved your things out.

He’d known that, of course he had, but coming home to see every trace of you just gone was like a gut punch. He was gonna marry you, get down on one fucking knee in front of everybody and– and now you’re gone and he’s crashing in his best friend’s spare bedroom because the thought of going home without you there is too fucking painful for him to bare.

And he only has himself to blame for it. 

But you’re his future, the only one he really gives a damn about, and he’s not one to just give up and walk away. Iwa doesn’t care if it takes weeks or months, he doesn’t care if he has to spend the rest of his life making this up to you; he will. 

He can’t just let you go. 

Oikawa continues to try and talk sense beside him, but he’s barely paying attention, only offering a small grunt of acknowledgement when he feels the brunette’s eyes studying him. He knows that he’s only trying to help, but he can’t honestly remember the last time Oikawa bothered to introduce him to one of the girls hanging off his arm. He knew as well as his friend did that there wasn’t much point – they wouldn’t be sticking around for long. Fuck, he doesn’t think that Oikawa’s ever had a serious relationship in his life, so excuse him if he’s a little hesitant to take his advice as gospel.

And Oikawa doesn’t know you like Iwaizumi does. He doesn’t understand you, doesn’t see what Iwa does when he looks at you. You’re like… sunlight. There’s no other way he can describe it. It’s cheesy and stupidly sappy, he’d rather be shot than admit it out loud, but he’s never met another person so–so… radiant. You burn bright, and Iwaizumi can’t help but be drawn to you – your warmth and your softness and everything about you. You’re beautiful and caring and you’re home and he’s terrified that if he waits too long, somebody else is gonna see that and snatch you up for themselves and he won’t even be able to blame them for it.

He knows he fucked up, knows that you probably (rightfully) hate him, but he has to try. 

So he ignores the way that Oikawa huffs and rolls his eyes when he reaches for his phone, opening up your last conversation.

Please, can we talk? I know you don’t want anything to do with me right now but I’m begging you. Just ten minutes?

And his heart pounds against his ribcage so violently that he thinks he might be sick as he waits for it to send. Waits for the little ‘Read’ notification to pop up.

And waits.

And waits.

Error. Message failed to send.

He tries again, distinctly aware of the Oikawa’s watchful, curious gaze peering over his shoulder.

Error. Message failed to send.

There’s a sinking feeling in his gut and in his panic, he presses the call button, bringing the phone to his ear with a sick feeling in his stomach.

It doesn’t even ring, there’s just three beeps and the line disconnects.

You’ve blocked his number.

—

You second guess yourself with every step, but you don’t stop and you don’t turn around. 

The radio silence from your ex had been a little unexpected, but you’d been the one to tell him in no uncertain terms that the two of you were done.

You were the one to make a point of moving out, keeping the few messages you’d exchanged short and to the point. Were you expecting him to fight you on it? Blow up your phone with messages and voicemails begging you to come back? Maybe show up at your door demanding that you hear him out and give him another chance. 

Were you maybe just the tiniest bit disappointed that he hadn’t? 

It wasn’t remotely fair to expect that of him, you know that, but you couldn’t help the way your heart had leapt into your throat the moment his message had come through after days of nothing.

Can we talk face to face? I need to see you. 

Two sentences, that was it. And you’d spent the better part of an hour debating whether or not you should reply.

Because you love him still, despite it all. 

The last person you’d given a second chance to had used that chance to walk all over you. He’d broken your heart, your trust, and any semblance of self worth you’d had. Iwaizumi had been the one to build you back up afterwards. 

And now he’d done the same thing. Knowing what you’d gone through before, and it gutted you.

The date on the calendar hasn’t slipped your attention. It’s Valentine’s Day, and you’d spent all morning trying to forget that if things were different, you would have spent the day with Iwa. He’d been secretive about his plans, tight lipped for once in his life, and there’d been some part of you that had wondered, hoped even… but instead you’re sitting alone in a hotel room, feeling miserable for yourself. 

If you were stronger, maybe, and if today were any other day, you might have ignored the message, the way those two brief sentences made your pathetic heart ache, but–

But… perhaps you had been a little too hasty when you’d broken it off. Iwa hadn’t said a word to defend himself, but you hadn’t really given him the option, had you?

Agreeing to meet with him wasn’t agreeing to brush it all under the rug. It wasn’t a promise of forgiveness, or even really an olive branch. It just meant that you would go to hear him out, that’s all.

Just to hear him out.

Yet your stomach’s twisting into knots as you walk up the familiar steps, your heart beating out an unsteady rhythm. You love him, despite it all.

You love him, but that doesn’t stop your hand from trembling as you raise a fist to knock.

The smiling face that greets you when that door swings open, however, is not the one you’re expecting.

“Hey there, cutie. You’re early.”

Oikawa.

For one single, floundering heartbeat, confusion grips you. Why was he– was Iwaizumi not coming? Had you misunderstood the message, or… or had he changed his mind, backed down at the last second and sent his friend to hammer the final nail into the coffin of your failed relationship.

You didn’t think Iwaizumi would be the type, though. He’d never been cruel, he’d never been cowardly, either.

“I don’t… understand,” you breathe, wide eyes darting around as if you’re expecting your ex to suddenly pop up behind his shoulder and shove him aside with a growl, telling him to butt out of your relationship the way he had countless times before.

Yet Oikawa offers no explanation, that same stupid, infuriating grin widening as he steps back to let you in, and you, somewhat robotically, follow him inside. Your eyes flicker from his back to the apartment around you – it’s exactly how you left it last week, not a single thing out of place. 

“Iwa said–” but your voice falls silent as you realise that no, that’s not true. 

The door to your bedroom is ajar, soft, flickering light spilling out from the crack, but that’s not what catches your attention. It’s the rose petals on the floor, the dulcet music playing so quietly you’d missed it entirely. 

Your brow furrows, breath catching in your throat as you stare at the scene before you, utterly frozen. You don’t register Oikawa stepping closer, nor the dark hunger brewing in his eyes. None of this makes any sense, you don’t understand–

“Iwa’s not coming.” Long, delicate fingers grip your chin, tilting your face and before you can even draw breath his lips are pressing against yours. It only lasts a second, long enough for your lagging brain to register that Oikawa is kissing you, here, in the middle of the apartment you’d shared with his best friend.

Oikawa, who hates you. Who’s cupping your cheek, gazing at you with an expression so eager and wanting, so unnervingly wrong that it makes your heart clench in fear and your blood run cold.

His thumb brushes along the curve of your cheekbone,  “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

And then he’s grabbing at your hand, fingers entwining with yours as he tugs you towards the bedroom, and finally the shock wears off enough for reality to kick in.

“What the fu– Oikawa, get the hell off of me!” you snap, trying to wrench yourself free. But he’s stronger than he looks, and his grip merely tightens.

“Tooru,” he calls back, glancing over his shoulder with that impish, wicked little smirk. “I want you to moan it for me tonight. You can do that for me, right cutie?”

You’re not a violent person, you’ve never been the type to lash out with fists and blows, but something inside of you just snaps at his words, and before you can stop yourself, your open palm flies towards his face. 

Quick as lightning, Oikawa spins, catching at your wrist and slamming you up against the living room wall. A small burst of pain radiates through your skull from the impact, your breath forced from your lungs in a pathetic squeak as he boxes you in. There’s not a moment for you to catch your breath, though, not with his forearm pressing down on your throat just hard enough so that you can feel it. He’s always been taller than you, but you’d never considered him to be intimidating – not until he’s looming over you, teeth bared in that feral smirk.

“Oh, baby. If you’re not going to play nice, I won’t either.” His fingers tighten on your wrist, squeezing until a choked whimper slips out and he kisses you once more. Not soft or sweet, but bruising, teeth clacking, nipping and biting and harshly sucking at your bottom lip until you return it.

And when he pulls away, there’s blood on his lips – yours – and he licks it away with a satisfied little hum. “I put effort into this, you know,” he says, his tone almost conversational if not for the slight pant, the shivering undercurrent that laces every word. Oikawa leans closer, and you can feel the outline of his cock, hardening already as he presses it against you, rutting his hips ever so slightly. “Set the bedroom up nice and romantic for our first time together.”

He kisses you again, a sweet, tender peck, smiling when you part.

“But if you want me to fuck you here first, up against the wall, all you had to do was say so.”

—

The girl had been easy enough to convince to play along, which probably should have disgusted him. 

She looked like you; a cheap imitation, of course, but close enough. Oikawa could kid himself that it was for Iwaizumi’s sake, to sow the seeds of doubt in his head, but he knows as he forces her face down into the pillow, slamming his hips against her ass like a man possessed, that that’s not the whole truth.

But she served her purpose well enough, letting him fuck her, mark up that pristine skin with the same kind he’d seen littered across your neck and collarbones, your thighs–

And she’d still tried to kiss him the moment before slipping out of her robe and climbing into his best friend’s bed. Given him that playful wink, biting her bottom lip seductively as if she were anything but a means to an end for him. 

As if he hadn’t forgotten her name the moment he’d gotten those pictures.

Oikawa knows all about your ex and how that asshole treated you, out of all the possible scenarios he could have engineered, this would be the one that’d hurt you the most. He’d thought that you would fly off the handle, kick Iwa out for a few days and leave the door open just wide enough for him to weasel his way in, but you’d gone one step further. 

You’d left him.

Broken his heart completely, the way he’d broken yours. Oikawa couldn’t have planned it better himself, and oh what he would have killed to have been there to see it. 

And it’s not that he enjoys his best friend’s pain – truly, he wants Iwa to be happy, he does.

Just not with you. Not when you’re his.

It was easy enough to bully Iwa into revealing when you’d be coming over to pick up your things. Easy enough to rile you up to the point you’d run and hide just so he wouldn’t see you shed all those pretty tears.

Leaving your phone unattended. And really, it’s your own fault for choosing such an obvious passcode – how could he possibly resist?

You were none the wiser, his poor, unsuspecting little idiot. 

Yet for all your posturing and your badly concealed hurt, he’d known that you’d show up today. You’re a romantic at heart, and you’d let yourself be walked all over again if you thought it meant that somebody loved you, wouldn’t you?

You would’ve said yes when he’d gotten down on one knee, and when he’d come back to you with tears in his eyes, drowning in regret and you saw what a mess Iwaizumi was without you, you would have forgiven him – even if it meant giving him the power to break you all over again.

Oikawa honestly doesn’t know whether he should admire or pity you for it.

It hardly matters now, he supposes. Not when you’re so beautifully wrecked, lying nestled against his bare chest with those tears he adores spilling down your flushed cheeks. Every thump of your heart echoing his. 

He wonders if he should send Iwaizumi a picture. 

[starrywolf101]

Sure, we could say that Tommy is physically normal after revival,

But that's no fun.

So, how about this:

People weren't made to been revived. Bringing the dead back has consequences.

When Tommy came back, he wasn't the same, and I'm not just talking about trauma.

His body is much more fragile, and is more zombie-like than human. He has phantom pains now, and any recent wounds rot really fast. Healing potions hurt him and potions of harming heal him. He's truly undead in every way except mentally. Being revived has more or less shoved his spirit back into a corpse.

This is another reason why he's afraid of pain, because witnessing his body rot away adds onto the trauma.

Scars litter his body, both old and new.

Even with Ranboo, Tubbo, and Puffy's support, he retreats into his head and dirt shack. He refuses to leave the space, terrified of everything.

But... when he meets Michael, something protective takes hold. Here is a child free of the traumas he and others have faced. Not only that, but Michael looks at Tommy and doesn't run and hide. He loves his big brother Tommy.

Tubbo and Ranboo watched the progress that Tommy has made since meeting their son. They've watched Tommy hide away from everything, afraid of even being touched, to going on walks with Michael and running around with the kid. With Michael, Tommy allows physical contact. He gives the kid piggy back rides, he reads out loud while Michael sits in his lap, and they've even napped together, with Michael curled into Tommy's body.

Sometimes, even if he doesn't get hurt, his scars rot away when not taken care of for a period of time. Tubbo has taken to treating Tommy when this happens, and even makes the boy do check-ups. Michael loves to help, playing doctor with Tommy. He's not disgusted by the rot like others are, and maybe that has something to do with them both being zombies of sort.

Even if Tommy is still scared of the world, he makes progress everyday. His support system are there for him.

And then something bad happens.

It was just a picnic with the four of them, and Michael had wondered off. Tommy left to look while Tubbo and Ranboo relax. None of them were particularly worried. Next thing they know, there's an explosion and loud squeals of fear. The two of them race towards the distressed sounds, only to find a creeper hole and a curled up figure at the bottom. Tommy was unconscious, injured, and curled around Michael. Luckily Michael didn't have a scratch on him, but thats because Tommy took the hit.

Tubbo, who always caries potions of harming for both his undead son and best friend, is quick to tend to Tommy while Ranboo calms their distressed child. While most of the burns and rot heals, Tommy took a lot of damage to his head— more specifically, his right eye. Tubbo would've gagged if he wasn't already used to gruesome injuries. He's learned to numb himself as a child soldier.

Tommy remains unconscious for a few days, and he stays at Tubbo's home in Snowchester. Michael sits by his bed, worried for his uncle. Tubbo assures the piglin child that Tommy was strong and would be up in no time.

The first thing Tommy sees when he wakes up is Tubbo, as Michael was long asleep after he'd been promised that Tommy would be looked after.

"Tubso...?"

Happy that his best friend was awake, Tubbo had pulled Tommy into a hug, though it was gentler than the normal bone-crushing embraces. "You scared us! What were you thinking!?"

Returning the hug as best as he could, Tommy answered: "I saw the creeper and acted, Big Man. What kind of big brother would I be if Michael got hurt?"

Apparantly, they weren't quiet enough, because both are alerted to the sound of small hoof-steps. Smiling, Tommy invites the kid into the bed, who immediately snorts happily and curls up into his side. And in that moment, Tubbo wants to cry tears of joy— he saw the way Tommy looked down at his son, and was reminded of how Wilbur used to look at Tommy and Fundy. Just the sheer amount of love... and Tommy wasn't even aware of his own expression.

When Tommy catches Tubbo's staring, he rolls his eyes and scoots himself and Michael over. "Get in here already, Big Man. Its late and I'm exhausted." With no further invitation needed, Tubbo climbs in and presses against Tommy's other side. That's how Ranboo found them in the morning (he took pictures so that none of them would ever forget.)

A few days after that, they take the bandages off Tommy's head and reveal his eye— just a socket now. Trying to make the best of the situation, Tommy cracks a smile and looks at Michael: "Looks like we're matching, Big M,"

Surprisingly, the creeper explosion didn't set Tommy back in progress. In fact, a little bit of the old Tommy was coming back to him after the experience. He started venturing out more, though not without armor anymore. He also finally moved out of that cruddy dirt shack and moved into Snowchester.

Tommy wore an eyepatch most of the time nowadays, not wanting people to stare at his socket. He only took it off around people he felt safe around. Those being Puffy, Tubbo, Ranboo, and Michael. He still got the odd looks at the eyepatch from people who didn't know, but those that did never commented on it.

With the mansion nearly complete, Ranboo decided that he wanted to move some of his stuff in. While he still lived in his cabin by Techno, he also wanted to stay with Tubbo and Michael. So the compromise was that he'd live in both homes. With that settled, Tommy promised to help Ranboo move some of his things over.

Now, this was the first time since right before the "final confrontation" with Dream that he's seen Techno and Phil. Of course, they'd heard he was locked in the prison, and there was a rumor going around that he died, but neither realy knew what he went through.

So of course Techno starts a fight with Tommy about being on his property.

Of course Tommy's stubbornness gets the best of him and he immediately starts arguing back. Ranboo watches the train wreck that is Techno and Tommy's relationship. Phil stands behind Techno, only jumping in to agree with his friend.

"And whats even with the eyepatch? It looks so stupid!"

Snarling, Tommy clenches his fists. "You wanna know whats with the eyepatch? Fine." He rips it off to reveal the rotting socket. It was about time for the weekly checkup anyways, but he wanted to help Ranboo first.

Shocked silence falls over the two anarchists, and Tommy feels a sense of satisfaction.

"...I– Tommy?" Phil was at a loss for words.

"It turns out being revived from the dead isn't all sunshine and flowers. But, I guess neither is being beat to death by your abuser either, innit."

They were already carrying everything that Ranboo wanted to take with him, do with that, Tommy starts to head back for the nether portal.

Suddenly pulled from his shock, Techno reaches for Tommy, wanting– no, needing an explanation. The voices in his head were all confused on how to feel, and he felt much the same. "Theseus–"

Ranboo grabs Techno's wrist before he could touch Tommy. Ranboo, who had talked about having the backbone of a chocolate eclair, had a look in his eyes. Something dangerous and protective that made Techno back off. "Do not touch him." Ranboo had hissed before realizing what he did and getting flustered. "He, uh– he doesn't like being touch..." Ranboo mumbles before hurrying after Tommy.

Techno and Phil are left to wonder what happened to a boy once so full of life. The thought that they were partially of fault for this weighed heavy on them.

---

I didn't really go back and proof read this, it was mostly just a single stream of consciousness over the past couple hours of writing.

Edit: [Masterpost]

[hotshotsxyz]

like it means something

buddie (2.8k) (read it on ao3)

Evan. His own name won’t stop rattling around in his head. Evan.

He brings Eddie home from the hospital and everything’s - not okay, Eddie still got hurt and Buck still had to watch it and Bobby’s still hurt too, but - they’re getting there. No one died, and that’s a hell of a lot better than it could’ve been. No one died.

Evan.

Eddie kisses Chris’s forehead and Buck grins wide, because yeah, of course he would take care of him if the worst happened, but this is what Christopher deserves. His family, alive and whole and well.

Taylor’s there. Of course she is, Buck’s mind supplies, you asked her to be. She’s your friend. More than a friend? Buck doesn’t know. There’s a lot to unpack there, and with everything else that’s happened, they haven’t had the time. It’s a conversation for another day.

Abuela, Pepa and Carla each take their turn fussing over Eddie and then, to Buck’s surprise, him too. He doesn’t understand why. Eddie got shot, not him. Eddie’s the one who hasn’t been home in a week, not him. Eddie -

Evan.

Buck’s at a loss. It’s a party of sorts, but Eddie’s exhausted and so is he. Buck feels completely wrung out, and he can see the tension in Eddie’s expression that says he does too. He wants to tell everyone else to leave, but it isn’t his place. Still, though, Taylor seems to get the hint first. She pulls him aside with a gentle hand to his shoulder.

“I’m going to head out. Is there anything you need?” she asks.

Buck shakes his head mutely.

“Just... get some rest, okay? I know you want to take care of him, but you’re not the only one who can.” She presses a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, then heads over to where Eddie and Ana are seated at the dining room table to make her excuses.

Taylor is half right and half wrong. There are other people that can take care of Eddie, but Buck won’t be able to rest unless he’s nearby.

Evan.

Abuela and Pepa leave next, citing the sinking sun and the growing weariness in Eddie’s movements. They each kiss him on the cheek and go with the promise to return in the morning. Abuela’s left behind enough food to feed an army for a week, stacked in the fridge in carefully labeled Tupperware.

Then Carla goes and it’s just Eddie, Ana, Buck and Chris.

Evan.

Buck should probably go, he knows, but he can’t quite bring himself to. He knows Eddie’s okay, has the living proof sitting right in front of him, but the second he looks away all the tension of the week returns, the fear and anxiety mixing sickeningly in his stomach.

Christopher has fallen asleep in Eddie’s lap, head tucked into his good shoulder. Eddie himself is fighting yawns. It’s been a long day.

Finally, it’s Ana who breaks the silence, standing and pressing a kiss to Eddie’s forehead. “Get some rest,” she says. “And text me if you need anything.”

It’s virtually the same thing Taylor said to him, and it strikes Buck as odd. They’ve been together, what, six months now? She should be saying more. Maybe she’s not because he’s here. Buck still can’t bring himself to leave.

Evan.

Neither of them has moved in the minutes since Ana left, but Eddie’s eyes are starting to drift and Buck knows he needs to sleep.

“Let me take Chris,” he says softly.

The grateful nod Eddie gives him is a testament to just how tired he really is.

Buck picks him up carefully and carries him to bed. He tucks him in and presses a kiss into his forehead. Once upon a time, he might’ve wondered if that was his place. Not now, though, not after everything Eddie said. He loves this kid like his own; he’s not going to pretend it’s anything less.

Evan.

He flicks the light out and makes sure Chris’s night light is on before gently shutting the door. Wordlessly, he returns to Eddie’s side.

There’s a grimace of pain on Eddie’s face that hadn’t been there before, and a quick glance at the clock tells Buck that he’s way past due for another round of medication. He grabs the pills and a bottle of water from the kitchen.

“The doctor said I can give you ibuprofen, too, if this isn’t enough.”

Eddie shakes his head minutely. “No, this is okay.” He swallows the pills Buck offers him dry, then washes them down with a swig of water.

“You need to sleep,” Buck says. “I should-“

“Stay, please?” Eddie interrupts him.

And how could Buck say no to that?

Evan.

Buck’s barely asleep when he hears Eddie cry out. He’s on his feet in a second and by Eddie’s side in less.

Eddie’s asleep still, but his face is scrunched and he’s curled in on himself like he’s trying to make himself smaller. Buck places a hand on his leg and shakes him gently.

Eddie shoots up, hissing in pain and clutching his shoulder. His eyes dart wildly around the room, unseeing.

“Hey, hey, just a dream, you’re okay,” Buck says.

Eddie’s eyes are wide with fear as they meet Buck’s. He sucks in a ragged, shuddering breath, then sags.

“I- you. You were- fuck,” Eddie stutters, scrubbing a hand across his face.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” Buck repeats. He pulls Eddie to his chest. “You’re okay.”

Buck rocks them back and forth gently as his shirt slowly grows wet with Eddie’s tears.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Eddie gasps against him. Buck just holds him tighter.

“Don’t be,” he murmurs, “I’ve got you.”

Eventually, Eddie pulls back, wiping his eyes with his good hand.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Buck asks after a moment.

Eddie shakes his head but begins to speak anyway. “It was- I saw you, covered in blood and I couldn’t... couldn’t move, or, or help you. And- and then you were coughing up blood, just like at the party, and I tried, Buck I tried but it was like I was stuck in quicksand and I couldn’t-“ Eddie’s breathing has gone ragged again, so Buck grabs his hand.

“Me?” he can’t help but ask.

“Evan,” Eddie says, so tenderly it hurts.

Evan.

They fall asleep curled together, Eddie’s hand resting over Buck’s heart. It’s the first decent sleep Buck’s had since the shooting.

They don’t talk about it the next day, mostly because Buck doesn’t know what to say. He suspects Eddie doesn’t either.

Instead, much to Christopher’s delight, Buck makes pancakes. The three of them eat together on the couch, watching some cartoon that Chris seems interested in and Buck’s never seen before. It’s so painfully normal. Buck was terrified he’d never get to have this again, and now that he does he can’t shake the feeling that the other shoe is going to drop.

Evan.

That night, Eddie wordlessly pulls Buck into his bedroom. They lay facing each other in the dark. Buck wants nothing more than to bridge the gap between them, but it might as well be the Grand Canyon.

There’s not much light in the room, just the ambient glow of the city filtering in through the cracks in the blinds. It’s enough to see Eddie’s face by, but it doesn’t help Buck read his inscrutable expression. He eventually gives up trying and closes his eyes.

He’s stiff, and sleep evades him. If Eddie’s shifting is any indication, he’s still awake too. Finally, Eddie heaves a sigh and, to Buck’s surprise, wraps a hand around Buck’s wrist and pulls. Buck opens his eyes and sees the silent question in Eddie’s.

Is this okay?

Buck presses himself into Eddie’s space without hesitation.

Evan.

Eddie has a doctor’s appointment the next day, and Buck’s agreed to meet Taylor for coffee after dropping him off. Carla’s with Chris for the day, to help him with school, leaving Buck with a free hour on his hands for the first time in over a week.

His stomach has been in knots all morning. He’s not sure if it’s the prospect of letting Eddie out of his sight for the first time since he’s been home, or the conversation he knows he’s about to have with Taylor.

Because he’s thought about it, and the idea of being with Taylor… he’s kidding himself. Before, maybe. But now, after, with the mess of feelings he has twisting in his chest - he’s not in a place to start something new. He’s not even sure he wants it - her - anymore. Taylor’s great, but she could never fill the hole that was punched in his chest by the same bullet that tore through Eddie’s shoulder.

He’s starting to wonder if he’ll spend the rest of his life dividing things into before and after.

Taylor’s already seated when he arrives, fingers wrapped around a cardboard coffee cup that’s still steaming. Buck almost expected to change his mind when he saw her, to suddenly remember why he was interested in the first place, but mostly he’s just anxious to get back to Eddie. He doesn’t even really feel the old curl of attraction he’s used to. He sits in front of her, suppressing a sigh.

Taylor looks up at him, wearing an expression he can’t quite decipher. “Buck,” she says.

Evan.

“Hey, Taylor.”

“You don’t want coffee?” She asks, inclining her cup towards him.

Buck shakes his head. “Had some this morning,” he shrugs. “Don’t want to get jittery.”

Taylor frowns slightly, but doesn’t say anything.

They sit in awkward silence for what feels like an eternity before Buck finally breaks it.

“Look, Taylor,” he sighs. “There’s a lot going on right now, and I just… whatever this thing is between us, I’m not sure I have the space to figure it out. You deserve someone who’s all in, and I just can’t be right now.”

Taylor blows out a breath. “Oh thank god,” she says.

And that’s… unexpected. Buck raises a brow.

“You’re my friend, and I care so much about you, but I- I was scared, and I didn’t know what to do with it, so I told myself it was something else.” Taylor doesn’t look him in the eye. “All this earnestness is making me nauseous,” she jokes weakly.

Buck huffs out a short laugh. The tightly wound anxiety in his gut loosens, just a bit. “Friends, then?”

Taylor finally looks at him and smiles. “Friends,” she agrees.

“How was coffee?” Eddie asks. He’s looked vaguely constipated since Buck picked him up, but insists that his appointment went fine.

“Good,” Buck replies honestly. “We’re on the same page.” He’s driving, but out of the corner of his eye, he sees Eddie’s face do something complicated.

“Good,” he says. “That’s good.” There’s a beat of silence. “So you’re… together, then?”

Buck glances at Eddie, whose eyes are fixed on the road ahead of them. His expression is carefully neutral, but tight around the edges. Buck huffs a soft breath. “Nah,” he says. “End of the day it wasn’t what either of us wanted.”

Some of the tension bleeds out of Eddie’s posture. “Oh. I, uh- are you okay with that?”

Buck chuckles lightly at that. “Yeah, Eds. Pretty sure I’ve got everything I need right now.”

Evan.

Sleeping in the same bed at night becomes something of a habit, just like not talking about it does. It’s not that Buck doesn’t want to. He’s just… not sure how. What do you say when you’ve got so many feelings that you can’t even begin to decipher them, and the only thing you know for sure is that the thought of letting your best friend out of sight for more than a few minutes sends you careening towards a panic attack? There’s not exactly a greeting card for that.

This song and dance, though, it’s familiar. Comforting, in its own way. They’ve always flirted with the line between friendship and more, daring to put a toe over it, but never to take an actual step. Buck can’t help but wonder if this is a step, and they’re both just too chickenshit to admit it.

Evan.

“Where’s Ana?” Buck asks one morning, apropos of nothing. “I would’ve expected to see her around more often.”

Eddie stiffens. “We, uh, we broke up.”

Buck whirls around, nearly flinging egg against the backsplash. “When?”

“After the party.” Eddie shrugs uncomfortably.

Buck’s eyebrows raise. “I’ve been with you 24/7 since then,” he says. The question is obvious.

Eddie rubs a hand through his hair and frowns sheepishly. “I… texted her?”

Buck’s jaw drops. “You ended a 6-month relationship, a week after you got shot, over text?”

“In my defense, I was on a lot of painkillers. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Buck can’t help but laugh, throwing his head back. After a moment, Eddie joins in.

“That,” Buck says between giggles, “was not cool, man!”

“Nope,” Eddie agrees.

It’s the best either of them has felt in weeks.

The night after Buck’s first shift back at the station, Eddie has the worst nightmare he’s had since that first night. It takes Buck three tries to wake him, and the glassy look in his eyes remains far longer than he’d like.

“Please be careful,” Eddie says finally. “You have to- I can’t-“

“I promise,” Buck says, holding him tight to his chest.

Evan.

It’s Buck’s own nightmare that brings things to a head.

He’s been sleeping surprisingly peacefully since Eddie’s return home, but when the nightmares do return, they’re the worst he’s had.

He dreams he’s stuck beneath the firetruck, white-hot pain radiating up his leg, watching helplessly as Eddie bleeds out in front of him. Eddie tries to drag himself to Buck, but each pull makes the wound gush even more blood. Buck tries to yell for him to stop, but he can’t make his jaw work.

He finally wrenches it open, only to find himself sitting bolt upright in bed. His throat feels raw, like he’s been screaming, and Eddie’s hand is clutching his forearm. He knows where he is, but the panic from his dream isn’t receding. It grows louder and louder, until finally, Eddie’s voice cuts through.

“Evan!” He says sharply. “You’re okay, you’re fine. You’re in my room, with me. We’re both okay.”

Buck sags and falls back against the pillow, willing his breathing to slow. “You keep saying that,” he whispers in the dark.

“What?”

“My name. Like it means something.”

“It does,” Eddie says. “Every single piece of you matters.”

And Buck… Buck almost believes him.

Evan.

The elephant in the room grows larger every day, but still, they don’t talk about it. For all intents and purposes, Buck lives at Eddie’s. It’s been months. Eddie doesn’t physically need his help anymore, but neither is willing to let the other go. With Eddie’s return date drawing nearer, though, it’s getting harder to ignore.

Buck doesn’t want to ask, but he has to. He’s been waiting for the other shoe to drop since practically the first night, and he can’t take it anymore. He decides to soften the blow with pancakes.

“I should probably go back to my apartment,” he says, as casually as he can manage, as if the words don’t feel like ripping his still-beating heart out of his chest. Buck tries not to examine that feeling too closely.

“You need something?” Eddie asks, like it hasn’t even occurred to him that Buck might not come back.

“No, I-“

“Oh,” Eddie says. His expression goes carefully blank.

“I just-“ Buck tries to explain.

Eddie holds up a hand forestalling him. “I get it,” he says. “It’s fine.”

Buck swallows, ignoring the voice in his head that says definitively that it’s not.

Evan.

Buck’s out the door, duffle in hand, when Eddie stops him.

“Buck, wait,” he says, “Evan!”

Buck drops his bag in surprise and turns, only to find Eddie much closer than he expected.

“Don’t go,” Eddie says in a rush. “Stay, please. I need you here. With me.”

Buck gapes at him, as slowly the knot of emotions in his chest begins to unravel. The string that encircles the edges, that one he knows well: fear. The one beneath it: anger, at the sniper and the universe for hurting Eddie all over again. Hope and devastation intermingle, while grief lay coiled off to the side.

And the string that runs through the middle, holding it all together… that’s love.

Oh.

Buck gets it now.

He takes a step forward, closing the minuscule gap between him and Eddie. “I don’t want to go,” he whispers.

“Then don’t.”

Buck kisses him, soft and sweet. A promise, one which Eddie returns in kind.

There’re still a million things to talk about, but for once in his life, Evan Buckley is pretty sure he has all the words he needs.

[gloryofluv]

How the Last Three Brothers react to MC with ADHD

So this is the last half of the brothers. I also added some bonus content at the bottom in regards to all of them!

Here's the first four in case you missed them!

Asmo-

Heard about it from Satan. Was amused, but definitely didn’t care too much about it.

After meeting you the first time he decides that you’re not quite his type, but is friendly anyway. It wasn’t until he noticed that you were trying to mimic his makeup and did a stellar job that he was interested. He flat out asks you why.

When you express that he’s the most beautiful friendliest demon and wants to fit in more that he gushes! He immediately starts to have beauty sessions and finds out through teaching you proper hair care that you confess that you never feel like you fit in and want to, that he asks more about your ADHD.

Telling Asmo is easier than Lucifer. Mostly because he’s hugging you and brushing out your hair. Relaxing you into a state where you’re able to admit how awkward it makes you feel.

He immediately makes it his goal to improve your self-confidence! Doesn’t ask. Barges into your room with products, brushes, and other items at least once a week. You review the week and he listens to your worries. If someone is bothering you at RAD, he has ways of ending their lives in social suicide.

This beautiful boy becomes your gal pal with benefits. He always has something healthy to offer for your skin, clothing that he wants you to try on, and never says one horrible thing about you. He LOVES that you want assistance with your Devilgram and makeup. He even doesn’t mind when you zone out. He’ll be patient and repeat it.

Alone time? Well, don’t expect him to leave you completely alone. He’ll text you and not worry about receiving answers right away. He knows sometimes you just need to hear what he does. You give him so many compliments that his ego is boosted through the roof. He suddenly can’t live without you!!! Don’t leave him, okay? Other than Solomon, he’s never adored a human this much.

Beelzebub-

This boy. He didn’t care, but not because he was indifferent. He was just like, okay??? Doesn’t get it.

Notices you don’t snack or you snack all the time. No in-between. That’s a problem. Humans need to eat, right? Starts to make extra afternoon snacks for you. Doesn’t even make a big deal out of it. He just knocks on your door with water and a plate, offering them and leaving.

Notices that you’re tired or ready to run for a mile. No middle. Starts to ask if you want to go with him every day and will carry you on his back if you’re tired. Once something happens once it’s routine. Expect a knock at your door every afternoon with a snack and then going for a jog.

He isn’t as interested in the clinical details but asks you what it means when you become closer. You explain in a simplistic fashion why your brain is weird. He laughs and nods but still says he likes you just the way you are.

If you ever get sad, he will definitely ask if he can help. If you get tired, he’s used to carrying around a tired teddy bear. He offers to carry you. If you’re stress he’ll ask if he can give you some of his snacks and hug you.

He really likes you. A lot. You’re always saying how sweet, kind, and gentle he is. He’s just himself, but he always glows when you say it. It makes him warm and fuzzy.

If anyone makes you cry. Be prepared for this gentle giant to go full apocalyptic demon. He will ruin them! It doesn’t matter if he finds out after the fact. He will find them and eat them. No one fucks with his little human cupcake. Well, inedible cupcake, he’d never eat you. (Well… he had thoughts when you playfully tease, but no. He could never hurt you and worries about that.)

Beel is literally your bodyguard and teddy bear. Expect big hugs, head pats, and plenty of food. That’s the way he shows his love. You will have to tell him you can’t eat so much and he can have it and to tell you how it tastes. He’d be happy to share that and anything else of his. He’d give you anything because he sincerely loves you like his brothers. Maybe more? Food = love, right?

Belphegor-

Meets you well after there are established routines. He notices how you are so odd for a human. He likes it, but then he doesn’t, but then he really does. He asks Beel about it and that’s how he finds out about your ADHD.

A weird brain? That might be fun. He uses that as a base to start contact with you. You tell him all about it without resistance and explain how the last several months have gone.

He suddenly has the urge to see how much your quirky personality is entertaining for him. He asks you to tell him more stories, they don’t even have to be about the Devildom. You tell him all the funny and ridiculous stories laying with him in the planetarium. It was… endearing.

He instantly adored you. You made him feel something more than bitter and tired. He listened to you and snoozed, opening an eye every so often to see you smiling and animatedly talking. He liked the inflections in your voice. He liked the smile on your lips. He liked that you were weird because he is sure as fuck was.

The fact that you were unique and still felt awkward in your own skin except when you were alone made him identify. Sees you. Sees that your struggles didn’t define you. Your issues, no matter the list, didn’t make you angry or mean.

Not only did he value your forgiveness and care. He valued your differences the most. He didn’t care if you were a bit wild or sad or even stressed. He would pull you into a tight snuggle and kiss your hair. He’d wait until you were almost napping in his arms to say he’d never let anyone else ever hurt you. He would love you for every piece of you for eternity.

He’d never admit to his soft and fluffy side in front of his brothers, often teasing you, but his hinted smile only reinforced your private friendship. It was all part of the layers you both built so no one truly could dig to the fluffy pillows you were.

Soon naps and confessions became routine in the afternoons after RAD. He would spill his heart out in return for your sincerity. It would make you mushy and relax you so that you could release the day.

Expect Beel and Belphie to become inseparable with you. The minute this little cuddle bear identifies that you are his squishy human, he tells his twin it’s their job to make sure you never leave them. He is a bit demanding but always returns the favor in different subtle ways.

Expect midnight texts and asking you to come up to his room or the attic. Insomnia is no longer really an option. The moment he latches onto you, you’re comforted like a weighted blanket and out in minutes.

Expect secretive treats, blankets, and gifts left in discreet places for you. Expect him to wait for you outside the classroom if you’re not together with Beel holding him up. Oh, and don’t even think you’re getting out of it. He found the one thing he loves more in life than sleeping. He dreams about you all the time and will tell you all about them, even the dirty ones to your chagrin. This demon boy will do anything to keep you happy and his.

~BONUS~ Fun additives!

Lucifer often asks Mammon to be sure that you aren’t stressing over homework and has him go check on you. That usually leads to some antic that makes you relax and have more fun and less anxiety.

Satan has a favorite blanket that he’ll wrap you both in when you’ve had a long day. It has aromatherapy and helps him too. It’s weighted and often both of you relax and find a way to laugh over books or a cat video.

Asmodeus has a whole wish list on Akuzon made just for you. Some items are personal care, others are cute stuffed animals because he knows you have bad days. Lucifer knows of this list and will often offer some money for doing a simple task so he can buy them for you.

Belphie will tolerate sharing your time with Leviathan to play video games or watch anime. As long as you allow him to curl against you so he can watch you smile or hear the thrum of your voice as you talk to Levi about the game or show.

If you are crying and Lucifer caught you, he will pull you into his study. Sit you down with tea and ask you what’s wrong. If you tell him it’s just a bad moment, he will break formality and stroke your hair. He will tell you stories about his brothers so that you start to smile and relax. He fucking lives for that smile.

Satan sets up mock adventures through the Devildom so that you enjoy the impulse of adventure without the dangers. (Mammon does enough endangerment to your impulses!) He will be sure while setting it up that it’s human proof. He also asks Solomon for extra warding charms for you without telling you. They’re usually hand-made bracelets that Satan crafted and attuned by the sorcerer.

Leviathan will do check-ins when you’re at RAD and he isn’t. If you feel upset about something, he will quote TSL at you to give you courage. Then when you get home, he will have a video game you have to try. Soon you’ve forgotten about the stressful day.

Asmodeus will take pictures with you allllll the time. He says it’s for him because he’s so beautiful, but his captions are always about how gorgeous you are while tagging you. Half of RAD thinks you’re dating just because of how much you’re on his Devilgram.

Beel will listen to everything you say. He may not respond immediately, but he evaluates it. If you’re having a really rough go at something, he will ask Belphie what to do. Often he’ll just sit with you or ask if you want to help him in the garden just so he can try to make you smile. He’s not horribly good with bad feels, but he will do anything for you.