#and there are far more important things to devote time and effort too especially now

[bythelightofcamelot]

Me @ shipping drama

[etherealphosphor]

Shelved Emotions

⟡ Contains: Dottore x Gn!Reader, Sfw, Fluff, Dottore tries to hide/get rid of his feelings at first, Dottore’s segments like the reader

⟡ Dottore’s thoughts are in blue italics

⟡ Segment names/colors: Zeta, Delta, Theta, Epsilon

Dottore was frustrated. Despite his best efforts, he could not escape the weakness of human emotion. He devoted himself to his research, blocking out all distractions. He refused to let his feelings hinder him; they were the last thing keeping him from perfect, unbiased results.

He targeted his feelings toward you in particular. Dottore was partly angry and partly ashamed that he could even fancy someone; the mere idea was childish to him. What use was it to think about you, his errand runner, when scientific research was far more important?

However, every time you looked at him with those bright eyes or smiled sweetly at him, he was rendered speechless. How was it possible to feel this way about anyone? And how in the world could that someone possibly be more important to him than his experiments?

Dottore slowly began to lose all interest in his work, as his thoughts were starting to get in the way.

This has gone too far, and now I can no longer focus properly on my research. I must find a way to rid myself of these emotions.

And so, with that, Dottore got up from his desk and went off to look for something—anything—to aid him in his search. He began to walk towards the library, a fairly large room with shelf after shelf of informational books. While Dottore did have his own smaller personal collection of research books, there would be nothing about romance in any of them.

But before he could walk through the doorway, he began to hear familiar voices. This stopped him in his tracks, and he peeked into the room, staying quiet so as not to be seen.

There, he saw you surrounded by four of his segments. It was obvious to Dottore that all of them were competing for your attention, and there was no way you hadn’t noticed as well.

"So, [Name], which one of us do you think is the best segment?" Delta said, smiling at you.

"Oh, well, I don’t know—"

You were quickly cut off by Theta, who began to make sarcastic remarks as usual. "It’s obviously me; I mean, I'm the perfect version. Who wouldn’t pick me?"

"Hm, personally, I think that [Name] likes me the most. After all, I’m closest to the original." Zeta said, tilting your chin up with one hand.

Epsilon grabbed Zeta’s hand away, scowling at him. "Maybe [Name] would prefer somebody a little less—I don’t know—cold?"

"Woah, calm down, Shorty. You don’t have to give him the death glare." Theta chuckled, patting Epsilon’s head.

"Hey! I’m not that short!"

Epsilon was the youngest of the four, which meant he was often teased for his height. He also happened to be the feistiest, making it even more entertaining for Theta to poke fun at him.

Delta had to physically restrain Epsilon so that he wouldn’t start attacking Theta. "Epsilon, please, he’s not worth getting worked up over."

Meanwhile, Zeta took the opportunity to start playing with your hair. "[Name], do you have a significant other?"

Dottore had had enough of this, and he quickly walked into the library.

"You four. What is going on here?" Dottore’s expression was dark, and he spoke in a very harsh tone.

Instantly, Epsilon stopped struggling, Delta’s grip loosened, Theta stopped laughing, and even Zeta’s ever-present smirk faded.

"Oh, uh.. boss, we can explain—" Epsilon stammered, but was cut off by Dottore.

"I want no explanations. You all must clean my office, and if it isn’t spotless by the time I get back, you will all face great consequences. Do you understand? And especially you, Zeta. We will be having a conversation later."

The four segments turned to each other, silently exchanging looks of shock.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Go, now!"

Quickly, all the segments left the library, leaving Dottore alone with you.

"Are you okay, [Name]?" Dottore said, his tone much gentler than it was a minute ago.

"Yeah, I’m fine; can you please not punish them too harshly? I’m the one who greeted them first. Why did you even send them away at all? They didn’t have any work to do." You replied, looking at Dottore with eyes full of concern.

Dottore’s heart lurched with jealousy. Why couldn’t you worry about him like that? Why did it have to be his segments?

"I have my reasons. Please don’t be afraid; I won’t do anything bad to them. Mostly just scold them for bothering you, that’s all."

"They weren’t bothering me, not a bit. I actually quite enjoy their company; without them, my day off would be quite uneventful." You said, determined to clear the segments’ names.

"Ah, very well, then. I’ll go a little easier on them in that case." Dottore sighed. There was no way he could say no to those eyes of yours.

"Thank you; I’m glad." You smiled at him.

That small action was enough to make Dottore blush. "No problem. Anyway, what are you doing in the library? Looking for something to read?"

"Well, obviously," you chuckled, "but I can’t find anything good; it all seems a little boring to me."

"That would be because this is a research library. If fiction is what you are looking for, you won’t find it here."

"Oh, that’s a shame, then." You looked a little disappointed, your voice losing its usual bright tone. "I haven’t had anything to read for months."

No, no. I mustn’t say it. It isn’t necessary. I don’t have to. Aren't I trying to stop these pesky feelings from happening? Nothing is stopping me from bidding [Name] farewell right here. But.. they look so upset.

However, despite Dottore trying to stop himself, he ended up saying it anyway.

"Why don’t you come back to my personal chambers? I believe I have a shelf of various works of fiction in there. If you wish, you can have everything; I have no need for any of them."

Your eyes lit up. "Wait, really? You do? I’d love to go check it out and maybe borrow a few. Though, I would never take your books from you, even if you don’t see a need for them right now. You might want them in the future; you never know."

"I suppose you are correct. Well then, shall we?" Dottore extended his hand as a polite gesture. What he didn’t expect was for you to actually take it.

You wrapped your fingers around Dottore's, smiling at him. "Mhm, let’s go."

Dottore’s face went red, and his eyes widened a little. His hand tightened around yours, and he began to lead you towards his room. To get to it, one must go through his office first, and so Dottore opened the door and walked in.

There, the four segments were standing, awaiting Dottore’s return. When they saw your hand in his, all of them felt secretly disappointed, wishing it was them who got to hold your hand. Except for Epsilon—with him, it was no secret. He was glaring jealously at Dottore as you two walked by.

"Shorty, fix your face." Theta said, nudging him.

"Stop saying I’m short!"

"Epsilon, stop yelling, or you will be disciplined further. Do you want to clean the rest of the offices in the headquarters?" Dottore spoke coldly.

"No, I don’t. Sorry, boss."

With that, Dottore unlocked the door leading to his room and led you inside. His heart was still beating quicker than usual, but he was starting to get used to the feeling of having your hand in his. He decided to leave the door open, as the last thing he wanted was for you to feel uncomfortable.

"Well, this is my room. It’s nothing special, but it serves its purpose. Over there by the window should be the shelf I was speaking about." Dottore pointed to it and sat down on his bed.

You looked over the contents of the shelf until a series of teal books caught your eye. All of them were quite banged up and evidently pretty old.

"Woah, is this what I think it is? I can’t believe you have it." You said as you pulled the first one off the shelf.

"Hm? [Name], did you find something you like?"

"Oh my gosh, all eleven volumes? I didn’t even get that far." You smiled, your eyes sparkling with excitement.

In your hands, you held the first volume of The Fox in the Dandelion Sea. Dottore got up and walked behind you, staring down at the book.

"The Fox in the Dandelion Sea? Isn’t that a fairytale?" Dottore asked, wondering what interest you would have in a children’s book.

"Mhm, it’s my favorite. My parents used to read it to me before bed when I was a kid, but we never ended up finishing the whole series." You told him, smiling down at the book.

"Ah, I see. Well, feel free to take as many as you want; I know they aren’t particularly lengthy. You can come back at any time if you don’t want to take the entire series with you at once."

You grabbed five books off the shelf, holding them under one arm. "Thank you so much, Dottore."

"Anytime, seriously. It’s not as if I’m doing anything with them." Dottore said as he walked with you towards the door of his office.

"Aww, are you leaving already, [Name]? Not even going to say goodbye?" Zeta teased as Dottore opened the door for you.

"Ah, where are my manners? I’ll see you guys later." You said as you waved to the segments.

Then, smiling at Dottore, you lowered your voice a little. "I really appreciate you letting me borrow these books; it means a lot to me."

Suddenly, you wrapped your arms around Dottore, pulling him into an embrace.

Dottore’s face instantly went red. "I- Uh- [Name]? What are you doing?"

"Ah! I’m sorry. You’re my boss; that was weird. I apologize if I crossed a boundary." You let go, mortified, and you stared at your feet, a blush slowly creeping onto your face.

"Oh no, no. It’s okay; don’t worry. I was just a little surprised, that’s all; you didn’t make me uncomfortable." Dottore affectionately ruffled your hair, assuring you it was okay.

This made you blush even more, and you smiled at Dottore again before walking out. "Have a nice evening, Dottore. Don’t overwork yourself, okay? You have an awful habit of burning yourself out."

"You too, [Name]." Dottore smiled back, waving as you left.

Once he closed the door, Dottore’s expression instantly turned neutral again. His segments were all staring at him.

"Boss, what was that? You seriously didn’t make a move?" Theta said, sounding quite annoyed.

"What do you mean by that, Theta?"

"You seriously don’t know? How thick is your skull?"

"Rude."

"I might be rude, but at least I can take a hint."

"Do you really want extra chores? Because that is what you will get if you continue speaking to me like that."

"Hmmph. You really need to lighten up."

Dottore ignored Theta’s comment. "Theta, are you suggesting that there’s a possibility that [Name] could reciprocate my feelings?"

Delta joined the conversation. "Boss, to me, it’s very obvious that [Name] fancies you. Their face went a bright shade of red when they hugged you, and they also seem to care quite a bit about your health. Plus, I don’t think there’s any chance that the way they look at you is platonic."

Dottore’s eyes opened a little wider. "A-Are you sure? Is that really what you think?"

"There’s no doubt in my mind, boss."

Over the next few days, Dottore was constantly flustered by you simply doing your job. So much to the point where he couldn't even do his research; all he could think about was you.

Once, you brought Dottore some papers he needed to sign, and when handing them to him, your hands brushed for a moment. Even that small action gave Dottore butterflies, and he promptly looked away from you so you wouldn’t see him blushing.

That night, Dottore called Delta into his office.

"Delta, you’ve always been one of my most rational segments. Which is why I wanted to ask you if maybe you could help me with this problem." Dottore said, looking across his desk at Delta.

"I can always help out, boss. Is this concerning [Name]?"

Dottore nodded. "Yes, it’s about exactly what you think it is. I’ve come to find that I cannot get rid of my feelings, nor can I hide them. I have come to embrace them, and I accept that I am truly in love with [Name]. However, I still wish to find another way to stop these thoughts from interfering with my work."

"Well, I suppose you could confess to them? If [Name] admits to liking you as well—which they probably will—you might begin to feel less nervous as you get more comfortable with them. And if they tell you that they don’t feel the same, then at least you will have your peace of mind."

Dottore sighed. "I guess you’re right. However, I heavily doubt that I could muster up the courage to confess to them in person; I’d have no idea what to say."

"You could always send them a letter and a gift." Delta suggested.

"That’s a good idea, yeah. But what kind of thing would they like?" Dottore thought for a moment. "Oh! I know!"

Dottore quickly got up from his desk and walked into his room to grab the first five volumes of The Fox in the Dandelion Sea, which you had returned a couple days ago.

"Boss, what did you think of?" Delta asked as Dottore put the books down on his desk.

"I’m going to recreate these books from scratch. I’ll make the cover, write the words, and illustrate the pages. You can tell [Name] to take the whole week off, say that I’m working on something confidential and I need total concentration. It shouldn’t take me too long; I’ve done the process a couple times in the past. Especially because these are such small books, with only a couple pages each."

"Don’t overwork yourself, boss. I know how much [Name] worries about you. You have all the time in the world to get your gift ready." Delta said, watching Dottore gather papers and pens.

"They really worry for me that much?" Dottore looked up at Delta, his eyes widening a little.

"Oh, definitely. [Name] mentions it all the time."

"Well, that's very sweet of them." Dottore said, butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

Delta nodded. "It is. Now, boss, is there anything I can do to help you?"

"Ah, yes, there is; can you possibly find me a dandelion plant?" Dottore asked him.

"Sure, I can do that, no problem. I’ll check the stores in town." Delta replied, turning around and walking towards the door.

"Before you go, I have a question for you."

"Yes, what is it?" Delta looked back at him with his hand on the doorknob.

"Why are you helping me? I know you like [Name] as well; why do you bother? Shouldn’t you be trying to woo them like the other three?"

Delta smiled. "The other three know that they have no chance, boss. Sure, they might try to flirt with [Name], but they don’t actually expect [Name] to reciprocate. The situation is a little different with me, as I don’t try to flirt with them as much. We segments pick up on things you don’t, boss; I know that [Name] would be much happier in a relationship with you. Which is why I don’t even bother trying hard; I already know the outcome."

"What? You’re really that sure that [Name] likes me?" Dottore responded, eyes wide.

"I am indeed, boss." Delta said as he walked out.

Over the next few days, Dottore was constantly cooped up in his office, working on your gift. There was even a sign on the door warning anyone other than his segments not to come in. Dottore barely slept at all, and when he did, it was at his desk.

However, after many sleepless nights, he did eventually manage to finish your gift. There in front of him sat five beautifully made fairytale books, even prettier than the original. The illustrations inside the book were painted with watercolor and outlined in ink, giving them a lovely aesthetic. Dottore flipped through all of them once more, making sure everything was of the finest quality.

Then he began to write you a letter.

"Dear [Name],

I’m aware that you must have picked up on my strange behavior as of late, and I must apologize if it has concerned you. In truth, there is something I must come clean about. I have fallen deeply in love with you, [Name]. I cannot keep this confession to myself for any longer, or else I fear it may eat me from the inside out. If you do not reciprocate my feelings, I completely understand. I will have you immediately switched to run errands for a different harbinger, and your pay will not change. You do not even have to speak to me. If you do wish to have a conversation about this, though, I will be in my private chambers. The door is unlocked.

Sincerely, Il Dottore"

Once he had sealed the letter in an envelope, he set it down on top of the books. Then, reaching over to the pot on his desk, Dottore plucked a grey dandelion and set it down on top of the stack. Once he was done, he stood up and grabbed a length of brown string, wrapping the gift nicely so that nothing would slide off.

Just then, Delta came to check in on him, as he did every once in a while. "Boss, how is everything going?"

"Oh, hello, Delta. Things have been just fine. All I need to do now is put my gift in [Name]’s room so that they’ll find it later. Since it’s late in the morning, shouldn’t [Name] be in the library? Could you possibly distract them for me, just to make sure nothing goes wrong?"

"Of course, boss. That’ll be no problem." Delta responded, walking out of the office with Dottore trailing behind him.

Once they reached the library, Delta went off to chat with you, and Dottore continued walking. He stopped in front of the door to your room and tried the doorknob. It wasn’t locked. Quickly walking inside, Dottore set the stack of books down on your desk and got out. The last thing he wanted was to invade your space more than he had to.

I won’t get my hopes up, even if Delta and the others are telling me that [Name] has romantic feelings for me. I don’t want to be disappointed. Even if they don’t like me, I hope they treasure my gift.

Dottore was deep in thought as he walked past the library, but snapped out of it when he heard Delta’s voice.

"Boss, did your business go according to plan?"

Dottore stopped walking and looked at him, saying, "Delta, come now; we have things to attend to."

Delta got up from the chair he was sitting in. "Ah, yes, boss. I’ll see you later, [Name]."

Delta waved goodbye to you and began to head back to the office with Dottore. Dottore seemed lost in thought, staring at his feet.

"Are you nervous, boss?"

"Yes, Delta, I am very nervous. How could I not be? I could lose [Name] if things don’t go well." Dottore said, his voice shaking with worry.

"It’ll be okay; I wouldn’t assure you of something I wasn’t completely sure about. [Name] really does like you, boss." Delta comforted Dottore, sensing that he was on the edge of a panic attack.

"I really hope you’re right, Delta." Dottore replied as they reached his office.

"Boss, I have a question: what happens next? You haven’t told me your whole plan."

"In the letter, I told them that if they want to chat with me, I will be waiting here." Dottore explained as he opened the door to his room.

Meanwhile, you had gotten up from where you had been reading and made your way back to your room. Opening the door, you walked inside and found a small stack of books on your desk with a dandelion on top.

What is this?

You untied the string binding the books together and picked up the envelope addressed to you underneath the flower. Tearing it open, you took out the letter and began to read it.

As you scanned the text, your eyes widened. Not even bothering to look at the gift Dottore had prepared for you, you started to run to his office. His amazing craftsmanship could be admired later, but you needed to tell him how you felt immediately.

Catching your breath at the door, you opened it and walked inside. Delta was sitting at Dottore’s desk, but you didn’t even notice him.

You knocked on the door that led into Dottore’s room, saying, "Hey, Dottore? You’re in there, right?"

"I am; come in."

When you opened the door, you found Dottore sitting on the end of his bed, his back turned to you, and his head in his hands. Silently, you sat down next to him.

"Dottore, look at me, please." You spoke in a soft tone.

Dottore looked up, his beautiful red eyes filled with worry. It was obvious that he was assuming the worst. You smiled at him, wrapped your arms around his neck, and kissed him.

At first, Dottore was caught off guard, but soon he pulled you into his embrace, careful not to break the kiss. He poured all his love and affection into that kiss, eager to show you just how much you meant to him.

Although neither of you wanted to, eventually you had to pull away to catch your breath.

Putting your hand on Dottore’s cheek, you stared into his eyes. "I love you, Dottore. I always have. Everything about you drives me crazy. Your eyes, your hair, your voice—everything. To the point where I can’t even think straight."

"I love you too, [Name]. Words cannot describe how lucky I am to have you in my life."

Dottore leaned back in, passionately kissing you once more as he held you close to him.

[pinkroseblooms]

Usahara Tobikichi in love with f!Reader headcanons (sfw and smutty)

(look at this official art by gaku kaze, why is he so cute/hot?!)

SFW:

Usahara is (to borrow a trope title) a Casanova Wannabe. He likes getting attention from women and wishes he could pull off the playboy persona; the idea of being irresistible to women is a nice daydream, especially considering he seems to be consistently overlooked in comparison to guys like Kumatani and Uramichi

Despite having dated before, relationships never quite seem to work out, whether it be due to Usahara's partners not wanting to stick around after realizing how tactless and irresponsible he is or Usahara stops putting in the effort to keep the relationship afloat. He’s not intentionally mean or careless, but truly good intentions can only make up so much for his flaws.

With all that in mind, Usahara wants a girlfriend; he would take being devoted to one woman over being admired by dozens any day of the week, even if he’s a touch embarrassed to admit it.

In comes you: Usahara thinks you’re cute and immediately tries to get your attention. He doesn’t have high hopes, but hey, it couldn’t hurt to put himself out there. It doesn't take long before Usahara starts going out of his way to talk to you, firing off jokes and one liners at any given time, basically making a fool of himself for a hint of a smile from you. In a short amount of time this casual attraction develops into not so casual, knee buckling, sweaty palms crush. Usahara's heart will shatter into a million pieces if you decide to reject him.

You’re so cute, patient and sweet, being with you just feels right. Every time Usahara sees you that throbbing ache in his chest only gets worse. You’re probably too good for him, he knows it, everyone around Usahara won't stop reminding him when he looks at you with goo goo eyes and insists today's the day: he's going to take that leap and make a move on you. Usahara feels like he hit the literal jackpot when you agreed to go out with him. 

When the two of you begin officially dating, it’s like a light switch clicks in Usahara’s head. Maybe because he’s older and (at least somewhat) wiser, but he’s making genuine efforts this time around to not repeat past mistakes.

When you bring up the issue of his spending habits or taking a joke too far, Usahara will listen and work with you to fix the issue. It’s important to him you know he’s taking this seriously. Usahara wants to have extra money to spoil his girl and the idea of saying something to hurt your feelings gnaws at him. He's determined to be the best boyfriend you've ever had or will have.

He tries so hard for you; Usahara honestly didn’t expect to get so attached. It makes him a bit more reflective, but also paranoid of messing up; he's always been his own worst enemy. For how easy going and chill Usahara comes off as, he's way more insecure than you might guess.

Expect clinging and being spammed with texts at any given moment, maybe a phone call or a silly picture. Now that he has an adorable girlfriend, Usahara jumps at any opportunity to do couple things, go on all the cute dates, call you pet names, buy matching charms for your keys/phones, feed each other, etc. But because he’s so eager and already fairly attached, it can be a bit...much:

“Babyyyy, I had a rough day! 😭 I need cuddles. I’m free after work, can you come over tonight? 😘"

"How's your day going? I wish I could skip work and see you..."

"I miss you xoxo ❤️” 

"Babe, did you get my message? Are you busy?”

“Is everything okay?”

“Hey...are you mad at me?😥"

“Sorry, didn’t mean to spam you.”

“So, should I get food omw home? What are you in the mood for?” "

Besides me lol"

"....babe? Did I do something wrong?”

“I’m sorry, did I forget our 3 week anniversary? Month anniversary?”

"I'll make it up to you, I promise!"

“Baby???”  

And you will get all of these messages over the course of an hour or so. Yes, Usahara does calm down eventually; granted, he'll still spam you with texts now and then even after he feels more secure in the relationship, but usually only when he's out drinking and he wishes he was with you instead.

Usahara keeps things from exes partially if they’re useful and there is a sentimental aspect to it for him; that being said, if it makes you uncomfortable, Usahara doesn’t hesitate to get rid of anything you don't want him to hold on to. You’re with him now, and besides, Usahara needs room for all the things of yours he plans to keep at his place from now on.

And now, for the spicy stuff (and a little smut):

Eager to please is an understatement. 

Seriously though, Usahara struggles to keep his hands to himself, particularly when it’s just you and him. He doesn’t want to come on too strong or too desperate, but he wants you.

He’ll probably try to just go with whatever you’re ready for but if it was up to Usahara, he would never have to use his hand again. Not when he has your soft, warm body to touch and explore.

You’ll definitely need to tell Usahara exactly what you want, because again, he has a hard time going on instinct or reading subtle cues. And honestly, he kind of likes being bossed around in bed.

When you ask him to pleasure you and he gets it right, Usahara gets off on your praise and satisfaction. He’s practically glowing when he first makes you cum and the first time he gets to feel it raw and dripping down his dick makes him almost climax inside you right then and there.

Usahara’s preferred positions are either you riding him while he sits up right and he loses his mind a little when you suck him off. He just can’t get over what you’re doing to him; extra points if you let him cum in your mouth or even just on your face or tits. It’s dirty and you look so beautiful, Usahara can hardly believe you’re real. 

Praise kink aside, Usahara also gets off on soft domination, edging (maybe because he’s so impatient), dirty talk, and costumes, Specifically seeing you with thigh highs and a mini skirt or a too big shirt, with or without panties. 

Talk about fucking like rabbits. Usahara has a high sex drive and would fuck you every day if he could, but he understands you might not always been in the mood. He’s actually happy to just kiss or cuddle, anything to feel you and be close. His favorite thing to do is strip down to nothing and lay over you, head on your chest and hugging you tight while he listens to your heart beat. He’ll still be horny but it can wait. 

“I can’t help it.” Usahara whines, only half teasing as he starts rubbing himself against you, silently begging you to touch him. You have no idea how fast you turn him into a needy mess just by stroking his hair or kissing his neck; he thrives on your attention, he wants to lose himself in you. 

When he’s especially pent up, Usahara acts pussy drunk, doubly so if he’s been putting off the orgasm. Once you finally let him fuck you, your arms around his neck and thighs squeezing his hips, Usahara could cry from how good you feel. He can't believe he gets to be with you like this, that you want him as badly as he needs you.

“So good so good so fucking good, I wanna fuck you all night, gonna cum so hard in your pussy baby. Can I go harder? Pleeeease?”

Drool is trailing down the corner of Usahara’s babbling mouth; he practically melts into your body, head resting in the crook of your neck and arms wrapped tight around you while he fucks you, barely pulling out of your gushing pussy with each sloppy thrust.

“I wanna cum, can I cum inside again? Sorry, I need it, need to fuck you. I can’t stop, fuck, fuck, oh fuck!” Usahara gasps, eyes blown wide as you squeeze around him, not even really meaning to; he hugs you tighter, nuzzling your neck, pressing soft kisses to the love bites he made earlier. It's all you can do to not go utterly limp and just allow him to use you like a living doll. Usahara pants, whines and whimpers like puppy as he mindlessly fucks into you, begging for you to hold him closer and spread your thighs wider. 

“So pretty, so good to me...I love it, love you," Usahara sobs and clings closer, cock is buried as deep as he can go while he rocks his hips. "Baby, I'm really gonna cum, gonna cum, please, wanna cum, I love you so much, baby, can I cum inside? Please? Just one more time, please, please, please!?”

[saltymongoose]

hello! I was wondering if you got my request! if you didn't, it was basically about yandere Phobos spoiling you, getting you anything you even glance at and doesn't make you lift a finger. Your a god! let him treat you like one!

Hello Anon! :) I received this request while I was writing some other Phobos stuff a while back, but I decided to make a separate set just for this topic. Hope you like these, Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! <3

Phobos Spoils the Player ft. (Phobos + The Nexus Core)

(TW: Yandere, Obsessive Behavior, Mentions of violence, Religious Fanaticism (from Phobos, of course))

"All-encompassing" has always been the most suitable term to use for the Director of the Nexus Core's devotion to you. It permeates every fiber of his being, with each order he gives and each action he takes being diligently carried out with you in mind. Every step forward for Nevada, every inkling of true progress contained in all of the Nexus Core's experiments that he fostered, were made in the hope of making you - his God - genuinely proud of what his life's work would become. That's not even to mention the shrine of goods and personal effects he amassed to make his worship of you that much more effective.

The effort he went through just for the chance at getting your clear approval wasn’t something to scoff at, especially since nobody in the Nexus Core could remember a time when Phobos put anyone above himself. An effort that would only intensify once he finally had a chance to show his reverence for you in person.

While you might've insisted that there's no need to make others worship you (despite how you're entirely deserving of it in his view), he'll make it clear to everyone around that you're truly something to behold nonetheless. His gentleness is nearly unmatched, and his sharp glares in response to anyone treating you without what he considers adequate respect is enough proof of this goal of his. If those in the Nexus Core call him Director, and might even refer to him as their rightful God Emperor (if they're trying to be extra nice with the hopes of getting a holiday bonus), then you should naturally be regarded as higher than that.

Until you tell him to stop, he'll make sure that his people bow their heads in respect, and generally stay out of your way. "Speak only when spoken to" was drilled into their heads days before your arrival, and the tightening of their Director's hand on the pommel of his sword is enough of a threat to adhere to that. In his eyes, you probably shouldn't be socializing with the lowly grunts of his organization anyway; you're too high up to do that.

Of course, you contradict this (as it's entirely too stifling and uncomfortable to be treated like you're some priceless gem), and the Nexus workers appreciate it. Your own exasperated, if not slightly amused, commentary on every interaction they have with their Director makes them more comfortable with being around you. Although judging by the rather harsh punishments laid out for their coworkers, it'd be best not to get too close.

However, the Nexus Core's newfound respect for you, due in no small part to how you reign Phobos in, only makes them happier to accommodate you as he asks (demands). It is at his request that you have all your necessary tasks completed by them, from cooking when you're there to even trivial things like making your bed in your suite.

(It's tedious sometimes, but so much better than what they usually have to do, so you'd be surprised by how okay with it they are.)

Really, Phobos will try to make it so you don't exactly have to do anything at all. A person as important as you deserves to have these things attended to, and he's the best person to provide you with this. He's an ever-dutiful follower with incredible, far-reaching power; who else could make it so you never have to lift a finger for anything?

Furthermore, Phobos' tendency to seek out only the finest of things hasn't been stopped by your arrival either, the only difference being that now he gives them directly to you instead of placing them on your shrine. You've never seen so many precious stones and metals in one place, and you honestly didn't know how to react when he prompted you for any jewelry you might want to be made out of it. (Since it seems he apparently just realized that you have nowhere to put them all. Unless you just stay with him from now on, which is also an option he'd highly recommend.)

It definitely took some getting used to on your part, to always have the very best of everything that Nevada could offer just handed to you without complaint. The softest of bedspreads, the highest quality of clothing, and the best food from the most lauded of chefs; no expense would be spared to give you everything your acolyte knew you deserved.

(Phobos doesn't even care if he has to...extract them from their previous places of work to get them right where they should be, just to be useful. It's an honor to serve you anyway, and the chefs should realize that quickly. For their own safety, if nothing else.)

It's also evident whenever you go out, on those occasions where you decide to spend some time exploring Nexus City (with the Director by your side, naturally). It was actually really fun; it’d been too long since you were free to go wherever you wanted. The other grunts in the city were a little perturbed but decided to ignore it. Judging by the cold glares of warning leader of their city seemed to give them when they so much as looked in your general direction, it was best left alone. But they grew to welcome you, as Phobos tended to be very generous whenever you accompanied him.

He’s willing to do anything for you, and this includes spending money. If you even glance at something for a millisecond too long, he’s already approaching the clerk to get it for you, no matter how expensive it is. He'd insisted on giving you things without you asking, so if it's clear to him that you want something, it's only right that he gives it to you. As your most loyal subject, it's only the most logical course of action for him.

The fact that you get so flustered and even try to refuse his gifts only motivates him to go further with it. Although it makes him feel oddly warm that he's the first to really treat you how he knows you deserve to be, it also annoys him that those in your world were such fools to not realize how they should regard you. So he'll just make his care for you so evident and obvious through his gestures that it'll make you realize you don't need anyone else.

You said you didn't want anyone else worshiping you like him, so you'll obviously agree with him on this eventually, right? It makes perfect sense.

("Phobos, I really don't need any of those," you tried to explain, tugging on his sleeve as he took the bags from the nervous grunt at the counter. It had been some cute plushies you eyed for long enough to get his attention, and he took the attention as a sign that you wanted them.

"Your Grace, whether you "need" them is irrelevant," he responded, turning to give you an uncharacteristically warm look. "Nevada's goods are yours; so long as you desire them, I'll do my best to get them for you, no matter what they are or how necessary they might be. Your needs are something that I'll take upon myself; you don't have to worry about that regardless. But as your acolyte, I can't leave you wanting for anything either. Please understand this."

You held his gaze for a moment before looking away, scratching the back of your neck with a silent nod. 'He's so stubborn,' you mused to yourself as you felt heat creeping across your cheeks. It's charming, in an odd way. Though you couldn't stop from feeling guilty over how much he spent on you, you guessed you could put up with it if it made him so happy - something that was obvious from how he purrs when you accept it.)

The way that Phobos spoils you is a way for him to show you just how much he cares for you and your happiness, so of course he’d be happy to drain the Nexus’ budget for anything your heart desires. (Or that he believes you desire, anyway.)

He loves you in a way he's never loved anyone else before, and he'll surpass everyone else in his effort to try and prove it to you. Besides, what fool would anyone deny a God what they're entitled to, regardless of their status in your following? You deserve to relax, so just let him, your eternally loyal God Emperor, take care of your every want and need, okay?

[savelockwoodandco]

In all honesty, I don't think Lockwood and Co will be saved. There is too little hope for me. Especially since the petition is no longer really progressing. (although I still hope for a miracle)

Hey Anon! Thanks for your honesty and for sending this in, because I'm sure there are many, many people out there who feel this way too.

First off, in case anyone is feeling guilty for not being optimistic -- there's nothing to feel guilty for. Like all Save the Show efforts, we're up against some pretty big odds, and that can be incredibly daunting. Add burnout to that, and it's easy to see how people end up there. It's why we encourage y'all to take breaks and rest -- there's nothing like unending, 24-hour-a-day efforts to make one want to throw up their hands and throw in the towel.

However, I (your humble tumblr mod) think looking at the rate of growth of the petition as evidence of Failure is taking the wrong tack.

In the first five days or so -- even up to the first week, what we saw was Exponential Growth; people who'd seen the show were finding the Organization efforts and getting involved; fans of the books who had no idea that the show had even been made were discovering, watching, and joining our ranks. The petitions blew up because no one had signed them yet. The growth was huge and rapid because, well, we were starting from zero.

Fast forward to today, two weeks + a day and a half later, and we're not seeing thousands added to our ranks every day -- because that'd be impossible. Despite what social media platforms like to say, not everyone is on social media -- in fact, vast numbers people aren't, including those who watch and love the show/books.

The petition still grows every day, which is great news -- it means that we have more people than just a one- or two-hundred die-hards. A few hundred die-hards is what every fandom has and, to be frank, it's not enough. The die-hards are the wonderful graphics makers, the video editors, the johnny-on-the-spot organizers (and, in a small way, the mods of this tumblr/twitter), and they're so, so important.

But far more important is the layman that comes in much larger numbers, watching and supporting and signing but not spending every day tweeting. Every show to do well needs a broad audience, and with our slowed but still steady growth, that's what we're demonstrating to CF, Stroud, Cornish, and the streaming networks we're reaching out to. The votes in our awards and polls shows greater numbers than just a handful of devoted fans, as does our ability to have trended for 16 days straight, as do the many, many articles that are written and are still being written about #SaveLockwoodandCo. We don't just have the core of a hundred people -- we have the layman as well, and our stats demonstrate it.

If you're worried because we're not growing exponentially, I can confidently say to not let that worry you too much. Every campaign loses exponential growth -- that's not a problem, that's just math.

We're thrilled to hear that you hope for a miracle, Anon, because hope is a very, very powerful thing. We hope for a miracle too -- in that a miracle to us would be the show immediately picked up, given an unlimited budget, and filming starts next Tuesday.

But we don't think that the show being saved is a miracle -- we don't think it's unlikely at all. These things take time, and with time very naturally comes worry and uncertainty. If we do nothing, then guilt makes a home with the worry and uncertainty, and that's not good for anyone's brain.

It may not be renewed tomorrow; it may not be for another month or three. But, as a fandom, we're passionate, creative, and invested, and we're being supported (not led, luckily, but supported) in big and small ways by the cast, crew, and creators.

If you can't muster up optimism and faith today, Anon, that's totally fine -- feel free to lean on ours, if you want. We all spend worried and anxious moments every now and again in this fight for the show -- that's not a failure; that's just life. But good things are happening every day. Eventually, those good things will spin themselves into a ball with the greatest thing of all -- the announcement of the show being saved.

[indiaalphawhiskey]

Hi, India!!

I’m writing my first fic for a fest and I was so excited about it. But I reread what I wrote so far and it’s just soooo bad 😭 I can’t think of anyone reading it, specially because english is not my first language and I fear my writing is not natural or fluid enough.

Do you have any advice on how can I take my mind out of this though and just write for pleasure as I used to? 🥲

Hey, love 💕

I’m sorry this took me awhile to answer. (I’m also not the most eloquent right now, I’m sorry.) Honestly, it’s a little funny that you chose to ask me this question, because I’m notorious for being very, very in my head about my writing and being consistent about quality.

To be fair to that, and to you, I’m going to try and give you a handful of answers, from different perspectives. They can be taken together or separately or not at all, whatever suits.

First, most importantly, and most pragmatically:

1. Get a beta you trust.

I know the face of this fandom has changed, I know content creation has dwindled and that less and less people are able to support writers this way, but honestly, for me, this is more important than almost anything about the writing process, and especially so if you’re writing in your second, third, fourth language. There are just too many nuances to language and verbiage, and it helps so much for someone to say “I know what you meant here, but it doesn’t read like that.”

(I don’t believe in ever letting my work go unbeta-ed, no matter how confident I feel in the raw work or the language, because of course I know what I meant to say — I’m the writer. I need some to firmly (but kindly) check that the audience understands it as well.)

Betas also help in terms of managing self-criticism, because being hard on yourself is just not always something you can change, especially if you care about the story and skill-building. A good beta will help by either saying “it’s not bad, you’ve just read it too often, put it down” or “why do you think it’s bad exactly” and help you improve it.

Second, on the concept of writing for pleasure:

2. Just because something is hard doesn’t mean it’s not fun.

People often mistake “fun” for “easy”; I don’t think it’s the same. I think when you enjoy something and are passionate about it, it’s going to cost you and force you to push yourself. There’s no such thing as “low-stakes passion”, that’s just incongruous. (Marathon runners don’t keep running races that are easy for them. They progress because they like it — process, challenges, rewards, everything.)

Similarly, you clearly write because you love it. But if you’re getting to the point where you’re cognizant enough to be self-critical, that means you’re improving. It means there are things you want to convey that your skill doesn’t allow you to yet.

Hold on to that, because that’s motivation. It means that you love something enough that you’re consumed with doing it justice. That tension is not a bad thing; that’s where a hobby turns into a passion and the solution is not about regressing back to something low-stakes — it’s about finding out how to bridge the gap between your skill and your ambition.

And third, focused on the output:

3. Focus on how much you want your story to exist.

Most of the time, writing is a long game. It’s about consistency and effort and focus and discipline, and all of those things are tiring as fuck.

It’s so much easier to bang out a drabble and get the validation, and move onto the next “fun” idea. And that’s totally fine, except for when you want this particular story to exist this particular way.

I’ve found that’s the only thing that pushes me to stay motivated and devoted to writing — the thought that I just want this story to exist and I don’t want to live in a world where it doesn’t.

My boss always says this thing: “let the content lead”, and I think that’s true of writing. If you’re focused on weaving this idea into something tangible, if that’s mainly what drives you, the relationship stays between you and the story (not the story and it’s external reception) and that can alleviate the pressure a lot, because you shift into writing to fulfill an internal goal, and as long as that story exists, you’ve achieved that.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, I think all of your concerns are valid. You have a very practical issue: the language barrier, that needs a very practical solution: a beta. But you’re also hitting a moment of growth in terms of your writing, and I don’t want you to look at that hurdle and assume it means you need to turn around. Things can be hard and also fun, and I wouldn’t want the fandom to miss out on this version of this story that can only be written by you just because you’ve outgrown your current skill set.

Lastly, and I think this is really important: remember that this is never going to be your last fic. So if it’s not perfect — if it’s not exactly the way you want it to be at the end — write another one that’s better, and another, and another. There’s room in this fandom for every version of you as a writer, and your chances to improve and represent yourself better are infinite. Write what you can write now, and then write something better later. 🩷

[nighttimeclassics]

why does expressing yourself suck so much - emotions fucking suck.

honestly this is a venting of aggravations more than anything, but I just need to get it out of my body.

why is living out loud, and expressing genuine emotion always met with disdain??? to preface what brought this on, i wrote my friend a book for his birthday - which I was nervous about because it was a last minute decision. i was initially making him a blanket, but I ran out of yarn SO FAST, and couldn't get any more so in a panic wrote him a mythology book because that is something we both enjoy,. I felt bad about it though because he's dyslexic and hates reading books, but the only thing I could afford was spending my own time, because I have no money, so it was the only thing I could think of. and he painted me the most amazing dragon for my birthday a few months back. on top of that, he is one of my best and only friends. i don't know if he knows that. he lives hundreds of miles away and has a solid social network, so I don't know if he knows he's one of the most important people in my life. fuck me that's depressing. but I know Im not one of his closest friends by a long way. i don't think I'm anyone closest friend. shit. he didn't have a bad reaction to the gift, he seems to have liked it, but these reactions were over text, so i cant read the tone at all. i thought it was weird as well considering when it was my birthday, we opened my present together over facetime, so we could talk about it, so why was this over text? but also i just have to keep reminding myself that I'm probably hormonal at the minute and reading too much into everything, especially with the rsd.

but you know, being autistic, with alexithymia and rejection sensitivity dysphoria i have a complicated relationship with birthdays. i have always loved giving people presents to show how much they mean to me, but i learnt very quickly that my elaborate weirdly personal gifts weren't appreciated by most people so i stopped doing that a while ago. but you know, recently i thought fuck that, i want to be my authentic self. i am a stupidly emotional person and i am ridiculously devoted to those i love, friends and family alike. but people always misread my emotions, assuming i fancy them or stuff like that, to the point i even have to question myself - like a reverse of that moment in arrested development when Gob and that magician think they are in love with one another but its just friendship. people should really realise given how ace i am that i am not in love with them, at least as far as i am aware. but god forbid i try and do anything nice, i just don't understand why it makes people uncomfortable? especially when i a, only 'revealing' myself in this way who i feel comfortable around - in line with my efforts in unmasking myself.

and our friendhsip is tentative anyways because he's thought I had feelings for him a while ago - but I don't think that I do - everyone always thinks I'm in love with my friends. but its not my fault that we are all queer, suspected or confirmed neurodivergent nerds. I'm rambling like there is no tomorrow but I think basically what I'm saying is that his reaction made me overthink everything (it doesn't help that we went from talking on facetime a lot to now only talking on text after the accusation that I had feelings for him back in like January) I only just got him back as a friend, I don't want to lose him and I wish I was allowed to live out loud and express myself the way I want to without judgement from society, and those that I trust. I'm bored of hiding myself or walking on eggshells. and I feel like a twat because all of this is over a fucking shitty birthday present that I probably shouldn't have written in the first place. fucks sake. i hold on too tight to people I think. and that is never received well. i try to be normal in my friendships - especially the two I have at the minute. i get that they are the only two friends I have, and they have a bunch so I try not to annoy them when they are the only people I can talk to, but I don't think its working. gods all of this is just a fucking pity party and I need to get a fucking grip jesus christ

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Desperate Measures.

Pairing: Yandere!Kaeya/Reader (Genshin Impact).

Word Count: 2.2k.

TW: Kidnapping, Emotional Manipulation, Implied Stalking, and Delusional Mindsets.

Kaeya was a man, distracted.

Distracted. Divided. Not inattentive, but pulled away from his responsibilities by a force he couldn’t name and couldn’t say he cared for, either. He wasn’t a stranger to romantic inclinations — fantasies, sudden flings, slow-burning inclinations that died the moment his attention was called elsewhere. Predictably, the few relationships he allowed himself were short-lived, at best distasterous at worst, but he didn’t have a problem with that. If anything, Kaeya appreciated it. He’d always thought of company as optional, and what little loneliness he was still capable of feeling could be drowned with a generous glass of wine. He wasn’t one to linger. He tried not to overstay his welcome. He’d been sentimental, once, too emotional for his own good, and he’d learned his lesson. He didn’t intend to change.

He didn’t want to change.

And yet, here he was.

Distracted.

He couldn’t think. He couldn’t focus. It was all he could do to look like he might’ve been trying to read the most recent document left on his desk – this one from Jean, a directive for the younger knights or legislation she needed him to review or another vague, important report that he probably would’ve dealt with weeks ago, if he’d been able to concentrate.

He made a half-hearted effort to straighten his back as the door to his office began to open, but Kaeya dropped the act quickly, abandoning it completely by the time he heard the sound of heeled boots against hollow tile, caught a glimpse of a familiar (albeit, rarely used) catalyst, searched for eyes and found the cover of a thin book, instead, your face still buried in your newest novel as you stepped through the threshold, not bothering to knock. It was you. He should’ve known it would be. Who else did he deserve?

You, Lisa’s new assistant. You, the latest addition to the Knights of Favonius. You, his current, infuriating, unshakable fixation.

You, the new recruit who hadn’t paid him so much as a passing glance since your arrival, much to Kaeya’s frustration.

You didn’t look at him. You rarely ever did, but it hurt more than it usually did, today, as you dropped another form onto his desk, letting it replace the greeting you’d forgotten to offer. “Lisa needs you to sign this,” You started, laying out your priorities clearly, a skill Kaeya was beginning to resent. “It’s just next year’s budget. If you don’t want to read it, I think I’ll be able to look the other way.”

He glanced over the rows of numbers, the messy hand-writing, the columns of meaningless gibberish that blended together into a mess of ink and digits, and took your suggestion, scrawling his name across the only blank line. It was a lost cause, especially with you in the room. Especially with your unoccupied hand resting on his desk, your fingertips idly tapping an unsteady rhythm into the wood, and all he could think about was who he’d be willing to kill to feel that hand pressed against his cheek.

He considered asking you, for a moment, giving you an order and hoping you'd absent-mindedly obey. He thought about touching you, or running his fingers through your hair, or pulling you into his lap and mumbling sweet-nothings into your ear until someone else dragged you away.

He thought about a lot of things. Then, he said, “I take it your silence comes at a price?”

“Do I seem that selfish to you?” You were selfish. You had to be selfish. If you weren’t, then surely you would’ve been kind enough to put him out of his misery months ago. “I like helping people. Just remember this when I need a favor from you.”

“I’m sure we could work something more immediate out,” He went on, but you were already starting towards the door, calling the conversation to a close before Kaeya could begin to finish. In the back of his mind, something flared, the urge to catch your wrist, to go after you, to put himself between you and the only exit and refuse to move until you looked at him, but he forced it down, swallowing the temptation before it could eclipse his common sense. He couldn’t be impulsive. He couldn’t make rash decisions. He wasn’t prepared to deal with how difficult that would make things, not now.

Not yet.

“Join me for a drink?” He tried, again, attempting to sound unbothered. Nonchalant, casual, normal. Like he wasn’t itching to burn every book you’d touched. “I know you don’t have anything better to--”

“Another night, Captain.”

And just like that, you were gone, leaving Kaeya’s muttered response to echo through his empty office.

“Of course.”

~

Kaeya was a man, desperate.

Like a starving dog. Like a traveler who hadn’t seen water in thirty days. Like a distraught, distressed, disturbed knight, wandering through a maze of a library, cursing the existence of every shelf that separated him from you. He knew where you'd be. You were a creature of habit, and he’d already had more than enough time to memorize your routine. He’d had enough time to memorize everything about you, as ashamed as he was to admit it. It was a testament to his devotion, to how much time he’d spent trying and failing to win your favor.

It was evidence of how pathetic he’d gotten, over the course of his one-sided pursuit.

You were in your usual spot – tucked into the far corner of the library, perched on the edge of a windowsill, your attention monopolized by the tattered scroll spread across your lap. You were still pouring over it by the time he reached you, slumping against the nearest wall, taking in how brilliantly the muted sunlight looked as it danced across your skin. He didn’t try to hide the way he stared, anymore. He was long past worrying that you’d care enough to notice. Your hair was unkempt, proof that’d you slept in the archives again, if you’d slept at all. Your lips were bleeding, too, the lower one chewed raw and split down the middle, but it might’ve been stranger if they weren’t. It must’ve been a nervous tick, but Kaeya found it cute. Kaeya found it endearing. Kaeya found everything about you endearing, and to the archons, he wanted to see those lips wrapped around his co--

And he hated it. He found everything about you endearing, and he hated it. That was all.

He sighed, the sound airy, exhausted. You didn’t look up, but that was fine. It would’ve only hurt him further if someone as simple as that drew out your concern. “I’m in love with you.”

There was a hum, soft and contemplative. A rather generous response, by your standards. “I’ve noticed.”

“You’re all I think about.” It was an awkward confession, one he’d already used a hundred different times. He didn’t care. He’d use it a hundred more, if he had to. “I’m a wreck. I can barely remember my own name, and some days I can’t even do that. I can’t fight, I can’t eat, I can hardly breathe. Every morning, I wonder what it would be like to wake up to your smile, and every night, I stare at my ceiling and loath myself because I’m not holding you in my arms. For fuck’s sake, just yesterday, I almost kissed Albedo because the chemicals he was working with reminded me of the way your favorite kind of flower smells, and I’m just so fucking desperate, I convinced myself that was the closest I’d ever come to kissing you.”

He was rambling, by the end, panting, yelling, but you only blinked when he was done, once, then twice. Your dull nails bit into the edges of your scroll, but you didn’t seem to mind, nor did you move to roll it up as you finally turned to face him, the confusion written clearly across your expression. “You kissed Albedo?”

“You don’t get it,” He said, and you nodded in agreement. “You don’t fucking get it.”

“I think I do,” You admitted, more earnestly. Your gaze dropped back to the ground, and instantly, Kaeya deflated. “I just… I just don’t think it’d work out, if I’m being honest. I’m still new. I still have to give everyone else a reason to trust me, and I don’t think it’s in my best interest to start a relationship with one of my superiors so early on.” You paused, laughing to yourself, and something in Kaeya’s chest tightened. It was the happiest he’d been since he met you, and he still felt like you’d pushed a sword through his heart and twisted. “But, you don’t really want a relationship, do you? You’re just bored, and you need something to fixate on. I’m the most available option, so...” You trailed off, finishing your sentence with a vague, stilted sweeping gesture. “It’ll be easier for both of us, this way. I like you, Captain, but I don’t like you enough to put myself through that.”

It was all he could do to remember how to open his mouth. Once he did, the words came stumbling out on their own.

“Of course.”

~

Kaeya was a man, determined.

Determined might’ve been the wrong word for it. Too soft, too suggestive, the impression too positive and the meaning too vague. ‘Depraved’ might’ve suited him better, but that was too harsh, too primitive, and he’d like to think he’d been as gentle as anyone could expect him to be, given your stubbornness. He’d tried to be gentle. He’d wanted to be gentle. If he was going to do this to you, he could at least do it gently. You deserved that much, at least.

Or, maybe you didn’t. Maybe you didn’t deserve any of this.

He couldn’t really make up his mind, about that.

“Lisa?”

And he was gentle, more so than he had to be. Sure, you were on the floor, bare stone already beginning to chafe at your skin, but the shackles around your wrists were padded, and he’d given you enough slack to sit down, to ball yourself up, to act like it’d never crossed your mind that he’d resort to something so… easily misinterpreted. The blindfold was, similarly, an act of mercy. You’d panic if you woke up like this, chained to a wall in someone else’s cellar, and Kaeya didn’t want that. You needed time, and he could give you that. He would give you that. Even if it pained him to stay at arm’s length.

“Amber?”

He wanted to touch you. It’d be easy, now, easier than it’d ever been before. You wouldn’t be able to push him away, and even if you tried to, he could always overpower you. Take you by the neck, pin you against the floor, leave you shaking and trembling and begging, pleading with a captor you couldn’t see. He’d find a way to make it up to you, later on. He’d find a way to lie, to smile, to make it better, even if he’d failed to time and time again, out there. But, this would be different. You wouldn’t be able to cling to your excuses, and he’d be able to show you how much he cared, how much he wanted this, how much he loved you. This would be better.

“Kaeya?”

See? You were already coming around.

Your voice was already soft, hesitant, a sliver of a whisper that was constantly on the verge of dying out completely. You were trying not to make noise, trying not to seem as terrified as you really were, but he could hear the way your breath hitched as he took a step forward, your restraints rattling as you curled into yourself. You couldn’t hide from him, but you wanted to. That much was obvious. You didn’t want this.

But, he did. More than you could ever want to run away from it.

He wanted to touch you, but he held himself back. Instead, he only kneeled in front of you, letting himself linger for a moment before he spoke. “I’m here, love.”

“Where are we?” You were afraid, too scared to put the pieces together. Not while you could still hope there was another explanation. Not while you could still deny the apparent. “My head hurts, and I can’t--”

“I know, and I’ll make it up to you.” This time, he let himself reach out, cupping your cheek and chuckling as you tried to shy away. The two of you could work on that, later on. He could live with the guilt if he let himself enjoy it, now. “Just give me a moment, alright? Just a second, then I’ll take care of you.”

You opened your mouth, then you closed it again. Kaeya wondered if you’d be bold enough to refuse if he did try to kiss you, or hold you, or go further than the fleeting touches he’d swore would keep him satisfied, at first, at least. He wondered if he’d care, when you did. “Are… are you going to hurt me?”

He wanted to reassure you. He wanted to promise he’d be patient, that he’d understand if you lashed out, that violence wasn’t an option he was willing to consider, but he couldn’t, like this, could he? He didn’t want to hurt you, but he’d never wanted to kidnap you, either, not until you made it obvious he didn’t have another choice. He didn’t want to stoop so low, he didn’t want you to hate him, but…

But, he was lying again, wasn’t he?

To tell the truth, he couldn’t remember the last time he genuinely cared whether or not you loved him back.

You stifled a scream as his hand dropped to your jaw, his grip tightening as he jerked you forward, just close enough to wrap his arm around your waist, to bury his face in the side of your neck, to get a taste of what you’d deprived him of. It wasn’t enough, he doubted it’d ever be enough, but he had you. He had you, he was close to you, and he had you. That had to be enough, for now.

“We’ll see.”

[marimagines]

Night Care | Levi X Reader

Between - Levi x Reader

Genre - Fluff, modern!au

Words - 3,990 [kinda short but its cute :] 

Summary - You give Levi the care he oh so is desperate for and the sleep that his body and mind demand for. along with that care, you finally get a chance to introduce him to a routine that he promises to follow.

Warnings - none [just a little teasing] and just cute Levi :[

A/n - I came up with this while doing my night time routine and I just had to write. It’s just Levi being a soft baby and I’m here for it :( I hope you all like itttt

It was finally one of those nights when you and Levi would spend time together. His immense amount of work would always keep him occupied even when he’d be home sometimes. It had always distracted him from life or he’d have to ignore many things. Levi was one loyal and devoted person in your eyes. To his work but also his loved ones. No matter how busy he’d be, he had always managed to make time to send you a text or call you and if neither of those seemed like the options, he’d send a voice note of him just talking while his mind and body would be busy with work.

You always appreciated his effort that he put so passionately in everything he did. So whenever you went out or whenever you see him, you made sure that he didn’t have to worry about making you upset with his busy schedule. Thankfully, you always managed to make him smile. Well, you didn’t really have to try, Levi was already so soft and in awe with your entire existence. Everything you did left an impact on him and sometimes he’d just sit back and smile to himself by remembering something about you. Like how you smile when you see him, or how you hug him or how you’d act cute or funny. It was just you. He was soft for you and you could sit silently and he would still feel his heart flutter at that sight.

Tonight, Levi finally checked out of work earlier. He had finished everything that was due today and even managed to finish certain tasks before the future deadlines. You greeted him with a smile and he just went for an embrace. His hands resting in your waist and his face buried in your neck. He groans out when you asked about his day and that was enough to know how exhausted he must’ve been.

“I should have a talk with Erwin to let you off the hook and lessen this mountain of work on you,” you say as you place the food on the table for him, a pout settled on your lips. Levi had only chuckled at your words, clearly knowing the sarcastic tone you speak in. It was cute though. He lowkey would want to see you telling off Erwin.

“That’s just how it is, honey,” he replies softly before picking up his utensils. His eyebrows furrow when you stop him but as soon as he sees that you were going to serve him the food, his expressions soften along with his heart. A smile stretches his lips and he whispers a thank you before you both begin to eat.

Throughout dinner, the two of you share details of your day today or you’d share a comfortable silence. Levi wasn’t one to talk much when he ate so you always made sure to divide the silence and talking to a 60-40 ratio. He probably wouldn’t want to talk so much especially after a long day. But that silence was also filled with sweet eye contact or sweet actions like adding more food to each other’s plates or feeding one another every now and then. Once dinner was done, you sort out the dishes and put away the leftovers along with a mini quarrel of an attempt to stop him from washing the dishes. His defense was that you had a long day yet you still cooked so the least he could do was clean it up for you. You both were neat freaks. Your hearts find peace when things are organized and well put together so whenever one of you offers to do a job of cleaning or organizing, you knew to fully trust each other at that. That’s just how it is and you both were content with it.

Levi was busy drying the plates and utensils while you decided to run a warm bath for the two of you. These nights were the most important nights for you two. The nights you just unwind from all the world and just bask in each other’s existence. Even if you don’t talk or end up napping together, just knowing the other is here and near was more than enough to be grateful for these nights. Some nights you’d end up fucking or making love, some nights you’d take a stroll outside and enjoy the scenery and breeze and some nights... you’d both prefer to spend it in the expanse of your apartment. You anticipated these nights the most. Being able to take care of Levi was something you practically live for.

The sound of the faucet opening pops you back into reality and you smile at Levi who was staring at you with a certain glow in his eyes and his toothbrush in his mouth. As he proceeded to cleanse his face with his face wash, you turned off the faucet of the bathtub and move to take off your clothes. You could just feel Levi’s eyes on you as he was rubbing the product unto his smooth face.

Since you were done with your brushing and cleansing already, you slowly lower yourself into the warm bathtub which was now starting to feel and smell heavenly due to the bath salts and a new product you had purchased a few days back. One of your way of escaping the struggles of life was to go shopping not for clothes or shoes, but for things like candles or mists or body care such as shower gels or bath products. Anything that brought you a sense of tranquility in your soul. And whenever you found something you loved, you’d share it with Levi and sometimes even consider adding it to a treatment or package in your beauty salon. Working in the same place as Levi was always fun but your passion and goal had always been to open up your own makeup studio or a beauty salon and thankfully with Levi’s ultimate support and help, you managed to succeed in that goal of yours. Hence why Levi always trusted you whenever you brought him a product for him to wear though he could never keep a certain routine and only stuck to one moisturizer. Regardless, you were amazing at it. You excelled at it and that’s why you are where you are right now. He was proud of you.

Once Levi was done with stripping himself of his clothing too, he carefully joins you in the bathtub that you somehow made it feel so magical. He lets out a relaxed groan as he dips into the water and you giggle at him from behind.

“Don’t you want me behind?” He asks as he was usually the one who’d be behind but tonight you were the one who was leaning against the curve of the rose gold marble bathtub. Your entire apartment was a mixture of soothing colors of black, grey, white and rose gold. By researching and constantly trying to help your husband with his stress, you decided the house to be as minimalistic and sleek as possible. Too much clutter might make him feel suffocated. And due to your researches together, the two of you agreed to the beautifully neutral and minimalistic designed apartment you have right now.

“No,” you reply softly as your palms rest on his shoulders, carefully massaging them. “Tonight is about taking care of you, Mr. Ackerman.” You whisper and leave a kiss on his shoulder and neck. He lets out another groan at the feeling of comfort and leans towards your touch.

Your hands were caressing his body as far as your arms could reach while massaging him and helping him relax. He was quiet for the most part and you didn’t mind that either. Your baths together were sometimes silent like today’s. Levi was the one who would usually be washing you or caressing your body but today you figured it’s time he receives too. He leans back to rest his head between your breasts, and closes his eyes while your hand was teasing his member. He gasps silently when your fingers wrap around his tip and your hand moves up and down but neither of you had any sort of energy to fuck each other tonight and you both knew that. You pause the teasing when he holds your hand and interlocks his fingers with yours. He simpers silently, a look of cockiness on his face and starts to speak.

“You’re so tiny,” he remarks softly.

“I’m almost the same height as you,” you retaliate at his words, the audacity this man had to say that to you while he was on the smaller scale too.

“Still taller than you, honey.” He boasts.

“By an inch or two.”

“Tch,” he finally lets out his defeat remark.

“Tch,” you decide to mimic him.

“Tch.”

“Tch.”

“Tch,” he says as a grin dares to paint his face and you feel it.

“Tch,” you giggle out too. Your expression softens when he kisses your hand, the foam transferring from your hands to his face. You giggle once again and move your hands to wipe away the foam quickly before they enter his mouth.

“This smells good, is it new?” He hums out and inhales loudly, trapping the scent inside his nose. It really did smell nice.

“Yep, I got it recently. It’s from BBW’s aromatherapy line. It’s supposed to help you sleep,” you explain softly while Levi was silently gathering the foam in front of him and watching it. You end up smiling at his cute behavior and then it hits you. Does he really notice all these tiny things you do? “I didn’t think you’d notice this.” You whisper.

“What? I do. You enjoy these things and it brings you joy. Of course I’d notice,” he points out. “You leaving our work to achieve your goal was one of the best decision of your life. I saw your energy change. Seeing how this new work of yours makes you happy and express yourself makes me happy.” He adds as his hands play with yours. He was usually short and blunt with words but he could go on forever if it was you he had to compliment or talk to. That’s just how he felt, he trusted you and felt comfortable with you. You sit silently with a pout and kiss the back of his head.

“I love you,” you express yourself, resting your head on his whole happiness fills your heart. Though these three words weren’t enough to describe the fuzzy and warm feeling he manages to leave your soul with.

Once the two of you were done with the bath, you slip into your comfy night clothes; yours a short baby pink satin nightdress that stopped mid thigh and Levi decided to wear his dark grey sweats with his loose white top. You loved him in that outfit; he always looked so welcoming in it.

The two of you did a lot of things in sync but one thing was almost never in sync... your nighttime routine. You always took your time to apply the products on your face and body before you decide to sink into bed and today was no different. You sit on your long two-seater ottoman which you placed in front of your vanity. Even your vanity was organized. One side was dedicated to Levi; which had his body cream, his perfumes, his moisturizer. That was pretty much it but tonight there were some new products there. When you were out buying and looking at skincare products, you figured your husband should need to start his routine properly and picked up some new products to keep him feeling fresh and protected from sunlight, aging, and just keeping him glowing and looking fresh. You look up to see Levi from the mirror’s reflection, plopping down on the bed, his legs hanging from the edge as he grabs his phone to scroll through it. You were silently hoping this new bath foam you got would work and he’d get some sleep. Levi always had trouble sleeping and you were constantly trying this and that to make sure he got more than 2 hours of sleep. With the look of his eyes and eyebags, you knew he was desperate for sleep but he just didn’t know how to lure himself into that state.

“Oh,” he suddenly says and you look back at him through the mirror reflection. He was sitting up now and looking at you. “Erwin gave us a day off tomorrow.” He announces.

“Well, isn’t that nice.” You smile at him as your hands were busy working their routine of applying products on your face and body; knowing exactly what to do. You never skipped your night routine and your hands simply knew by now what to do even when your mind didn’t.

Your eyes were planted on Levi; you just wanted him to come and do his routine but you didn’t want to bother your weary husband. Before you could even say or do anything, Levi gets up from the bed and walks towards you to join you on the bench; as if he heard the thought in your mind. His eyes centered on the new addition on his side and you suddenly realize what he was wondering. A smile creeps on your face when you notice the curiosity in his eyes, like a child who had entered a toy store or a bird who just left its nest and had the entire world to explore. The little glow in his eyes contrasted the furrow of his brows clearly indicated that this man right here was confused to what each of these did. Sure you had told him before but you knew he’d need more than just one push hence why you never stopped bringing him skincare along with yours. Tonight it seemed like the night you could educate him and use your expertise to convince him why he needs to listen to you.

“It’s for you. All of it,” you clarify and a nod comes from him. You chuckle at Levi when he pops open a moisturizer and moves to sniff at it.

“It smells nice,” he adds. “But I just need moisturizer, babe. You didn’t have to get all,” his hand proceeds to make a circle on top of the dresser as he continues, “this.”

“Yes I did,” you defend yourself. “We are turning old. We should take extra care of yourselves, don’t you think?” You get up and move to stand between Levi’s legs to which he automatically spreads them open to give you space. He looks up at you with eyes observing you. You lean against the vanity, your hands wrapping around Levi’s neck. “I will take care of you, Mr Ackerman, so you can get a tip or two.” You say nonchalantly with a smile. Levi ends up chuckling too since he knew your tone was the same tone you use at work. You grab a fluffy hair band that had bear ears on top and move to put it on Levi; pushing his hair back and revealing his flawless skin. Levi sat there glaring at you but you knew from the glow in his eyes that he could care less about it. You start with the routine as you grab a cotton pad and open up the toner bottle. “First of all, you need to apply a toner to bring back the moisture you lost from washing your face.” You explain as you bend over and come closer to his face while your hand moves to pat his face softly with the cotton. Levi’s eyes were on you the entire time you spoke; you didn’t even know if he was shy or if he was listening or why he was even staring but the entire time, his eyes never left your figure or movements. Never missed the product you used or the way his eyes would fall to your lips as you speak. It was almost as if his eyes were stuck on you. You still continue the routine, explaining each step as you go on, giving him tips he should know like to not rub in products aggressively but to pat them in more, or how he should apply them in an upward direction and avoid the downward direction, and you continuously remind him why each product is important. Levi listened intently and carefully, he knew that you knew what you were talking about but he was more in awe with how powerful you looked being in your element. “And lastly,” you twirl open the cap of a night cream. “The night cream.” You apply the cream onto your ring finger and gently apply it on his cheeks, his chin, forehead and then you grin as you put it on his nose, making a ‘boop’ sound, which causes you to earn a smile from him too. He was sitting there quietly the entire time you almost felt like he was a customer at your salon or like a little child, carefully trying their best to focus on your words or in awe with the knowledge you had. You rub and pat in the product and step back when he clears his throat, signaling that he wants to speak.

“How do I know what cream to put at night?” Your lips stretch into another smile as you hear how genuine curiosity wrapped around his tone. He was too cute tonight.

“It says it on the package, dear.” You point at the two creams behind you and move away slightly to let him see it. His eyes finally move away from you and land on the vanity as he silently nods in understanding like a student finally understanding a math problem. You give his face one final pat before you stand up straight and politely grin at him. “And we’re done,” you start to move away before he grabs your hands and kisses them.

“Thank you,” he says as his thumb gently draws circles on top of your hands. “Do you have coupons?” Your eyebrows furrow at his odd and random question and he elaborates more as he realizes that must’ve confused you. “I want to give it to the kids... Connie, Jean, Eren... you know. The kids.” He stumbles on his words when he notices the smile your face had. He was flustered because he knew that you know how soft he is for his team.

You nod silently and giggle. “Yes Levi, I do have coupons. Make sure you give it to the girls too.” You tease him, emphasizing on the word ‘girls’, as you sit down next to him and go through your drawer to look for the coupons. Levi looks from behind you too but then indulges at his new glowy skin as he pats his cheeks the way you had earlier. He suddenly feels proud of you again and a smirk paints his face as his eyes twinkle at the sight that is you. He notices you hadn’t brushed your hair yet so he gets up to stand behind you and pulls you back to make you sit up straight. Your eyes meet in the reflection of the mirror and before you could ask what he was doing, he beats you to it.

“You didn’t braid your hair. I’ll do it for you,” he leans forward to grab your hair brush and softly brushes your hair back and starts braiding it.

“The coupons are in this drawer. Take as many as you like,” you tell him after a while. He nods at your words.

“Will you do this every night?” He asks with a child like tone that wraps your heart with warmth. How could you even say no to him.

“Do what?” You tease him.

“This, my routine.” You knew he was flustered when he starts using small words.

“No,” you watch his lips quickly drop to a pout and a laughter breaks from your lips. “You have to do it too, Levi. We’ll do it side by side so you know the steps.”

“What if I use coupons?” Another laughter bursts out from your chest at how he tried to get this victory. You were pleased to know he liked it though.

“How about this, I’ll do your night routine for you three times a week,” you suggest as your hand raises three fingers and you wait for a response from him.

“Four.” He demands and attempts to negotiate.

“Three.”

“Four. I only use one coupon per week. You do it three times weekly and fourth would be if I use coupon.” He adds a new deal.

Feeling satisfied with the deal, you nod. “Deal.”

Once you were done with the time of sitting in front of the vanity, you both walk back to the bed but then you remember one last step. Body lotion. You bring the bottle to him and earn a “Tch” from him but he applies it regardless by watching you do it. Levi moves his hand to open up your braid too. It was something you always did, you didn’t sleep with your hair tied but you braid it before sleeping only to open it up after a few minutes. It helped your hair not to go crazy when you lay down. It melts your heart knowing how Levi knew even the smallest details of your routine and noticed things you didn’t think he would. You two share a loving smile as you continue to apply lotion together and joke around or tease each other a little. 

“Make sure to take care of your neck too, baby.” You remind him and you both work in sync in rubbing in the lotion onto your arms, chest, legs and neck. You apply your lip balm as usual and Levi shares it with you as you both move closer to perch in the middle of the bed. You two always shared your lip balm for some reason and you never complained nor minded it. To Levi, it made his heart fill up with love sharing your lip balm with you, patting his lips with the surface your lips had grazed over always made him go crazy inside. His excuse to why he did that was that he was too lazy to buy one or open a new one... even after he had confessed to it, he still rarely admitted every time you or someone else teased him about it.

After a while, your bodies were tangled with each other as you lay your head on his chest silently, listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat and basking in the scent of chamomile that you both bathed in and lotioned your bodies with. The scent bringing about a feeling of calm and sleep which was slowly creeping its way up on both of you. You knew the new aromatherapy you brought was working when you realize how sleepy Levi was getting too. He swiftly changes position as he lays on his side, his arms wrapped around your waist as you both move to the embracing position. He pulls you closer, burying his face on your chest right on top of your breast and under your neck and chin as he sharply inhales and relaxes afterwards. He always seemed to love doing that, especially when he was really exhausted or needed to sleep. You could feel the way his breathing was getting stable and the more you played with his hair and gently scratched his undercut, the more he got pulled into sleep. It was like a spell.

“Goodnight,” he mumbles against your skin after a while and pecks your open skin, pulling you even closer towards him.

“Goodnight baby... it’s time you sleep.” You kiss the top of his head as you both slowly fall into deep sleep together.

[terrence-silver]

Some Yandere!Terry Silver headcanons, please?🐍🖤

giffie provided by the beautiful @atmostories

- When Terry hates, he hates all the way. No middle grounds. Without limits, reservations or boundaries. Same goes for when he loves someone, as rare as that may be. He relinquishes all sense, all reason and absolutely embraces bias and favouritism without even hiding that he does. As I keep reiterating, his person is simply the best, the greatest, the loveliest, the most correct person that ever was, purely by virtue of them being his person. There might be a great trace of narcissism to such a stance too seeing as how Terry can't comprehend a world where anyone associated with him isn't purely the most admirable individual because why on earth would he of all people associated with anything less in the first place? Sure, objectively, you might be the most commonly mundane person, but not to Terry. No. To Terry you're extraordinary and he'll demand everyone else to hold such an opinion under duress if need be, and he tends to turn real antagonistic and standoffish real quick if he finds someone isn't fawning over his person the way they ought to. But, if they fawn too much, well -- that doesn't please him either and might just inspire jealousy. No winning with him. He loves that he's so hard to appease.

- He is also one for control. He is a control freak to excess. So, a Yandere!Terry might hold a certain resentment if he falls in love. Because one can't control who and when they fall for someone. It is usually entirely spontaneous and unpredictable and Terry doesn't like surprises, especially not of the emotional kind because he might feel it leaves him exposed and vulnerable. Endows him with another weakness he didn't previously have - so, in light of that, for a while, he might be out to hurt you. Toy with you. Test your resolve. Prod and poke at you, like a voodoo doll - sadist that he is. He might even take you and tuck you away somewhere within some dark corner of his mansion and not let out out until he figures out just what to do next, strategically. Or he might observe you. Stalk you. Research you from afar. Collect some of your things, or steal them rather. Outright manipulate and induce mental anguish in a roundabout way - he doesn't quite enjoy the emotions you've inspired in him, due to his own issues of just needing to have ever miniscule thing in order, at all times, even the things connected to his own heart. Especially those things. So, once you do, for the longest time, you're Terry's enemy and you've officially declared war. The devil works hard, but Terry Silver works harder.

- He gives obsession by definition a whole new meaning, because in spite of his partial resentment and adoration towards you, he'll also want all of you. All. Literally all. The good. The bad. The very worst. The very best. Everything in between. There's honestly just no telling how far it goes when he starts adopting actual tid-bits of your behaviour or mannerism into his own because that's how he shows his love. His attachment. Through imitation. Through...adopting some miniscule trace of your habits or your appearance, or maybe he just starts tapping his fingers to excess on the surface of a table in anticipation once he catches wind of you doing, or perhaps, he starts incorporating your favourite color into his attire, purely because it's your most preferred one. Not unlike a black hole, Terry has the tendency to consume. Consume fear. Consume power. Consume markers of hedonism. Consume identities, if need be. Either due to grief. Remembrance. Possession. Merely because he can. Because he wants to. Your body's his. And your heart is his. Your soul is his. Everything you own is his. Your very personhood might as well be his as well. He sees no reason why he shouldn't usurp everything his darling has to offer and then some. What he does with his new stake of ownership is another thing entirely - whether he loves or destroys or both is of little importance, because he sees, he likes, he claims and then proceeds doing whatever he pleases. End of discussion.

- People from your past might mysteriously start, uh, falling off. Disappearing. Distancing themselves from you. Surely, Terry had no part in it, except, well, now that he's here, he sees no reason why you should need anyone else? Isn't it a given he's the best? And as such, more then a worthy replacement for any amount of individuals serving as your support system prior to him arriving? Surely, he's a far superior choice. He outmatches anyone and everyone. You don't need those other pesky nobodies. Those distractions. He slips sweet poison into your ears and convinces you he's all you ever needed and craved, but you simply didn't even know. But, oh, he's the face of kindness and he came along in the nick of time to help you. What an angel. He's all favours. Good, well-meaning advice. Strategic encouragement. Protection. Being eerily there whenever you need him. And he'll make sure you need him all the time. He wants you to be unable to function without him, crippling all your defenses. He says the exact perfect thing you want to hear, at the exact, perfect calculated time, like someone capable of reading minds. He gives affection and then removes it. Gives it and removes it. Hot and cold. Hot and cold. He keeps repeating the process, both overstimulating you emotionally, only to suddenly deny you enough times where you're a simpering, stuttering pathetic, dependable little mess for him. Putty in his hands. He'll play you like a fiddle. And you'll dance to his tune eagerly because he'll make sure you adore him and want to appease him so much he'll land himself with a sweet little slave. No, no - he's not an egoistic narcissist, he's just looking after his investment and making sure nobody infringes upon it. And how could anyone possibly, if there's nobody beside you but him?

- Although, that being said, nothing's for free, right? Not even him caring for darling you. Don't you know how very exclusive that is? How rare? How unusual. Terry hasn't been significantly close to much of anyone but John Kreese, and that's a camaraderie forged in blood and war, two decades in the making, so for you to be deemed so very special, above all others, the least you can do is repay Terry's emotional courtesy, after he's allowed you into his inner circle like this. After he's allowed as much as your fingers to graze his skin. Don't you know he doesn't fancy being touched by much of anyone else, almost? Don't you know he isn't kind to just about anyone, but his people? Don't you figure you owe him something after he's provided you with every luxury and comfort known to man? Practically pampering and fussing you to trips and trinkets and indulgences? How lucky you are. How privileged. One in a million. And of course, being something of a petulant, unpredictable Yandere himself, what he expects in payment is your undying desire, devotion and discipline. He wants you yearning for him, always. He wants your undying, absolute loyalty. And he wants you attuned, focused and his. He expects to domineer every aspect of your life just due to the fact that he showed you the vague mercy of allowing you in. He's nitpicky and a perfectionist, so, if he singled you out as something or someone he wants, he expects the fact he put in actual time, effort, conditioning and proper seduction into you to a fruitful venture. Don't you know that for a billionaire with his own world-wide conglomerate, time's the most expensive capital in the world? So, if he gives you some of his, he expects it given back by the tenfold.

- For all his many shenanigans, cat and mouse games, tricks, ploys, schemes, obsessive outburst, denial, once Terry loves you, he loves you, and not in five, ten, fifteen, fifty years will that state of mind ever change for him and in spite of his best, most desperate borderline strategic methods to prevent being commanded by a feeling, he still ends up very much controlled by it and really, everything he does to you, ultimately, he does to himself too, invertedly, falling into a trap of his own making. If he strived to make you his slave, he becomes yours. If he tried to make you putty in his hands, he eventually became just that where you are concerned. If he wished to make you disciplined, devoted and full of desire for him, that's the stance he takes towards you. He becomes a mirror image of all his actions and they reflect back on him, and his dedication to you becomes a lifetime affair. You're his most prized person. His madness. And rock. And light. And everything. Where Terry's concerned, you're one. You're an Ouroboros. Snake biting a snake's tail. Infinity. Where he begins and you end is hard to gage, because in his plans to slowly consume you, you've consumed him as well, it's best not to test or try him where the question of just how far he'd go for your sake is in question, because Terry would go to any lengths, by any means, for any and no reason, and if he had to pollute and burn down and kill and manipulate the whole world for your sake, he would. His adoration, turns out, can be a very dark place to be.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 4 - ao3 -

“Qishan Wen has sent the invitations for the discussion conference,” their father said. “They will be holding a competition.”

The elders murmured thoughtfully in response.

Lan Qiren wasn’t sure why, since the Wen sect always held some sort of competition when it was their turn – the other sects tended to vary the main event, feasts and hunts and academic discussions, but the Wen sect loved competitions. Although perhaps it was just Wen Ruohan himself who did; since he’d been the sect leader for so long, it was impossible to tell the difference between his preferences and his sect’s.

“Qingheng-jun can lead the disciples,” one of the sect elders said, and Lan Qiren’s brother stood and saluted respectfully before sitting back down. “As for the rest…what skills should we select for?”

“Equestrianism,” their father said. “And music.”

“Music?” one of Lan Qiren’s teachers – an old man who usually all but slept through these meetings, but respected enough that no one commented on it – asked, blinking awake and rubbing his eyes in a way that suggested he thought he was being discreet.  “Since when does Qishan Wen appreciate music?”

Lan Qiren's teacher in music, who'd clearly been about to ask the same question, shut his mouth with a poorly-hidden smile.

“They don’t have to appreciate it,” another teacher, this one of swordsmanship, said, his tone distant and cynical. “They just have to have someone in mind that they think will win. Qishan Wen values victory over all else.”

“And they are crafty," yet another said, nodding. "Including it in the listing might be a stratagem to get us to send more disciples talented in music and fewer in other areas, to reduce our chances of winning the main event –”

“Both riding and music are listed as the main events,” Lan Qiren’s father said, his cold clear tone slashing through the others’ voices and putting an end to the debate. “Let us proceed in selecting disciples to attend.”

The list was quickly settled, and for once Lan Qiren was nominated to go. He hoped it was on account of his musical talents, which he was pretty proud of, although he acknowledged it might very well be due to his heritage. He made plans to go to visit the library pavilion at once, thinking about what scores might be appropriate to study in preparation – based on the description in the invitation, there would be a technical challenge, in which they would all play the same piece, and then an individual selection where each player could show off their personal skills…

“Looking forward to showing off for your lover?”

Lan Qiren slowed to a stop. It was one of the wittier, more personable disciples, a distant cousin of his named Lan Ganhui – one of the ones that thought they were funny, and others seemed to agree.

“Are you talking to me?” he asked, puzzled. It seemed as if he were, but at the same time... “I don’t have a lover.”

“Really?” His cousin was smiling. “But we’ve all heard how highly Sect Leader Wen thinks of you.”

Lan Qiren blinked. “He complimented me once. Three years ago. When I was thirteen.”

With the benefit of hindsight and age, it was clear to him that his father must have been right about Wen Ruohan’s motives: he had only been making trouble deliberately, trying to stir things up. A test of his brother’s mettle as the prospective new leader of the Lan sect, no doubt.

Occasional teasing aside, what were the chances that he'd actually found Lan Qiren to be interesting?

“You’re far too modest, Qiren-xiong. Everyone knows how picky Sect Leader Wen can be – you must have done something to get his attention.”

Lan Qiren was not good at understanding people and their subtleties as a general rule, but he had sufficient practice at childish taunts to understand the implication, and he felt his ears burn.

“Do not speak ill of people,” he said, putting his hands behind his back to hide how his fists clenched. “You should report to the discipline hall for violating the rules.”

“Violation excused,” his brother said from behind him, voice calm – even cold – as always. “Don’t take things so seriously, Qiren; it’s only joking between friends.”

Lan Qiren was not friends with Lan Ganhui, but he probably should be. It was his duty as one of the heirs of the main clan to be magnanimous with the other disciples of the sect.

As irritating a task as that might be.

“Walk with me,” his brother ordered, and naturally Lan Qiren obeyed.

They went in silence for a while, their path the familiar one used to make the rounds of the Cloud Recesses – it was a task they were all assigned once they were old enough, and Lan Qiren recognized the twists and turns of it at once. He wondered what that meant, if anything.

If he were with one of his teachers, he would be able to extrapolate that the subject of imminent discussion was not a serious one; that they felt they could both fulfill their duties and speak with him meant that it was not a subject that required their full attention. But somehow, despite their closer relation, Lan Qiren sometimes felt as if he did not understand his brother anywhere near as well as he understood his teachers: it was possible that in this case the subject  was  important, but his brother more capable than their teachers of splitting his time and attention, or maybe simply didn’t care about one of the two tasks he was performing.

That was one of the things Lan Qiren had never really understood about his brother. His brother was the great hope of their Lan sect, the bright light of their generation; when he finally became sect leader, it was expected that he would help lead them to an ascendant position in the cultivation world and allow their clan to flourish, one andall. Yet sometimes it seemed as if he saw his duties as merely a burden, to be completed as quickly as possible – he was always trying to do more than one task at a time, trying to finish and put them aside, as if he had compared them to some ideal in his mind and found them wanting, purposeless, and therefore irrelevant, even if the task were key to the well-being of their sect.

Their teacher in swordsmanship – one of the few people his brother seemed to really like, though of course he was properly filial to all his teachers – said that he had the best chance of any in their generation of becoming a true immortal, if only he devoted himself, and Lan Qiren supposed that that was his brother’s goal. After all, hadn’t Wen Ruohan raised his sect higher and higher simply on account of having been there longer than anyone else…?

“This will be your first discussion conference in several years,” his brother said, drawing Lan Qiren’s attention. “Will it not?”

“Since the last time our sect hosted,” Lan Qiren agreed. It had been the Jiang the year after, and at fourteen he was too young to go to an official conference; then the Jin the year after that, and the Lan sect never sent too many people to suffer the rush and bustle of Lanling City. If he had had some extraordinary achievements, they might have sent him, but he didn’t.

This year, though, he was sixteen – just under the official age of eligibility for those not in the main families of the Great Sects, which was seventeen – and known to have some talent in one of the areas in question, so it would be a loss of face for their family  not  to send him. Otherwise, he suspected they would have waited another year until the discussion conference was held by the Nie sect, who as a close ally to the Lan sect would offer a much safer way to be introduced to the cultivation world.

“I see,” his brother said, and continued walking some distance. “You will need to be mindful of your actions, of course.”

“Of course,” Lan Qiren echoed, and despite his best efforts he felt some dissatisfaction. Beyond the resentment he bore him on account of their mother’s death, his brother had never really paid him all that much attention; Lan Qiren had been assured by several of his teachers that he was merely imagining how much his brother didn’t like him, or at least that the irritation would pass as he got older and more accomplished, less of an embarrassment. Most of the time, his brother’s gaze was turned inside to himself and his own cultivation efforts just like their father before him, so it made sense for him not to know too much about Lan Qiren, but…still. It wasn’t exactly like Lan Qiren was a known troublemaker that needed to be taken aside and especially warned to be on his best behavior.

He idolized his brother, Lan Qiren reminded himself. Just like everyone else. It was only the itchy emotionality of adolescence that was causing him such frustration.

“You understand what you did wrong, then, and will not repeat it.”

“…what I did wrong?” Lan Qiren ground his teeth together, realized he was doing it, and stopped at once. No one else had ever said he had done something wrong during that discussion conference, but perhaps they were only being polite. “Xiongzhang, I am too ignorant, and do not understand. Please tell me what you mean.”

His brother looked at him sidelong. “In connection with Sect Leader Wen.”

“Xiongzhang! I didn’t –”

“You are old enough now to understand how dangerous he is,” his brother said, cutting him off, and Lan Qiren fell silent, because that much was true. When he’d been thirteen and even more single-minded than he was today (and truly, how could he condemn his brother’s disinterest in so many things when he himself was similarly focused on his own interests?), he had been ignorant of the rumors that swirled around Wen Ruohan. It was said that beneath his seemingly composed countenance, he could be violent and moody, impulsive and selfish and cruel – how he had to have the best of everything for himself, and would stop at nothing to obtain whatever it was, no matter who it harmed. And then there were the stories of his mysterious Fire Palace, where he was said to collect implements of torture and to enjoy sating his bloodlust by practicing them upon those unfortunate enough to be his prisoners –

How much of that was true and how much merely rumor, Lan Qiren did not know, but he knew that it was well-accepted enough to be considered news rather than frivolous gossip.

"Yes, xiongzhang," he muttered, and dropped his eyes to the ground. "I know."

"This isn't like last time. We're going to be in the Nightless City, on his ground, not ours - you're not adept at politics, so you might not know it, but Sect Leader Wen's arrogance is beyond belief; he only sometimes considers himself to be bound by the laws and customs of the cultivation world, not like the rest of us. If something happens, I won't be able to protect you."

Lan Qiren nodded. He appreciated his brother's concern for him.

"Try to avoid him entirely," his brother instructed. "And if you do end up seeing him, don't pester him this time! Think beyond yourself: our sect cannot afford to draw his ire, if it turns out that he does not find you as amusing as he did before.”

It hadn’t been Lan Qiren’s fault that Wen Ruohan had found him amusing the first time. It wasn’t like he intended on spending time with the man – it had just happened!

“And what if he approaches me?” Lan Qiren asked, more to be contrary than out of any actual belief it would really happen. Wen Ruohan had seen him as a tool to needle his brother, nothing more, and had probably put him out of his mind long ago - it'd been three years, after all, and Lan Qiren was very young still; if it hadn't been for the Wen sect's selection of music as a main event, he probably wouldn't be going along at all.

“If he starts speaking with you, then you are to respond gracefully, and comply with his wishes until such time as someone can come to collect you.”

Lan Qiren frowned. “Are you sure?"

His brother stopped and frowned at him.

"I just mean, we've met in person before," Lan Qiren explained. "He won't mistake me for a servant; he'll know who I am. And the Great Sects are all equal, so isn't there a chance that we might lose face if one of our main bloodline yields to everything he wants at first request, as if we were some nameless clan beneath his…”

“Are you questioning me?”

Lan Qiren faltered. “No, xiongzhang.”

“I don’t want anything disturbing the discussion conference,” his brother said, his gaze already sliding away and his fists tight at his sides. Lan Qiren thought over his words and was ashamed of himself: he shouldn't have reminded his brother that he was part of the main bloodline, same as him; he knew it was a painful subject for his brother, and to bring it up anyway probably came across as arrogant and tactless. “I am acting as leader for this trip, and the responsibility for everything that happens is mine. Do not make me lose face. Do you understand?”

“Yes, xiongzhang. I won’t lose face for the sect.”

“Good. Dismissed.”

[ignitification]

Colour Analysis III: (LoV Series II) - Dabi

Yes, no - you don't have any hallucination. It's here. It is. And yes, it took an absurdly long time to, but it's here so mh, yeah - enjoy.

I suddenly remembered that an ask, long ago, asked me about the design pattern evident for Dabi. It's here in case you want to have a look at it.

As I stated there, Dabi is a living contradiction, especially in terms of colour theory.

His colour pattern is a chameleon of sorts: he both represents light and dark at the same time, as if he cannot decide which one to stick with. I think that this duality has all to do with his genealogy. Inheriting his mother constitution and his father's Quirk amplified, Dabi goes through an adaptation process, manifesting especially by the change in his hair's colour (same as Tomura, that is - you can find the link for his analysis at the bottom of the post). The dyeing hair is also part of the process, but this time it comes about with a voluntary part, which brings us to the point that even if not entirely, Dabi's personality is build around a feeling and a character, which he wants to express and contrast at the same time. This is why, as I already specified the most important colour when it comes to Dabi are Blue, Purple and White (with a sprinkle of Red).

I.) Royal Blue

More than any other colour, Blue is what fits Dabi the most. His eyes are blue, his fire is blue and his clothes are blue (different variation, but you get the gist).

Blue usually stands for coolness, loyalty, intelligence and responsibility. But pushing this aside for a minute, blue has a distinct effect on the human body: it lowers the heart rate and the body temperature and has a calming effect. It's a constant colour which represents the tide of waves and the never-ending blue of the sky. In respect to Dabi, it can be seen how this hardly applies - but, at the same time it does. As Dabi inherits Rei's constitution and her resistance to the cold - but his father's 'fiery' personality, his fire manifests as both. It creates a friction, until the burns on his body become an evident purple. This characteristic has a distinct connection to Red (section IV) - however, the leitmotiv is that Dabi's body is used to the effects that blue should have on him, and instead of seeing it realise they are brought down and counter-affected by Red (which is a metaphor for his entire persona).

Blue has the feature of being ever-changing, which, as you'll have understood by now, is one of many contrasts in Dabi's appearance. He indeed goes through an exterior change - but as blue, he remains steady on a path (which is revenge, and will to actually prove to Endeavour that he is not a mistake), making his character consistent with his ideas throughout the arcs and steady.

An overuse of blue is cold and impersonal - indicating the presence of deep dark secrets and having a  connection with feelings of sadness and depression. It creates the pictures of someone hiding in the dark just not to reveal their secrets, and for a long time we see Dabi trying to keep a low profile and then approach with an attitude of uncaring and cold indifference. He has burned his eye glands, which should allow him to express this feelings - but they are expressed, on the contrary, in the strength of his fire, and causes old feeling to settle and burn their way through his persona.

Blue is a susceptible colour and it hurts deeply - because in the first place, people associated with blue tend to feel too deeply. This fits the pattern of Dabi's fire being conditioned by his emotions, and why likely it creates deep wounds on his body: as a remainder that his feelings, expressed through the fire are way too intense and affect Dabi deeply. Deep enough for him to survive an astonishing fire and to hide for years in wait of having the right opportunity, the perfect opportunity to actually redirect this feeling onto the subject which caused them. As the constant colour that it is, indeed, blue (and Dabi) lives in the past.

Light blue is associated with healing, understanding and softness (his eyes), while darker hues are instead expression of power and knowledge (clothes - as a reminder of adulthood).

Finally, back on the literal meaning of blue: blue is a giver in the relationships that matter, but at the same time this colour can be unfaithful and deceiving (and we saw this in his interactions with the League at first and with Hawks, too). It is associated with intelligence and and consciousness (and indeed, the one who sort of had the reigns of the Training Camp was Dabi, and furthermore he is the only one who Ujiko retained mature enough to control a High End). This encompasses his characteristics of being reliable and responsible - and of course, Dabi embodies the whole spectrum.

Also on a final, funnily enough note, blue is usually associated with voice communication and someone who needs order, and strives for perfection as well as tending to be the one to speak in public. It's idealistic and expresses a will to satisfy its higher needs - and by doing that it expresses devotion in these ideals. So if you think about how Dabi's character is focused on reforming society, and giving Stain's will freedom and realisation, Dabi comes full circle - with a devotion which makes him focused on his goals (Stain's will, reformation of society and the Endeavour' downfall) , the commitment to actual plan their perfect realisation, and the ability to achieve it through the right means (The Broadcast).

II.) Pure White

White. Integrity, purity, innocence. Mourning, for some cultures. In particular in Japan, it is used as a colour meaning death, and is used in funerals. Same as for Tomura, Dabi uses both White and Black to somehow mourn himself and his loss (Tenko for his family, Touya for the himself he leaves behind) and especially in his adulthood, the concealing of such a colour through pitch black, is not only an effort to hide his identity but also to express a refusal to be the same person. White represents a new beginning, a blank slate. And if we consider these two to be somehow related (because death is seen as not the end, but instead a new beginning) it is clear how this colour, has a relevance to this character. After Touya's death, and his white hair hidden - he becomes Dabi, who has no time to still appeal to the childish feeling of wanting to impress his father and instead throws himself onto a new chapter of his life, because the past he will always remember, has been burned.

Same as blue, white brings serenity and peace - and at the same time it represents coldness and emptiness. I think this somehow emphasises the change in colour from red to white, and the loss of believing in strength (read: Endeavour) instead leaving an empty space in his heart, filled with emotions which he cannot control. The loss of innocence and the acquisition of the fact that Touya will never be what his father wanted him to, and the acceptance of such a thing - further brings out the meaning of the colour blue. (As already stated before, white, in Dabi's case is of enormous relevance - because it amplifies its relation to blue.)

Finally, white brings forward independence and freedom - and it stands for perfection. And I think it's really ironic how white, is not only the colour he inherited from Rei - a cold stark white - but at the same time, Endeavour has tossed him aside for the same reason, and that is because in his eyes he could not be more 'wrong'. But when his hair settles into his ultimate colour of white, Touya also breaks free from his father's expectation (but does he, really?) to start instead a new chapter as Dabi. Hiding the mistake he thinks he is, an instead embraces the personality that has been thrown onto him.

White is also the symbol of truth - which is tied to the revelation that Dabi is Touya Todoroki, and his dyed black hair becomes white, again (revealing the truth of his persona).

II.I) Pitch Black

Just to be as precise as possible, I'm adding a tiny section on black, which can be summarised in two sentences: black is associated with mystery, sophistication, power and authority. It brings forward the symbol of darkness, rebellion and ultimately it stands as a synonym of death. It's a colour which, when considered in respect to white, stands for the struggle between right and wrong - good and evil. Dabi presents himself as someone mysterious, and he does not reveal his name until far down the line. But he is still a representation of power, in terms of quirk and his position both inside the LoV and the PFL. Furthermore, him covering up his hair colour with black, as already said, has to do with wanting to appear a villain more than it has to do with his identity. He wants to fade into background for a while, and then come from the darkness to sweep everyone away - covering himself in black so it sends a clear message to everyone looking at him: that he is dangerous, and that there is no escape from his evil.

III.) Daunting Purple

Now, this is a controversial section. When I first thought of Dabi, I associated him with blue more than anything else, because after all, even if purple is an ever-present colour, it is just a reminder of how dangerous his quirk is, and how his body does not fare well in the friction of his firepower and his constitution. However, I think it is still important to put things into perspective when it comes to Dabi.

It is not a surprise, that Purple comes about as a combination of Red and Blue. The eternal struggle - which comes forth into the most detrimental way possible, for him. The shade of this colour has different meanings (not surprisingly) but, as far as I am concerned, Dabi's is a 'darker purple' (which is the one we have figured in the pictures) and fulfils its duty to evoke sadness and gloom. This is just a constant reminder of his story, and also the why Dabi is not very big on concealing the scars: because he thinks of them as a fair punishment, and that they remind him constantly of what and when exactly things did go wrong. Purple is also a colour associated with royalty and people with authority. On this meaning, there might a controversial stake, because it would actually give a relevance (or positive connotation) to the colour, however, as already stated before - I think that the scars are not only a reminder for himself, but same as the conscious choice of wearing black, Dabi makes a conscious choice to reveal his burn marks and to stitch his skin with evident metal piercings. He is putting them in evidence for a reason, and I'd guess this is the same reason for why he sticks on wearing dark colours, and to due his hair black: Dabi's objective is to appear as a heartless villain, and usually the image of somehow badly injured and wearing dark clothes, as sad as this might be, projects the image of exactly someone you'd like to avoid on the street.

Purple is also the colour of 'Fall', with its fading light. I found this particularly poetic when it comes to Dabi, as Fall might as well be the eternal representation of his character, and the fact that instead Dabi's fire just grown bigger and bigger, hurting him even more in the process - is the total contrary of fading light. But on the other hand, the light of his own personality, and those emotions he keeps tucked away just tend to be fade, dwindle at every sign of possible emotional connection.

Purple promotes the balance between mind and emotions - between the spiritual and the physical world. The balance between Red (emotions) and Blue (mind), and to which Dabi is not accustomed, yet. Finally, purple - among others - is also a mourning colour (reminder that both White and Black are also mourning colours). And it also inspires mystery, which again the image Dabi likes to project about himself onto others.

IV.) Flourishing Red

Red is Dabi's curse and representation. The contrast to white, and also the exacerbation of Blue. Red is the colour that gets the blood going (or rather, in this case, 'The one that turns up the heat' and which contrasts the calming effects of Blue) and the one who expresses passion and strength (which is why Endeavour's personality colour is Red - it's not a case that Red is associated with violence, anger, blood, obsession of power and strength, danger and fiery passion).

Red is the colour which Touya denies, and that instead comes back to bite him back. Red is energising and full of spirit and passion - and the image of a young Touya, striving to get better and make his father proud comes to mind. It's prideful and full of power - the will of a child, and his enormous Quirk-power struggling to keep it in check. This is why, Red after a while fades to Blue - and burns even more than it used to. Passion felt too deep, the exploitation of power which brings destruction. An all clear sentence to actually see why Dabi ends up with denying the all-too-overwhelming presence of Red and its characteristics, opting instead for a more suited to him Blue, which is also highly contrasting to the pure anger and passion associated to Red. The fact that Touya's hair changes, is an indicator of how he negates his father's influence, but still insists on hanging on those feelings, because he cannot let go of them. A walking oxymoron.

Thank for staying all the way, and for reading.

P.S. The colour analysis featuring Izuku and Shigaraki are respectively linked.

[hahanoiwont]

I am awaiting the inevitable shock and existentialism Fell will feel when he realises that Frisk is no longer in stripes. Patiently. Cheerfully. >:D

okay so imagine. imagine ur fell. imagine with me. let's stand in his shoes.

You are Papyrus. You are also known as Fell.

Your childhood was rough and isolating. You were alone often, and when you did see other people it was overshadowed by resentment or just a violent experience overall. You killed someone before you could reasonably be called an adult, and your brother, whose visits were already few and far between, nearly vanished from your life. You didn't know where he went, but you can only assume he had some other life where he pretended you'd never even existed, and he'd left you to dust alone. The only sign that he still remembered you at all was the food in the pantry, and you started wondering if maybe he wouldn't always be there to bring it. Then one day he came home half dead, and suddenly you're the one putting food in the pantry, having to navigate a world you've only seen glimpses of. Things are rocky. You know intellectually that your family dynamic is fairly gentle, and you could consider yourself lucky...but you remember when he loved you. And he doesn't act the same anymore. You think that maybe he loved you as well as he was able, but once he realized what you are he couldn't care for you anymore. Maybe there is something so terrible in you, so cold and ruthless, that even your gentle, patient older brother couldn't stand to be around you. Maybe you did this to him.

No, you decide. You know better. Perhaps this is partially because of you, but it is also because of the things Sans can see that no one else can--a tally of pain inflicted by every person he meets. You watch him come back to life just for something to break inside of him, seeing all of those numbers tick up. Something in him drives him and he mutters that every single monster deserves to die. But that gentler Sans is still there, staying his hand. He never could stand to hurt anyone. Neither could you, once.

You should probably take this as an indication that things only ever get worse and you will never have anything better. You do not. You're going to change this world. Some small corner of it will be safe, and maybe then Sans will find it in himself to forgive you--for what, you don't know. For existing, or for being a monster, or some sin of your personality. You tell yourself that you'll be satisfied even if Sans never loves you like he used to again, as long as he's not in pain anymore. He's dying. You need to save him. You don't have the luxury of being a softer person.

A softer person comes along.

With a human soul, you could break the Barrier. You could give it to Sans and let him leave this place. You could surrender it to Asgore and the reward would see you and your brother safe for a long time, maybe even safe enough to go far away on the Surface and never see another monster again. There are people you would miss, but it would be worth it to rest in safety.

The time comes to kill them.

They are a child.

You don't ask Sans whether he has even bothered trying to kill them--their budding adoration tells you that he hasn't. They whisper to you that he offered them mercy. You try not to be glad for that stupid mistake. Still, there are more important things--Sans is likely to hate you for killing a defenseless child, but Sans has hated you for greater and lesser crimes, and this is for him. This is for both of you; your ticket out. This is a golden chance. You just have to kill them.

They are a very flattering child. Sans has never cared to notice your fearsome armor or malignant traps. They are a creature of superior taste.

You have to kill them. Things will be so much better if you just kill them.

Your attacks become more dramatic. You switch out the swift and lethal attacks for the showier, cooler attacks. The human is impressed. You think that they are having fun--to your surprise, you find that you are, too. You regret that you have to kill them.

They are surprisingly difficult to kill. It reminds you of practicing your bone attacks when you were a child, waiting for Sans to finally come home so you could show him, waiting for him to be so proud of your progress that he would stay with you this time. You find that it's more fun with a partner. You bring out some sequences that you've discarded for being all flash and no substance. The human loves them.

You don't want to lose this, you realize. You don't want them to die.

You find that you are sorry for hurting them. They have seemed fearless, but they have sustained great deals of damage to their tiny HP count. You can't see the numbers like your brother can, but it can't be greater than 40 total. You have harmed them.

This tiny, innocent creature...you have harmed them. You did not have to. They were not forcing you to fight. But you harmed them.

You apologize. The human seems surprised, but pleased. They offer you a big grin and instant forgiveness, because they are a child. Living in your world, this is likely the best anyone has treated them.

Not anymore.

You bring them home. Sans is there, watching the doorway for your return with hopeless eyes. Perhaps he thinks you will not notice how they brighten and his whole face softens when he sees your LOVE, unchanged, and the child, alive. The child does not seem to recognize the difference, but greets him like a dear friend. He fakes ambivalence and disappears to one of his sentry stations.

You have a child, now.

This is a Concern.

You were hardly a child, yourself--how can you possibly provide the things that a child may need? Most especially a human child, who may need all sorts of things that you have no way of knowing about. You have seen them eat, so you can assume that they need to be fed; they are wearing clothes, so you can assume they need to be clothed; but what of entertainment? Affection? Training? What sorts of guidance will they need?

You have doubts. One of the only things that you are confident of is that the child does not need doubts. You must choose to be bold. If you are denying the very murderous nature of monsters by taking in a child, then so be it: you will not do this in half measures.

You set about creating the optimal environment for child-rearing. Plenty of doors and windows that lock only from the inside. Enrichment in the form of attack training. Weapons for self-protection. You make it clear that you will always have time for them, no matter what else may be at hand. You will interrupt even the most important of work days to tend to their childhood accidents--a stray stab wound here, or a timely rescue there. You prepare to put the changing of your world on hold for as long as it takes to see this human into adulthood.

You wonder what kind of adult they will be. Bold and strong like you, or wry and clever like Sans, or as passionate as Undyne--or none of the above, perhaps. If you raise them right, maybe they will be different from all of you. Maybe they will stay small and loving forever.

You do not look forward to seeing their heart break, seeing their first kill, seeing them turn to LOVE. These rites of passage seem suddenly gruesome. But you want to be there, all the same--you want to take them home afterwards, and see them find their feet again every time they stagger. There is a whole tiny person in your home, and you can ensure that they are never alone.

Then, the world changes.

Perhaps you will not need to guard them so fiercely. Perhaps you will be able to devote your efforts instead into becoming something softer and kinder. You will finally find the words to say when they are lonely, or frightened, or when you have been too harsh and their eyes fill with tears. You will no longer be too harsh. You cannot ever be human, but perhaps you can raise one nearly as well as another human would. For the first time, you feel as if there is love in you--in all of monsterkind.

Then, the child dies.

Sans said he would bring them home. He left to go retrieve them. And they disappear forever. His guilt is plain to see, but you allow him to fool you--he says that he has killed a child, and you sympathize with him. You provide comfort. You do not realize.

Several people take you aside, one by one by one, to gently break the news to you. Sans encountered the human, they say. The two of them had a disagreement. Sans took them somewhere and he came back alone. The evidence is clear--you have Sans's confession, even.

He would not have snuffed that tiny life out. He loves them. You have seen him come back to life by inches, resurrecting the brother you thought you'd lost. This cannot be.

You wait for Sans to tell you that.

He does not.

Your brother has stolen your child's life. Your tiny sibling, who you have sworn to protect--who each of you have promised to raise gently, to treat well, to absolutely spoil with safety and affection, as much as you can. You finally had a warmth in your heart and in your home, and so did Sans. But he smothered it. He killed them. You cannot believe it. But, you think of the creeping insanity that you thought had been defeated in him, and you don't know. You don't know what he is capable of anymore.

Sans used to stand for mercy--if not for its own sake, then because killing is not a virtue. He was the only person who believed LOVE was not a good thing, and now, he is the only person who is not changing his mind.

You're furious. You're betrayed. You're heartbroken. You want to confront Sans. You never want to see him again. You want your sibling back, to protect them better this time, to do things differently so that somehow it goes right. Sans would not do this. You must have caused it somehow. You identify your failings after a week: you were too slow.

The world was changing, but not fast enough. Sans took his own action first.

You leave. You intend to come back, when you have changed the world into something Sans can stand, when your fury has calmed--you leave. That is what matters.

You do come back, once. Sans's pantry is empty. You fill it. You do not think that there are any grocers willing to do business with him, not with the worries about food shortages. Not with what everyone knows he's done.

In his basement, you discover something odd: hope. A skeleton with your face who claims to have seen your sibling, calls them "Frisk." They never shared their name with you. You had hoped they would, in time; but they did not, and now they cannot.

But perhaps they will.

Perhaps you have not lost that child, that place of warmth in your home and heart. If grief is love with no one to direct it to, then you no longer need to grieve. They are alive. Your brother has done an awful thing, but not what you feared. You can get them back. You will not miss the landmarks that were not to be. You would give anything to scoop them up and hold them again.

You find them. Finally, you find them again--or they find you. They approach you, and you approach them, and at first you are puzzled by this human: a grown, adult human, standing half in front of a skeleton who is almost your brother but not entirely, and watching you with caution that turns to unbridled delight when they realize who it is they have been brought to meet. Your phone begins ringing. You ignore it. The skeleton who is not your brother is watching your stats with a sort of horror. You ignore that, as well. This human looks at you with warmth and trust that you have only seen from...

It's your sibling. It's your sibling, and you have them back, they are just in front of you, and you have missed them. You have missed so much of their life. The child you were raising is gone, with no hint of them in this human's scarred HP and protective stance. They do not have your boldness or Sans's wit or Undyne's passion or even the sheltered softness you had secretly hoped they would keep...you weren't there to shelter them.

You have the human back, but not the child. They don't need you anymore.

In this moment, you have the realization: searching for them, you have met people who are gentler than you, cleverer, kinder, less awkward and violent...all of them who counted your sibling as part of their own family. They have had such a life beyond you that you cannot grasp the whole of it. With so many better selves, so many better brothers...

They don't need you any more. Why on earth would they want you?

[whereflowersbloom]

Dum Spiro Spero

The leader of the league of shadows and secrets was watching a beautiful creature bathing in sunlight. Shinning ebony hair catching each breath of early autumn’s glinting sunset, a tendril of her hair catching in the wind as it breaks free from an elaborated braid. Raven was kneeling in the garden, hands working the soil, to bring life, making new life grow. Some moments she stopped to enjoy the autumnal breeze on her face, staring into the distance as if caught in between this world and another.

Looking back Damian never thought he would have this. It had never been an option for him. His life was mostly filled with dangers, blood, threats and uncertainty. Wondering if he would live to see the next sunrise or survive enough to watch the following sunset. His life had been filled with hatred. Hatred towards a parent be believed had abandoned him, an enemy that murdered his loved ones who raised him. He did everything in his power to avenge them but he did not feel satisfaction or any kind of gratification after killing him. No. The emptiness did not fade away.

There were times where he was filled with so much regrets. Regret of rejecting his father and not believing in him, that he cared for him. Regret of the days he spent resenting his adoptive brothers for having the chance of a different life. Regret for not being able to love someone freely. Not until her.

The first time he saw her he couldn’t help but stare in awe. The same day Damian drew in his first breath of Gotham City air.

An eternity could have passed by in the blink of an eye, breath hitched in his throat, eyes quivering with strong emotion, heart hammering in his chest and yet he would have stared at the sight of her the rest of his days. For it was humanly impossible to get his eyes off of her. It was a view he had been starved of for eighteen years.

He stared because she was light.

She was home. Finally.

Porcelain skin, thick locks of raven hair, piercing, unearthly amethysts struck through his soul. And he felt alive, whole.

He had learned an important lesson. Life was too short, shorter if you’re an assassin, it was too precious. You could never waste a second of it, especially with the people closest to your heart. And he made a solemn promise to his family and himself. He decided to live without regret. To take the opportunities that life handed him and most importantly, he swore to himself that even no matter what happened in the past, the terrible things he had done, his faults and mistakes. He deserved to be happy.

That was five years ago.

It was easy to lurk in the shadows of the their house, a petite, cozy cottage close to the league’s headquarters. In the Kunlun mountains he had found a rustic little gem straight out of a Jane Austen or Charlotte Bronté novel, that was how Raven had described it. She had been working on the garden for eight months. There were now fragrant jasmine bushes and two apple trees, one almost completely covered by creamy white climbing roses, clusters of bluebells, foxgloves, pink Hibiscus flowers, pale lavender orchids, and the entire lawn was strewn with white and yellow daisies. In the shadows he knew he would not disturb her reverie. Yet he had been caught, luminous violet eyes wiser than her years cast to where he has hidden with a gentle smile that just pricked the corners of her mouth. “You know I can feel you staring, Damian. The intensity of your emotions is making me go weak.”

Damian couldn’t stop admiring his lover. Because the eyes that followed her were ones brimmed with love, adoration. Stepping into the sunlight, gently he helped her stand up, instinctively wrapping an arm around her waist. “You will never be weak, beloved. Not because of me or anyone.” Words were spoken softly, his other hand reaching to lift a white lily from the blooming bulbs bed and tucking it right behind her ear. Not too far off in the distance the radiant sun continued arching low in the sky reading to say goodbye and allowing the sky to welcome the moon and stars.

One of his long, tanned hands, cupped her face with delicacy, her body aching desperately for his touch. He placed his remaining hand over her chest. She was aware that Damian could feel the rapid pulse of her heart through skin. “Thought you’re stronger than any other living creature in this universe. There is strength in your goodness, as much as there is in steel and fire.” His emerald eyes were filled with so much joy, so much warmth and devotion, it was endless, everflowing.

Raven barely thought she was breathing, willing her unruly heart to ease a fraction, soothe down its beating instead of racing even after all these years together. Damian gently kissed her temple and murmured against her rosy cheek in a low voice that made goosebumps rise on her tender flesh. “Do you know why I fell in love with you?”

She licked her lips and pretended to think about it for a moment. “Because I said you were insufferable our first meeting.” She teased. As much as his presence annoyed her at first, she had come to feel comfortable around him, safe, content. The feelings she had tried to contain became harder and harder to ignore. Slowly, he carved himself into her heart, something she did not have a name for took root. Every time he saw him, heart fluttered in her chest like a child, and everytime he smiled at her...oh Azar she couldn’t take the clash of ardent emotions. After that something inside her began to loosen, shift, to change. She had been a fool, deceiving herself it was nothing more than friendship.

Everything changed for them and she was infinitely thankful both had put in the effort to help each other overcome their fears. They only required a little push from Dick at the beginning, because both were impossibly stubborn.

Damian chuckled audibly. It was a fascinating sound she thought to herself. His hand trailed along her collarbone, enjoying the smooth texture of her ivory skin, grasping the side of her face. Green orbs bored into violet constellations. He spoke firmly and his features hardened slightly. There was a battle raging behind his green gaze, like he was desperately fighting something inside him. His past. “You did not judge me for my past actions, for the assassin I was raised to be. I was coated in blood, spent my days destroying and taking lives. And yet you found goodness in me.” His deep voice was rough and cracked just a bit.

She had given him five years worth of smiles, laughter, love and so much more. Filling the void inside him after losing his grandfather and mother. She had lifted him up. Damian would never let her go. He refused to. How could he?

“Dum spiro spero.” He breathed, heart thundering in his chest.

He did not have tell her its definition. She knew the meaning of the phrase. She blinked in surprise, her mind automatically translated it. While I breath, I hope.

Interlacing his hand with hers, entwined like a vine to tree, he swallowed hard before continuing. “You are my hope, Raven. When I look at you I see hope.” Raven was this incredible force which had burrowed itself so deeply within him being that there would be no uprooting it. Never.

She found herself voiceless, giving time for his words to sink in. Then she did not have to think about her responses for more than a second. She knew exactly what she wanted to say.

Raven held his gaze, unwavering, for another minute before speaking. “I know you really look at me and see me for who I am and I hope you know, I will always look at you and I will see someone who despite seeing the worst of it all, is still kind, good, a generous and compassionate soul.”

The raw emotion swimming in his eyes made her want to embrace him for eternity. He loved her. He loved her more than she ever imagined. She felt her own eyes watering, tears running down her cheeks which Damian wiped away with careful motions.

“I would love to be your hope until the end of my days.” She whispered voice thick with emotion, forehead pressed against his. His skin was warmer than hers, she let herself submerge in the lingeringly tender contact. Unable to hold back anymore Damian kissed her ferociously, with starved lips, pouring all his words and feelings into the caress. Squeezing her frame against his, wishing for any distance to vanish, anything that would keep them apart.

“I love you.” He whispered in the most intimate of ways against her mouth.

Damian took her in his arms, carrying her and not wasting time, making his way inside the small cottage. They were two souls in love, hearts beating the same tune, in perfect synchrony.

Happy birthday chromie 🙈🙈🙈❤️❤️❤️

This small oneshot is dedicated to @chromium7sky my closest friend in the fandom.

I hope you all like it though. @tweepunkgrl @alerialblu @andthendk @ravenfan1242 @carnationmilk @bourniebna @srose-foxfire @sofiii

[shoichee]

Hello and congrats on the 100 milestone! Can you do prompt #19 for Midorima? 😁

MAN OH MAN IT’S BEEN A LONG TIME BUT I’M FINALLY BACK, TSYM for being here since the beginning, i rlly rlly appreciate it <333 so HERES SOME FLUFF

Midorima x Reader

19. “I think I’m in love with you, and that scares the crap out of me”

Word Count: 3349

prompt list here

»»—————　☼　—————««

“Seriously, are you sure you’re not secretly related to Shin-chan?” Takao shoves another helping of rice into his mouth and you instantly frown at his messy eating habits.

“Takao, it doesn’t hurt to wipe the grains off your cheeks with napkins that the cafeteria always abundantly provides,” you say, not once taking your eyes off of the study guide you compiled for the class final. “And please don’t talk with your mouth open.” You can easily sense Takao groaning before slapping his eyes while leaning back in frustration, but you still carried on in skimming your notes instead.

“And that’s exactly why Shin-chan doesn’t know how to approach you,” he petulantly mumbles. You spared a glance above your packets, not catching his inaudible words.

“Pardon?”

“Never mind,” Takao sighs, settling to childishly stabbing the shrimp tempuras with his chopsticks and popping them into his mouth. “You werdn’t gert it.”

“What did I just say about your eating manners?” You roll your eyes, choosing to brush off his words as you continue to devote your attention to your papers. Takao simply opts to noisily munch on the rest of his lunch while being deep in thought, letting you study in some relative peace. He then gets up, tosses his trash away, and plops back down on his seat, and he props up his chin on his arm, watching you completely engrossed in your own world and figuring out how to exactly figure out his next best course of action.

“Y’know what? Screw this, I’m not getting paid to be a wingman for two difficult people,” he dramatically sighs, purposely trying to get your attention, and it worked. “You might wanna start paying attention to poor Shin-chan before he over thinks himself to death.” Takao does an exaggerated shrug and a shake of his head to emphasize the “seriousness” of the situation. You merely frown.

“You never cease to amaze me with your convoluted words. If you want something from me, just spit it out already.” You reluctantly let down your papers to give him your undivided attention, and Takao leans closer, dropping his voice to a hush.

“Look, I know you see him in a different light from the others,” he whispers conspiringly. “And he does too.” He makes pointer-finger motions in front of him to represent “you” and “Midorima.”

“... This again?” You pinch your nose bridge and release a harsh sigh, but you nonetheless let Takao continue.

“Come on, would it really hurt to do a confession? For someone so blunt and straightforward, you’re really dragging this out for way too long.” Takao frowns at your deadpan expression but continues his little movements with his makeshift “finger puppets.” “Once you”—he takes his left index finger—“and Shin-chan”—he brings his right index closer to his left—“do the chu”— he brings his index fingers together to imply the situation—“I can finally be free from the clutches of Shi—”

“I already told you,” you smoothly interrupt, “that we don’t see each other that way. He’s been a reliable partner in class projects and a very helpful person to share notes with. I’m very certain it’s like that on his end with me too.”

“Why do you sound so disappointed when you say it like that?” Takao slowly grows a shit-eating (yet hopeful) smirk. You scowl at his implications. Takao amusedly notes that you’re way too similar to his best friend.

“There’s no chance that we’ll ever get to that stage… ever. Okay? Satisfied now?”

“So you are disappointed at the possible outcome,” Takao gleefully says, his face showing all signs of plans being concocted in his mind. You completely widen your eyes at your simple slip-up.

“I… it’s not a possible outcome, damn it,” you vehemently insist. “It’s a guarantee.”

“Puh-lease (y/n)-chan, how do you know unless you try it?”

“Alright Takao,” you dryly reply. “Why don’t you try staring directly at the sun first before confirming that you become blind from that?”

“That’s not the same!”

“Same logic,” you huff. “Look, you know Midorima-san more than anyone, and even you know how he thinks. He finds the concept of friends and teammates to be pretty unnecessary, and frankly I can empathize with him. If he finds camaraderie to be a hassle already, dating is already beyond off the table. It takes much more to be a genuine friend to him than your average person, and if I do, by chance, confess, I’d be throwing away everything that I built up with him like an idiot… just being like this with him is more than enough for me. Besides, a relationship isn’t important right now, not when class takes up most of the time.”

“Well, normally yes, but in this specific case, there’s an excep—”

“I already came clean with this,” you say, furrowing your brows. “So can you finally let me study for this class in peace? Obviously, it’s a given for you not to open your mouth to anyone else about this.” With that, you tune out any further noise and burrow yourself into your class materials, and Takao could only sigh as he tries to wrack his brain for another way to play wingman.

“... Seriously, they’re both so stubborn.”

———

“(y/n)-san.”

“Hm?”

You turn around from looking at the bulletin to the person who just addressed you. Midorima stares down at you quite seriously before he promptly clears his throat.

“You’re blocking the way, nanodayo.”

“Ah… I apologize,” you say, immediately stepping closer to the bulletin to clear up the hallway. You turn your face to appear fixated on the bulletin board, but still sensing Midorima staring at you, you reluctantly peek at him from your peripheral vision. “... Is there something else you need, Midorima-san?” Midorima looks at the bulletin board for a moment before he turns back to your face.

“Regarding the group project we were paired to do in chemistry,” he starts, “the teacher praised our work very highly and wants to know if he can use it as an example for future lectures. I’m here to hear your answer on his behalf.”

You mentally sigh from the secretive disappointment. Of course Midorima was here for straightforward business. Nothing more, nothing less. Still, Takao’s words begin flitting through your mind now… of all times.

“Of course he can use it,” you smile. “I think it’s an honor to have our project regarded so highly like that, especially since so much effort was put into it… although… I think you’re the reason why we received such a high score, Midorima-san.” You train your gaze on Midorima, trying to gauge his reaction from the compliment, but he gives no such sign away, not any that you were aware of as far as you were concerned.

“(y/n)-san, I believe your own efforts and work ethic shouldn’t be trivialized,” Midorima replies, briefly closing his eyes and adjusting his frames. “After all, you are the one who made this project a cohesive final product, one that is also comprehensible to other peers in our presentation.”

“Ah… well…” You were definitely thrown in for a loop, not expecting Midorima to compliment you back so openly, albeit probably not for the reasons you were hoping for. “... Thank you, Midorima.” In an attempt to curb your growing flusteredness, you opted to stare at the bulletin board again, pretending to be occupied in reading the pinned papers.

“... Right.” Midorima softly clears his throat. “I’ll be taking my leave back to the faculty office. It was good talking to you.”

He swiftly turns around and walks back in the direction he came from, and when you were certain that he was walking judging from his footsteps, you turn your head to stare at his back before averting your gaze.

You frown once he exits out of your sight as you ponder about his particular diction.

“It was good talking to you”? Had Midorima ever said that to anyone before? You sigh to yourself and pinch your nose bridge to chastise yourself. Takao was right; you might’ve fallen a little too hard for the reserved individual, but even still, a relationship isn’t something you wanted to actively chase after.

Amidst your dilemma, you were completely unaware that Takao watched the entire exchange, holding back his laughter from seeing you uncharacteristically look like an absolute love-stricken fool. He got too much of a kick out of seeing the both of you trying to flirt… and an even bigger kick when he saw Midorima turning around to briefly “discreetly” stare at you while you were having your inner monologue.

———

“Takao, I’m having none of your bullshit today.” Midorima simply scowls as he prepares to leave the main building to the gym. Takao merely tags along while taunting him in a sing-song voice.

“Come onnn,” Takao insists, slapping Midorima’s back a little too harshly. “You said it yourself didn’t you? Favorable outcomes come to those who prepare the most. Don’t lie, I know you’ve been planning to naturally bump into our (y/n)-chan in different scenarios. Like yesterday in the hall—”

“You knew?!” Midorima jumps out of his skin to shoot an accusatory look at him, but Takao merely struggles to hold back a snicker at his reaction.

“Shin-chan, how hard is it to say three specific little words to someone else?” Takao sends a frustrated look. “You’ve always gone the extra mile to prepare your lucky items, read the Oha Asa predictions, and do little rituals not just for yourself but also for (y/n)-chan too, yet you don’t want to do a simple thing like confessing?”

“A confession isn’t that simple,” he retorts. “It can alter my fate for potentially worse if I’m not prepared.”

“Jeez, only you can take this so seriously,” Takao sighs, which only earned him a withering look from Midorima’s end. “But then again, it’s nice that you see it as something serious… but when are you actually gonna do it?” His response was only silence, as if he didn’t really give much thought about it until it was brought up now.

“That’s none of your concern.”

“Oh come on, Shin-chan!”

“To be honest,” he says, stopping in place. “The horoscope says that Cancers would be rejected by signs like of (y/n)-san’s, much less be compatible. Predictions state that such relationships between the two would be troublesome.”

“Okay, Shin-chan,” Takao says, patting Midorima’s shoulder. “I know I constantly joke about this Oha Asa and this entire thing with (y/n)-chan, but”—he stops when he sees Midorima giving him another scathing look—“even if the horoscopes state it so, it’s like you said: favorable outcomes come to those who do the most. If you did everything you could, I see no reason to be scared. Plus, you have me to help you.”

“... It’s not that. Part of this is beyond what I can do to prepare. Whatever I do will not influence (y/n)-san’s answer, and that is something out of my control.”

“You know, you could just say that you’re nervous.”

“I am not.”

“Well, if you want me to be honest,” Takao says. “I think it’s because the two of you are so eerily similar that you find it hard to approach (y/n)-san. Like, when’s the last time you’ve met someone as serious and stiff as yo—I’m kidding, I’m kidding! Please don’t raise your fist at me!”

“That being said,” he continues, “Just talk to (y/n) like you’ve talked to everyone else. I mean you both always hit it off when you talk together in class.”

“I… suppose…”

“Trust me,” Takao grins, slightly elbowing Midorima’s ribs. “I’d like to think of myself as an accurate guy in ball-passing and in detecting social cues.”

———

You really tried to carry yourself normally.

You really did.

But a part of you is becoming hyper-aware of everything Midorima does, and being your normally collected self is suddenly becoming a lot more difficult. Studying at your own desk is nigh impossible with both Midorima’s words and Takao’s implications running through your mind. Even Midorima, who normally minds his own business, shoots you pensive looks here and there during class, and he approaches you during break after.

“... Your sign is at one of the lowest ranks in luck today… may that be the reason why you’re not being your usual self?” He studies as you pull yourself together.

“Erm… somewhere along the lines, yeah. Most likely woke up on the wrong side of the bed today,” you mumble, rubbing your neck to ease the nervousness.

“Is that so…” he says. He pulls out a small toy that was found in the local gachapon down the street. “Ahem… I hear that your lucky item is this today.” He holds it out in front of you, silently waiting for you to take it, and you gently pluck it out of his large hands.

“Well, what about you?” you inquire. “I’m sure you got this toy for a reason, like say… for your own good luck?”

“Well,” he coughs. “I have my own. I am always prepared for such occurrences should things go awry.”

“You’re always so prepared for everything,” you quietly laugh. “Not that it’s a bad thing, though. I do wish I was more like you in that regard.”

“W-Well, I think you have your own admirable traits to be proud of, er…” Midorima slowly turns red and contemplates backtracking on his words. “I-If you excuse me, I must get going for health committee duties, nanodayo.” He heaves his bag on his shoulder as you wave at him, and he lingers there, debating on something that you aren’t sure what it is. “Might you have time afterschool today?”

“Uh… not that I think of,” you reply. “Are you already looking ahead to the next partner assignment?”

“Actually, no… it won’t take much of your time, (y/n)-san. It’s something quick. Can we meet at the vending machines near the gym? I do have practice around that time, so I hope somewhere nearby could suffice for you too.”

“That’s fine with me, because… I feel like I need to tell you something too or I won’t be able to study at this rate, but if you have practice, shouldn’t you be focused on that more?”

“It’s fine. This one takes… a higher priority.” Midorima fixes his glasses and readjusts his grip on his shoulder bag as he ponders about your own words. “If this arrangement is fine with you, I will be seeing you after school.” You only nod as you wave goodbye at him again, and you exhale a long sigh of relief and nervousness once he leaves. You really wonder if telling Midorima that you had something important to tell him was a good move on your part, considering that you can’t backtrack your words on someone as stubborn as him. Takao may or may not have seen Midorima’s attempt in being forward and silently laughed himself to oblivion in the corner of the classroom.

———

“Were you waiting long, Midorima-san?” You briskly jog with your heavy bag to the destined location to see Midorima thumbing through his book before he looks up.

“You are as punctual as always.” He closes his book with a thud and places it in his bag on the bench before he stands up to face you. “Which is always appreciated considering it is not as common in others.”

“I just think it’s common courtesy.”

“Not quite, considering I asked you rather suddenly to meet me here,” he says. “You aren’t obligated to even agree in meeting me, yet here you are on time, just like with our past project sessions.”

“Well… you did say it was important enough that you put practice as a second priority, and I do want to tell you something too.”

“R-Right…”

An awkward silence dominates the exchange after Midorima clears his throat and goes silent as you patiently wait in agony. You eye at his troubled expression, wondering what sort of thing he was going to tell you that got him so worked up. At the same time, you grew slightly antsier, quietly tapping a foot or rubbing your neck, and you wonder if Midorima was actually waiting for you to say something first.

“I… I think I’m in love with you, and that scares the crap out of me.”

“I-I believe I may have developed feelings akin to attraction for you.”

“Uh…”

“Ahem…”

Both of you stare at each other in unadulterated surprise.

“... You… like me?” Midorima murmurs, his eyes still full blown in shock.

“L-Likewise,” you reply, opting to stare at Midorima’s bag on the bench instead. Another awkward silence ensues as both of you take in each other’s sudden words and Midorima clears his throat again.

“... Why are you afraid of liking me?” Midorima restores his composure, staring at your flustered state with furrowed brows, thinking that he somehow made you uncomfortable at some point throughout the year.

“Wait… no! That’s not what I meant!” you say, mildly shaking your head. “Uh, let me rephrase that…” Midorima silently watches you as you continue. “Well, you weren’t the person to have romance in your mind, let alone have feelings, let alone for me, and… my friendship with you is something that I treasure, and I don’t want to hinder you with such things that can make you uncomfortable in being around me. That was why I was afraid, although I’ve been in denial about it until recently.”

“I see.”

“And um, I thought that confessing to you would end the friendship we had.”

“... Likewise.” Midorima uses your word against you with an upward curl of his lip. It almost seems like he was teasing you. You grow redder at his response, but he continued. “I suppose the lucky item I gave you provided the most favorable outcome for the day.” You only nod as you processed everything that just happened in a few moments, and both of you went quiet again.

“...”

“...”

“So…”

“... I’m not sure what to do next,” Midorima frowns. “I wasn’t prepared for this particular situation, nanodayo.” You only smile at his own flusters.

“Well…” you say. “We could date, but I don’t think that’s important right now, considering that we still have to focus on school… I mean unless you want to, then we can try to make it work?”

“Ahem, while I do think these things are quite frivolous,” he says. “I suppose we can learn to balance our relationship with other aspects of our lives accordingly.”

“I would like that,” you smile, walking to approach closer to Midorima. “Could we… um, hold hands? If you’re not into that though, that’s okay.” He says nothing in response but his hand slowly reaches out for your own to gently clasp, and closes his eyes in bliss before he opens them to look at you.

“... I must go to practice soon. It’s almost time.”

“I see,” you mumble. “If that’s the case, I’ll be inside the library to cram in extra lectures.” You pull your hand away to separate, but he holds you tighter. “Midorima?”

“... I’ll walk you there, nanodayo.” He peers over your face to gauge any objections on your end, but when he finds none, he gently tugs you along as you both walk to the building next-door.

“I never knew you were into hand-holding.”

“N-Not really,” he quietly says, his ears turning red.

“Actually,” you say, bringing Midorima’s attention back to you in light of the topic change. “I need to thank Takao tomorrow… he’s the one who pushed me to confess.”

“Hmph,” he scoffs. “I do suppose that the idiot has some merits to his words.”

“I do now see what he means when he keeps insisting that we’re too alike in personality and preferences.”

“That just means we’re more compatible than what fate initially predicted, nanodayo.”

“You checked the horoscopes for relationship compatibility? Never would I have thought that such things occupied your mind, Midorima…”

“Urk—That’s…”

[im-still-watching-anime]

warning: this post is just me ranting about the writing of the naruto women for far too long

i honestly feel that one of the most frustrating/vaguely hilarious aspects of naruto is how naruto ended up being - and bear with me here - the best example of the extremely specific female archtype that kishimoto seemed to be obsessed with. 

like when you focus on sakura and hinata - arguably the most important female characters in the show as the two male leads’ respective end game love interests - you can break them both down into the same general mold:

- both devoted to the same boy their entire lives

- both are shown chasing after their crush in order to stand on “equal” footing (i.e. sakura’s “i finally caught up to them” and hinata’s “no longer chasing but standing by your side” mentalities)

- both suffer and try to overcome feelings of inferiority in their respective character arcs

and i want to be clear that while female characters who fit this mold aren’t usually my favorite thing it can definitely still work when written carefully and written well -  to be blunt i personally think both hinata and sakura are awesome character concepts and both had SO MUCH potential and i love their fanon interpretations but i feel that canonically they were poorly written, underdeveloped, and flat characters

most of their canonical character motivations revolve around their love interests - which really sucks because i would have KILLED for a deeper look at everything involving hinata and the hyuuga or even more about sakura’s development of her medical ninjustsu so much got skipped when it came to them which definitely didn’t help anything - that aside this is especially true in og naruto though to be fair - sasuke was still in konoha in og naruto and team seven was together for most episodes which made it especially prevalent in sakura’s case

the point is by the time shippuden came around it was extremely obvious that efforts were being made to improve the female characters - sakura now had much higher combat ability from the start of shippuden and, though she gets much less focus hinata is repeatedly shown doing brave acts and pushing herself to become stronger. and while i really loved the effort and it was definitely an improvement from especially sakura’s original character - it still fell flat to me.

sakura’s fight with sasori was perfect and a great way to revive her character but then she was pretty stagnant in a lot of the following arcs - i.e. injured in the reunion arc, not very important during the two saviors arc, her weird fake love confession during the assembly of the five kage arc, etc. - she constantly bounces between “now i’m strong” and “i still don’t measure up” making her character development - especially pre-war - virtually nonexistent because every step forward gets followed by a step back.

hinata is a bit more difficult simply because she’s such a minor character for so much of shippuden which is insane since she’s literally the protagonist’s future wife. regardless, looking at hinata’s big moments: her fight with neji in og naruto, blocking naruto from pain in shippuden, and the Smack during the war (there’s a few i’m missing i’m sure but those are really what constitutes her biggest moments to me during the meat of shippuden’s actual development phase - not the post war resolution phase) two of three of these moments precede her getting very heavily and soundly beaten which personally irks me - even if i don’t particularly like it i can see why and it makes sense to me she didn’t win the fight with neji or her pain confrontation and it definitely shows that she is brave and emphasizes the all-important devotion to her love interest aspect of her character BUT it’s also a little obnoxious that we never get to see her be REALLY victorious in her major moments.

so to sum up so far: sakura and hinata are both meant to be perceived as innovative and strong female characters but this perception doesn’t work in sakura’s case because she immediately repeatedly reverts back to the damsel in distress archtype and it doesn’t work in hinata’s case because the few strong moments she has are highlighted by failure.

and also the all important point that the majority of their “strong moments” are driven by their love interests - not a bad motivation except for the fact that that is one of their ONLY motivations

to the main point i’m trying to make: lets compare naruto (obviously take this with the understanding that naruto has a MAJOR advantage of having way more screen time and development as the titular character)

in regards to sasuke, naruto:

- is extremely devoted

- repeatedly chases after sasuke to match-up with him and improve

- and, especially in og, struggles with feeling inferior to sasuke

the context is a little different and the motivation behind some of the points changes between the two but it’s the exact same mold as sakura and hinata

the major difference between the two and the main reason that so many more people get frustrated with sakura’s devotion to sasuke and not naruto’s really boils down to development

sakura barely had her own character outside of loving sasuke and when she did, it immediately got downplayed in some way - just look at the war arc and her triumphant “i finally caught up to them” right before both sasuke and naruto essentially gain godlike powers, she then spends the war constantly distracted by sasuke even when fighting “sasuke isn’t worried about me at all” which really downplays her role.

on the flip side, even with his main goal of bringing sasuke back to the village, naruto has tons of motivation and character building outside of sasuke - ex. becoming hokage, gaining everyone’s acceptance, fixing konoha, living up to his parents/jiraiya’s expectations, bringing peace, protecting everyone he can, freeing the tailed beasts, etc. etc. you could go on forever the show is named after him after all.

we are told that sakura always chooses sasuke and nothing else about it but then we are told that naruto chooses sasuke despite everything else.

to sum up: the traditional female love interest that kishimoto wants to invent is the woman who is devoted. she puts the person she loves above everything else because she loves him. she’d do anything for that person even if it puts her at risk, etc. but at the end of the day there’s still the tired trait of still relying on the man in her life for certain things. and he doesn’t bother to expand characters like sakura and hinata beyond that. (great examples of characters who are almost completely separate from this mold are tsunade and temari - though one might argue about the way they were written designed to fit specific tropes for comedic moments - personally i think they manage to dodge that for the most part though)

with naruto and sasuke - naruto manages to fulfill every roll sakura is meant to in a much more elaborated and better way all without the curse of the female love interest that sakura and hinata bear. it’s hard to accept sakura and hinata’s “i’ll love you no matter what” when naruto is already actively outright doing that with sasuke. the roots of sakura’s feelings for sasuke, hinata’s feelings for naruto, and naruto’s feelings for sasuke are all exceptionally similar to one another which is what shoots kishimoto’s main romances in the foot - because it’s hard for them to measure up to the main “platonic brotherly” relationship he built between sasuke and naruto.

this post is obviously disregarding a lot of the Other really deep parts of sasuke and naruto’s relationship and some important points about the other women of naruto. also it’s important to think on the time period naruto and naruto shippuden were written in. we’re in a major incline period for improvement in how women are presented in fiction - just look at the difference of women between og and shippuden. obviously it doesn’t completely excuse anything but it’s a point to consider.

sorry for the rant and sorry if this is all really obvious to you or if it’s worded poorly, kinda just needed to word vomit my thoughts. i really like analyzing how women are represented in fiction and how the representations have developed over the years. i wrote a few essays about it for some of my courses and now i think about it all the time. obviously i’m not claiming this is how everyone should view these characters or anything i just had lots of my own thoughts about the entire situation and dynamics that i had to put SOMEWHERE. if you have any thoughts about it or points you wanna bring up feel free to do so i love fiction analysis a lot so i love hearing other people’s opinions