#and its a show that makes them stressed beyond belief

[stars-n-spice]

HEY BAD BATCH NATION HOW ARE WE FEELING THIS WEEK??

I'll think about the finale being this week and everytime I do, I take like psychic damage.

[coeurify]

perfect girl | ellie williams.

tlou2 ellie williams x fem!reader. college modern au universe. word count 6.8k. proofread barely. part two here

ellie is the most known dealer on campus, and reader is a stuck up, bitchy, sorority girl. somehow ending up near each other at every party, despite constant fighting. this party is no different, at first

this is smut, 18+ only. included use of pet names, mean!ellie, mean!reader, name calling.. fingering r!receiving.. etc. its a bit filthy. i wrote when high

Honestly, you hated frat parties. The loud music, the humid air and noisy college students that all reaked of jungle juice and sweat. None of it appealed to you— you always left feeling dirty and with a headache. But being in the university’s biggest sorority meant it was sort of a needed appearance.

Even now, when you were stressed beyond belief over the three different exams on monday morning. You had still been dragged out by your sorority sisters with the promise of a great party.

It never was great though. Never.

Usually you found yourself shoo-ing off shirtless frat boys advances, cup in your hand that had a bit too much cheap vodka and too little juice. If you had to deal with these things, you may as well be tipsy enough for it.

Though, the alcohol never made you any less in control of yourself. Control was what you valued most, being able to easily keep yourself in check. Making sure your well taken care of clothes never crinkled, ensuring no piece of hair was out of place. This in turn usually meant you took the role of watching over your sorority sisters. Eyeing any boys who got too touchy when they were drunk, snapping at frat guys when they didn’t take a hint. cleaning their face of tears or sweat, reapplying their mascara or lip gloss when they couldn’t. Holding their drinks with your perfectly manicured hands when they needed to pee.

You didn’t judge them for how they acted, you knew they were just having fun. Sometimes you wish you could let go like that too, join in on their dances.. giggle loudly and flirt with boys with drunken courage. But you never did. You probably wouldn’t tonight, even when your friend Dina had taken the role of sober one of the group so you could try and have fun. You still just stood straight up and watched on.

You were untouchable, everyone knew it. You saw the way boys looked at you— like they were falling over themselves just for a chance you might talk to them. Girls whispered about you, whether it be good or bad.. you didn’t exactly care. You had been called a prissy bitch one too many times to truly give a shit what other twenty somethings had to say about your attitude. You enjoyed being something no one could reach. It made you feel powerful. You rarely gave anyone that wasn’t your friends the time of day at these things, and god did it drive people crazy.

You always positioned yourself somewhere like the drink table at every party, watching on as if it was a live show for you to consume. In some ways it was.. you were always a watcher, never involved. So looking on was usually your only source of fun at these things.

Tonight was no different— eyes steady on the large group of people dancing, more so falling over each other, in the center of the room. It was grossly humid, and the flashing lights hurt your eyes. Everyone was pressed too close together— far too big of a crowd for this tiny off campus fraternity.

You found a more open place between the scratchy and old couch and the pop up plastic table. It held half empty bottles and a punch bowl full of some concoction that made you shake your head at girls when they tried to take a cup.

You stand stiffly against the wall— refusing to sit, let alone lean against the couch next to you. You didn't even want to imagine how disgusting it was.. swearing it was a lighter shade of grey last time you were here. This choice of station however was opening yourself up to a night of pure torture from a particular presence that seemed to haunt every. fucking. frat party.

Ellie Williams. Right on cue she walked over, ignoring you as she plopped down onto the couch with a few of the frat boys. She opens a little bag and turns in to face them. Of course. Obviously the stoners would choose the couch as their designated spot for the night.

Even if she had not acknowledged you, you already were burning with annoyance. The orange lighting currently overhead painted you the same color your insides felt. A growing flame, dull and orange in the pit of your stomach.

Ellie was a usual attendee at these parties. But not with a group of friends or some sorority like a normal person. No, Ellie was the chosen dealer for most fraternities of the university.. meaning she almost always showed up to smoke and give out to stingy college students.

But god, you could not understand what made her the choice for these people. You found her utterly obnoxious. She was loud— had the mouth of a sailor, and was always making god awful jokes. She had no shame— outwardly talking to whoever she wanted however she wanted, flirting with girls no matter the situation. Because Ellie also referred to sit out on the side of the parties, it meant you unfortunately spent a lot of time around her. You heard every stupid joke, smelt every gross joint, watched every girl swoon over her atrocious flirting. It was miserable really.

And god did she love to annoy you. It was too easy. She had discovered that at the start of last spring semester, and since then, almost a year ago, had made it a fun game for her. It became routine — and you swore she did it on purpose. Found somewhere close to you, invaded your space, and made the party even worse. Ellie would never admit that though.

Tonight wasn’t different. You couldn’t avoid your eyes drifting to where she was collecting cash from a few frat guys, loudly laughing and making jokes about some Jurassic Park movie that a frat guy promised to put on the projector later.

��Nah, the second one is way better!” The frat boy, Josh from Sigma something-something (you didnt care to remember the names) argued.

Ellie quickly shook her head, and you noticed she was wearing that messy half up half down hairstyle you once told her looked dumb. “You fucking idiot, the first is way better! It's iconic and so are the dinosaurs in it!” she fights back, lightheartedly shoving Josh’s arm.

God, did she have to be so loud? It was already loud enough with the shitty music playing. You tuned out the rest of the conversation.. or attempted to. Ellie’s laugh made its way up and over the beat of the song playing. You looked over again, watching the way her head fell back. Even from here you could see the freckles on her face. The low colorful flashing lights of the room made them hard to see sometimes, though. Not that you cared.

Eventually, Josh and the three other boys got up and moved away from the couch— emptying the line of sight from you to Ellie. She caught your gaze before you could look away, and smiled that stupid cocky smile she always did.

“Need somethin’ princess?” Ellie questioned as she scooted to the seat closest to the edge you stood closest to. The name made you clench your fist tightly around the cup in your hands. She had adopted this nickname for you after commenting about 1200 times how you dressed and acted at these parties. ‘Stuck up princess’ she had called you after one particular comment. It stuck after that.

“Nope,” you popped the P, sipping at the vodka in your cup and refusing to meet her eyes again.

“You were staring.”

“Was not, you got my attention by being obnoxiously loud,” you bit back.

Ellie held her hands up in surrender, “Whatever you say.”

You scoffed, turning your nose up and looking at the center of the party again. Mentally you counted your friend group and where they all were in the crowd. One finger came to press a strand of hair back into your hairdo, and then press a hand to smooth your shirt. You just wanted to get through the next hour or two and get home to study.

You can hear the flick of a lighter next to you, and bite back a sigh. Ellie had been sitting here all of five minutes and had already resorted to smoking. Unsurprisingly.

When the smell soon invades the small space between you, and that flame of annoyance in your belly grows to a small blaze.

At first you ignore it, sniffing and rubbing your nose like it would make the smell disappear. You glance around the room, eyeing some particularly loud and annoying men who were whooping and hollering. Soon though, the smell became too much. You turned to face the couch.

“Ugh,” you make a noise of disgust, loud enough for Ellie to turn her head to you. You pair the sound with a (very dramatic) scrunched up nose. “You smell horrible.”

Ellie smiles in a lazy sort of way, legs spread comfortably on the couch and head leaned slightly to look at you. She makes it a point to blow the next puff from the joint straight at you— enjoying the way your hands come to swat away the smoke like it was poison. “S’ just weed princess.. can't hurt you.”

Your arms cross, and Ellie watches as they press against the pretty baby blue lace shirt you're wearing.. too clean, too soft for a party like this. “It can make me stink though, like I already pointed out. Some of us care about things like personal hygiene, Williams,” you argue, to which she whistles, adding a quiet, “damn, low blow..”

She sits up straighter, leaning forward to inspect you. Seeing the pretty skirt that falls to your mid thigh— Ellie doesn’t doubt even for a moment that the white fabric caught lingering stares of every horny drunk college boy in the room when you walked in with your group.

But here you were, choosing to insult her instead of entertaining a single one of them.

“What's the reason for stick up your ass tonight?” She asks, making your eyes roll.

“Oh screw you, I’m acting perfectly reasonably.”

Ellie actually laughed at that, loudly enough to make you turn your head in embarrassment. “The way you act with me is never reasonable actually, but tonight is extra bad. You look stiffer and didn’t even attempt to be civil.”

It annoyed you even more that she noticed the stress radiating off of you so easily. She always could— it made her even better at pulling on the threads of you that made you most annoyed. She knew how to get a rise out of you.

“It's absolutely none of your business, Ellie,” you snap. Maybe it was a little harsh for such a simple question, but the auburn haired girl beside you got that out of you easily.

“God, would it kill you to be a little less bitchy for one night?” her green eyes narrowed in at you and she took another puff of the joint. Your eyes followed as she tilted her head up to the ceiling to blow out the smoke.

“Fuck you,” you mumble.

“Fuck you too, princess.”

There's a moment of heavy silence between the two of you, lights flashing now between a deep blue and green. The toe of your shoe tapped into the wood of the floor, the repeated motion serving as a distraction from the annoyance that Ellie caused. Your mind falls back to the exams you have to study for tonight.

The distraction quickly ends when the voice you had come to recognize anywhere popped up again. “Can you chill out? I can hear your shoe tapping from here.”

You huff, biting the inside of your cheek. “Can you shut the hell up? Go back to your joint and leave me alone.”

Ellie just scoffs, mumbling something about you needing the smoke more than her.

You ignore it, but can't deny how your mind wanders to the comment. What would it be like to smoke? Would it take the edge off like everyone said? You had only tried once or twice before.. both at a small get together where you ended up having to sober up quickly to care for your drunken friends.

“Seriously,” Ellie says a bit louder. “Come sit and have a smoke.”

“Excuse me?” you look at her like she had suggested the two of you take your clothes off mid party. Or she had suddenly grown two heads. It would offend her, the clear disgust— if she didn’t know you so well.

“There's a huge group of drunk guys walking over right now-“ she pointed with one of her fingers to where they were passing some game of beer pong. “If you stay there you’ll just get more pissed off and strung up when they bump into you and shit.”

You eye the group, slightly annoyed that Ellie was again right about how you would react. You glance then at the couch, at the weird dark stain and uncomfortable looking material. “I'm not smoking. But if you want me to sit? Take off your sweatshirt.”

Now it was Ellie’s turn to ask, “Excuse me?”

You make a face at her, pointing to the gross couch. “I’m not sitting on that nasty couch. If you want me to sit? take off your sweatshirt and let me use that.”

You know it's a bratty request, and neither you or Ellie look away from each other for a moment, not knowing who was going to make the first move. You almost regret it, and then Ellie reaches to the bottom of her sweatshirt.

It sends some sort of shockwave through you when she pulls the material over her head. You convince yourself it's because you feel like you have won, gotten your way over the girl you hated. Definitely not because her undershirt rode up for a moment, or that her sleeve tattoo was now on display.

“You’re such a fucking bitch,” she says in a exasperated tone, but still lays the sweatshirt across the seat on next to her on the couch.

You smile sarcastically, “Mhm, thanks,” you move to the front of the couch, holding your skirt down as you sit on top of her sweater and press forward, sitting straight up so the back of your shirt doesn't hit the couch. You felt Ellie’s eyes on you, on the very large gap between you. “I can't infect you with something you know?” the auburn haired girl says a bit slowly.

“Haven’t I said it a million times? You smell bad.”

Ellie’s lip quirk into a smile and she doesn’t reply, placing the joint between her lips again and lighting it for another drag.

Just like she described, the group of college boys clambered over to the drink table, invading the corner you were just standing in to shout loudly and put the bottles wildly into cups. You cringe, shifting in your seat. You wouldn’t admit it, but you were glad Ellie had asked you to sit now.

The two of you didn’t talk, for a moment you watch Ellie’s freckled cheeks suck in slightly as she takes a drag, and watch her lips part to blow it out. Unable to tear your eyes away until a new voice comes from in front of you.

“Hey, Y/N right?” Ellie glances up for a split second before going back to looking uninterested in the boy trying to start conversation with you.

“Yep,” you answer plainly as you look at him. You recognized him in a blurry sort of way. His name started with an L… Lucas.. Leo.. La-

“Im Liam, from the last party,” he explains before you finish your train of thought. “Right, Liam.”

Liam bounces a bit on his heels, which embarrasses you. You fight the urge to curl your lip at the sight. “I was wondering if you wanted to go chill with a few of my friends and girls from your sorority upstairs? We’re gonna smoke and play games like seven minutes in heaven.”

Beside you it feels like someone has stiffened, but you ignore it. You let your face drop to look even more uninterested. “Seven minutes in heaven? Really? What are we? Fifteen?”

Liam flushes, clearing his throat to talk again. You just shake your head to stop him. “I don't smoke either so no thank you, Liam. Im good.”

The boy slumps a little. “Right. Maybe next time,” and then he turns on his heel and walks off.. looking like a dog with its tail between their legs.

Ellie chuckles, making that fire come back to your belly. You turn quickly— eyeing her. “What's funny, Williams?”

“He totally wanted to fuck you,” Ellie shrugs, watching until Liam disappears up the stairs.

You try to ignore the heat creeping up your neck, picking at your painted nails to keep the blush from reaching your cheeks. “Fuck off.”

“Trust me, I know these guys. Every party one of them tries to get in your pants, and you turn them down every single time.”

Ellie looks smug as she says it— and you want to wipe the look off her fucking face. Acting like she knew something, like she could tell you more about what was happening than you could.

“You don’t know shit Ellie,” you argue, unable to bite back the slightly misplaced anger anymore, leaning forward. “Why do you even care? Are you obsessed with me or something? Not everyone wants to fuck everything that walks.”

The words have a bite to them, bitter on your tongue. Your chest’s rise and fall is speeding up as you finish speaking. You watch as Ellie’s eyes get darker in the light, the flashing lights stop into a solid red as some song with the color name begins.

“And why do you care who I fuck? hm? Maybe you do need to get laid by one of those guy’s falling all over you. Might make you a little less of a strung up bitch,” Ellie’s voice is harder now, aiming to displease you more so than before.

It works, the flame in you spilling over to a whole fucking house fire at the comment. Your hand instinctively grips your cup, reaches forward and dumps it all over Ellie’s chest.

Silence follows, and you immediately regret it.. knowing you took it too far. This quiet is uncomfortable enough to make you squirm, pressing further away from the wet patch growing on the cushion. Ellie looks at her shirt, very slowly raising her head to look dead at you.

“Get up.” It's not a question when she says it, harsher tone than she had ever used with you.

For once, you don’t immediately bite back. “Wha-“

“Get up. You just fucking dumped your drink on me, you can help me fix it,” Ellie demands again. She puts out the joint on the table nearby, messy enough to make you cringe.

You can't tell how red her face is because of the lights.. but you are sure she is fuming. The way she is stiff and slow with her movements to stand a clue enough.

That’s why you don't fight to scramble to your feet after her when she starts walking. Your fingers grip at the sweatshirt under you, holding it in your hand as she pushes past people to get to a room nearby. You follow quickly behind— watching curious eyes follow you chasing after the other. The red lights hide the growing blush on your cheeks, the music pounding in tandem with your heart.

When she pushes open a door, you squeeze in quickly after her.

Ellie’s tattooed arm reaches to the side of you where the doorknob is, and her fingers move to lock it. You swallow at the proximity, ducking away quickly.

She doesn’t speak as she peels the now wet shirt from her frame— throwing it on the floor near the bed. Your eyes don't look away as she does so. In fact, you can’t tear them away.

Her body is toned, more so than you would have expected. Not that you thought of her shirtless before or anything. Her fingers ghost gently over her own skin, wiping any extra wetness. Your pupils follow the way the digits move.

What doesn’t surprise you however, is the sports bra that lays beneath the shirt. It's snug against her skin, and you watch as she tugs it back into the right place. You watch her breathe, heavy and unsteady, a clear sign she is not exactly calm at the moment.

“You are such a fucking brat, you know that?” Her blazing eyes meet your own— and you almost shrink. This Ellie.. She was different. You are no longer burning with the anger her face usually ignites in you. No, this fire is all different.

“Oh cat got your tongue now, princess? for once you don't have a stuck up comment to make hm?” She steps closer to you, looking down to where her sweatshirt hangs from your fingertips.

“Put my sweatshirt back on me.”

The words make your mouth go slack, finally mustering up the courage to speak. “Fuck off, Ellie.”

“Im serious,” her hair is more messy now, strands falling in front of her face as she stares at you. “You made me take it off for you, so now you can put it back on me. Fair is fair, princess.”

“You can’t be serious,” you scoff, shaking your head at the suggestion.

“You do it or I go out there, tell the frat hosting that you’re a crazy bitch who spilt her drink on me. You and your sorority sisters would get blacklisted from every party before those pretty eyelashes could even blink.”

It's a threat. A threat to your power, the social standing within your group and the general university. A threat to your ego as a whole, the thought you would be the cause of something like that. It also was a quick reminder that no matter what you said to her at these parties, she was the one with the power. You could insult and poke at her all you wanted.. but Ellie was the one with half of the people out in that room down the hallway wrapped around her finger. Her.. business determined that.

You purse your lips, meeting the green eyes staring at you again. It's another fight for power. Seeing who will crack under the tension first. You find yourself noticing the freckles that dust her face again, and a small red mark on her cheek you had not really paid attention to before. Your heart hammers against your ribcage, and you look away in defeat.

Ellie knows she won, stepping even closer to you, enough that you can feel the heat radiating off of her. It does something to you that you wouldn’t like to admit, your knees going ever so slightly weak. She pushes a fallen strand of auburn hair back behind her ear while waiting for your next move.

It comes a second later, shuffling the sweatshirt in your hand to the right position, leaning forward to push the hoodie part over Ellie’s head, fingers shaking when they brush against her bare shoulder. You can't admit to yourself that it isn’t because of some annoyance that you were reacting like this. She helps a bit when you drag the sweatshirt down her chest by pushing her arms through the sleeves.

When it's finished, you both linger for a moment, your nails still near her waistline. It only ends when she steps back, gaze still set on you.

“You gonna say sorry?” she asks, eyebrow raising expectantly.

You shake your head. “Fuck. Off.”

Ellie tsks, watching your every movement. She didn’t ignore how your eyes had been all over her tonight, how you couldn’t look away when her shirt was off. And god, what would be a better way to win whatever this was than taking what she wanted from you.

“Cmon, you know I was right about what I said,” she steps around you and then forward, smiling as you continue to back away everytime she gets closer. when the back of your leg hits the bed, you stop. “You do need to get fucked, might make you a little less miserable to be around.”

Her voice has fallen more quiet, a little something new to the way she spoke.

“But you don’t want one of those dicks outside to do it, do you?” it's accusatory when it's said, enough to make you realize where this conversation was going.

God, you would never admit it out loud. not even to yourself. Everytime you avoided a guy’s advance to instead bicker with Ellie all night. The times you insulted her about something because it made you warm all over, like a certain hairstyle or shirt. You blamed her a lot for annoying you, for those jokes she makes— for how she bothers you. But in honesty, you just hated that you couldn’t look away. Not from her face, her hands, the way she smokes, or spreads her legs open when she sits. It’s absolutely infuriating how much you think of her. But you had always kept it deep enough to not think about it until she brought it up herself.

“No, that's why you always turn them down.. why you always look at me after you do. God, you don't even realize it do you?” A shocked sort of chuckle escaped her lips, like she couldn’t believe this realization either. Her finger moves to a strand of your hair that must have fallen while you chased after her.

“You want me. You want me to fuck you, don’t you princess? That's why you are always such a little priss, isn't it. Get you so hot and bothered you just can't help but be mean?”

When you don't answer, Ellie reaches forward quickly to grab your wrist, gaining your attention. “Answer me.”

“No- I don’t fucking want you Ellie,” you choke it out, like it burned your throat to say. It was worse than a shot of whatever they had outside this door.

“If you don’t want me, then walk away right now. But this is your only chance. No more after this. You can't get one of those asshole frat guys instead. No more entertaining the little arguments you start. No more ignoring when you stare at m-“

You can't even let her finish her words before you crash forward, meeting her lips in an immediately messy kiss. She swears against your lips before dropping your wrist, arms instead moving to your hips, pressing you flush against her body. You want to pull away, regain the control you so desperately cling to— want to run off and out of the party.

But once the kiss deepens, once her tongue swipes against your lips.. you’re a goner.

You whimper when she bites your bottom lip harshly, and she swallows the sound with another burning kiss. You pull her to fall back onto the bed with you, and she immediately manhandles you further onto the bed, taking position over you and not apologizing when your head slams roughly into the headboard.

“Asshole,” you whine, she digs her fingers into your hip to shut you up as her teeth drag down to your neck, wet kisses and small bites pressing there until she finds the spot that makes you shiver, hand slapping against her arm, pretty nails pressing into the skin.

She bites harder, pulling a louder yell from you. She then sucks over the spot, soothing it with another swipe of her tongue. The throbbing feeling will no doubt result in a mark— and Ellie seems to know exactly that.

“Everyone’s gonna know,” she mumbles against your skin as she sucks another spot, controlling your hips with one hand when they try to buck up.

“All those other girls are gonna know when you wake up with these littered all over your neck tomorrow-“ another bite. “Gonna know what happened, what the perfect little sorority girl did with me.”

The comment draws another noise from you, and the heat pools between your legs, embarrassingly turned on by the thought of that humiliation sure to follow walking out of this room later. You can feel your panties going damp when she doesn’t let up the assault on your neck and collarbone.

You can smell the weed on her when her head dips closer to you again, and for once you don’t mind it. You meet her lips, shaky hand still gripping at the inked skin of her arm.

She's so controlled in her movements, enjoying how you are already a squirmy mess, enjoying how she has control. It's nothing like the Ellie she was in public, loud and joking. No, she was completely serious and calculated with every single swipe of her finger, every movement of her lips. One hand roughly goes to your chest, pushing up your shirt above your breasts, not bothering to even do the kindness of taking it off all the way.

“Mm, no bra?” Ellie questions mockingly, pulling back from your wet lips— acting like she hadn’t noticed the lack of one the moment you turned to face her at this damn party.

You shake your head, reduced to little words.

Ellie watches you carefully, at your puffy lips, at the way your perfect hair is now falling in chunks against the pillow. God, what a sight. You, untouchable and pristine.. reduced to being fucked on a stranger’s bed in a frat house. By her.

“Want me to touch you here?” she questions, fingers ghosting over your nipples.. smiling when they pebble at the softest touch. Your back arches, searching for more skin to skin as you nod quickly.

“Nuh Uh- words, princess, need you to say it.”

You glance at her, one side of you fighting against this feeling of submission you can feel yourself falling into. In an act of defiance, your hand comes up and over her larger one, pressing it down against the skin of your breast, breathing out a moan instead of answering her question.

This however was a bad idea, and she immediately pulls completely back, quick to grab your face harshly between her palm. “You fucking brat,” Ellie seeths, your lips pressing open just slightly at how hard she is pressing her hand. The roughness only makes you wetter, and you attempt to squeeze your thighs together for some sort of friction.. but Ellie is faster, slotting a knee in between your legs as she looks down at you, free arm holding herself up.

“No, you don’t get anything from me, no relief for that throbbing feeling you have im sure,” she says it so cockily that you think you may melt into the sheets beneath you. “Not till you admit you want me. Admit you want me to touch you.”

Your face burns a bright red, angry and embarrassed at the same time. You tried to avoid this admittance, ready to die on the hill to protect your already bruised ego.

But then Ellie moves her knee slightly, a shock goes straight through your core. Even the smallest movement had you trying to push down against her needily. She squeezes your face harder. “Just say it, I can make you feel so much better if you just admit it.”

The line your dignity was tiptoeing on is fraying, taken over by the bowling ball amount of weight from the desire in your stomach. The second her knee moves again, the string breaks.

“Please,” you beg, watching as Ellie’s eyes light up at the words, “Ellie I want you to touch me.”

Ellie smiles, reveling in how embarrassed you look. “Where baby?”

You suck in a breath, too far gone to keep fighting, “my pussy, please, please Ellie.. need you to.”

You’re squirming all over now, whining and feeling your throat tighten. Your lip gloss is all over your (and Ellie’s for that matter) chin, and your shirt is still just pushed over your chest. It makes Ellie shake her head. “God, you look pathetic. What happened to you hm? Where’s that put together girl you love to brag about being?”

Any words to snap back die in your throat, her mean tone is making your mind too foggy. The way you are totally at the mercy of her body, of the way she talks to you.. It’s addicting. The feeling of letting go of that control and power you hold so tightly onto.. It's almost as good as the sensation of her knee starting to move more regularly against your center.

“You look like a whore,” she laughed meanly. You are sure it’s true, your skirt is falling down, your hair has snapped out of its tie. Her hand lets go of your chin, and you move your mouth slightly at the soreness. The freedom is short- lived however, and two fingers are tapping your cheek soon after.

“Open,” Ellie says, smiling when you do so immediately. “See, it's not hard to be a good girl.”

She sinks the two fingers into your waiting mouth, one quick demand to, “Suck,” is all you need to close your mouth around them.

You aren’t careful about it, drool seeping out the corner of your mouth when she starts thrusting the fingers in and out slightly, watching in amusement as she curls her long fingers slightly, making you gag. “So fucking messy,” she mumbles.

Her pupils are just as blown out as yours when she speaks again, pulling her fingers out after deeming they were wet enough. A line of spit follows, connecting to your lips.

She wipes the excess across your face, furthering that deep embarrassment that builds in you. “‘m gonna fuck you now, princess.”

She says it as she makes you sit up with her on the bed, arm pulling to set you up how she wanted, knees tucked under your thighs on each side of her lap. You let her push and tug you around— fully dumbed out for her at this point. Desperate for some relief.

her fingers play with your skirt for a moment, and you both watch intently as they disappear under it. You push into her, earning a quick look. “Be good,” the girl demands.

You stop your movements, mumbling something Ellie can't understand. The pad of her finger slides over your clothed slit— humming at the wet feeling.

“You’re fucking soaked,” she shook her head, “All from what? Cause I was mean to you? Just from my knee, baby? How pathetic.”

Another whine rips from your throat, head falling to her shoulder. She shrugs it to force your head up again. “Want ya to look at me while I do this,” she explains— green eyes now mostly black as they meet your own. You nod, trying to please her enough for the next move.

“Atta girl..” she praises.

Your panties are pushed to the side as she sinks a singular finger into you— both of you moaning at the feeling. You’re so warm and tight around her that she gets dizzy, a warmth pooling in between her own legs. But tonight, It was about you. It was about proving who had the control here.. who could make you feel so good.

“Fuck,” you blubber, not getting a chance to savor the feeling before shes moving it in and out quickly, and then she is adding another finger.. and a minute after that, another. It's stretching you so well, so perfectly that you swear you could come right there. But you don’t, eyes set on her own— a hard look on her face as she watches your reactions. She leans closer, wanting to hear every little breath, every whimper.

“What would they think, hm?” Ellie huffs, pressing further into you. “All those frat boys who eye you up at every party,” she adds with a particularly hard thrust. “What do you think they would say if they found out it was me you got up that pretty little skirt first?” She whispers against your ear. Each word is emphasized with a press of her fingers, each rougher.. deeper, than the last.

You can feel your cheeks burning, and you blink away the tears welling in your eyes. You can't help the reaction— it's too much. She’s too much. The feeling is stealing all coherent words and thoughts from your mind— making you a teary and whining mess.

It made a fire flick in Ellie’s lower stomach— knowing she was the cause of pristine, pretty, perfect you— looking so messy. So fucked out. All from just her fingers. From her words.

“Too dumb to answer?” she teases, “too drunk on my fingers to even say anything?”

You shake your head like it isn’t true, and she slows her hand. You shake, trying to thrust yourself down onto them.

“Tell me then princess, tell me none of them could fuck you like this. No one could get you this fucking pathetic other than me.”

Fat tears are rolling down your cheeks now, lip quivering as you search for more friction. “Please, please el,” you cry, “No one else no one else, just you-“

All of your words slur together, and your nails dig into Ellie’s shoulder enough to make her hiss. The answer seems good enough, and she resumes her quick and harsh movements, fingers curling to hit that spot that made your mouth fall open, tears dripping past your lips.

“Fuck yea, only me,” she groans, your words pushing her to make you come even more now, thumb rubbing against your clit. It coaxes downright pornographic noises from you. Ones that someone had to have heard. You don’t give a fuck though, not right now.

“M’ gonna come,” you whine, face falling to Ellie’s shoulder again, pressing your nose into the crook of her neck. This time Ellie allows it— too focused on the wet sounds of her fingers moving in and out of you under the now ruined skirt.

“Alright baby, you can come,” Ellie coos— finally showing a bit of kindness to you as you clench around her fingers. “Come for me, princess.”

The cord in your stomach snaps, and you have to bite at Ellie’s neck to stop from screaming. The orgasm hits you like a fucking train, shaking harshly.

Ellie works you through it, mumbling compliments against you. “So pretty, so messy and perfect for me,” she hums. When she is sure you have calmed down enough, she slowly pulls her fingers out, and then lays you back against the bed. You sink into the mattress, cheeks red and wet with tears. She admires you, messy fingers pressing to her own lips to get a taste. The flavor of you, god Ellie thinks she may be addicted. She sucks her fingers clean and for a moment debates ringing another orgasm out of you with her tongue. But the look on your face, how tired you look.. she decides to save it for another time.

For now she stands, searching around until she finds the attached bathroom, disappearing into it.

Your eyes search for her, feeling needy. “El-“ you whimper.

“I'm just getting a rag to clean you up baby,” she explains from the open door— and you relax when she walks back out with a warm small rag.

She joined you back on the bed, coaxing your legs open as she very carefully cleans you off. The friction makes more tears drop from your eyes.

“Aw princess,” she pouts— wiping with her other hand to get the tears off of your cheek and drool off your chin. “So pathetic looking.. so pretty.”

The switch between praise and degradation makes you dizzy again, eyes closing for a second.

When shes done cleaning you up, you grab her wrist when she tries to stand. “ w’nna make you feel good el,” you beg. It takes Ellie a moment to match your whiny voice to that of the girl she knew outside of this bedroom, but when she comes back to reality— she shakes her head.

“Later baby, promise. You’re too tired, wanna get you back to your place.”

The promise to not just abandon after this makes your heart twist in your chest, that cold front that Ellie put on while fucking you straying away now.

You nod, letting Ellie help you sit up.

“Ready to walk through that door?” she asks, quirking an eyebrow.

A tired laugh bubbles in your throat just at the thought, cheeks hot all over again.

“Yea. Yea, I’ll just say we got into a fist fight.”

“Fucking brat.”

[angel-eyes05]

to leave the warmest bed i've ever known (part 2)

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

pairing: spider-woman!reader x miguel o’hara 

summary: life on the run is not for the weak. you're reminded of this once you run into someone you haven't seen in a while

warnings: a lot of angst (there'll be fluff and smut soon i swear i just feel like writing angst right now lmao), HUGE ATSV SPOILERS DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THIS MOVIE, mentions and descriptions of blood and injuries, this is so against canon its insane

word count: 2.2k

notes: ok so i changed my mind, miguel and the reader arent gonna make up just yet🤭. trust me when they do it'll be worth it lmao. im gonna need everyone to suspend their belief for the next chapters cause im kind of just making up the plot to beyond the spider-verse at this point for this silly little fic so just go with it

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God, this was very quickly turning out to be a very bad decision. The movies made being on the run seem a lot easier than this. What they had failed to include was how easily it was to get ambushed by Spider-Society members while hopping between the dimensions looking for Miles. Your little group basically had to hop through a bunch of different dimensions within a week and look for him there, then leave before HQ managed to track you guys down. You’re not sure how much time has passed since you left. Maybe a few weeks. Maybe a few months. The passage of time was pretty weird when you were constantly hopping through the fabric of space and time. All you knew is that your eyes had naturally dulled out the neon orange light that shined from the portals you were constantly jumping through. Luckily, none of your team had been caught yet. There had been a few close calls, but only two of those led to severe injuries, one of them being Gwen, and the other time being you.

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You and your team had been ambushed due to a malfunction with the portal opening. Each of you were put with your own variant to fight. Just to your luck, you were confronted by Jess. She looked awful to be honest. Stressed. She was probably put on finding you and your team while Miguel endlessly searched for Miles. This little wild goose chase had tired her out. Part of you felt bad. But that was very quickly overcome by the feeling of betrayal growing in your chest. You had a feeling she felt a similar way. “Please don’t make me do this. Just let me take you home,” she said weakly. Home. That’s right. That's basically what HQ had been to you before. You hadn’t been back to your Earth in five years, ever since Miguel caught you on the top of that building. Jessica was your first friend there. She had shown you the ropes to everything, been there for you during your lowest moments, and guided you to your highest ones. And now you had to repay her by sending her back to Miguel in a bloody pulp. You hated that this is how things had to go. But such was life for someone like you. “I have no home anymore,” you said at her monotonically before charging at her with your fists first. She’s quick to react, using one of her webs to swing away. It’s clear she doesn’t want to hurt you, each of her movements swift to defend herself, but never going on the offensive side. She could easily take you down if she wanted to. She had been doing this longer than you had and was more skilled than you too. She was going easy on you, desperately trying to show you she didn’t want to fight. But you didn’t care. You had put too much on the line to start to give up now.

The others had taken down their foes long before you had finished with Jess. You could see Gwen running up to you out of the corner of your eye, Ben tied up in a web behind her. You webbed her to the floor before she could get closer to the struggle you and Jess were currently in. You gave Gwen a quick, reassuring nod that she returned before running off to find the others. Once Gwen was out of sight, you quickly attached a web to Jess’ face, and pulled it down into your knee, knocking her glasses off her face and shattering on the floor. With her off her balance, you took the opportunity to try to knock her out. You slammed your fists into her face, one after the other, releasing all of the stress that had accumulated in your body over the past couple of months into her cheeks. You couldn’t see the damage you were doing, blinded by rage and betrayal and your fists blocking out her face. The only thing you could see was the blood splattering off of her face onto yours. You felt a voice in the back of your head begging you to stop. You desperately wanted to, but you had lost control of your body. Jess wasn’t the real person you wanted to hurt here, you already knew who that was. But she was the closest thing you could get to him right now. And if you were being honest with yourself, she wasn’t completely innocent to you either.

In her last desperate attempt to save herself, Jess shoved her forearm in the way of your balled up knuckles, grabbed a piece of shattered glass from her broken frames, and shoved it deep into your chest. Your reign of fury on her face suddenly stopped as pain quickly snapped through your body. You quickly fell to your knees, partially out of shock, and looked down to see the blood spilling out of your chest. As Jess dropped to her knees as well, you could finally get a gauge of the damage you’ve done. You couldn’t tell if the blood loss was making you see things, but her nose looked almost crooked, a dark cut slicing through the middle of it and blood pouring out of both nostrils. Both of her eyes were swollen, not entirely shut but on their way there. You looked down at your hands, the skin on your knuckles broken off and bleeding through the fabric of your suit, blending in with its natural red. They were trembling with a mixture of faded anger and new guilt. I never wanted to hurt her, you kept repeating to yourself in your head, as if it was going to make any difference. Maybe if you thought it hard enough, it would erase your actions. You suddenly flinched when you felt Jessica’s hand cupping your face. You looked up at her, mouth agape. Her soft thumb brushed your face as she stared lovingly at your face. So she did know. That made you feel a little less stupid when you broke down in front of her then and there. You just felt awful. Jess was your friend. Your best friend probably. And look at what you’ve done to her. You couldn’t understand how she managed to still be so soft with you, despite how much you’ve just mutilated her face. 

It was ever harder for you to understand how quickly she enveloped you as soon as she saw the tears begin to streak her face. You didn’t deserve this. You should run away. You need to run away. You’re currently bleeding out, and you’re just sitting here, sobbing into the crook of her neck. She’s probably just stalling for time and holding you here until help comes for her. But the longer you sat here the longer you realized…this was just her. It was only Jess here. No help was coming. Jess just wanted to hold you again one last time before letting you run away again. Once you pulled away from her, she wiped away your tears. “Don’t let me catch you,” she whispered into your ear. It was a reminder to you that while she was still holding onto her beliefs, that didn’t mean she ever stopped caring for you. She helped to push you up off of the ground, her hands now covered in your blood. You began to walk away out of  the dark alley to look for the others. Before leaving entirely, you turned around to look at Jess, still laying there. “I’ll find you once this is all over. So don’t you dare die on me, okay?” you shouted at her. She gave a simple nod in return, watching as you stumbled out of alley way. While you made the ultimate decision to let her live that day, you still had anger boiling up in your body. Somebody had to pay for all of this. All of this chaos that was about to unleash itself onto the multiverse. And you know exactly who did. And you didn’t intend to show him the same mercy you showed Jess. No. This was a job you intended to finish. 

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Thankfully, your chest laceration healed up quicker than expected, allowing you and your teammates to get back on track. Images of your encounter with Jess replayed through your mind for the next couple of weeks. The only other person you told about the details of your brutalization of Jess was Peter B., knowing he would understand with all the hard decisions he’s had to make himself. Gwen and Hobie had also noticed that you were acting a little bit off, but you avoided the subject every time they would bring it up. 

Suddenly though, it was happening. The moment you and your team had anticipated for the past couple of weeks. You were awoken by the bright glow of three orange portals opening up, three Spider-Men in each. Your team sprang awake and began to make a run for it. It was no use though, as one by one, each member of your team was separated by a different group of variants, until it was just you, Gwen, and Peter running. While you were running, you felt a hand yank at the hair on the back of your head. You quickly turned around and found Ben Reilly as the culprit. You didn’t hesitate to jump into the air and kick his face, pushing him off of you and onto the floor. As the three of you kept running, your attention was suddenly caught by something else. “Keep your hands off her! That one’s mine!” you heard the familiar voice call out to Ben. A chill went down your spine, as the three of you stopped dead in your tracks. You did it. You finally managed to lure the bat out of his cave. Before you could turn around and find the face that belonged to that deep, alluring voice, you were caught off guard as you felt a body dive into your stomach at full speed, knocking all of the air out of you lungs. The pure force of the dive pushed you and the figure into the brick wall of an abandoned building, crashing into the structure. 

Vision and hearing fuzzy from the impact, you heard Gwen scream out your name and begin to start running to you, before her and Peter B. get swept up by their own variants to take care of. Your head throbs in pain as you look around the building, feeling a huge weight on your chest. You look down at the rest of your body to find what’s weighing you down so much. And it’s him. Miguel’s massive body laying on top of you, his head dug into your stomach and arms wrapped around your waist from the dive. You were partially in shock. First of all, from the fact that your first interaction with him in months is him attempting to kill you (although it’d be a lie to say you weren’t thinking similar things). Second, you were still reeling from the blow. And third, the most shocking of all, was that this was arousing you in some way. Despite how much anger you were feeling towards him right now, you still managed to get butterflies in your stomach from how much of him was on top of you right now. He basically enveloped all of the lower half of your body. 

Shame and anger filled your body fast as you tried to push him off of you, any attempts in vain though due to how massive he was. He helped you though when he began to stand up, allowing you to get yourself up and dive through his legs as an escape. Just as you made your attempt to run out of the hole in the wall, away from a fight you know you couldn’t win, Miguel’s giant hand wrapped around your forearm. He pulled your body back to face him and slammed his massive fist into your face. Blood spurted out of your nose purely from the impact and you were nearly knocked onto the floor. You grabbed your nose in reaction and looked up at him towering over you, unable to make out his expression from his mask. “You must’ve been thinking about this encounter for a while. Have you been thinking about me, Miggy?” you quipped at him. Usually you spoke playfully with him whenever you were in a good mood with him, but this time it was your one desperate attempt to push down any feelings that would get in the way of you doing what needed to be done. “Don’t feel so flattered cariño. Whatever happens here isn’t personal,” he said in that deep, flirty tone you always found so sexy. But right now all it did was piss you off even more. “Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better,” you said, dropping the slight smirk you had on your face. Taking action right away, you charged right at him, ready to do it right this time. You just wished he had his mask off so you could look him dead straight in his crimson eyes as you killed him.

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NEXT CHAPTER

a/n: i had night shift by lucy dacus on loop while writing the fight with jessica....thats all ill say on the matter. also sorry miguel's barely in this chapter i need to set up plot and shit. ALSO I JUST WANNA PREFACE, MY FIC TAKES PLACE A COUPLE OF MONTHS AFTER ACROSS THE SPIDERVERSE SO JESS HAD ALREADY GIVEN BIRTH. I SWEAR Y/N DID NOT JUST BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF A PREGNANT LADY💀💀💀

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[asliceofzosan]

because i woke up today still thinking of zosan's baby girl, here are some stuff about it that are now my roman empire:

none. i repeat NONE OF THESE STRAW HATS know how to hold a baby. sanji figured it out due to dormant maternal instincts alone. and more than half the time he has to yell at everyone to not hold her up by the calf or the ankles ("i'm looking at you luffy please for the love of the all blue do NOT gum gum whip her around like a toy—")

unlike both her dads, ayari is actually being extremely picky with food in the beginning. she hates certain textures and cries like its the end of the world when her baby food isn't heated to the right temperature. funnily enough, one of the few times she ate something she didn't want is if chopper is next to her eating the same thing and telling her its yummy. dw none of the baby food goes to waste. they're all re-used somehow in the week's menu. or zoro just ends up eating it.

ussop made a lil wrap around cloth for ayari so that sanji could cook while carrying her hands free. or zoro could have her strapped onto his back and nap while he does pushups.

robin could be seen reading books to ayari when both zoro and sanji are out cold and exhausted from being first time parents. one or both of them would wake up to find robin telling little ayari histories of the islands they visit, or the countries they've saved. she tones down some of the darker elements until she's old enough to grasp it. ayari grows up with auntie robin's love of wanting to know the world.

nami started doing her makeup with ayari on her lap. she shows all the different little products to her, letting her touch her brushes and everything. nami even "does ayari's makeup" too aka she just tickles her face with the brushes and pretends to put makeup on her so she feels like she's doing it too. when she's a little older, ayari asks sanji to join them and more often than not, sanji is making lunch with a full face of makeup done by ayari.

ayari's teething toy is a little plastic mouth sword. zoro is infinitely happy about it.

in the beginning, sanji tried to take up most of the parental responsibilities up until the point that he got too sick to even stand. he was stressed and exhausted beyond belief, actually pushing zoro away a lot. but when he collapses one day sporting a fever that was highly too reminiscent of when nami was sick after little garden, it scares him enough to finally seek zoro out for help.

and its not like zoro has not Tried to take the load off. its just that sanji was still fighting all his repressed feelings for zoro and this undue pressure hes put on himself to become a better parent than judge ever was to him. that he could raise this child with love and attention and devotion, completely forgetting that hes not the only parent.

zoro and sanji have a heartfelt talk about how the wish that was granted on that island was a blessing beyond belief. that theres a reason ayari looks like both of them. that she takes after both of them.

they both wished for this child in the deepest depths of their hearts. they wanted not just to be together but to have someone that grows up loved by them. cared for by them. not a restart or a replacement for a lost loved one like they first thought it was. but a child who sees them — zoro and sanji — and will one day wish to have a love like theirs.

oh also "luffy" is ayari's first word because zoro and sanji say it so often to stop their captain from doing dangerous shit while he's holding her. in line with that, her second word is "stop" so the first sentence she ever says is "luffy stop!"

the crew are hysterical over it. sanji stares into the void bc he wished for ayari's first word to be "dada"

he settles with the little joy of her fourth word being "marimo"

because her third word was "curly" (something he nearly strangled zoro for)

[mountainscouts]

I think Gary shouldn't be just a perfect overachiever gentleman that soothes Stan's depression. I don't dislike it but I also want to see Gary not have everything in his life in order, allow him to get angry, question Mormonism (racism, homophobia), pressure him with familial expectations (don't set bad example for his siblings, must marry a woman, etc), let him cut loose and party. Conversely, Stan isn't 24/7 doom+gloom. He can be stable, proactive and self-reflecting even before dating Gary.

WHEW. OKAY THIS ASK HAS BEEN SITTING IN MY ASK BOX FOR A WHILE NOW BECAUSE ITS JUST SO. SO PERFECT. where do i even begin?

okay, i have such a specific view of gary that is essentially this, seriously. when it comes to stary, people tend to gloss over gary as a character and while i can't really blame them for doing that, considering that gary is just a guy who has in total less than 3 minutes of speaking roles in his only episode, it's something i've noticed. while i wish that more people would explore him as a character with as much depth as stan, i've kinda just accepted that it won't ever be the case. BUT because of that, i've sort of hyper focused on these types of details about gary and built on his character more in that regard, going that exact direction you went in your ask.

gary, to me, is a well-polished & put together mess when he gets older. the church is such a fascinating and important facet of his life, and the fact that his character is so inherently & quintessentially mormon is a very accurate portrayal of a lot of mormons from SLC. with that, any type of interpretation of him that deviates from typical norms and values in the church is actually asking for a lot of character dissection. i understand that a lot of people would rather not, but i WOULD. and HAVE BEEN...

gary to me is gay, and i can't really see him otherwise. he finds this out– or at least has a feeling that he might be at a younger age, so already his sexuality giving him leeway in questioning the church and its beliefs. this starts leading him to be more self-aware of his societal and familial role, juggling his own beliefs, the church's, and by extension his family's. with this baggage, i guess, i'm sure it'll extend beyond that to his sense of self. what does he want to be? what does he want to make of himself? how can he feel so trapped, but by the loving arms of his family? so much to build and unpack here!!

speaking of his family, i truly believe they're ignorant folk, conservative, and traditional (inadvertently confirmed by how many children they have and how they all interact with eachother- even if that's just a joke, it proves my point that the harrisons are a decent portrayal of mormon families yet again). gary, being the middle child and if one wanted to write him as "the special one", makes for these dilemmas even more interesting honestly. from setting a good precedent for his siblings, following the path of his older ones, cramming extra-curricular activities as a means to both please his parents and even distract himself from his issues, to having to attend church meetings— it all piles up, all while his own contractions are fed more and more at the incessant exposure of daily life.

the reason why he's considered a polished mess is because he's your typical "looks like he has everything under control, actually under insane amounts of stress" character. i firmly believe that the harrisons have no ill-will, but i think the way that they raised their children falls strongly on the line of emotional neglect. their children were never taught any life lessons that'd help actually help them like- you know, regulating emotions. i've mentioned this in a previous post (and also elaborated on gary showing anger specifically) but i personally believe that while gary is a kind, and generous person to his core, there is an incredible amount of repression deep within him— a product of being raised with many, "boys dont cry"s, "love thy neighbor"s, and "forgive and forget"s. kindness specifically is actually an incredibly important aspect to mormonism, as it's a key part of the lifelong and ever present journey to celestial afterlife. but that's the thing: objectively speaking– this is just a way of control.

so when one wants to break free from this way of thinking, to lose this control, to break away from all they've known— their very livelihood— it's not going to come in the form of an overnight epiphany. in gary's case, considering how tight he is with his family versus his budding progressive views and drive to have more free reign over his self, it's going to be one hell of a struggle.

to touch on your point of him not getting everything he wants, i think that's another fundamental reason why he would question his standing in the church as well— depending on What he doesn't get. perhaps he doesn't want to serve his mission, but does so anyways. or maybe he simply had a bad day, but he can't allow himself to get upset, convincing himself that "things could be worse" as a way to make himself feel better, barring himself from healthily expressing his feelings. repeatedly saying "its okay" is going to be his downfall lol

and, i too would love to see him cut loose and party eventually- without a second thought that he'd be disappointing anyone.

okay now for stan. oh yeah that guy— no i'm just kidding, i'm also actually very picky about stan as well. :P most of your points about him align perfectly with mine. i don't like it when people woobify him to a point where his only/a major part of his character is his pessimism and depression, and while they are a part of him, it seems to be a big theme when people talk about stary. i definitely love the whole "i can fix him" thing gary has with him (because of gary's primordial urge to "fix" things and be persistent until he can't anymore) but that's definitely not all that they are!! (also gary's initial thought of "fixing" stan would already be faulty from the get-go anyways- but he will learn)

with stan, i think people tend to make him already pretty "helpless" in general fandom, and while he has shown to be more vulnerable than his peers, hes still pretty resilient. i do think that he would need a little bit of a push when it comes to his mental health, but that's only because he's found a way to cope with these issues- none of which are truly healthy. he's moreso content with being in a stalemate with himself and while he does wish he could do more, it takes a lot out of him to get out his more personal comfort zones.

kinda gives him another reason as to why him and gary are narrative foils, i just realized :P!!

but yeah!! i really loved this ask, and i probably really should indulge more in this aspect of gary >_<. its something i truly think about, and those who are close to me DEFINITELY know this! thank you for the ask and sorry it took so dang long haha. also thank you to those who read this behemoth, genuinely didnt expect to yap this much

[k-martins]

I saw a video these days about jujutsu and I saw something that I never realized that Megumi is not a good person because he is willing to do anything for his sister, which makes him selfish and that he only saves those who he "deems" to be a good person and who qualify as a good person for him. his morality is very black and white just like geto. There's a line from him that is very realistic, especially today in the manga, that sorcerers are not heroes, an example saturo gojo.

YES!!! Megumi's morality is something very well constructed in the series and it's something I really like about his character because it contrasts with Yuji's objective, which generates that discussion in the reform school.

One thing that catches my attention in Akutami-sensei's writing is that he is constantly distorting our vision of what is good and what is bad. Being selfish, for example, is typically seen as a bad thing. but it was Megumi's selfish way of thinking that made him save Yuji in the beginning, even though the "right" thing was to exorcise him because of Sukuna. the same way with Tsumiki. Megumi selfishly decided to stay with Gojo to protect her and then selfishly put her safety first when she started culling games.

selfishness is something very present in jjk's characters.

Nobara is selfish, Maki is selfish, Yuta is selfish, Gojo is and encourages selfishness. That's why they are not heroes, since heroes are driven by altruistic and pure interests, but Jujutsu sorcerers who are nothing more than Gears (yes, it was Megumi who presented what would later be Yuji's most depressing thought, but I will write separately about this later).

but being selfish is good! being selfish makes these characters save other people!

on the other hand, we have love which is treated as a curse in jjk. Because Gojo loved Geto he couldn't bury him body which made Kenjaku's plan easier, because Megumi loved Tsumiki he didn't see that she wasn't his real sister, because Yuji has an altruistic and empathetic love he feels responsible for things that are beyond its protective capacity.

I would have liked to have seen a more verbal confrontation of ideas between Yuta and Sukuna in this regard. they both have very different views on love, so it would have been cool to see them talking about it (I think the closest we came to this discussion was in Sukuna and Hajime's conversation).

Now regarding Geto/Megumi, I don't think their beliefs are very similar. At the beginning of the hidden inventory, Geto shows a thought more similar to Yuji's, about "protecting the weakest since I am the strongest" and as the story progresses we see his purpose being shattered due to an accumulation of events. Rika's death, depression, post-traumatic stress, Haibara's death. All of this causes him to accumulate a hatred for non-sorcerers, which is given carte blanche to flourish when Yuki talks to him.

a parallel that I draw a lot between Geto/Yuji is that they both reached the same conclusion after accepting their role: they need to wipe out a certain species for the world to be at peace. But I'll delve deeper into that later lol.

Well, in short, I don't think being selfish is a completely bad thing, any more than having a lot of empathy is a good thing. and Megumi needs to start thinking more selfishly, as Satoru taught him, in order to evolve as a sorcerer and a person. he's spent his life choosing to save other people above himself (something he and Yuji both share), so it's time to embrace selfishness (Yuji too)

[misstrashchan]

Number 7 for the RWBY ask game!

Yang's "I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!!! CAN EVERYONE JUST CALM DOWN FOR LIKE FIVE MINUTES BEFORE SOMETHING CRAZY HAPPENS AGAIN!" from V1

No super deep reason why I like this one tbh. Often I just find myself repeating this line either in my head or out loud when I feel overwhelmed and stressed out. Idk I just find it cathartic and it's just a good line of expressing anger and frustration in a humorous way when too much is happening all at once.

"Do you believe in destiny?"

The last words said before her death, carrying Pyrrha's legacy. The way it encapsulates Pyrrha's arc and her struggle with agency and existentialism. The way it continues to haunt the narrative, especially for Cinder and Jaune's characters, makes it one of the most iconic lines of the show.

"This must be really hard on her too"

I have literally written an entire meta on why I love this line.

"Some things are more important, I think. Keeping our humanity."

I absolutely adore the humble and honest defiance Oscar's line has in the face of Ironwood's "we have to do whatever it takes to stop Salem, nothing matters more". It's also really when you see Oscar coming into his own and finding himself, starting to find and assert his own beliefs (...though you can clearly see Ruby's inspiration and influence shining through *gestures to her "so all those times you talked about having faith in humanity... That was just for everyone else?"). Because Oscar is trying to believe in Ironwood's humanity. And in his own, in the face of the merge. He pays for it dearly and yet that belief of his doesn't falter, and we see it again with how he believes in Oz, Hazel and Emerald. And what he says here really is at the heart of what will lead to them saving the day I think, in the same vein as Ruby and Maria's conversation about the Silver Eyes not being about destroying monsters, but preserving humanity and life.

"She's not protecting me. And I'm not protecting her. We're protecting each other"

If Blake and Yang facing against Adam again and holding hands wasn't enough to drive me wild and giddy, this line does. So much growth in Blake and Yang's relationship culminating in their confrontation with Adam, especially with this line. Letting go of matyr complexes, and instead coming together as equals to mutually uplift and support each other, so neither has to suffer alone or feel infantalised or overshadowed as the protector or protected, instead growing beyond that into something stronger and more beautiful, the moment their love truly began to blossom.

"You atlas elites are all the same! you think hoarding power means you'll have it forever, but it just makes the rest of us hungrier. And I refuse to starve."

I love this line for the feral energy it has, the raw drive and ambition Cinder has that it bleeds far past desire and into a need, a desperation. It carries so much weight with it, the foreshadowing for Cinder's backstory as a slave girl trampled and abused by atlas elites, literally starved for food, affection and agency. I really love the way the hunger motif in general is used. On top of that it makes the foiling between Winter and Cinder very apparent

"Without you I am nothing, but because of you I am everything"

Honestly up there as another one of the most iconic lines of the show. It's said in a a moment of rebellion and triumph by Cinder over her abuser, but simultaneously is tragic in how Cinder is essentially defining herself by the abuse and pain she endured. Fully expecting this line to resurface in a moment with Salem, but with the original meaning turned on its head.

"Maybe there was something you just weren't seeing" I also wrote another whole ass meta about why I love this line

also shoutout to Ilia's "Quit taking pot shots and FIGHT ME LIKE YOU MEAN IT!" and "I DON'T KNOW WHAT ELSE TO DO! I don't know what else to do..." purely for Cherami Leigh's brilliant performance in delivering such raw and emotional lines.

Ozpin's fear speech is pretty great too.

There's another line from V9 that's one of my favorites too, but I know you haven't watched V9 yet so I'll tell you that one later :)

[call-me-copycat]

The Weight of Regret

So... It seems I can't save requests to drafts without them disappearing... なぜこうなるのか…( ꐦ•᷄ὤ•᷅)و

I deeply apologize if I've never received your ask! I have many requests waiting right now, but now that I know about this I'll make sure to try my best to keep them from disappearing (_๑óωò)_

*I FORGOT TO SCREENSHOT IT!! NOO ｡°꒰ ՞ ´ ᗣ`°꒱°｡

➤ Welcome: Links to all my masterlists, rules for requests, and some info about me (⁠๑⁠¯⁠◡⁠¯⁠๑⁠)

▶ [CHARACTERS]: Dadzawa x Daughter Reader (platonic)

▶ [GENRE]: Hurt/Comfort + angst

▶ [SUMMARY]: You've always struggled with smoking, and it tears away at you until you're caught. Will you get into trouble, or will you be spared and helped?

▶ [WORD COUNT]: 6,868

▶ [WARNINGS]:

- This one is rather angsty all throughout

- Mental breakdowns

- Smoking (obviously)

- Mentions of addiction

A deep inhale. The smoke filling your lungs gave off a comforting feeling that temporarily masked the guilt that ate away at you. A heavy exhale. The remnants of your action shamelessly filling the air in a heavy cloud of smoke.

It was a tiresome night, and stress was breaking apart your mind as exams rode closer and closer to the present day. Too many things had to be done at that moment, and even more things were left undone or unfinished, waiting for you to come back and complete them. You didn't know when that time would come though.

It all seemed so heavy. You'd push yourself to complete the burdensome amount of classwork you were assigned and then will yourself to train on your quirk. You'd repeat this cycle day after day, but you never seemed to gain any benefits from doing all this. It seemed as though all your efforts were in vain. You weren't much of a suck-up, but there were still small expectations that at least someone would notice how hard you were pushing yourself. Alas, that day never came.

No one else seemed to be struggling this much. It caused your mind to wander where you didn't want it to. You began to think... Were you falling? Was there something wrong with you? Were you not cut out for the Hero Course? Troubling thoughts such as these began to slowly litter your mind. Beginning like a small weed, they festered and grew to unimaginable proportions.

They began to tear apart your sanity, and it felt as though you were having an argument with your own brain every single day. It was exhausting, and horribly painful to endure. But you didn't let anyone know. You couldn't. They'd think you were insane. Or they'd baby you, seeing you as too unstable to be a hero one day. All the work and effort you put in would all be wasted without anything to show for it.

Endure. That's all that rang about your head. All you had to do was to keep yourself moving. To endure it, that's what made a hero after all, right?

Too bad no one told you how pointless it all felt. It seemed as though you were spiralling, into an endless pit of misery that welcomed lost and pained souls into its gaping mouth. It was times like these that sparked the flame of your habit.

Twisting the white stick around your fingers, you thought back to how it started while staring into the flickering yellow flame at the end.

It was all too much that day. It was too much everyday, really, but that day in particular had hit you hard and knocked everything out of you without any preparation time. A misaligned testing schedule, a broken phone, a dropped dinner. Everything seemed to go wrong for no apparent reason. You wanted to burst into tears, but as a last resort you willed it away.

Your mind had been running a marathon, and you were exhausted beyond belief from the work your class had been put through. You had originally walked into your father's room to ask him if you could have some help on an assignment you had been struggling with, but it quickly changed.

Looking around Aizawa's room, you didn't see him anywhere in sight. You saw some of his things littered about the room, not particularly messy but in an organized chaos kind of way. Realizing he must've been busy with something or called by someone, you sighed and went to exit back to your own room not too far away. However, something caught your eye.

A white box was partially sticking out from under his work bag, and although you knew what it was you still lifted the bag to see anyways. A clean, already opened box of cigarettes met your drained and exhausted gaze. It was no secret Aizawa was a smoker, in fact a good chunk of the teachers smoked every now and then. However, unlike the others, you noticed your father never really talked about it openly. He'd answer questions briefly before moving the topic of discussion, and that was about as much as you got out of him.

Memories of him scooting you back inside the house when you were younger flashed across your eyes, as he always wanted you to be somewhere else when he was submitting to his slight addiction. It was almost like an unspoken rule, but it always infuriated you how he never outright told you anything.

You didn't have time to read in between the lines. Pushing yourself to simply get out of bed was a struggle, so that's probably why you weren't thinking clearly that night. All the tests, assignments, criticizing, and sleepless nights bursted throughout your mind, burning your thoughts on the rising anger.

You hadn't had time to think. What were you so angry about that night? You don't remember. Possibly the work without reward. Or the unspoken sayings. Or the fiery thoughts that charred your mind everyday and night. Who knows.

But what you did caused a chain. A chain that you wished never existed. Looking at the open box was tempting. But you were a good kid, right? You got good grades, you treated everyone decently, you did as you were expected. But what about you? You hadn't thought about that. And the rage filled your consciousness once again, fueling your shaky fingers to nab a single stick from the box before running out of there.

Only, you didn't know what to do when you got back to your room. You had clutched it to your chest, panting from the run. You had never even held a cigarette before, so you took the time to examine it. You didn't think it looked like much, but you heard it caused nasty effects and addiction that was overall very hard to cope with. There wasn't much you heard spoken about it, except for maybe a passing stranger on the streets.

It was seen as a taboo. To smoke was to throw yourself into being delinquent. You'd be seen as one of those bad kids that got tattoos and wore spiky clothing. Only... That's what you were taught, but seeing average people like your father, or even Nezu smoke every now and then debated that thought.

You wished you threw it away. Burned it without putting it in your mouth. Anything but smoking it.

A "cancer stick", a "coffin nail", you had heard it go by many names. It all worried you, but the thrill of doing something so wrong, of doing something just for you... It excited you for once. You didn't care that it was bad, nor did you care that you'd come to regret your actions. Life was heavy and cold, quiet and unforgiving. You needed something to pick you back up, to distract you from the swirling winds of reality that screeched outside the flames of the smoke that shielded you.

You lit it, watching the flame flicker. That was your last chance to throw it away. Too bad you listened to impulse instead. You certainly learned your lesson. Putting it to your lips was foreign, and it felt so dirty. The first inhale was the worst, leaving you in a coughing fit and a state of confusion and irritation on the lack of soothing that was supposed to come from it.

After trying again, it got easier for you. And easier. A little too easy. You sat there, enjoying the vague calmness that washed over you as the hot nicotine filled your lungs, pushing away everything that once hurt. It was refreshing, and you wanted more. You wanted a stronger escape, one where you were nothing but a floating blob in your head. Unfortunately for you, the cigarette ran down too far, the slight burn ripping you away from your temporary euphoria.

You watched the little flame burning the paper down in present day, eyes empty and brain too numb to cope properly. The memories haunted you, but in a way it had become routine. Although you knew it was bad, and although you knew the effects, you couldn't tear yourself away from it.

Addiction had long since clung to your head, taking control of your thoughts and behaviors. You soon found yourself doing things you wouldn't have before, your limbs being puppeteered by a broken mind. It spread, until there wasn't a single part of you that wasn't succumbed to this "infection", as you called it.

You never stole at least, you had already succumbed to one of the drops in life, and you certainly wouldn't let yourself fall even further. You couldn't. Knowing the look in your father's eyes if he were to find out... It was haunting. But it was the only form of restraint that kept you sane in a way.

You worked small jobs when you could, such as helping yardwork or cleaning. Being a student left no time for a side job, and even if it did you knew you definitely wouldn't have enough energy for one. So you had to make do with what you had.

You'd always buy from smaller stores, or ones that were in lower quality, trying to diminish the risk that they'd ask for your age. You only got asked once, but you panicked and said you were buying it for a family member. You never went back, but of course you were still new to the way things were at that time.

It'd long since grown into something that seemed ever so permanent, and you were only counting down the days until you knew you wouldn't be able to go a day without a huff.

A soul contaminated and controlled far too young by a never-ending, all-controlling force that seemed so powerless at the time. You couldn't brush the disgust from your mind each time you reached into the box. It was an obsession you couldn't bear to be a part of any longer.

That one event led to others, creating an even worse cycle for you to be a part of. The chain of events leading all throughout your life until it reached to where you were now.

Looking at the pale paper tube lit aflame in your hands, the memories only served to cause more self-loathing and repulsiveness. Sighing, you brought it back to your mouth once more.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

The morning after was one that mirrored every other awakening that had happened before it. You threw on your uniform, ate a quick breakfast, and went off to UA with your father.

As you walked through the halls in the early morning, thoughts of the previous night's memories flashed through your mind once more. Peeking over at Aizawa from the side of your eye, you wondered if he could possibly have known how to erase this addiction. With all his added years of experience with things of all sorts, he always had an answer to everything you asked of him. But this was different.

Lately you had been thinking of different ways on how you could force yourself to quit. The constant fear of discovery and disappointment continually unraveled your tattered mind, making it only so much worse to suffer at the hands of your own mind.

Too lost in thought, your attention was torn away from the delicate and intricate rays of sunlight shining through the tall glass windows of UA, coating the world in a filter of pink and orange as the sun began to wake up with its people of Japan. The wind swayed the leaves of the trees, causing a small flock of birds to rise up into flight. The world still spun around you in its elegant symphony of everyday life, and it would've calmed you if you had bothered to look up.

You stayed looking at the ground.

The day went by as normal as possible, a reminder of the continued cycle that constantly swallowed you without decision. General classes, lunch, more general classes, hero training, home. It was all the same, with only a few diminutive details that made that day slightly different from the others, just as they always do.

Except, to your annoyance you got hit with a craving right at the end of the day. It wasn't uncommon as the cravings had a habit of hitting you at random times, and if anything you considered yourself lucky since it happened to be the end of the day. Nothing a quick break out at the back of the school couldn't fix.

The back of the school was mainly empty everytime you saw it, and it was a sort of unspoken unwind-place for people to relax when they struggled being under the constant pressure of the expectations of perfection that came with being a part of UA. It was also the only spot without cameras as well, and there was only a miniscule risk of someone walking in on you. The only people that went to the back were tired teachers or students, or Lunch Rush every now and then who empties the waste contents of his equipment into the large ground drain that sits by the only door back inside.

The ground was covered in smudges and bits of debris, most uncommon to see from the elite UA high, but in a way it added to the charm since all other areas of the school were constantly squeaky clean. The bell had rung, and your father wasn't leaving until he finished his grading and daily training with Shinso, so you had a good amount of time to get what you needed done (you hated what you had become).

Opening a hidden side pocket from your school bag and bringing out the box, you promised to yourself you'd make it quick. You lit a stick. A deep inhale. A heavy, hatred-filled exhale. You watched with weary eyes as the cloud of smoke fluttered around in the wind, growing lighter and diminishing completely from the edges in. It was peaceful in a way, seeing something so terrible eventually disappear before your very eyes like you hoped. If only you could will it away from your head.

Taking another breath in, your little moment of calm was broken away from you as the back door creaked open, causing you to sputter and cough in surprise as your heart practically ripped itself from your chest.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Didn't mean to catch you off guard, Pocket Rocket!" A familiar voice reassured, the familiarity failing to do anything other than cause more panic and self-loathing.

You looked up to see none other than Present Mic turning around from where he had his back turned, his work bag in one hand and the other trying not to let the back door slam.

"Just trying to escape a little early, y'know?-..."

Too late to run away. There was no time to hide your wrong-doings as you saw your father's best friend turn around and watched as his casual smile faltered as it fell upon the white stick that was currently lit and in between your fingers and your eyes that were wide open in surprise.

A million thoughts ran across your head. Disgust with the fact that you let your addiction get this bad. Rage at the world for pushing you so far. Fear of getting a disappointed look and an even more heavy discussion. Too many things to focus on, much too small a window of time.

The air was thick and heavy, the awkwardness you felt in the moment ate away at your very soul bit-by-bit as you waited for the silence to be cut through somehow. To be cut loose no matter the cost was what you so desperately wished for. But he stood there, an unreadable expression on his face.

Eventually Mic sighed a bit, and even though it was small it ripped a hole like none-other across your state of mind as the weight of the situation finally bore down on you.

He took off his glasses and quietly cleaned them with a small cloth from his pocket, lengthening the stretch of painful silence further as you waited in terrible anticipation. Placing the glasses on his head rather than back across his eyes, he turned and looked at you with a tired expression, dragging his hand down his face and sighing once again.

"Geez, kid. You're really killing me here..." He muttered, loud enough for you to hear. "How long?..."

Such a simple question, just two words. Two words too much. Two words you never hoped to hear, nor to ever have to answer.

"I, um.. Awhile..." That was all you could get out, voice slightly raspy from the hot smoke that went down your throat not too long ago. The shame was unbearable to endure.

"Man... What'm I gonna do?.." Mic looked exasperated, and truth be told he was. Although he was confused and worried, you were caught off guard with how calm he was. You expected shouting, scolding, immediate action, something. The fact that he wasn't showing much made you stuck on as to worry about if he was hiding his actual anger, or if he actually didn't care that great a deal. You doubted it was the latter.

He shook his head, folding his arms and leaning back against the wall. "Your dad know ..?" He asked it with a shallow tone, almost as if it was redundant and the answer was already known. You could only meekly shake your head no in response.

"Look, I'm gonna be honest with you - 'cause I'm your uncle. I'm not going to ask any questions or anything, I just... want to know if you're doing ok?" His green eyes shone with concern, and you felt another hole being torn in your heart as guilt gnawed at you.

You didn't initially answer, opting to bring your knees up to your chest and stare at the ground as you tried to conjure an appropriate response. You breathed out of your nose as you decided that there was no point in hiding anything anymore. It was already uncovered, why bother with more layers of nonsense?

"No... Sometimes I feel ok. But, then I feel like this other times..." You vaguely gestured to your surroundings, signaling that you weren't feeling mentally well currently, causing your habit.

"Geez, I'm so sorry [name]... " His expression was heavy, but still displayed an air of lightheartedness in an odd kind of comforting way.

"Look, here's what's going to happen ok? First I want you to tell- no wait.." He cut himself off, thinking for a second before beginning again. "No, first things first; hand over the box", Mic reached out a hand in your direction, signaling to you with a quiet air of kind authority.

Your eyes widened in initial surprise, but you supposed it had to have happened at some point when you got caught. It was harder than you liked to admit, grasping the box a little tighter until you clenched your eyes shut and swiftly dropped it in his hand before your mind could further disagree and get you into more trouble.

Mic let out a little breath as he looked at the box, and once again he caught you off guard as he opened it and handed you a single cigarette.

"Here. I'm not sayin' it's ok or anything... But I know from experience that the urges are tough to handle. Just don't want to throw you straight into the pool without a little help, y'know?"

Tears welled up in your eyes as you pitifully took it from his hands, wishing you could just never have to look at it again. Sensing your disdain, he lightly sighed and patted you on your head. Your attention stayed fixated on the ground, avoiding his gaze.

"You know what you have to do next, right?"

Staying silent, you nodded.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Staring up into the night sky from the apartment balcony, you relished the quiet peacefulness you felt when you gazed up at the sparkling stars ahead.

The little town of Musutafu was always lit up at night. The distant sounds of cars and people's chatter filled your ears. There was a slight breeze that caused you to rub your uncovered arms despite it not being that discomforting. Windows were randomly lit up different shades of yellow or white from the surrounding buildings, and you distracted yourself by looking around to see if you could spot anyone walking around. You saw none, but you heard people all around.

You let out a heavy breath, wondering how you would be able to approach your father on the subject. You knew you had no choice, because if you didn't then Mic would definitely tell Aizawa himself, and that would make your situation worse and your reputation would go down. There was no escape and no more hiding.

At this point you'd accept any punishment that came your way - after all you were stuck at such a deep point in this hole you made that you couldn't even see a way out anymore. You'd get scolded, punished, people would think badly of you. You accepted it because what else could you do?

What hope was there really, when life pushed you to take such measures at your lowest only to punish you for falling into its trap? As much as you wanted to grow cold and bitter, you couldn't find it in yourself. You felt like a small child again, awaiting a cosmic trial that was about to be given to you by the mighty hands of the universe itself. A silly way of thinking, but at this point in your life you felt you needed it.

The breeze stilled, and the weight of the unmoving air settled on you. Looking up at the twinkling stars again, you tried to steel your mind as hard as you could so you could get the hard part over with. To have to come out all by yourself and to out yourself on a bad habit you gained from the lowest moments of your life made you feel like putty being pulled and twisted.

"Bit of a breeze out... Where's your jacket?"

You startled at the feeling of Aizawa's hand that suddenly placed itself on your shoulder without warning. You jumped a bit more than you would've under normal circumstances, much more tense than usual.

Blinking, you registered his question before answering with a feeble shrug of your shoulders, not bothering to look behind you to see where he was.

You heard the chair next to you creak before he spoke up again. "Bring your jacket next time you want to go outside. It's getting colder and I don't want you to get sick."

Sliding your eyes to the side, you glanced over at your father sitting casually in the soft chair that matched the one you were in, his hands in his pockets and his hair tied up. He was looking up at the sky just as you were, only with a more empty glaze as he scanned over it in exhaustion.

The sounds of the town didn't help the slightest in deterring the wave of stuffy silence that laid itself down over the both of you. It seemed you were the only one slightly bothered by it, which made sense since it took quite a bit to bother Aizawa.

You turned away and looked solemnly at the ground, eyes filled with the weight of all the dignity you knew were about to lose. The chilled breeze slightly numbed your fingers, it not being able to do much since the warmth of your hands clasped together kept it away.

"I heard from Ectoplasm that you were struggling with certain aspects of math, that right?"

Sighing, you clenched your hands tighter to the point where your fingernails were digging crevices into the soft skin of your palms. You weren't in the mood for small talk, especially about things you needed help on or were struggling with, so you just nodded stiffly.

He leaned back further into his chair. "I'm going to put you in Vlad's Hero Financing, that after-school program, until I see improvement."

Ah, the place where the bad or stupid kids go, you thought to yourself. There were many after school programs, but the hero financing class was (unsurprisingly) the least popular, so teachers had to send in disobedient or struggling students just to keep its attendance record up. You were sure Vlad got forcefully assigned to teach it since he never seemed to want to be there every time you saw him.

You didn't need this extra weight being thrown on top of you, only serving as an unnecessary reminder of your struggles and failures that turned you into the person you were today. It already gnawed at your skull every morning as soon as you opened your eyes and up until the last second before they closed again at night. To hear further criticism being tossed onto the already overflowing pile was only helping to force the bottle closer to bursting.

Warm tears began to fill your eyes once again as the thoughts and memories began rapidly assaulting and battering your bruised mind that had already endured so much. At that moment you felt nothing but rage. If asked, you couldn't explain what it was that you were angry at. Possibly too many things built up to pinpoint one single reason.

You were trapped and pressured, and what else could you do when you hit rock bottom besides digging deeper and letting loose? You were going to be seen in a worse light, to be met with angry and disappointed glances and glares, so why bother trying to fix a plate that was broken so far to the point where it was just dust?

What was the point of trying to push yourself further if it was all going to be blown away before your eyes? Your mind was a spinning cycle of pain and color, memories of both hatred and loathing helping to boost the deep-seated rage that burned the edges of your thoughts with red fury. You couldn't see clearly, couldn't think clearly, not a single logical thought breaching contact to help restrain the broken reigns that tore after giving their all for much too long.

"Because that's all I am to you, right? A bad kid? One that can't even comprehend something everyone else can?"

You spat with a venom that wasn't intended, the fiery rage burning your logic to ash. Looking over, you saw Aizawa turn your way in his chair, eyes scrunched in either worry or irritation, now on full alert at your angered outburst.

"Now look, I never said anything about your behavior, but since we're on the topic I think you could certainly use an adjustment-"

"Let me guess, it's once again good enough for you? Not happy with me again?" You interrupted, heart racing in your chest as you finally spoke without a forced filter. You were in the moment, and the adrenaline rush felt exhilarating. "Because too bad! I guess I'll never be the perfect student or daughter you want! You raised a delinquent, a failure! "

It was too much. You clawed at your face, eyes squeezed shut and jaw clenched tight as laborious breaths rushed out of you. The fear of being seen as a bad kid because of your habit ate away at you ever since that first smoke years ago.

Too overwhelmingly angry to think of anything further, you barely registered the gentle hands that urged your grip to loosen. Despite being detached from your surrounding environment, you still felt the soft pads of fingers wiping under your eyes and down your cheeks, and to your surprise you came to the realization that you had started crying at some point.

Trembling, you tried pushing away from your father's touch, still loopy on the rath you felt. Refusing to look up at him and avoiding his reaching hands, you hastily dug around your pocket, only for Aizawa to successfully grip onto your shaking hands and bring them into his comforting hold. He tenderly rubbed his thumbs over the soft skin on your hands, before letting one hand go to try to bring and bring your face to look at him.

"[Name]..." He breathed heavily out of his nose upon your blatant refusal to look at him once more despite his efforts. "Sweetie, what's going on? Talk to me, please."

The hurt tone in his voice caused another sting of guilt to burn its way into your heart. The concern, patience, and worry all made it so much harder to open up what needed to be let out.

You clutched his hand tighter in yours, earning an affectionate squeeze in response from your father before you pulled your hands out of his grip. Confused, Aizawa went to reach for you again, only to pause as he felt an unknown object in his hand that wasn't there before.

Opening his hand, he was met with a single, lightly crinkled cigarette sitting on the center of his palm, and his heart dropped upon the realization. This was a silent confession.

The silence was deafening, pounding into your eardrums with a heavy weight. Your heart was hammering so rapidly it caused concern as to whether or not it'd burst itself right out of your skin. In a way, you would've preferred that to sitting in that insufferable silence any day of the week.

Aizawa could only look at the object in his hand, cold and still. Memories of his own childhood and addiction haunted him everyday, but it had gotten to the point where he learned how to numb it out. So to see you, his one and only daughter, suffering from the same fate he had dealt with as a teen... It frightened him to an abysmal extent.

He felt in that moment that he had failed you as a father. After all, one wouldn't smoke without reason, and that reason normally wasn't something good. He knew you were pushing yourself, but that was something he had grown to expect. To be the daughter of Shota Aizawa meant that some burdens and expectations had to be carried, that was a fact. He never knew it'd get taken that far, though.

Oh, how he cursed himself. He cursed himself as much as he could mentally. Aizawa couldn't stand the thought of you hurting, of you struggling alone and in silence. He was your father, for goodness sake! And wasn't a father's job to care for their children, to keep them safe and happy? To be a shoulder for them to cry on? And yet, here he was, doing none of that, and his dear daughter suffering right in front of his eyes.

He looked up, only to see you staring at the ground, face hidden and hands clamped shut. There was no doubt in his head you were clenching your jaw as well.

Quietly, tenderly, Aizawa pushed your head up to face him, and this time you didn't object. Upon meeting eyes, he saw yours were watery and red, and you could only look at him, feeling pathetic as you let out a sniffle.

You were only able to wait. To wait for the disappointed speech you were given each time you messed up, to receive a harsh glare, or stern punishments.

But you received none. What caught you off guard was the gentle way Aizawa held your face in his hands, and the soft worried look that sat in his eyes. The complete opposite of what you expected.

"[Name]... Oh [Name]... " His voice resonated with remorse, as if he, in a way, felt more at fault for your bad habit than you were. You never wanted him to feel bad, you had only expected yourself to get dragged down because of this problem, and you fully accepted the thought too. So to see your father in so much pain... Stricken with grief and guilt over the habit you got yourself into... The hole already in your heart ripped further, and a heavy block of heartache settled upon you.

Choking back a sob, you were only able to get out a strangled "I'm sorry...". Aizawa shook his head no at your apology, eyes rimmed red now as well. "No, it's not your fault, kid." Gently pressing a tender kiss to your forehead in reassurance, he continued.

"... How long?" In a way, his question mirrored Mic's, although his voice held more distress, coming out in a slightly strangled manner due to his conflicting thoughts that jumped about his head.

"A few years..." You looked away, not being able to bring yourself to look at him in the eyes. You felt as though you should be completely honest in that moment, because after all lying would only bring about unnecessary complications, right?

You could see Aizawa visibly tense up a bit, obviously surprised upon receiving a solid answer so easily. He let out another sigh, continuing to look at you with a mix of bittersweet fondness and concern. Aizawa was never really an affectionate man, nor was he really one to show much emotion on the daily. But this time was different. His hands never left you, and his eyes gleamed with deep, thoughtful emotions that carried the weight of his thoughts.

"You aren't... You just-" He let out a heavy breath, struggling to get his words out. Normally he'd have an answer for everything. For some reason, at this moment his mind was failing him, possibly due to the fact that he had never expected to be visited by this day.

He opened his hand once again to take another look at the cigarette. He blankly stared at it before it evolved into a glare, angry at how both of your minds were bound to such a small, feeble item. Upset with how easily it took ahold of both of your lives, and how it preyed on the both of your vulnerable moments.

"I'm sorry... I don't want to be a bad kid... A delinquent..." Your shaky voice broke the silver of silence as you struggled to contain all the years of built up guilt and self loathing that were ready to burst from your mind, threatening to snap the reigns and break free.

Aizawa let out a soft sigh, his expression delving further from a look of anger into a more somber one.

"Don't be so hard on yourself, kid-"

His casualness and calm tone caught you by surprise, especially after you had steeled your mind in preparation for a lengthy scolding and disappointment. It seemed that wherever you went nobody gave it much thought, and although it was supposed to be relieving it gave off the opposite effect: as though no one cared.

"B-but I... I smoked! I'm no good, a delinquent, right? I-I..." Your thoughts began swallowing you, mocking you in its thick putty-like memories. The days when it was too much and you'd cry after. The anxiety that always came with the fear of getting caught. The forever fading hope that this would be over.

You weren't thinking properly, too many things you had imagined not coming true upon discovery. Your world was turned upside down, and it was a mess in your head.

You just wanted this to be over. You couldn't forgive yourself as easily as those around you had.

The flying thoughts and panicked irrationality of your mind was suddenly stalled as Aizawa abruptly placed a firm, solid hand on your shoulder - most likely to snap you out of it.

Looking up you were met with stern yet caring eyes, a swirling mixture of knowledge and pain behind the deep brown color they wore.

"I can tell you regret what you did, that's why I'm telling you to not be so hard on yourself. It'll only break your self-image if you expect perfection. Look..."

He signaled for you to sit, slowly pushing you back down into the chair you once were in before dragging his chair over so it was sitting directly in front of yours. His expression became serious, his features knotting into one of deep focus and thought. Hunching over and leaning his chin against his hands you suddenly realized just how close he was. Remembering him only acting like this once or twice, it was noticed that he only became like this for serious, close moments.

The first time he had sat you down such as this was after the USJ attack. He had held you in his arms after the bandages were removed, silent and... Different.

"We all make mistakes... " Aizawa spoke slowly, suddenly seemingly aware of life around him as you noticed his glazed look was no longer there.

"... We all tend to fall down at some point in our lives... But what matters is that we get back up. Even if you know you'll fall down again." He opened his hand and dropped the cigarette plainly on the small table that sat to the side of you both.

"What matters is that you learn from where you failed. That's why we mess up, to learn. And just because you've fallen certainly doesn't make you a delinquent."

He sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. "You've made a mistake, you regret it, and you've learned your lesson. That's doesn't make you a bad kid, that makes you human."

You started tearing up, the weight of his words finally managing to sink in. Human. You were only human after all... Weren't you?

"Besides... It's not like you've committed some deadly crime. I was standing in your spot myself when I was your age, only..." He looked away and towards the stars littering the sky. "I didn't have anyone to go to. And look where that's got me" Letting out a humorless dry chuckle, he took a deep breath before letting some silence fall in between the two of you.

"I... I want this to end. I want it to all be over..." Voice meek and raw from all the crying, you didn't even know if you were speaking to Aizawa directly or if you were just letting thoughts fall out of your mind without restraint.

"Is that really what you want to do?" Years of teaching had given Aizawa a large handful of experiences, allowing him to meet students of all types who each suffered from something of their own. Of course he had known many who had fallen for this addiction, smoking without care. There were only a few, however, that actually wanted to drop it. "I'd be more than happy to guide you through it... I know it's redundant seeing as I'm still hooked myself, but I know I'm not ready yet..."

He looked up at you, surprised to see you looking right at him instead of the ground. "I've helped more than a few folks quit their habits, so I know a few things... If you want my help that is-"

Accidentally cutting Aizawa off by throwing yourself at him, you wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug of affection and regrown hope. He only chuckled, not the slightest upset, before hugging you back and patting you on the back a few times.

He had on the first soft smile of the night. "You sure you can handle it?" His voice was filled with concern, worried for how you'd handle the dark claws of addiction gnawing at you. He knew it was tough, because just as he said he himself had been in your very spot years before. He failed, but at least he knew he was content with where he stood.

"It's a difficult thing to give up, but if you really have your heart set on it, then I believe you. I'll help you through it as long as you're willing. And if you ever feel like giving up..." He paused for a second to get up and head back inside, helping to hoist you up as well.

After the back door to the balcony was open, he turned and smiled with a lighthearted wink.

"... Just remember why you wanted to quit in the first place."

A/N:

Again, I'm so sorry about the disappearance! I do hope this reaches out to the person that requested it... =͟͟͞͞(๑º ﾛ º๑)！！

Notes:

• Tags are okay with me! Just ask if you'd like to be tagged for something specific (like a specific genre, character, etc. Especially if you want to be tagged for either my art or my writing!). Once you do then I'll do my best to tag you appropriately! ✌️(˶｀‪‎‎ࠔ´˵)🙏( •∀< )👍

° Requests are open! Request rules are in my pinned post (I'm not that strict)! You can request and I'll do my best to write it, I just might take some time to do so. I promise I haven't deleted or forgotten anyone! (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧

♡That's all I have to say, other than that I hope everyone here has a lovely day/night! ( ⑉¯ ꇴ ¯⑉ )

[iguessitsjustme]

Deep Night Ep 3 Thoughts

Like I said, no self control. And things on my street seemed to have quieted down…for now. I am starting to get sleepy so let’s see how rambly I get. Time for Deep Night 3: A Case of the Sleepies:

I cannot believe it took only 3 seconds after typing that for a car playing the strangest music to drive by. Its still here. Stopped by the light. I have questions. Are they summoning an alien? Are they a forgotten deity trying to regain their lost power? What’s going on with that music?

I want Pan and Seiji to kiss SO BAD. 

Why are there no boys in cages actually?

The vocals in this opening are keeping me from skipping it and that is truly impressive. I have been kindly informed me this OST is by Fellow Fellow and now I have a new obsession. 

Hear me out. Deep Night but women hosts. Wearing beautiful gowns. Still all of the clients are women. Do you see it? Do you see my vision?

This show is surprisingly wholesome?? This is not computing in my brain. I don’t know why I was expecting to be so toxic but I am LIVING for these two sweeties. I hope nothing bad happens

AH THE HANDS

Now wait a minute. Who is driving that car?

Awww Pan. 

*drinks sparkling cider from the bottle* I’m feeling completely sane about all of this. I don’t feel an all encompassing need to give Pan a hug. Definitely not. 

Okay I give Seiji a hug too. He gets a hug. They both get a hug. 

In fact, I tuck them both into bed. I get them a cup of cocoa and read them a bed time story. Then I place a gentle kiss on their foreheads and whisper sweet dreams before leaving them a good night’s rest. They sleep while I hit on Khem’s mom.

THAT IS TOO MANY CANDLES. WHAT IS SUPPORTING THOSE CANDLES? WHO LIT THOSE CANDLES? WHO IS GOING TO PUT OUT ALL OF THOSE CANDLES. THAT IS A FIRE HAZARD I AM STRESSED BEYOND BELIEF. 

LIKE LOOK AT THIS. THIS IS AN EXCESSIVE AMOUNT OF CANDLES. I GET IT. YOU’RE ROMANTIC. BLOW THOSE OUT.

Oooohhh telling Wela about his mom already. I love this. Would love it more if they weren’t surrounded by all those damn candles let me tell ya. 

Oh a blindfold. Why hasn’t this happened so much more often in BL?

Ohhhhh drama. Why tf are cops at the club?

Literally obsessed with Seiji’s outfit. Actually I think I have an outfit similar enough. I could reasonably cosplay that man. 

Listen. Listen. That meme. Seiji’s got two hands (I do know how this ends and they are why I am watching to be clear)

These two are impossibly cute. Absolutely entirely impossibly cute. 

The song during this scene with Seiji and Ken pretending to be a BL couple makes me feel like I’m watching a Disney Channel original movie from the early 2000s.

Mr. DJ man with the wisdom. He is speaking from experience. I should learn his name.

I give these subtitles a C+. They’re doing their best but there are some…issues. 

The jealousy I actually don’t mind here. I think they’re playing this out well. I mean, of course Khem’s jealous. And of course Wela is worried about it. 

What is this? COMMUNICATION? In MY BL? I think I might actually sob I love this. 

The music during this make out session has me feeling some type of way. I don’t know if its making me nervous or not.

See. The thing is. I desperately want to watch episode 4. But I am sleepy. And I work tomorrow. And I need to take a shower and wash my hair. So I need to stop. Which is incredibly rude. I need a three day weekend I think cause I cannot go on like this. So I will continue this liveblog another night. Perhaps tomorrow. Perhaps next weekend. It will happen when it happens.

[eekykins]

Choro hcs please?

oh, GLADLY!!!! He's my favorite character in the show!

Choromatsu is clearly very into anime, anime games, and such. But he probably knows very odd and obscure ones too, and prides himself in finding those rare gems.

Some of his favorite animes are twists on magical girl or romance animes, he lives for the unsure feeling he gets when watching something unlike anything else. Whether it be a horror or comedic twist, he adores it. It's a breath of fresh air from the cookie-cutter things he finds popular through the years... since he is an anime veteran.

He has a high appreciation in animation in general, even some Western cartoons. He was a big fan of Teen Titans, Steven Universe, and Gravity Falls, actually. He does have a hope to make his own show one day, but he knows it's hard to break through to get popular unless its like everything else, or is beyond exceptional.

Again on the animation thing, he likes to practice drawing when he can. Either on scrap paper that he hides, or on his phone with his finger. He does have decent skill, but is kind of hard on himself since he compares himself to the beautiful styles he sees online or in shows.

Choro is veeery good at finding obscure merch of idols and animes. The strangest of things he can and WILL find it. He somewhat makes it a mission to locate most, if not all, merch of things he really really enjoys. He' probably gotten scammed a few times from trying to get some off of shady sites, but he'll never admit to that.

Admittedly, he has quite a bit of issues of wanting to be seen as perfect. Though his ego is big, he is very hard on himself internally, though he buries it as much as possible and replaces it with "I'm better than them". He's gotten so good at it, he started believing it. But not in a good way.

He has high anxiety but is good at masking it on the spot, but once alone he will just sit and stare for a while, letting all the shakes out. If it's something being built up to, he will overthink and stress himself out beyond belief to the point he might run of at 90mph.

Though he's attracted to girls (cis or trans, he doesn't care), he enjoys mlm and wlw comics. He's not gross about them, but it comes off that way since he enjoys the relationship building a biiit more than straight comics, and gets more excited over them getting together. He's actually really supportive of LGBT rights, if he had the opportunity to go to a pride parade, he definitely would.

I like believing he's a closeted genderfluid ^^. He's not ready to come out yet, he doesn't think his brothers will support him. Except Karamatsu, but he doesn't trust him not to run his mouth in front of the others. He either thinks the others won't understand, or will be assholes to him for it (though, in reality, they wouldn't really care that he is and would support him if someone messes with him).

He likes the idea of sweeping someone off their feet, but the reverse is what his heart truly pines for. He'd love to be spoiled and taken care of in every aspect, especially emotionally. Definitely clingy and overly affectionate, loyal until death. His biggest dream is to be married one day.

He is a BEAST at rhythm games. He holds all the high scores at the arcades in his city, and will defend his title with passion.

Okay, that's a few I have, but are the most interesting!!! I hope you like them 💚💚💚

[metvmorqhoses]

Nononono waitttt what do you mean about Good Omens season 2?? Why didn't you like it?

I personally thought it was better than season 1 - better paced. There wasn't a single boring moment. And sure, the plot maybe had fewer stakes, but seeing as this was a bridge season between season 1 (the of Good Omens book) and hopefully season 3 (the book that never came out, “668” or something like that), I thought it was good. Warm & fuzzy.

I need to know your opinion now

As abashed as I am to have to respond to such enthusiasm with, well... the very opposite of enthusiasm, please at least know that I consider the truth the best thing I have to offer in general and in regard to that unfortunate (yet somehow still-untouchable?) mess the second season of Good Omens has proven itself to be in particular, so accept it as some sort of well-intended even if perhaps unwanted gift.

This is probably the most unpopular opinion one can have on Tumblr right now, so I'll go straight to the point: Gaiman managed to ruin Good Omens (perhaps he isn't able to write it by himself, perhaps he got carried away with fan service, who knows), once one of the most delightful, witty, engaging, profound books/shows existent, changing its register and raison d'être in order to turn it into, per great popular request, the same lame simple plotless cheesy cookie-cutter gay romance without rime and reason apparently every single piece of media is deforming itself into lately.

The dramatic loss of... artistic quality this show suffered is appalling and even more appalling is the fact I seem to be one of the very few on this green earth to have even noticed? Did I perhaps read too much in the show before? I don't think so, it was indeed a masterpiece. I saw many die-hard fans of the series beyond puzzled at this last season too, straining themselves to try and make sense of it with wild theories, justifying them with the simple fact that Neil Gaiman is a genius and surely this hot mess must mean something, right? I wasn't aware the world was mostly populated by hysterically besotted people hailing Neil Gaiman's alleged greatness from dawn til dusk without contextualized merit, and the discovery didn't particularly excite me, to be quite honest. I think a healthy amount of fairness in the critique of any artist should always be the norm, but I digress.

I'll try to keep it as brief and matter-of-factly as possible, especially since some time has passed and the fumes of my rage aren't as scorching or as precise as they used to be lol

In a word, this season was subpar. Not only did it lack that original witty, ineffable meaningfulness, that intrinsic and very human sense of wonder and protectiveness towards life and its profound sense the original show brimmed with, but even from the most basic literary point of view, it literally lacked a plot worthy of this name, a story, characters that felt complex and real instead of caricatures who tried and reenact themselves, and in general what should have been, quite simply, good writing.

More than Good Omens' long-awaited season 2, this felt more like a high-budget filler fanfiction created by someone who didn't know what they were doing with story and characters most of the time, but who sure as hell wanted to please the audience to disastrous lengths.

The very first thing that irked me beyond belief, and it literally started from minute one, was the immediate, more or less subtle, change in acting from both Michael and David. Michael stressed it way more, with, in my opinion, quite tragic results, thing that from the start immediately allowed me to guess where they were going with their (already established as extremely complex) relationship, entirely turning the vibe from sophisticated allegory of Divine Comedy kind of love (love for your enemy, love for your friend, love in all its form and in its entirety) to banal romantic comedy-level gay drama, downgrading what Crowley and Aziraphale shared (the subtle abysses of it!) into the most boring and obvious of soap operas, obviously forcing them to act out of character in order to compensate (was any flash-back meaningful to their character or the story? Was there a writing reason behind any of them beyond writing for the sake of filling screen-time?).

Some relationships deserve to be left alone, alone in their subtlety and ambiguousness or you'll inevitably ruin them. Not everyone must kiss on screen, no matter how much the audience screams and throws up for it. This little woke drama completely ruined and eclipsed everything else those two characters were for each other, turning them from cosmic and devastatingly loyal best friends to petty and dumb lovers that need two plot devices (the messy pointless and quite frankly offensive representation-wise lesbians from across the street they literally met five minutes prior) to tell them they actually have feeling for each other and should share them. After literal millennia of this relationship, relationship that has its own inner workings and reasons, we needed the plot-lesbians to subvert the order of things and spur Crowley into action, obviously obtaining disastrous and lame results? Are we witnessing the interaction of immortal beings or five-year-olds? The only way I can genuinely make sense of this dumbness is considering those two female "characters" (that feel anything but real people) no more than that, characters, golems, put there by Metatron via the power of the Book of Life (again, so many Chekhov's guns with no use whatsoever in this season) in order to separate Az and Crowley using the only thing that could succeed in doing it - an ill placed declaration of love.

But even this doesn't match the true être of what Good Omens originally was nor comes full circle with the ineffable mystery season 1 ended with. It genuinely feels like Gaiman changed the whole rhyme and reason of the story, vibes, meaning, register, just to meet the modern needs of a category that is sadly phagocytizes everything else in both life and fiction. And I find it a true pity - and a bore.

And even leaving aside this personal boredom of mine at a non-existent plot that consisted in 1) a big mystery that promised cosmic repercussions (season 1 ended with the after-nonapocalyptic world that was slightly changed just because two enemies had loved each other and life too much not to oppose god's plan - fact that was probably god's plan all along), mystery that was actually no mystery at all (two random, from the original story's perspective, previous minor characters in literally ten supernatural minutes fell in love and run away together) and that meant virtually nothing in the grand scheme of things, but serving as a plot device so that the other two minor new characters could intrude into the protagonists' relationship so they could finally have the excuse to jump literary genre and kiss & queer tragedy the story away 2) an endless series of symbols, facts, episodes and characters that constantly seemed to hint at something but that in reality resulted in nothing story-wise (also, the change of heart in God's personality, first the witty and almighty trickster for the greater good, now the divine bully??), even leaving all this aside, I'm mostly disappointed the quality of the writing plummeted so inesorabily one of my comfort show turned into the symbol of an artistic era I'm utterly distraught to have to witness - the era of crowd-pleasers and un-imagination.

As for this being a filler season, writing in such an unresolved way (basic and predictable plot, colourless characters, cliché romance, hours of happenings that don't mean a thing in the current story) is unacceptable and a failure, even if you are a famous writer. You cannot waste hours of the audience's time going nowhere shielded by the sole future promise of sense. Writing doesn't work that way, and I'm sincerely appalled to see people noticing it and deciding to excuse it with a "surely next season everything will look genius!". It doesn't work this way. The faults were too many, they can't possibly be all resolved next season. This product wasn't great, even if your faves kissed and your little fanfictions came true.

The sad thing is, Good Omens used to be a work of art, not the next consumeristic piece of fiction to satisfy woke needs.

[marwhoa]

request: Musician Reader who has a concert in some soon time (maybe in a month or even could be less than a month)

And is stressed about it because not only the concert is coming near and it feels like every practice time, something would go wrong (maybe keep messing up part of the piece or feels like they dont have enough time?) Especially since the concert is the reader's and (insert turtle's) anniversary and didnt want to mess things up (also to make it more special reader composed a song for the anniv!) But at the end reader managed and played it in the concert as (insert turtle) watch them play the song! (Ofc hidden because ya know.. mutant whole situation lol)

🝮 “ mikey & the rose burns ”

rise!mikey x rockstar!g/n

author’s note: i totally wasn’t listening to “pov: you’re at a concert” YouTube playlists, just in case you were wondering? while i was editing the format to post this, the font size suddenly became large asf so i hope this posts normal 💀 (help me)

word count: 1.4k

As your hands fiddled with your guitar’s tuning heads, the nervous buzz coursing through your very soul could hardly be brushed aside. There was a performance quickly approaching, and the stakes were higher than ever. It was your first gig in a much bigger stage, which meant this was going to pull an even bigger audience than any shoddy underground basement bar could ever draw in.

Not only that, but this concert had sunk its teeth straight into you and your boyfriend’s anniversary date.

So, to say that you were a tad bit stressed by the heat set for this show? Well, now that would be a gross under-statement.

“ Damn it, try it again, Y/N, you missed your cue, scatterbrain! “

“ Ah, sorry Missy. “

You winced at your drummist’s outburst, tuning back into the present training session. There was only a few weeks left until this performance, and you needed to get it squared away. Missy huffed, ticking away on the drums as she cocked her head towards the band’s bassist, Jonah. You three were a ragtag crew, brought together by your producer after he felt you all would sound better together, rather than separate.

Fortunately for them, your vocals and lyricism skills were top notch, and being a lead guitarist who could sing? Well, that was just the common assumption, so it’s a good thing you nail both tasks, right?

Or well, you did. Until these mock sessions.

Each practice brought with it a set of problems, be it the strings of Jonah’s bass snapping last week, or Missy’s drumming being off key the first week, something had gone wrong. Now it was your turn, with poor timing and absentminded moments, it couldn’t have been a worse cocktail of trouble to give you cold feet.

“ Hey guys, I brought—whoa! You guys look horrible! Break time? “

The best part of it all was your adoring boyfriend dropping in on practice for whatever reasons he had in mind. Jonah and Missy were down-to-earth enough that Mikey’s… “ appearance ” was just another Tuesday to them, especially when he brought his amazing home cooked meals by.

“ Whoa Mikey, is that a pork risotto!? Haven’t you been spending months to perfect this? ”

Jonah collapsed at the table, inhaling the delicious aroma deeply as Missy sat just as roughly, practically salivating.

“ Jeez, Y/N, I’m so jealous that you get to experience culinary genius whenever you want! ”

“ What? No way, he’s my boyfriend, not my chef. I cook for myself a lot! “

Puffing out your chest, you feigned a playful air of “ insulted beyond belief!” and happily dug in to the bowl Mikey placed in front of you. He placed a kiss on your forehead before turning his gaze to everyone’s instruments.

“ Is practice running any smoother, guys? ”

He asked, jumping back a bit as he turned around to see everyone’s dulled spirits.

“ Ah man, Mikey, it’s… Well, it’s going, I guess. “

You sighed out, chomping a bite of the more-than-delightful array expanding out in your mouth. Flavors bounded across your tongue in an all-too-inspiring fashion. This happened to be just the light to ignite in your chest to get through this practice.

The night carried on with higher spirits, as it started to finally turn up. Mikey lingered, taking on the role of “ Personal Hype Man ”, which served to be just the buzz you all needed to wipe away some of the stress of the night.

Although, there was one song you all were keeping hidden from Mikey. It was going to be the “ bang! ” of the concert, a group-written song filled with everyone’s emotions. Consider it a thank-you letter, addressed to Mikey personally—with a teensy love letter tucked in, a solo verse written by your heart alone. Since the performance clouded any chance of a sweet anniversary date, your bandmates got the bright idea to make the concert the date! And they both had more than enough thanks to give to your boyfriend to begin with.

I mean, he boosted morale so much more than y’all’s shifty producer, from his warm meals to the refreshments all the way up to the hype man parts. If it weren’t for him, there may have been a longer road of fear and stress leading up to this gig.

So, you all grit your teeth and powered through mistakes, each trying to make your next practice better than the last. Each replay of the lyrics, strings, and the music left the band invigorated, hardly able to sleep at night, and much too excited for the upcoming night.

With all that preparation, the only thing buzzing through each of y’all as the room stirred with anticipation was straight, pure, and raw confidence.

“ Thank you for coming tonight—let me hear y’all give a great big yell for the Rose Burns! “

You leaned back from the mic, grinning wildly as your eyes cascaded across the sea of fans screaming out for y’all to play. One deep breath later and you all set off, playing through song to song. Under the stage lights, beads of sweat rolled down your head, but there wasn’t a care in the world as you all carried each lyric and note through with perfection. The fear chilling each practice was no where to be seen, and no mistakes sunk their teeth into any verse.

Heavy boots stomped to the beats, both on stage and from the fans before you. Lyrics slid from you and your mates’ lips like venom, bitter yet irresistible, and the music was enough to make even the shyest listener hear tonight jump and scream.

Cries from the crowd—some singing along, others cheering and dancing—pumped the band even further. As everything snowballed even bigger, your eyes finally landed upon the one you loved the most, up along the ceiling, perched along the building’s iron beams. Mikey could be seen bouncing along to each song as if he himself had written them. As a fan from one of your first solo gigs, you may have been insulted if he didn’t know every word. Well, to all but one of your songs. This one was a surprise.

“ This next song will be the last for the night, and is dedicated to a special someone in the crowd today. ”

You winked, watching the audience exchange glances as if looking for the special someone they’d never find. Pick in hand, you shook off the nervous jitters, exchanged glances with your mates, and yelled out a big “ let’s go ! “

Music filled the room, vibrating the floors, chairs, reverberating through the soles of the moving crowd. Not a single person was still nor quiet, as the room filled with the experience of loud, shared energy. This was an experience to go down in your memory, and you hoped that it would become a song that Mikey put on repeat.

Energy surged through the song, enlivening the room as Mikey regularly did. Notes bounding around the area’s walls with the very same fire he did everything with. Warmth filled the room, embodying those delicious moments at the table, and the crescendos of the music had everyone on their tippy-toes as it spilled into your solo.

Your voice wavered, standing strong as it was left to its self. Jonah and Missy’s instruments paled in the presence of your words, all spearing Mikey perfectly through the heart. Its message blanketed the audience, yet lovingly suffocated its receiver, straight until the last note. The words roared and filled the air, captivating with a tinge of longing that pushed you further.

The song’s end was one so impactful and subtle that the cheers and applause skipped for a second until roars bombarded the stage. Everyone poured their soul into tonight, and the energy of the crowd was evidence enough of its success.

“ Good night, New York! ”

All three of y’all beamed into your mics, laughing at some of the random remarks thrown from the audience. As the curtains drew, you caught sight of an orange blur that surely would meet you backstage.

First to the back, you were met by affectionate hands scooping you up into a tight embrace. Your back met the wall, and without warning your boyfriend’s lips met yours.

“ You were—that was, amazing! ”

Out of breath, Mikey’s hands cupped your cheeks roughly as he placed more and more kisses on your face and lips, up until you were both unraveling with laughter.

“ Hey, hey, lovebirds, leave that for your backstage rooms! ”

Missy and Jonah teased, dragging you both away with cacophonous laughter. Tonight had been a hit, and the future would only prove to bring even more packed nights.

[convocares]

Who Can Gain from Hypnotherapy? Understanding Its Applications with Behala's Best Psychologist

Hypnotherapy often conjures up images of swinging pendulums and stage performances, but its true essence is far more profound. This powerful therapeutic technique harnesses the mind's potential to facilitate healing and personal growth. As mental health awareness continues to rise, many are exploring alternatives for treatment beyond traditional methods. Hypnotherapy could be a game-changer for your well-being if you're in Kolkata looking for practical solutions, especially from a trusted psychologist in Behala. Let's dive deeper into what hypnotherapy involves and discover who stands to benefit the most from this unique approach.

Common Misconceptions about Hypnotherapy

Many people hold misconceptions about hypnotherapy. One common belief is that it involves mind control. In reality, individuals under hypnosis remain fully aware and in control of their actions.

Another myth suggests hypnotherapy is only for entertainment, like stage shows. However, its true purpose lies in therapeutic applications to help with various mental health issues.

Some think that only certain people can be hypnotized. This is untrue; almost anyone can enter a state of hypnosis if they are open to the process and willing to engage.

Many believe that hypnotherapy provides instant results. While some may experience quick changes, most require multiple sessions to see significant improvements over time.

Hypnosis isn't magic—it's a tool for personal growth and healing when facilitated by trained professionals like South Kolkata's best psychologist. It empowers individuals, giving them control over their mental health journey.

The Benefits of Hypnotherapy

Hypnotherapy offers a unique set of benefits that many people find transformative. It delves into the subconscious mind, unlocking pathways to change behaviours and thoughts in a way that traditional therapy may not. This unique approach can be a game-changer for your mental health journey.

One significant advantage is its effectiveness in managing stress and anxiety. Through guided relaxation, individuals can experience profound calmness. This helps them combat daily pressures more effectively.

Hypnotherapy aids in overcoming phobias. Addressing root causes within the mind allows individuals to face their fears without overwhelming distress.

Another area where hypnotherapy shines is pain management. Many clients report reduced discomfort from chronic conditions or during treatment after sessions.

It enhances personal growth by boosting self-esteem and confidence levels. Clients often leave feeling empowered to tackle life's challenges head-on.

With these diverse benefits, it's no wonder that more people are turning to hypnotherapy as part of their mental health journey.

Who Can Benefit from Hypnotherapy?

Hypnotherapy can be a game-changer for various individuals. Anyone struggling with stress or anxiety may find relief through this technique. It allows people to tap into their subconscious and address deep-rooted issues.

Those battling addictions often benefit immensely as well. Hypnosis helps in creating new behavioural patterns and reducing cravings, making it easier to overcome dependency.

Students facing exam-related stress can use hypnotherapy to enhance focus and retention. The calming effects help them perform better under pressure.

People dealing with chronic pain or insomnia also find solace in hypnotherapy. By altering perceptions of pain and promoting relaxation, many experience significant improvements in their conditions.

Whether you're grappling with emotional struggles or physical ailments, hypnotherapy offers potential benefits across a broad spectrum of challenges faced by individuals today. From stress and anxiety to chronic pain and insomnia, hypnotherapy can be a valuable tool in your journey towards healing and personal growth.

How Behala's Best Psychologist Incorporates Hypnotherapy into Their Practice

In Behala, the best psychologist blends traditional therapeutic methods with hypnotherapy to enhance patient outcomes. This innovative approach allows a deeper exploration of the subconscious mind, addressing issues standard treatments might overlook.

During sessions, clients are guided into a relaxed state where they can confront their challenges more effectively. The psychologist uses tailored suggestions to help individuals reframe negative thoughts and behaviours.

This method is particularly beneficial for those struggling with anxiety, phobias, or chronic pain. By tapping into the power of suggestion while in a trance-like state, patients often experience breakthroughs they didn't think were possible.

The integration of hypnotherapy enriches overall mental health treatment therapy in Kolkataproviding an additional tool for self-discovery and healing. Clients report feeling empowered as they gain insights into their emotions and life patterns through this unique practice.

Conclusion

Hypnotherapy offers a unique approach to mental health treatment. It can unlock the subconscious mind, helping individuals confront issues like anxiety, stress, and phobias in ways that traditional therapy may not. Many people are pleasantly surprised by the effectiveness of hypnotherapy when guided by an experienced professional.

If you're considering hypnotherapy as part of your mental health journey, it's crucial to seek support from a psychologist in Behala who specializes in this field. The best psychologist counsellor in Kolkata understands how to integrate hypnotherapy with other therapeutic techniques for holistic mental health care. Their guidance can make all the difference in your experience with hypnotherapy.

With options for both face-to-face sessions and online psychology therapy, accessing these services has always been challenging. Whether it's overcoming bad habits or managing chronic pain, hypnotherapy is gaining recognition as a valuable tool among psychological counsellors in Kolkata, providing reassurance and support to those considering seeking help.

When it comes to mental health treatment therapy in Kolkata, exploring all available avenues—including hypnotherapy—could lead you on a path toward healing and personal growth. Embrace the possibility of change today; your journey might begin with one session.

[weebsinstash]

U HAVE BEEN HOLDIN OUT ON VOX AND VAL FICS SINCE 2021???????!!????!?? 😭😭

Vox and Val concepts, but lmao yeah 🤣 although if you want me to be blunt anything with Vox in it was saved real short. the tricky thing is like, for one I actually haven't done any "research" on Vox like for Val so I don't have a good grip on his personality besides "cocky smug little shit who has a soft spot for his friends/shark and is kind of a dweeb who wears like Hawaiian shirts and a baseball cap on dates with his boyfriend"

Tbh there's a LOT of drafts for Val but not much for Vox, however there is that one idea I actually drew fanart for and posted about where "Reader meets Val and Vox by chance in a club, they develop a rapport, keep bumping into each other in public, the duo eventually finds out you're dating Alastor (and not entirely happy about it) and steals you away".

Tbh I really like the idea of Reader hanging out with Val and Vox like a dozen times and you idly mention your boyfriend now and then and they're on the downlow about being jealous as fuck and wanting to know who the bastard is.

"Oh yeah sorry I missed you guys the other night, I had a date with my boyfriend, he wanted to go to the theater"

"Ugh, gosh I'd drink if I could but my boyfriend is mad I keep coming home hung over"

"Ha, yeah, my boyfriend hates this stuff, I can't bring this back home if I wanted to"

Eventually one night the two Overlords bump into you after youve been lowkey ghosting them and you seem really quiet and stressed out and drinking a lot and say Vox says something like "what, your shit boyfriend want you home early again tonight?"

"Fiance"

"...What?"

"Fiance. He wants to get married, um, as soon as possible"

Vox and Valentino just gritting their teeth as you start listing some of the more personal details you never let loose before. You don't have a TV at home or any electronic devices besides your phone because 'he absolutely hates technology and has some weird hatred of monitors'. He doesn't like you drinking to get drunk and he bans anything more "recreational" than liquor which is why you're always bumming/buying weed off of Vox.

And I imagine at some point in the conversation you finally slip up. "I mean I know all relationships have difficulties but Alastor just-"

"The fuck you mean, 'Alastor'? The RADIO DEMON 'Alastor'? You're dating HIM?" And its obvious you were keeping it a secret because you wanted your new friends to like you and you're tearing up the second they're showing any signs of anger (even though it's at Al, not you) and I imagine they say some bullshit like "well hey if he won't let you party anymore, let's make tonight one big celebration, just one last time" segue into them pushing drinks and drugs at you until you either pass out or get roofied and, boom youre waking up in a room you dont recognize. Like, I imagine waking up in their bed, your eyes pop open and you turn and see one of them and jerk back, not realizing you're between both of them so you basically bump into the other, and the one you bump into is very loud and obnoxious, "what the fuck Val, what's your fucking--" and then both of them are waking up and you're checking your phone and you have countless missed calls and texts from Alastor and he HATES using anything other than a rotary phone so you KNOW he's furious

for some reason you have all these phone notifications for Voxtagram/Sinstagram/whatever they've named it now and you open it and. Oh no what did they do. Both Vox and Val had posted pictures online, ones of them and YOU, different kinds of photos. You three throwing drinks back, you and Vox shoulder to shoulder on your phones, you looking absolutely flustered beyond belief as Valentino seems to be saying something to you with the biggest most flirtatious smirk on his face, with some of the last photos including, oh god, both of them had uploaded different versions of making it EXTREMELY obvious they took you home for some fun. I can see Valentino blatantly fucking uploading a picture of like, he's got Vox on one side, you on the other, both of you passed out and here's Val "best way to end a night is to fuck the hos to sleep 🍆💦😴 #bejealous #pimplife #allnightfuckmarathon" and properly just straight up tags your profile too.

You're just frantic, "OH MY GOD WHAT DID YOU DO AL'S GOING TO KILL ME" and rushing to put your clothes back on and both of them are either like "you're going back to him????" And are angry, OR, act suspiciously unfazed, almost as if they know for an absolute fact that you won't be able to go anywhere...

[raayllum]

Tales of Xadia foreshadowing (??):

So when reading the kids’ bios in Tales of Xadia, I initially took Rayla’s “Rayla’s had enough of Xadia’s lies. After being forced into an impossible pact to assassinate an innocent prince, she has made the princes her best friends and gone on a journey to free every elf and human from such terrible fates. Though exiled from her own people, she is determined not to look back in grief” as her frustration with her family and beliefs about them being rightfully banished, then dead, and foreshadowing her hope to free them in future seasons (Viren says he has just the “fate” in mind for them after all). 

However, we know now that it can have a double meaning for Callum in S4/S5 (and possibly beyond). Aaravos is a “dangerous deceiver” and Rayla has to think he’s lying (“destined to play right into my hands” -> “No one can control you or make your choices for you”). 

We also see commonalities between Amaya and Ezran, who both have their highest values as Justice, which greatly inform both his show-stopping speech in 4x03 and Amaya’s own S4 arc / appeal at the Tribunal. Justice is also something that Aanya is likewise concerned with, as Ezran, in terms of wanting to specifically avoid cruelty as a result. Aanya’s Justice is at the same score as Rayla’s (8) with Ezran and Amaya at 10. If you want more thoughts specifically on how I think the values manifest for the main trio, check out this post here

And of course, we know that Callum’s values have come into play theme / arc wise in season 4, in which Callum’s highest value is Liberty, and his main source of stress (post-4x04) is that he worries over having his freedom taken from him (and doing something terrible or hurting someone he loves as a result). And given that his highest values (Mastery = magic at 8, Devotion at 8, and Liberty at 10) are clearly already influencing his arc...

I value those close to me more than anyone or anything... I’m beholden to my inner circle, not some silly kingdom.

Then yeah, we might not know when (and it could be a couple seasons from now) but I expect this to fully come back in its own time, too.

[zombqeee]

Total Drama 2023 spoilers under the cut

God fucking damn man I can't even pretend with you guys right now.

I fucking hated this season. Like. Genuinely. It had its moments, of course, as I do enjoy some of the characters and interactions but. For a Total Drama finale to make me GENUINELY physically sick to my fucking stomach is bullshit.

I've waited so long for this season only for it to be like a large punch in the face and "fuck you" from the producers. I hate FreshTV and I will never ever see this season as a favorite. It will never even reach its way into my top three.

For Priya, Bowie and Millie to get into the finale like THAT is bullshit, and the treatment Millie was given was fucking bullshit too. I've never been so distraught by fictional television and seeing that happen has honestly drove me away from Total Drama so much. And to see everyone eating it up like it's the best thing ever is honestly like a punch in the face.

And before you go typing "ohh I thought it was good and blah blah blah" okay, yeah, whatever, you're entitled to your own opinion but I think that can say a lot about you revolving around what all in the season you genuinely enjoy. As for me, I adored rajbow relationship and the different interesting cast, but I'll never see this season as something good and fun. It's never going to be that way, because it's made me physically sick.

Priya and Bowie's actions I can never forgive. I enjoy Bowie as a character but for them to pull something like that after making him a main representation for gay people + the lgbtq community in general is a horrible thing to see. He was so good and they ruined it for me and I'm just praying they can fix whatever the fuck they've done in the next season or I might just fucking drop out of this fandom for good. I don't know what to do because this is genuinely so upsetting to me. And sure, some might be like "touch grass this shouldn't make you upset" what fucking ever dude I've been queerbaited and dragged on by this show for so long and honestly so many of their stunts have been pushing it but this new season is really fucking pushing their luck. I can't believe, in all the years I've been a part of this fandom, that a season has made me sick to my stomach.

That really does say something.

And not to mention their repetitive obvious bias they have towards any plus sized characters they make, even in the oldest season and so forth. And no, I won't apologize for pointing all this out, because what the fuck. Ripper was used as yet another plus sized character just for toilet humor and to be nothing more, and Millie was treated HORRIBLY. Especially in the fucking finale. Let's run Millie's story down here actually. A girl looking to research on fellow people of her generation to see what they say and what she doesn't enjoy about them, being turned to Priya and going through training with her, though Priya was ALWAYS physical and caused Millie to get harmed in some way or another. Millie wrote down that it was upsetting and her opinions on it because why WOULDN'T you be fucking upset over getting hit multiple times by the ONLY friend you have. Millie ended up growing to genuinely enjoy being around Priya and saw her as a real friend, even going through the process of writing a whole apology for saying all the things she did and appreciating Priya for what she's done for her. Yet Bowie, who just can't handle to win through skill alone, has to tear them apart like it'll help him at all in the long run. I don't care if it was a "powerplay" it was fucking disgusting. There was no need, and for them to pull something like that after I finally felt like I'd get anything good from freshtv, really fucks with me. Really god damn bad. Continuing on, Millie stayed up all night crying and stressed beyond belief because she lost the ONLY person she had. THE ONLY PERSON. And don't you DARE start with "well she shouldn't have written that stuff about Priya meh meh meh" I want you to go through what Millie went through and not have a single negative thought. Okay? Learn to have a little, TINY bit of sympathy. Not to mention she saw Priya LITERALLY rather DIE to LAVA than get on a raft with her. And proceeded to see her get on Bowie's raft. Priya would literally give her life to not fucking interact with Millie and truthfully? Millie shouldn't have forgiven Priya and vice versa. Priya is a genuine piece of shit and I will never forget how horribly it hurt me to see that. It was like a punch to the face.

I'm never ever going to see total drama the same way again. This has put this show in such a bad light for me and I can't believe people are just eating it up. Good fuckin day total drama fandom. Praying that at least SOMEONE could see that even if this season was good in some ways it is... Very obviously overruled by unbelievable negatives I never thought I'd ever see in a show like this. No matter how much it's based around drama. I am in... Genuine shock.