#bandaid covers the bullet hole

[witchrealms]

(x)

[frenchkisstheabyss]

☾ Wild Horses ☽

☾ Pairing: boyfriend!bang chan x reader

☾ Genre: angst & fluff all stirred up in a pot

☾ Summary: Your boyfriend comforts you when your depression sneaks up on you during a night out with friends.

☾ Word Count: 924

☾ Warnings: themes of depression/mental illness and the feelings that can come along with them

☾ A/N: I wrote this because having depression has led to a lot of loneliness for me lately and I needed some comfort. I hope that by sharing this someone else having similar thoughts/feelings to mine might find a little comfort too 🖤

☾ "No sweeping exits or offstage lines could make me feel bitter or treat you unkind and wild horses couldn't drag me away" - The Sundays, Wild Horses

People can’t imagine what you go through. It’s not a case of bad nerves or run-of-the-mill sadness. Too often you’ve found yourself sitting alone wishing that you could find the words to make them understand that depression is so much more than that. Depression is a parasite that’s wormed its way into your brain wholly consuming you.

The consumption’s gradual sometimes, ravenous at others, but exhausting all the same, stealing little bits of you that you aren’t quite sure how to get back. Everyone says, “I hope you feel better. Hang in there. Keep your chin up” but it’s not simple. And maybe they mean well, maybe that’s all they can say because they don’t know how to fix it, but it only makes you feel lonelier.

The thing is, you’ve never wanted anyone to fix it. You don’t need bandaids to cover the bullet holes in your heart. You just want someone to hold your hand through the pain. It’s why the tiniest flame ignites in the darkness that haunts you when the kind, comfort of Chan’s mahogany eyes lock onto yours, honing in on the most vulnerable parts of you.

“I know sometimes you feel like you have to pretend you’re okay,” he says, the warmth of his palms shielding your cheeks from the autumn breeze, “But you don’t have to do that with me. I’m here for you no matter what. You know that, yeah?” You nod, sucking back tears as you notice the small group of late-night partiers crossing over to your side of the street.

With your back to the wall of a closed restaurant not too far from the club you just left, it’s impossible not to be nervous about the faces that pass you by. Even with Chan somewhat obscuring the view, your stomach churns at the possibility that people might see you falling apart like this. “Hey, look at me” Chan whispers, using the sleeve of his black hoodie to catch the tears that drip down your cheeks like water from a leaky faucet.

The gentle act brings your attention back to him. He cracks a tight-lipped smile, happy to have you back with him. “Don’t worry about them. Come here.” He takes you into his arms, offering you his shoulder to rest your head on. You accept the invitation, nuzzling against him to bathe in the comfort and safety that comes with his embrace. There’s a woodsy scent to his cologne that feels like stargazing by a campfire at night. It puts you at ease. Everything about him does.

“I’m sorry if I ruined your night” you sniffle, playing with one of the strings that dangles from his hood. Tucking his hands under your jacket, he massages your lower back, soothing the tension coiled around your spine. “Baby, you could never ruin my night. The guys were too busy drinking to notice anything and even if they did, who cares? You’re what matters to me.” The emotion in his voice leaves no doubt that he means it wholeheartedly.

You are what matters most to him in this moment and the next. It means nothing to him that a night out at some club had to be cut short because the mask you put on to conceal your pain had begun to crumble, the synthetic laughter and forced smiles becoming too much to maintain. Chan gets it, hiding behind a mask with a happy face painted on it, he does it sometimes too but he doesn't want that for you. He’d rather be out here with you baring this beautiful, teary-eyed face of yours than in there where you feel the need to hide.

“I just,” you take a deep breath, slightly trembling at the truth about to roll off your tongue, “I’m afraid I’ll scare you away one day.” “Scare me? Do I look like I scare easily?” he asks, putting on a brave face the way that a child might. It gets a weak giggle out of you, even at times like this he knows how to get to you in the best way. “No, but I know there are times when things get really dark for me and I can get so lost in it...” He kisses you on the nose, a cute little wet one that turns icy when the wind blows across your face.

“As long as I’m here, and I always will be, you’ll never get lost in it,” he promises, “I know I can’t drag you out of it but you can always call me and I’ll come running in after you.” You need time. A second or two, maybe even a minute, to take in what’s been said. He gives it to you, patiently rocking you in his arms as he lets you process it in silence. A year into your relationship and it still feels strange to be loved in the moments where you feel most broken.

Chest to chest, his heart beats in sync with yours, reminding you that, even in the absence of words, you're cared for. “Where’d you come from?” you ask, fingers tracing the contour of his jaw. “Sydney. Don’t tell me you’re just noticing the accent” he teases, summoning his best pouty face for extra effect. He gets another giggle out of you, still faint with an air of sadness but he’ll take it.

Chan hugs you tighter, kissing your fingertips. “I love you” he whispers. You close your eyes, letting the world around you fade away and your insecurities with it. “Love you too.”

[mrs-myers3]

Warning: cussing

Cheating

You noticed Stu wasn't as clingy and hyper and Billy was in a more....bitchy mood well he always is but didn't say anything, until, it was late at night and they just got back from 'killing' well thats what you thought.

As soon as you heard the door open you got up and hugged both of them kissing both of the through the mask, Billy kinda shoved you off but tried to cover it with the act that he fell.

Your heart felt like it was about to shatter, you was tired of it, you decide to question them about it when they get out of the shower.

I sat back on the couch, only in underwear and Stu's shirt. Billy sighed as he sat at the other end of the couch "can you give me the remote" that was the first time he spoke to me today. It hurt cuz he usually always talks to me, hugging and kissing all over my face and neck, Stu too "Y/n!" "Oh sorry" I handed him the remote, purposely running my fingers over his. He made a gross out face and pulled back. Stu came out and I scooched over beside Billy so Stu could sit on my other side and me be smothered by their love, forgetting my worries. No. Billy got up, and went on the side I was just on, Stu sat beside him. Neither of them looked at me.

"okay, what the fuck is going on. Did your victims try to sleep with yall or somethin?" I pointed out the big ass hickeys they both had on their neck"Y'all are...." Billy scoffed "were what? What! As if you care anymore" he got up to leave but I grabbed his arm "what is wrong with you!" Stu came and stud beside Billy "come on Y/n, we both know you slept with Randy, so we went and slept with Sid and Tatum, no need to lie anymore"

"but I didn't even go to Randy's! I told you I was going to study with him but I actually went with Sid to buy y'all gifts for our anniversary!" I want to hit both of them and leave but I also just wanted to cry "w-what" Stu felt horrible, he should've known you'd never do that, God why are we so stupid! Billy didn't believe me but when he seen I started to cry he realized "baby I-" "No! Just stop! Please.....if you don't trust me then I shouldn't be here!" I ran up to our room and started to pack my things.

I heard their footsteps coming up the stairs. "Baby please, we're sorry" Stu said " bandaids don't fix bullet holes Stu" Billy hugged me, before I could even react. I started to feel bad cuz I've never seen him so broken "baby please we took a huge misunderstanding if you take us back we promise we never will again, please I can't lose you too your everything I have please I swear I'll stop being so bitchy, we can watch whatever you want, you can be top/big spoon just please, please don't leave me" Billy whispered in my ear, crying softly. Stu stud behind him with hope and fear in his eyes.

"I-....okay, I forgive you both" Billy kissed me so hard I almost fell. I smiled as Stu hugged me from behind "I love you both"

[50cal-fullauto-astarion]

My thing with writing König is trying to find the sweet spot balance point of like 3-4 different angles that are integral to the characterization I want to put out there.

I want him absolutely riddled with the kind of dangerous loser vibes that start the first day of kindergarten as almost an leprotic aura of Contaminated: Do Not Touch that everyone he comes into contact with wordlessly picks up on and carries for his entire life.

Just borderline violent othering that he struggles to fight, embrace, and figure out without ever getting a clear answer or mitigation method. He gets older and becomes a problem, a human toxic waste dump, and the avoidance is tinged with alarm. He figured out how to cover it, though, like he’s pulling on a patchwork person suit.

I’m a real boy, I’m like everyone else, nevermind the seams. Yeah, they’ll split the longer you’re around, but maybe this time—this time—I will have become an endeared thing and I will be understood instead of left.

Skin-splitting horniness, which is ha-ha on the surface, but Jesus Christ, it’s starvation, straight-up. Man is a fucking alien, he doesn’t get people, his veneer of normality is quick to shatter, and he just wants-wants-wants to be wanted. To be needed is a pipe dream. He’s like a dog taken away from mom and litter mates too soon—the need for closeness is set at so high a threshold it’ll never be met, never be fixed.

Fucking is a quick fix for this desperation. Bandaid over a bullet hole, finger in a cracked dam. Gets sharper teeth and longer claws the lower the fuel gauge is, and he’s been running on fumes for years. He’ll eat any scraps given to him at any table. Any even mildly kind word, any mote of attention, approval, or acceptance.

Even in his worst mind, he knows he’s not owed, he is not dying because he is not getting fucked or loved or befriended, but god fucking dammit, what he wouldn’t give for company to cut the bleakness, to not be fucking flinched at or eye-rolled. He wants to eat someone piecemeal as they eat him piecemeal, and the brutal symbolism of cannibalism is the best way he can understand the depth of this fragile-skinned desire.

A level of jaundiced, yellow-eyed sweatiness that pervades every aspect of his life. This is more difficult to describe. It’s literal sweat—from flop or exertion, it doesn’t matter—it’s also a state of being. It’s having not a flicker of volume control—indoor yelling or outdoor muttering. It’s being exhausted and anxious to the point of hysterical cry-laughing at hallucinations after 3-4 days sleepless. It’s saying the wrong fucking thing at the wrong fucking time and chasing yet another person off and wanting to kill himself for it.

It’s surviving on 4 hours of sleep and cigarettes and any kind of caffeine and below-board military amphetamines he can get his hands on for the last ten years because he feels like he’s wasting time. It’s getting smacked because his monstrosity of a body fucking hurts and being borderline greened-out makes it easier to go grocery shopping or to the gym or outside. It’s showering and then cutting his hair over the sink and not giving a fuck what it looks like as long as it’s not getting caught in his collars.

He doesn’t blink, he doesn’t sleep, he’s constantly spilling hyena-pitched stupid nervous laughter, and he bites when he’s overdone, and his teeth aren’t dull. He’s never threatened violence that he can’t overpay out on. He pulls on his face and his scars and that might as well be the same thing, gets sick to his stomach that they’re still numb and he can’t push into the pain he remembers from them. Sometimes he just moans and groans, shoves a hand up under his mask to cover his mouth like he’s going to hold back the tide of bile. He does this shit in front of people, and wants to die when he figures it out.

He likes killing people, he likes feeling powerful, he likes being seen when he’s the executioner, he likes being a scary nightmare. He doesn’t even know if he’d rather fight than fuck, but at least he’s good at it, and there’s undeniable imagery in driving a knife in between ribs over and over and over. He’s never not throbbing hard at exfil, and he’s never not sick to death with himself and his fantasies after he beats off the second he gets privacy.

Anyway I love him, he’s a sad sack.

[tachimichishrine]

Please I am begging, I can’t get over just how perfect Tachihara would be with the whole ghost face trend. Please please please

<what. what if I told you I wholeheartedly agree. throws my headcanons and love at you>

"scream for me"

⫭◦⨝◦⫬

tachihara michizou x fem! reader {ghostface trend} hcs

warnings: nsfw ; kitchen sex ; knife play ; intended lowercase ; cursing; unedited so unedited i wrote this half asleep thinking abt being pussy drunk on tachi pls forgive me

manz is a SPY. he's done undercover work and wears a disguise 24/7 (his disguise is a goddamn bandaid but he's hot so we let it slide) he adores getting dressed up

I think he'd be really bad at taking it serious though

100% he gets very childish about things like birthdays, holidays, halloween bc he didn't get that kind of experience with his family when he was younger (womp womp :/)

the hunting dogs obviously don't have anything to do with halloween so imagine his surprise when he caught the port mafia hq covered in spider webs and blood.

the blood was likely real

elise was the one who insisted on it, and if she insists, everyone is wearing cat ears and fake vampire fangs.

chuuya was a vampire the dude definitely had practice

he was definitely in the spooky scary spirit when he had his head on your lap, one hand sliding under and up between your thighs like a pillow and watching scream

i KNOW he felt just the teeny tiniest insecurity when you started calling certain scenes really hot but he tried, really hard, to ignore it.

got a little too comfortable and sleepy when you starting running your fingers through his hair and found himself letting out a yelp at the stupidest jumpscares

you teased him for it all night

"do you think I'd survive in one of those horror movies?" you asked later that night, curled up in bed.

"your dumbass would probably trip and kill yourself on a kitchen knife while making breakfast."

"well, fuck you."

"only if you insist" said with his trademark grin.

you got him back by playing into his jumpiness and hiding around every corner, even when you're on missions

you sprung out with a dramatic ghost-like scream (holding back laughter) on one important mission and the man almost shot you

like he pulled the trigger and everything and had to use his ability to keep the bullet from drilling a hole in your stupid skull.

you toned down the pranks after that.

however, it did give him an idea.

he started using his ability to set up the mood for payback by making metal doors creak or scraping chair legs on the ground slowly

a chill physically ran up your spine when you were walking hand in hand and the front door of an empty "for sale" store slammed open, then shut.

maybe he liked it a little how you squeezed his hand when he did that

maybe he liked it a little when you punched him on the shoulder as you realized it was just his antics

but he sure as hell liked it when you roughly smacked his naked ass and shoved his face into the sheets later that night to teach him a lesson

you liked his screams more like that anyways

tachihara was nowhere to be found after you disappeared into the shower trying to wash off all the smeared cum he'd left on your body. you already thought it was strange that he didn't join you even when you offered, but it was even weirder when you came out in nothing but a towel, and the bed was empty.

"michi, I know you're tryin' to be cute or whatever and scare me, but you're not very subtle about it," you giggled, ditching the underwear to just put on some shorts and one of his shirts. your body bounced onto the mattress that was still warm from your bodies, still smelling like sex and gunpowder. the covers were thrown over you and snuggled into and you waited patiently.

it was amusing, at first.

it was annoying after 10 minutes.

you'd gone on your phone, scrolling listlessly to pass the time while you waited for him to finish up whatever stupid prank he was planning so you could get back to sleep, but a whole half hour had passed and it was beginning to feel a little wrong. you weren't worried (he kicked your ass in training too many times for you not to know how strong he was), but sure as hell curious as to what was going on. it was the spooky season, after all, and there was no harm in indulging a little bit; you dialed his number and heard it ring from somewhere in the apartment.

he was really trying to set it up for you, huh? cute. you figured you'd play along.

the phone was vibrating from the kitchen counter, and you picked it cautiously, glancing around you to find out from where your boyfriend was inevitably going to try to jump at you. you heard a chair move, and your eyes darted to look over in that direction out of instinct.

of course a hand clasped around your mouth and another pulled your waist backwards. you bit his gloved hand playfully to get him to let you go and just giggled, shoving your hips back onto him teasingly and trying to flip around to get a look at him.

your entire body got slammed onto the kitchen counter, hair pulled back in one harsh movement

oh fuck.

you didn't think you'd be bent over so fast, his hips already grinding into your ass while the thin, cheap plastic of his mask rubbed against your cheek, his husky voice laying out every lewd thing you both knew you were thinking. from the way his body was leaning onto you, you guessed that he was shirtless and wearing just about the tightest, low-cut pants known to man being held up by a belt (there was definitely a thick belt; you felt the buckle poke into your lower back every time he'd grind too hard)

"michzou..." you didn't have any problems with what he was doing, but loose fingers were touching your body all over and the thin shorts you'd thrown on previously without a second thought were soaking with every word he'd rasp out. "michi, stop playin' around, I-"

it seems your simple ask got you manhandled again, and both gloved hands were now on your thighs, lifting you up to sit you down on the counter so he could rub against you from the front. it was hard to take it seriously and you let out a giggle when you watched him loom over you with the ghostface mask on, trying to be serious. your fingers went to dig into his shoulders as your hips rolled, back arched trying to feel him better.

he sighed, groaning and trying to slip off the mask when he realized it wasn't having the effect he wanted, but you flicked it back on.

"just because I'm laughing doesn't mean I don't think this is fuckin' hot," you reassured him, ironically chuckling again, and this spurred him to grab your hands and pin them above your head on the cabinets above.

"can't believe you liked gettin' fucked by a masked man this much." his voice was deeper than it usually was but god did it get you throbbing. your legs wrapped around his hips, trying to regain control without your hands.

you quipped back with a sly grin. "would be better if you actually fucked me."

shit, you knew just what to say to get him riled up. he let your hands go to pull off your useless shorts which already had splotches of your arousal, and you seized the opportunity to unbuckle his belt, slide your fist into his pants and pull him out.

getting fucked senseless by your masked boyfriend on the kitchen counter at 3 in the morning was not on your schedule for halloween.

"you know," you mused, your pace slowing once the build up had passed but still rocking yourself on him, "usually the victims try to fight back."

"the fuck does that me-"

the cold metal of a knife poked and teased the exposed skin on his neck, and you felt a little irritated you couldn't see his shock through the mask. "c'mon, you've had your fun, baby, it's my turn."

he wanted to play the part, he really did, but before he could try to resist you had him gently sliced into streaks of red, teeth marks coating his body and his tongue gagging on blood-stained fingers from under the mask. your legs were still secured around his hips, fucking into him slowly and deeply, and every guttural groan that echoed out in the hollow apartment was good enough to keep you going while his body tensed up with rigid muscles and heavy breaths.

he couldn't take it anymore once the searing sting of you smearing his blood on his skin mixed in with the pleasure of dragging against your tightly clenched walls, and he murmured a curse before discarding the mask, messily kissing you with groaning lips buried into your neck once he finally got enough air to pant your name.

ah, the dumbass. he really tried to get you to play along but it was hard when you had him under your thumb. maybe next year, he'd try again.

[itskotka]

the greatest gift of all

for @dull-c @cksecretsanta23

summary: it's johnny's first christmas with robby and he's determined to make it okay. he ends up at daniel's house for christmas.

A/N: this was so fun to write and i'm very excited for you to read this! apologies it took a little longer than expected and was slightly rushed, but nonetheless, merry christmas and happy holidays!

Johnny Lawrence didn’t know what to expect. It was his first Christmas with Robby - finally after all of these years - and all he wanted was to not screw it up. He was notorious for ruining everything in his life, so why would Christmas be the exception? He needed this to go over okay. After the last tournament, they had been better. Good, even. Part of that he attributed to Daniel and his good influence - even as hard as that was to admit. Johnny knew the mistakes he made and the irreversible damage they caused, but he was determined to fix it. Bandaids don't fix bullet holes after all. 

Everything was set up to be good, mediocre in the least. Until his power went out, he cursed out the tenant upstairs, almost got into a fight, and burnt the only edible food he had in his kitchen. Breathe in, breathe out, assess the damages. There was a method to his madness, as difficult as it was to see what that method was. He glanced at his watch. There were only 20 minutes until Robby was supposed to be over and there was no way he could host anymore. Hell, even the skinny tree in the corner was falling apart and had no lights to cover it up with. 

And that’s how Johnny Lawrence and his son ended up on Daniel LaRusso’s doorstep on Christmas night.

“Come on in, John. Hey Robby, how are you?” Daniel greeted them as he opened the front door and led them inside. 

“Thanks for having us, Mr. LaRusso,” Robby answered and shook his hand. Johnny rolled his eyes, both in embarrassment and jealousy. Over the phone with Daniel, Daniel had insisted it wasn’t a problem at all to have them. Johnny disagreed, but what other choice did he have? His plans were already ruined anyway and he wasn’t succumbing to Robby going back to Shannon’s alone for Christmas. Robby didn’t mind the change of scenery - God, his politeness and patience were surely not inherited from his father. Johnny couldn’t seem to mind as long as this all got smoothed out and Robby had a good night. 

The LaRusso’s front room was decked out in bright white lights and greenery. Smooth jazz music erupted from the corner, along Amanda quickly adjusted the sound. Johnny peered down one of the hallways, noticing they took the phrase “deck the halls” a little too literally. It was impressive, honestly. 

Amanda approached the pair and was quick to shake their hands. “It’s very nice to see you both,” she told them, lingering slightly at Johnny. Maybe it was the maternal instinct in her to know when something was wrong, but she definitely sensed tension with Johnny. Johnny tightly smiled at her until she walked away to the kitchen, trying to make himself seem put together. 

He turned back towards Robby who was taking in the decorations. “Sorry again, Robby. If that jackass upstairs hadn’t tried to light three trees at once, we wouldn’t be here.” Robby looked up at him, confused.

“It’s okay, Dad. Really.” He let out a breath of relief. Being addressed as ‘Dad’ was new to him and a foreign concept, but it warmed his heart every time he heard it. “I’m gonna say hi to Sam if that’s okay,” Robby said with a small smile. He waved him off and patted his shoulder as he walked past and down the decked hall. He was proud of his son for following in his footsteps in that way; arguably one of the good traits he inherited. For their sake, he hoped it would work out this time. 

“Well, merry Christmas Johnny!” Daniel exclaimed, sneaking up out of nowhere on him. “Mi casa es su casa. Wait, do you know what that means? I know you’re with Miguel a lot but-”

“I’m not an idiot, Daniel. I passed Spanish in high school, thanks to Ali’s homework.” Daniel chuckled, putting his hand on Johnny’s shoulder. 

“And look how far that got you. Make yourself at home, John. Dinner’s almost ready. I don’t have any Coors Banquet, but you can pick your poison.” Daniel presented him with his bar cart, fully stocked with a large variety of alcohol. Johnny mumbled back a thanks and cracked open a beer. 

“If I didn’t know better,” Johnny started, pausing to take a swig out of his bottle. “I’d say you were an alcoholic.”

“And what do you think the cause of that would be?” 

“Bullshit, LaRusso.”

“You’re telling me!” Johnny rolled his eyes at Daniel’s remark. The pair was on better terms now, but those terms still weren’t good . Acquaintances with a past, at most. Either way, Johnny was ready for this night to be over. Daniel led them into the kitchen (which was still, ridiculously decorated) and helped Amanda finish up dinner. Johnny found himself examining their family photos on the mantle and the walls. The most he had was Robby’s soccer picture from God knows how many years ago. He secretly wished for what LaRusso had. The perfect family, the perfect mentor, the perfect life . Aside from his part in it, of course. He’d never admit to it aloud, but he felt its presence everywhere. In everything he did, he realized the weight of the things he’d done and how hard they were to fix. But he was working on it. Trying had to count for something.

Robby, Sam, and Anthony eventually came down from the hall and sat to eat the five-course meal Amanda had prepared. 

“You’ve outdone yourselves. Thank you,” Johnny commented to the couple next to him. Robby sat on the other side of him, but Daniel insisted on sitting next to Johnny (even if it wasn’t his ‘usual’ spot as Anthony put it). 

“Of course, any time,” Amanda accepted with a smile.

Daniel, on the other hand, protested. “A compliment from Johnny Lawrence? It must be a true Christmas miracle.”

“Laugh it up LaRusso. I’m here out of pity.”

“Sure you are, John.” The table succumbed to the silent chatter of forks scraping against plates and small comments here and there. When everyone was finished, Daniel put on Home Alone and ended up at the kitchen island with Johnny. Johnny watched a lot of television and films, sure, but he was enjoying the peace and sense of comfort he found there. It was a change of pace and he hated himself for enjoying it there. At Daniel LaRusso’s mansion nonetheless. “Not a fan of peak Christmas movies?” Daniel approached, holding a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. 

“Nah, I’m just. Watching, I guess.” Johnny didn’t know how to lie very well, which was funny considering his track record. Daniel set the glasses down and gestured to ask permission. Johnny grabbed the glass and nodded. “Thanks, man.”

“You not a fan of Christmas or something?”

“It’s my first Christmas with Robby, you know. My mom, uh, didn’t have a great track record with holidays. I don’t want to repeat the same mistakes,” Johnny admitted, unsure why he was even talking about it. His mom had been gone for years and he didn’t even like to speak about her when she was still here. Daniel just nodded silently and sipped his drink. “I feel like I already ruined it,” he whispered. At this comment, Daniel placed a hand on his shoulder and looked up at him.

“You didn’t ruin it. I may not be your biggest fan, but I can’t watch you self-deprecate like this. You don’t deserve that. And look at him.” He pointed towards Robby, who was laughing on the couch next to Sam. “He’s happy.” 

“No thanks to me.”

“You brought him here. That was enough.” Their conversation lulled as Johnny thought about what he had said. Robby looked happy to be there and that’s all that mattered, wasn’t it? Maybe it wasn’t such a bad night after all, and maybe this was where they were supposed to be. 

“Can I ask a favor?” 

“Sure, Johnny.”

“Do you have wrapping paper?” Daniel coughed out a laugh. 

“Wrapping paper?” He asked back, laughing over his words. 

“Whatever, man, forget I asked.”

“No, no, I do. Come with me.” Johnny rolled his eyes again and followed Daniel to a room opposite the other hallway. “Choose wisely,” Daniel teased, showing him an array of papers. Johnny wasn’t going to bother wrapping Robby’s gift, but he felt like the Christmas spirit was upon him. It didn’t help that he’d never wrapped a present before, but hell if he was going to ask Daniel for instruction. Johnny smiled weakly at him and grabbed a random blue roll with snowflakes on it. Expecting Daniel to leave, Johnny took out the gift from his jacket pocket and tried to align it with the paper. “Johnny,” Daniel sterned. 

“What?”

“Have you ever even, you know, wrapped a gift?”

“Pssh, of course, I have.” Johnny held his pocket knife up towards the paper, the paper crinkling in his hands.

“Doesn’t look like it. Here.” Daniel took a pair of scissors off a desk and laid the wrapping on the floor. Johnny crouched to meet his level and watched the man cut the paper and carefully wrap it around the rectangle. “Tape?”

“Oh, right.” Johnny turned and found the tape, ripping off too long of a piece and handing it to him. Daniel chuckled at it but took it anyway. They continued on it mutually (although Daniel definitely knew what he was doing; Johnny did not). When done, Daniel stood and bowed to it as if it were a karate match. Johnny shook his head at him and took the gift from the floor. “Thank you. I appreciate it, man.”

“Anytime John.” They left the room and returned to their whiskeys at the counter. “You’re really worried about this whole Robby-Christmas thing, aren’t you?” Daniel asked, pushing the subject further. Johnny gulped and took another swig. “For what it’s worth, I think your worry is proof you’re doing something right. As parents, all we want is our kids to be okay.”

“I screwed up. Bad.” He sighed. 

“We all do.” Daniel paused. “Sam’s 8th Christmas? She caught me writing from Santa on a present. How’s that for lazy planning on my part?” Johnny laughed, picturing the story. 

“That’s different.”

“Sure it is. Point is, we make mistakes. We learn from them. We grow up. And along the way, we realize that maybe, someday, things will be forgiven.” Johnny stared at the bottom of his glass, taking the other man’s words to heart. “You’re doing alright, Johnny. And believe it or not, it’s good for you to be in his life. You both deserve that.” 

“You know, I never thought I’d say this, but you give good advice LaRusso.”

“We’re not so different, you and I. We were raised differently - sometimes that’s the only difference. We don’t have to fight.” Daniel smiled meekly. 

“No. I suppose we don’t.”

“Christmas truce?”

“Christmas truce,” he agreed. The men shook hands, accepting the fact that tomorrow was a new day. Maybe in the new year, things would be better for them; they could only hope. The movie shortly ended and Johnny collected his things to leave. Daniel started leading him towards the front door. “Thank you again, Daniel. It was a good Christmas.”

“I would have to agree with you there. Wait, where’s Robby?”

“Saying goodbye to Sam.” Daniel nodded, but as he turned his head towards the hallway, he saw the couple kiss under a conveniently planted mistletoe. Daniel scoffed as Johnny started to smile. “Attaboy,” he mumbled under his breath.

“I guess it is tradition,” Daniel agreed solemnly. “I need another drink.”

“Tradition or not, if you try getting me under that? It’s over LaRusso. I will kick your ass until there’s no ass left to kick.” 

“Ouch. You forget I’m also a trained fighter.”

“I don’t know how I could forget the thing you’ve lorded over me for how many years now?” Johnny started counting on his fingers. Daniel struck his hand down, laughing as he did.

“Point taken.” Robby suddenly appeared from the hall, joining them.

“What’s happening over here?” He asked calmly, a sly smile on his face.

“Your father’s being his ridiculous self.”

“What’s new?” The three of them shared a moment before Johnny and Robby headed out the door, thanking Daniel once again. Once outside, Johnny reached into his pocket.

“Before I forget,” he started, “I wanted you to have this.” Robby looked up at him, his breath condensing in the cold air. He carefully unwrapped the paper, revealing an old walkman. “I know it’s not much and I’m sorry. It used to be mine and it got me through some tough shit. If you think it’s stupid or you don’t want it, that’s fine I-” His rambling was cut off by Robby flinging his arms around him.

“Thank you,” he mumbled into Johnny’s jacket. Johnny, slightly taken aback, hugged him back cautiously and closed his eyes. 

“Merry Christmas kid.”

“Merry Christmas Dad. I love you.” Johnny’s eyes filled with tears and he grabbed onto his son a little tighter. Maybe Daniel was right, in all of his weird wisdom and philosophy. Some things were worth fixing.

“I love you too, Robby.” 

[shadowgale96]

I loved that an identification marker for 60 in this fandom is him having a little Band-Aid on his head from getting shot. XD 

then I started wondering why he would have that if people were doing AUs/ATs where 60 is alive. Because if he’s alive, he shouldn’t have a bullet wound in his head.

But then I figured hey there are people who’ve survived serious head injuries like that, even in a machine Connor + unsuccessful revolution ending Connor can headshot Marcus, and Marcus is still alive enough to sit off the detonator if he wants to.

So I’m enjoying the thought that these are all aus were Hanks still shot 60, but 60 was just really freaking lucky and was able to be repaired but still has a noticeable hole or dent in his face from where he was shot, so he just covers it with a bandaid to not freak people out.

Secondary head canon that he doesn’t get it repaired because he’s scared of going to get repaired. Or maybe he just likes it because it distinguishes him from Connor 



[misery-loves-company-au]

Misery Loves Company Chapter: 2

Warnings: Vulgarity, blood, violence, guns, talk about murder/death, angst, suicidal themes (All these warnings are gonna be on practically every chapter)

Words: 3252

Euthanasia slowly opened his eye, his sight landing on the familiar textured popcorn ceiling of his house. No words left his mouth, instead a groan being his natural reaction to waking up with a headache that felt like someone dug a screwdriver into his head. He didn't know what happened the night before, everything was a haze with the only thing he remembered was wandering out in a depressive episode hoping he could die. By the fact that he had his eye open obviously that hope had fallen through, but what puzzled him most was what the hell happened after he wandered into the forest. He had a headache so that was one clue, his body ached and felt sore as well so that was another. The only thing that came to mind was he blew the last bit of money he had on some beer and got blackout drunk, that would explain the headache and if he made the 5 mile walk to and from town it would explain why his body hurt so damn bad.

"Fuck my life..." Euthanasia put a hand on his face, feeling something flaky immediately made him recoil and take a look.

There on the black fur of his palm, snagged by the hairs, was dark red—nearly black—blood. It was dried so the bleeding had stopped but the sight of the blood made him recall everything instantaneously. The dead tree he stumbled upon, hearing Het approach him, getting the absolute shit kicked out of him, and the worst part was him remembering how he shot the cat square in the head. How could he ever forget that? The lifeless eye of the feline as it stared at him, the final moments of the thing that ruined him. As he remembered the mental image got more and more etched into his brain by the second, the gravity of what he had done fully came down on him. He was trembling and was unsure what to do with the sudden realization that he killed someone when all his worries vanished in an instant, an all too familiar voice and face stepping around a corner to greet him.

"Wakey, wakey, sleepin' beauty"

His blood ran cold, that voice immediately making him sit up and see the skull-faced cat standing there. Two bandaids covered the hole where the bullet passed through Het's forehead, arranged in an X formation hiding the wound, a few small cracks that stemmed from the bullet were also visible but other than Het looked fine. By his tone he was fine. Confusion passed over Euthanasia, he was at a loss as to why the feline was alive and walking, or at least he was at first. The fog from waking up faded and he suddenly remembered one key detail about Het that he had forgotten in the moment of it all and even forgot currently. Due to the same deformity that messed up his face his brains, as well as every other vital organ, was held in his chest in one compact area.

Seeing the puzzled expression Euthanasia had, Het walked over. His tail swayed behind him and he bent down to get face to face with the rabbit "sleep well Oz?" he rhetorically asked.

Euthanasia stayed silent as he slowly reached into his overalls, ready to pull out his gun for a round 2.

Het noticed this immediately, using his tail he stretched it out and reached for his bloody yellow bag. Reeling the bag in, he opened it and pulled out the very gun Euthanasia sought, dangling it before the buck he continued with his cheery demeanor "Looking for something?"

Euthanasia snatched the gun from him without missing a beat, his mind racing while he tried to check if he had any ammunition left in the chambers or if he had some spare bullets tucked away in his pants.

As if reading the buck's mind Het leaned in "there's bullets already in there, here lemme help ya-"

With direct eye contact being made the black cat used his pointer finger to cock back the hammer, the noise echoing throughout the dusty room. Taking it a step further, Het corrected the gun's positioning, lowering it to his chest. The area where not only his heart but the rest of his entire being was held. Although silent, the message was clear: he wanted Euthanasia to pull the trigger. For a second the rabbit did consider it, after all if Euthanasia fired no one would miss the cat and in fact the world would be a better place without Het in it. Despite this he couldn't do it, no matter how logical or good of a choice it seemed he couldn't bring himself to end someone’s life, the memory of when he thought he did replayed. That blank stare what he assumed was a corpse gave him was a whole lot more unnerving than the skull-faced feline himself.

Slowly lowering the gun Euthanasia rubbed his face, letting out a quiet curse at himself for his inability to take another’s life "oh fuck me..."

"Yup! That's what I thought! " Het chuckled "heh, only one of us is a killer Oz, let's keep it that way, capiche?”

Standing up, the cat turned tail and sauntered over to a window, gazing outside he began to totally ignore his old friend on the floor. The sun was high in the sky, clouds blocked any actual sunlight from getting through though. Instead shadows and murky gray shade was cast over the lush green fields, the light dulling everything making what would be a beautiful country landscape turn into a bleak depressing space.

Clacking his fingers against the windowsill the cat couldn't help himself, making a joke the second he thought of one ”Sheesh! I always heard the grass was always greener on the other side of the fence but looking at it now I gotta say how wrong those people—”

"Why the FUCK are you in my house!?" Euthanasia interrupted out as he got to his feet, the grip on his gun tightening "you know damn well you aren't welcome here"

"Yeah and I also ain't welcome in Greece, Scotland, the Caribbeans, Russia, and 42 of the 50 states, that doesn't mean I CAN'T go in 'em, it's just harder now"

Euthanasia scowled over at the cat, he didn't even have the dignity to turn around and face him. Instead Het just kept staring out into the space that the rabbit would call his yard.

"Felix…” Euthanasia started “I'm only gonna tell you this once, get ou—"

"That's what she said" Het finally spun around meeting the buck’s gaze, snickers slipping through his teeth as he laughed at his own joke "...get it? 'its just harder now', heh, don't tell me you don't find that a lil’ funny right?"

"...."

Euthanasia stared at the cat, his scowl turning into a blank expression as he was left speechless. Looking down at the gun and back at Het he contemplated for a solid second actually shooting him in the chest and killing him. The idea was tempting more than ever currently and he had to physically restrain himself from putting his finger anywhere near the trigger else the ideas would become a reality. There were no words to describe just how pissed he was behind his neutral expression, the fact that he saved face at all was a miracle. He wasn't going to bother though, instead the lagomorph decided to take the high road, once again not wanting to give Het the attention he wanted. He controlled himself and turned around, making his way towards the landline phone in his living room.

Het's ears immediately flagged up and he followed the rabbit "Oz, whaddya doing?"

"Calling the police" Euthanasia said calmly. Grabbing the phone off the hook, the buck was stopped by Het who grabbed his wrist. Immediately Euthanasia froze up and looked at the cat, his other hand balling up into a fist "Felix... If you know what's good for you, let go"

"Pfft, what're you gonna do if I don't? Hit me?"

CRACK!

Bare knuckles came into contact with hard bone. Euthanasia did exactly what Het said, his hand throbbing from the result of hitting someone with such a dense skull. Despite how loud of a noise it made and the fact that hishead jerked violently to the side from the punch, Het unphased. He could have easily retaliated, clawed at the rabbit until he was unrecognizable. He could also just used his tail to fetch his bag of tricks, either beat him to death with that or see if he could find something interesting in it this time around. He didn't though, for all that he was capable of doing instead Het merely closed the space in-between him and the other toon, giving him another chance.

Speaking in a dead tone the cat tightened his grasp and whispered a threat "Do that again and see what happens..."

"..."

Seeing the rabbit silent Het loosened his grasp and spoke with his usual smugness once more "that's what I thou-"

Euthanasia kicked Het in the gut sending the feline to the ground. He was left speechless, although the pain of the kick was practically non-existent he sure as hell needed to breathe as much as anyone and struggled to get some. Whatever air he did have in his lungs slipped out of his bony jaws and nose-hole, the kick to his diaphragm making him gasp for the breaths lost. Looking upwards, Het was met with the sight of Euthanasia's paw being brought down onto his stomach, only worsening the frantic need for air. As he struggled to breathe he couldn't help but stare into the wounded eyes of the rabbit, tears welling up in them as he heard his old friend speak.

"Why..."

Het wheezed, coughing up a response after a second "Hngh... Wh-why what?"

"WHY THE FUCK DID YOU LET ME LIVE!" Euthanasia shouted, his voice reverberating off the walls. "after I shot you, you dragged me all the way back here and for some FUCKING REASON you didn't take the chance to kill me... Why!?" Grasping at his head the rabbit repeated the burning question in his mind, the one that would never leave "Why! Why! Why must you so god damn INSIST ON RUINING EVERYTHING I'VE EVER HAD!? WHAT'S THE FUCKING POINT OF KEEPING ME ALIVE!?"

Finally getting enough air to formulate a sentence Het kicked Euthanasia's leg, the appendage detaching sending the buck off balance. Euthanasia hit the floor and looked to see Het standing up, the cat's tone darker than usual.

"Well Oz you ever kill a sleeping man?" The cat glared down at him as he dusted himself off, the rhetorical being a segway to one off his own disturbing anecdotes "I'll tell you now it ain't as fun as killing somebody awake, even if you take the effort to strangle them which will wake them up it simply ain't as satisfying!" Het gripped the air, reliving a past kill as he spoke "once they feel your hands on their throat and awake it's pretty much set in stone their fate as long as you ain't some flimsy noodle armed bitch, now sure they punch, claw, do everything in their power to get you off but after a bit that all stops! Once they realize you ain't gonna stop that's when they'll get desperate, they start grasping at their own neck focusing on prying your hands off while they oh so desperately cry out and give pathetic little noises that barely count as an apology—BUT WE ALL FUCKING KNOW THEY WOULDN'T BE APOLOGIZING IF THEY WEREN'T GETTING STRANGLED—yet they still try and try! Hoping to appeal to empathy that was cut out long ago. Thankfully they can't spew that 'oh please I'm sorry' bullshit for long because you got your fingers on their windpipes and by the time their eyes are closing ITS TOO FRIGGIN' LATE FOR THAT BECAUSE THEIR FUCKING DEAD LIKE THE PATHETIC PIECES OF SHIT THEY ARE!" Het's mind fell back to earth as he finally stopped, Euthanasia's disturbed gaze making him give a quick chuckle "heh... Sorry about that Oz, but uhh–you get the point though, right? Killing you in your sleep wouldn't of been fun, I had to let you wake up”

Euthanasia said the first thing that came to his mind, a rather acute observation: "You're a sick fuck! Jesus fucking Christ!"

"Yeah, tell me something I don't know" Het rolled his eye and offered his hand to the rabbit "the other reason I didn't kill ya is because I'm gonna be crashing here for a bit... Actually, probably longer than a bit.... awhile?"

"What!?" Euthanasia jumped to his feet, smacking away Het's hand as he got in the cat's face "what the fuck do you mean by that!?"

"Awhile ya know? Because when somebody says their gonna do something for a bit it means a short amount of undisclosed time, yet when someone says they're gonna do something for awhile it usually means a undisclosed amount of time that's a lit longer than what someone would call a ‘bit’, also when somebody says their gonna do something for a 'bit' it can also cause confusion so they'll opt for saying they'll be ‘awhile’ because a 'bit' also means a joke, I should of said 'awhile" to avoid all this confusion, my bad"

"..." Euthanasia stood there, baffled by Het's bizarre tangent "wha-... Not that you fucking lunatic, I wanna know what the fuck do you mean you'll be staying here!"

"Oh! That!" The cat snapped his fingers as if he had forgotten he had ever said that "heh, yeah I need a place to stay and I thought what better place than here? Feds won't find me out here since it's pretty much off the grid, oh and don't think about kicking me out either because while you were out I took the liberty of putting your fingerprints all over a few of my tools and toys, it's why I said not to call the police, you turning me in will be basically turning yourself in"

"You..." The rabbit shook as he did his best to swallow his rage. It felt like a vein was about to burst with the way his entire body tensed up and his hands grasped at something to hold and snap "You...You son of a bitch!"

"I'm pretty sure I told you a long time ago she was a bitch so yeah that's a fair stat—"

SLAM!

Het was grabbed by his chest fur and slammed against the wall, the cat didn't wear any clothes so Euthanasia just held him up by his skin, no doubt causing bruising. Het didn't feel a thing though, the most he felt was the cold of the wall he was pinned to and the dust sticking to his fur.

"Woah there! I was talking about my own mother not yours, don'tcha think this is an overreaction?" The feline joked "you didn't even meet her"

"SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP!" Euthanasia pulled Het closer before immediately slamming him back into the wall, shaking him violently as he spewed out question after question, trying to apply reason to what was simply the insane "why do you insist on just making me more miserable!? Haven't you done enough! I'm a washed up toon no one wants to hire and everybody who knew me fucked RIGHT OFF the SECOND I showed any sign of instability! And wanna the worst part!? The part that's oh so FUNNY!? It's the fact that I can't even fucking kill myself because the gun doesn't wanna go off whenever I point it at myself!" The buck's eye twitched as he repeatedly slammed Het into the wall, over and over, doing everything to make sure he got through to the bastard he had the displeasure of ever calling a friend "WHY WON'T YOU LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Het initially ignored the rabbit, instead his attention focusing towards the wall he was getting slammed against. He knew the walls of the house were pretty fragile so the fact that he was getting bashed against one repeatedly and it didn't break was a miracle. Was the specific area he was up against one of the supports? That would explain why the entire thing wasn't crumbling. The wall didn't hold his attention long though, after about the 17th time he was hit against it he finally looked back to the rabbit who was beginning to cry. It sickened him, something about the crocodile tears Euthanasia shed whenever he complained about his life made him want to vomit. It was annoying how someone who was a complete jackass all their life could suddenly break and become nothing more than a sniveling pile of self pity.

"Alright I've had enough of this" Het grabbed Euthanasia's wrists, squeezing them until the buck let him go him "If you really want an answer as to why I won't leave it's because I simply find it's what you deserve, everytime you point your gun at yourself I hope just as much as you that it goes off so I won't EVER have to see your face again, why don’tcha look in the mirror next time you wanna know why I treat you like the piece of trash you are because you can count on your sorry fucking existence that as long as I'm around I'll make sure to ruin ANY joy you have!” His pupil thinned and he shoved Euthanasia away “it's called karma fucker”

Het walked past Euthanasia as if he was in the right. The rabbit could hardly believe his ears and the audacity the black cat held, the bastard had some sort of victim complex and still acted as if he was in the right when it was clear as day he was a mentally disturbed psycho! It infuriated the rabbit to no end, how someone so awful can justify the horrible acts they do as nothing more than "karma" to another. The pure hypocrisy and ridiculousness of Het's claim left Euthanasia at a genuine loss for words, he tried to think of anything he could say in response to the bullshit he just heard. He couldn't though, instead all he could do was watch as the feline sauntered away casually, making one last remark before disappearing down the hall.

"I'll be in the basement or yours, I know it's the one place that won't reek of that bitch's scent" Het spat.

Euthanasia snarled, his blood being filled with the rage of someone desecrating his love's name. As much as he wanted to follow after him, hit him so much more, he couldn't muster up the strength to. The temporary adrenaline rush that he had when slamming the cat against the wall wore off leaving his muscles sore once more. For as much disdain as he held he couldn't bother anymore, everything just felt so tiring and he just wanted it to end. It couldn't though, life would continue to keep him alive while placing the reason for his suffering right next to him. With his head still pounding the buck looked upwards, his mind drifting back to when his life wasn't so shit. Back when life had actual meaning to it and it wasn't just one never ending joke with the punchline being his failure.

Back when he used to call a certain cat a friend…

[unfixablebabyyy]

not horny but these men r so touch starved and don't know how to process emotion :)

working for lalo and he comes home w a bullet hole bleeding through the bottom of his shirt- you're the only one up and you know, he would do it himself but it goes straight through his side and he can't reach the back so he calls you into the bathroom and he's sitting on the counter, shirt unbuttoned and hanging off his other shoulder with the front wound sewed tightly shut but there's blood everywhere- on his stomach on his hands on the counter, and you can see his back in the mirror and it all just looks so bad but he grins and holds up the needle and thread bc wtf right? this is all normal he's so normal yeah just stitch up your boss ok it's not like the only first aid experience you have involves bandaids and Neosporin :) so you sit on the toilet and he turns slightly so you can get to his back and of course he starts cracking jokes ("you should see the other guy" kinda stuff) and you're so nervous and you're just trying not to hurt him and after a while his voice kind of dies out and it's so quiet but you don't notice because you're just so focused and you also don't notice he's staring at you in the mirror- watching you fix him and it's the first time in god knows how long he's been touched so gently and with so much care and oh my god it's making his brain short circuit until you let out a breath and a little "ok. all done" and it snaps him out of it and before you can look up and catch the look on his face, he covers it with a smile and hops off the counter, turning around in the mirror with a "perfecto! looks better than before." and he's gone- out of the room and down the hall, leaving the mess to you

[thenovelartist]

Bandaids lead to Bullet Holes - Bungo Stray Dogs fanfiction

I did it. I wrote for Bungo Stray Dogs. Because fandom hopping is apparently my new hobby.

Also, did my best to figure out when to use first VS last names. Hopefully it makes sense. XD

...

The Black Lizard had been worn to its limits recently, running several missions back to back. So Hirotsu really didn’t think seeing Tachihara passed out on a couch in one of their hideouts was unusual.

What was unusual was seeing Gin look… giddy. It was as though she’d gotten a little glimmer in her eye before skipping precisely two steps. As she walked hurriedly away, Hirotsu debated if he should say anything. However, he was tired, everyone was worn ragged, so he chose to ignore it.

He flicked his lighter, watching a comforting golden blaze spark to life. Carefully, methodically, he raised it to the end of his cigarette. When the end of his cigarette glowed red, he closed the lighter with a snap. Letting his eyes drift closed, he savored a long drag, then exhaled the smoke, his stress going with it.

The second he opened his eyes back up, Gin reappeared, fiddling with a little something in her hands. She stopped by Tachihara, looking down at his face as paper crinkled in her fingers.

Hirotsu narrowed his eyes. Through the haze of smoke, he caught sight of something pink between her hands. A… bandage?

Gently, she draped the band-aid over Tachihara’s nose, covering the strip already stretched over it. Then she took a step back to admire her work.

Hirotsu was smiling by now, spying the brilliantly pink bandage that now adorned Tachihara’s nose. He couldn’t say he was one for childish pranks like this, but he would let it slide for now. Gin had a reputation of her own she'd worked hard to uphold, and this wouldn’t mar it in the slightest.

Gin then turned to Hirotsu, twinkle in her eye as she lifted a finger to her covered lips, then slipped away.

A low chuckle escaped him. Apparently, his cigarette wasn’t the only thing that could take his stress away.

~~~

Michizou swore he was gonna shoot the next person he saw. Just what the hell was everyone sniggering about?

He looked over to Gin and Ryuurou, but both of them gave him a quirked brow as if wondering why he was buggin’.

Gah, what the hell?

“Something on my face?” he snipped, ready to make his way to the nearest car mirror to check.

Without missing a beat, Gin pointed to her nose, brow quirked as if to say “your bandage, stupid.”

Michizou felt his trigger finger twitch.

“Besides that bandage across your nose, no,” Ryuurou confirmed in his calm manner. “Now, will you focus?”

Michizou snarled. “Whatever. Let’s just get this over with.”

~~~

Gin didn’t know how Tachihara hadn’t figured it out yet. It had been hours since she’d put a Hello Kitty bandage on his nose, and he still hadn’t realized it. Everyone had played along thus far. Even Ryuurou had kept a straight face—Gin would have to owe him later for his cooperation—meaning Tachihara was still none the wiser.

However, Gin wasn’t stupid. She’d pulled this stunt knowing full well those guns of his would be aimed in her direction the second he figured it out. No matter. Not to sound cocky, but she could have a knife at his throat before he could get a clear shot at her. It had been a calculated risk on her end.

As of now, Black Lizard had just finished running an errand for Nakahara. Ryuurou had been pulled away by another mafia executive for some other mission, meaning it was up to Tachihara and Gin to give Nakahara a report.

When they arrived at the meeting spot, Nakahara didn’t look up at them, instead continuing to glower at the file in his hands.

“Talk,” he snipped.

Tachihara launched into the report, taking over the talking likely out of habit. Gin had always let them talk instead of her, hiding her identity as long as possible. That was all blown out of the water after being discovered by Higuchi. That woman might be capable enough to be responsible for her brother… barely. But then keeping her mouth shut and continuing to refer to Gin as a male after that shameful run-in was not something Higuchi could manage. It wasn’t long before certain people in the mafia found out. It was all they could whisper about for days.

“And that’s it.”

With a disappointed sigh, Nakahara snapped his file shut. “You expect me to believe your whole mission—" He paused, having finally looked up at the two Black Lizard commanders standing before him. Gin thought she saw a twitch of amusement on his lips before he tempered it with an easy smile. “—could be summed up in three little sentences?”

Gin had to admit Nakahara had a point. Although, in essence, Tachihara’s three sentences did crudely explain what they did.

“What else do you want?” Tachihara asked with a shrug. It seemed he’d dismissed Nakahara’s little pause.

“You did do more than just level the place, right?” Nakahara asked, his voice tense with warning. “You got what I wanted?”

At that, Gin stepped forward, pulling a small flashdrive from her pocket.

With a smile, Nakahara took it before clicking it into a nearby computer. A few moments later, his smile grew. “Good. Though, I do wonder if it was necessary to murder everyone just for this old thing.”

“Look, they could either give it to us or we could pry it out of their cold, dead hands,” Tachihara returned. “They didn’t like the other option of letting us sneak in.”

Gin rolled her eyes. Though she hated to admit it, security had been tight. The front door guards hadn't seemed keen on letting them in a mile radius of the information, meaning she’d needed back up. And her choice of back up didn’t do things quietly.

Nakahara sighed. “Fine. Guess I should have expected that from you two. You’re dismissed, Tachihara. I’ve got a second mission for Gin.”

Though his lips curled up in a sneer, Tachihara still tipped his chin up at Nakahara in reluctant acceptance before stalking out of his office.

Once the door to the office slammed shut, Nakahara’s smile stretched across his face. Curling a finger at her, he beckoned Gin closer. She did as commended, smile hidden by her mask.

“So,” Nakahara started, his voice low and full of amusement. “How long has he been sporting pink?”

Gin automatically held up seven fingers, but after a moment, she hesitantly held up an eighth.

Nakahara’s smile grew, if that were even possible. “Eight hours? Holy shit.”

Gin was biting her lip at this point to keep from laughing.

“He ran the whole mission like that?”

She nodded. Her smile was impossible to temper at this point, and that was probably obvious to everyone despite her mask.

“You put it on him?”

She just shrugged.

“Damn, that’s some Dazai level bullshit.”

Well, she did learn quite a bit from him. She’d take that as a compliment.

Amused, Nakahara continued to stare at the door for a moment before turning back to Gin. “Make a deal with you.”

Gin simply raised a brow in response.

“Pull that again, I’ll double your pay for a mission.”

Gin’s eyes widened. She was not one swayed by greed, so the money didn’t interest her. What did interest her, however, was catching the attention of a mafia executive. If she could entertain Nakahara, that would only bring benefits for her down the line. Furthermore, she saw this as a test of skill. She had known this prank would only last once, as Tachihara would be hard to trick again. But, if she could do it again, that would only prove her skills as a mafia assassin.

“So, we have a deal?” Nakahara asked, smirking.

Her mask still hiding her grin, she gave him a bow.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

~~~

“What the HELL!?”

The shout shook the entire mafia headquarters.

Hirotsu didn’t bother suppressing his chuckle. It seemed Tachihara had finally gotten a good look at his face. And that shout of pure rage meant blood would soon be drawn.

Hirotsu was so very happy to be going home for the evening. While he would love to watch the resulting fire rage on, he certainly didn’t want to be called in to put out the flames if they got too high. He’d leave that to Gin and hope that his two Black Lizard commanders were still alive when he returned tomorrow.

~~~

~~~

Gin was on a mission, one that was very difficult and potentially deadly. Tachihara had rightfully singled her out as being the one who put the colored bandage on his nose last time—if she were honest, she’d be shocked at his stupidity if he’d failed to come to that conclusion—meaning that he wasn’t foolish enough to let down his guard any time soon so she could pull it again.

Until three months later.

Finally, she caught sight of Tachihara dozing off in a corner of the Port Mafia's headquarters. Quietly, she pulled out the little bandage strip that she’d been keeping on her since Nakahara had made that bet with her. The paper crinkled as she unwrapped it, but Tachihara remained asleep.

Lucky her.

However, counting on luck was foolish. She was fully prepared for if he suddenly grabbed her hand as she applied the bandage, yet she’d braced herself for nothing. He remained out cold.

She bit her lip as she stepped back, amused at the pink flowers now sprawled across his nose. Hopefully he wouldn’t notice right off the bat. It was much more fun when he walked around none the wiser.

~~~

Kouyou wasn’t sure how she was managing to keep a straight face. Black Lizard commander Michizou Tachihara stood before her sporting a floral bandage. The cherry blossoms were completely out of place plastered across the nose of this rugged, foul-mouthed upstart. Chuuya had once commented over drinks that Gin had pulled this prank before, and at the time, Kouyou had been slightly disappointed she hadn’t been able to see it.

What an honor to see it now.

“And that’s all.”

“Thank you,” she spoke, having only half listened to his report. “You may leave.”

He bowed, then walked out of the room.

Finally, she was allowed to whip out her fan and snigger behind it. She would have to inform Chuuya of Gin’s success the next time they shared a drink together.

~~~

Gin only got five hours out of that bandage and a warning bullet for her trouble.

It was worth it, though. Particularly when Nakahara texted her three days later to come collect on her bet.

~~~

~~~

Dammit, she didn’t have a bandage on her, and Tachihara was out cold. But she couldn’t not do something with this opportunity!

While she was thinking, a light tap on her shoulder called her attention. There stood Ryuurou holding out a permanent marker. "I'll indulge you this once."

Gin smiled, then took the marker with a thankful bow. She really should get the man something as a thank you. Not only for this, but for his silence in missions past.

~~~

Ryuunosuke expected more from his sister.

He was not ignorant of the childish nonsense his sister had pulled on multiple occasions. It was Nakahara’s favorite drinking story, after all. And while Ryuunosuke would give his sister the deserved credit for her stealth that allowed her to execute these pranks, this time was just shameful.

Because a commander of the Black Lizard ought to have far more pride in his position than to be marching around with a bandage across his nose that proudly proclaimed “BASTARD”.

It was just an embarrassment. For the mafia, and for Gin. Honestly, he expected better.

“Next time,” Ryuunosuke said to Gin as they walked home, “Write it across his forehead. He might learn to be more aware of his situation and the consequences of failing to do so.”

Surprise flashed across his sister’s face, but it only lasted a moment before she grinned. “That’s not the bet with Nakahara. It is not my fault if Tachihara is situationally unaware, but I am sure to follow my directions.”

Despite himself, Ryuunosuke smirked. “Valid point.”

~~~

Gin walked into work the next day prepared for an ambush. Instead, there was no stealth to his fiery frontal assault.

“You’re the bastard!”

She may be, but she was also richer thanks to Nakahara. It only took him one day to get her the bonus check this time, which allowed her to splurge on sweets to eat on her and Ryuunosuke’s day off.

~~~

~~~

Gin swore there was no way Tachihara would be caught dead asleep a fourth time. There was just no way.

Yet, there he lay, ripe for the picking.

Again, Gin didn’t have a bandage on her. Actually, she had had a bandage on her, but she had given it to a crying little girl at the park yesterday after she’d fallen and scraped her knee. Gin had no regrets there, but she currently regretted not grabbing a replacement.

Hence, she had to walk away in hopes she’d find a marker like last time. But before she could start her search, she ran into Higuchi.

It seemed Gin would have to put down her pride a bit to ask for help again. “Hey.”

The blonde woman stopped, surprised that Gin had called for her. “Need something?”

Gin hesitated. “Do you have a marker?”

Higuchi frowned, her brow furrowed in confusion. “I have a pen,” she said, rifling through her purse.

“I don’t know if that would work,” Gin muttered.

Higuchi stopped, but a light of realization soon flashed in her eyes. “Oh! Is this for Tachihara’s nose?”

Gin nodded. By now, everyone in the mafia knew of Gin’s running pranks on Tachihara. It was one of the great stories to talk about over drinks.

The smirk that grew across Higuchi’s face actually caused a ball of dread to form in Gin’s stomach. “Actually,” Higuchi puured, rifling through her purse. “I think I have one better.”

~~~

Chuuya was going to explode. Just how in the hell did Gin expect him to keep a straight face in this situation?

Actually, he wanted to know how Hirotsu was keeping a straight face. Gin was a closed book, so no surprise there, but he would have killed to see Hirotsu’s immediate reaction to the mark branded across Tachihara’s nose.

Upon hearing the last of the Black Lizard’s report, Chuuya took a deep breath, allowing himself a slight smile and pretending he was just happy because of the job well done. “Good work. Follow it up if you have any leads. No one escapes their fate.”

Hirotsu nodded. “Understood, sir.”

“Now, Tachihara, Hirotsu, I trust you can follow that up yourselves. I have a new mission for Gin.”

Taking that as their cue to leave, they marched out, Gin remaining statue still.

Once the door closed, Chuuya finally broke out into a beaming grin. “Bloody hell, you shittin’ me?”

It was so slight a movement that Chuuya almost missed it, but Gin definitely ducked her head in embarrassment, her gaze hitting the floor.

“So, how long has he been parading around with your lipstick on ‘im?”

Gin turned away this time, blush creeping above her mask even though she tried to hide her face with her hands.

Chuuya bit back a chuckle. Who knew the Black lizard commander was so shy? (Well, probably Dazai, that bastard, but that was besides the point.) It was almost cute, to the point Chuuya couldn’t help but tease her a little. “Aww, was that your first kiss?”

She flinched, and Chuuya burst out laughing, which only caused her to grow more embarrassed. Damn, he hadn’t realized he’d hit the nose. Guess even mafia assassins were still girls at heart.

“That’s your best one yet.” Cutting her some slack, he scribbled a check out for her.

~~~

Unlike every other time, Tachihara did not assault Gin the day after the bandage incident. However, to Gin, that only served to make things more awkward. After all, Higuchi’s idea had been to give Gin lipstick so she could…

Gin felt her face heat up. She’d been a mafia assassin for years, so why did she feel like a stupid school girl now? Because she kissed the nose of a boy? How pathetic! When Higuchi had suggested her idea, Gin had balked. Because wasn't that going a little too far? But at the same point, it was brilliantly creative. Hence why Gin had very reluctantly taken the lipstick Higuchi had given her.

A new round of warmth flooded her cheeks as she recalled kissing her co-worker's nose, trying to leave just enough of a kiss mark on his bandage to be obvious. The bright color had been helpful for that, but if Gin had known she'd be this embarrassed afterwards, she probably wouldn't have done it.

Higuchi had been there watching the whole time, smiling like a fiend and then offering to take her out for sweets as a reward. But she couldn't accept. Mostly because she was on the job, but she really didn't want to listen to Higuchi prattle on about this.

Later, Gin had learned her brother had discovered what she'd done. The look of sheer disappointment on Ryuunosuke's face couldn't make up for the triple bonus paycheck she'd earned. Her brother was going to murder her co-worker now, wasn't he?

What a mess.

“Hey.”

Surprised at the voice, Gin turned to Tachihara, who looked slightly abashed himself.

“That… was a good one.”

… Did the room just get hotter, or was that on her?

He stalked away before she could figure out that answer. Which she was thankful for because she wouldn’t know what to do if the answer turned out to be the latter.

[herloveclub]

to people who are trying to heal heart they didn’t break

my heart, had once, shredded like a crumpled paper, had also once crushed into pieces, and it destroyed me in the way i no longer have the reason to be moving nor have the time to search for a state where i can be healed. the truth of my torture won’t silently stopped even when i’m dead shattered half of my life, will i ever recover? should i keep breathing without a will to live?

a friend once said, “we don’t hold grudge too long, someday, they will slowly tear you that you are not going to recover”, and a piece of my broken heart suddenly being taped again, trying to fix the damage that has been causing me a lot of pain. but nobody told me that letting go of grudges towards your forgotten love is like using bandaids for a bullet hole, pointless, not fixing anything, but making it worse.

thus, i say to myself, to move forward into the next chapter of your life is to let go of your damaged heart and let it be dead despite the fact that it won't grow again.

if i ever happen to think about letting a living soul to patch my broken heart, i’d be eaten alive and it turns into a crime. yet if i leave my wounds open and covered by rust, i’d be consumed by time. so, what are the odds of that?

[boyijustwanttosaveyou]

Bandaid covers the bullet hole

[jujutsukatsuki]

Misery falls down from the nearly black clouds as you sit on your covered balcony. The air is cold and thin, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders that were swimming in one of his long sleeve shirts, a pair of sweats that belonged to him, helped to shield you from the brisk air.

The wind blew causing you to smell his cologne that was permanently embedded into the fabrics.

Everything smelt like him.

A warm cup of coffee sits in your hand. The bitter black liquid gently shakes with the hand that’s holding it, wether it’s nerves or the cold, you aren’t sure. You take a sip, the liquid scalds your mouth but you can’t find it in you to care.

It reminded you of him. Scalding hot. A fire work that went off to soon. A summer bonfire crackling in the dead of night.

The rain seemed to rage on as you thought about him.

He hated rain.

The night he packed up and left was one similar to this. Rain thudding against the windows of your apartment, thunder and lightening commanding the sky like a symphony.

He was a blur as the dark duffle bag was thrown over his shoulder, the door gently latching behind him, it made you jump out of your skin worse than if someone had slammed it. The bed reeked of him, you use to find it endearing, but that night, it made things worse.

Two years had came and gone since last you saw him shoot your heart out. You tried to move on, you really did. But bandaids don’t fix bullet holes.

You had written him countless tear stained letters, none of them were ever sent. It’s hard to send a letter without an address.

The hope he’d walk through that door kept you going. It’s why you never moved. You’d always keep the light on outside the door just incase he’d return. The answer on why he left was a mystery. His last words to you were ‘I can’t do this with you.’

She always kept hope that Suki would come back to her. Y/n was never giving a direct answer on why he left. He gave her a small ‘I can’t do this’ and was gone.

A small sniffle escaped you as you took another sip of the Bakugou Katsuki flavored drink. You set the mug down and picked up a notebook and a pen.

‘K, it’s been two years since you left me. I’ll never give up hope that you’ll come back home. Sometimes I think I can hear your voice when I wake up or go to sleep. Sometimes I can’t stop myself from imagining my favorite memories of us. All the late-night talks, all the jokes, and half asleep laugh sessions. The hugs you’d give me, the kisses we shared. It always ends with you walking out that damn door like I was nothing to you. In my fantasy world, I imagine that you start to leave but realize the mistake you’re making so you’d shut the door. You’d drop your bag and tell me you love me, and kiss me gently. It’s a long shot, I know. I hope you’re out there somewhere and you’re happy.’

The first few months of him being gone were the worst. Learning how to breath without him. Laugh without him. Smile without him. Live without him.

The way your mornings went from quiet snores and handsy touches to his side of the bed untouched and freezing.

You started to move on from Katsuki. You had too. It was hard. Everyone you seemed to go for just wasn’t him. That was the biggest problem you couldn’t solve. Nobody looked like him, felt like him, smelled like him or even acted like him.

For now and forever you’d have to live with knowing that you and Katsuki could have continued to be happy, but now all it was, was something that could have been.

[solvetcoagulas-blog]

@midnightxglitter

          Un pase seguro a la sala de psiquiatría parecía el pan de cada día para Elena, se había cansado ya de repetirle a las enfermeras que no quería suicidarse, que si de algo estaba ella llena era de placer por la vida. Pero estar en un lugar equivocado, en el momento equivocado parecía haberle costado bastante caro. Debía de ser idiota de verdad. César se lo había dicho ya. Si de algo sufren los hijos pequeños es de exceso de cojones y unas ganas casi enfermizas por querer comerse al mundo entero de un bocado; Elena era la temeraria del clan Quiroga y siempre se había sentido orgullosa de eso. Ahora su hermano y Moises venían a visitarle todos los días, junto con su madre quien preocupada rezaba cinco rosarios al día, de los cuales la mayoría eran para pedir que a su hija le entrase un poco de razón en la cabeza. Pobre de doña María, ya bastante tenía con un esposo enfermo y dos hijos destrampados, como para ahora tener a su chiquilla encamada en un hospital. ‘Le digo a mi madre que no era mi intención salir tan idiota, pero era mi deber capturar el momento...de algo debo de comer ¿no?’ decía mientras veía entrar a dos enfermeras con otro estofado para la comida. Arrugó la nariz desencantada. La comida de hospital le sabía a cartón húmedo y mohoso. 

         ‘Me han traído flores nuevamente’ comentó como quien no quiere la cosa, pero desde hacía días un pensamiento parásito se había hecho de un hogar en su cabeza, haciéndose preguntar quién era el susodicho. ‘Ahora dudo sobre si en realidad existe y no es César haciéndome una de esas malas jugadas de hermanos mayores’ esperó a que la regordeta señora de blanco soltara la sopa pero sólo rió entre dientes, y echando un par de miradas cómplices hacia el pasillo central, se despidió de Elena, dejándola sola con su soledad y su sosa merienda.  

[boogisstuff]

Eyes for Ears au

*Body swap: Clint and Matt

*During a mission Clint/Daredevil's but with something that swaps them with the last person they touched. Matt wakes up and everything's muffled, he's not where he was, his hearing's shot but everything else is muted and he's not where he was. Explosion? What was he hit with?

Came too someone screaming bloody murder. A beat later he realized it was him. … -bit his tongue/grunted- realized he wasn't screaming. That was his voice on the other side of the room but his mouth was preoccupied grunting in a voice that wasn't his.

*He gets back to fighting but he's getting hit more than hitting until he just grabs a limb and go down on them hard. His balance, depth perception, shot. Realizes he can see at some point but doesn't know how to process anymore.

*After, or during, he tries to calm Clint who's unresponsive, fighty, puts him in an arm choke until he goes out. Then safe and he's waking up a few seconds of unconscious twitching later.

*While blood flow returns to his brain, Matt takes advantage of the disorientation, puts Clint's hand to his chest. Heartbeat. Focus on that. Tune everything else out, just my heartbeat. Takes meditative breaths Clint unconsciously mirrors.

*Makes deal with avengers. He'll come and help but they can't look into him and have to keep what they find to themselves. Otherwise? This is a bandaid on a bullet hole; he thinks of the buzzing of the living tower; it gets much worse.

*Clint complains he can't see with this thing on his head- Matt imeditly stops him form messing with it. "Trust me that's for the best. It won't help you as much as you think it will." What's that mean? "We see differently."

Matt's kindof an asshole about Clint. Says he's overreacting. Deal with it. Ect. But then he's also really compassionate in actions? Someone confronts him about it. Someone else figures out he's parroting someone else's words. Matt does not respond

*Clint gets the softest pajamas Toney can find- very soft- and Matt spends almost an hour breaking them in, washing them, rubbing them in good scents. Bans anything with strong scents- candles, perfume, ect. Only unscented hygiene products. They wait it out in a country home. No premade food, plain, super scrubbed foods. Nothing that risks bugs in it either. Clint heids Matt's warnings and keeps his eyes covered. He'd tried to take a peek before Matt told him the catatonic states of agony-? He used to get them for days at a time. And that was when they were weaker.

Avengers figure he has super senses- but super extra senses too. He can process electric waves, portal material, hear behond their range of hearing. Figures he can see more than them too- maybe different types of vision, or light waves, or really more colors. Shrimp can see more than them, so maybe what they oersceve as shades of grey and white and black are entirely new colors. That's why he sometimes has trouble with flat surfaces

[sylvie--laufeydottir]

an obligatory analysis of sylvie’s character (aka: who betrayed who?)

in case you can’t tell, i like sylvie. but here’s a big fuckin post where i share my thoughts on her role in the finale in a sort of disjointed kind of way.

NOTE: this isn’t about sylki. i don’t ship it personally, but that isn’t really relevant to this at all. this also doesn’t go into the criticisms i have of the show because this isn’t really the place for that. maybe i can do that later, whatever.

also, this is gonna be a long post. i have a lot of thoughts.

sylvie’s introduction and motivations

one of the first things we learn about sylvie is her opposition to the tva. (okay, it’s literally the first thing, whatever.) in episode 3, we get to see her entire plan - overthrow whoever’s running the tva, and... that’s it. loki questions her about the power vacuum that would leave, to which she shows that she’s not interested in running the tva. (this is also stated in ep 2.) her goals are clear. she wants rid of the entire organisation, and doesn’t care about or want the sort of power that would come with pulling the strings.

her reasoning for this seems pretty simple. she doesn’t want the power ruling the tva would entail because she knows what it’s like to be on the other end of that deal. she had everything taken from her as a child, and doesn’t want that to happen to anybody else. she believes that that kind of power belongs to nobody, not even herself.

this easily establishes her as a character who, despite having an ego, has principles that trump everything else. she’s very dedicated to her cause; the ‘never at the expense of the mission’ line in ep 3 just states it out loud. her entire life has been dedicated to this cause. this is a good time to segue into the next section...

sylvie’s personality, character and flaws

she’s fuckin stabby.

despite only really being present for 4 out of the 6 episodes of the show, we manage to get a pretty good idea of sylvie’s personality right from the start thanks to episode 3 being largely a character study with both her and loki. she’s shown as a very competent and strong character - however, contrary to marvel’s guidebook on writing female characters, those aren’t personality traits. what we actually see of her is that she’s very confident, and has a tendency to be rude or dismissive of other people. episode 3 has a bunch of examples of this, but the easiest one to point to is the fireworks scene. after loki does something nice to cheer her up, something which visibly works, her response is to waive it away as ‘not bad’.

her coldness in this scene even after bonding with loki is likely due to her upbringing. sylvie spent the majority of her life, including her childhood, on the run, unable to form relationships with people who weren’t moments away from dying. it feels a bit redundant for me to point this out, but this is, as they say in the medical field, mega fucking traumatic. not only did sylvie not have the opportunity to form these kinds of connections, she couldn’t even develop the ability to form them. loki is a bandaid to cover a bullet hole in this regard, one she needs years to heal from. while she does bond with him to an extent, she is physically unable to trust him to the point where they can be considered close.

another thing we learn about sylvie is that she’s very violent - and that she enjoys it. being a character that grew up running from an organisation that wanted her dead, it makes sense for her first instinct to be confrontational. however, despite having to fight to survive, she visibly takes pleasure from fighting. this was brought up in an interview with sophia (that i am not going to link here, because tumblr is kind of a hellsite and i’m not in the mood for that today). here’s a nice extract instead.

“She's not trained like Loki is,” Di Martino continues. “She can't do some of the flourishes that he would, but she's figured out how to brawl. She's a street fighter and she loves it. That was a really great key to unlocking part of Sylvie for me, was how much she just loves a fight. She knows that she's either going to win, or if she isn't going to win, she'll survive. She's that damaged character who's dangerous because she knows she can survive.”

her tendency towards violence is actually a key part of sylvie’s character. this works as both a strength and a flaw. on the one hand, she’s able to survive scrapes most other characters wouldn’t, and she knows that. she’s not one to freeze in most (note: most) scenarios, because she knows what to expect. on the other hand, violence isn’t always the answer, and she’s very unlikely to consider any other option than a fight.

her enchantment abilities tie into this - they’re another weapon for her to use, and one she’s not afraid to call on. however, her eagerness to enchant people without hesitation puts her in a pretty bad place morally. her enchantment clearly leaves hunter c-20 traumatised, and yet she’s more than willing to enchant people for the sake of the mission. she’s also relatively dismissive of human sentient lives. an early example of this is in episode 2, where loki asks her if the person she had enchanted was dead, to which she responds with a casual ‘they usually survive’. additionally, she’s more than willing to fight the guards on the train in episode 3, despite them seeing her as a threat for completely understandable reasons.

in the case of the guards, her reasoning for placing such little value on their lives is likely that they’re about to die anyways. everyone on lamentis is doomed, so from her point of view, whether they die at her hands or at the hands of the moon from majora’s mask isn’t really important. however, c-20 is a different story. sylvie places next to no value on the lives of the tva’s workers, content to slaughter them en masse for the sake of her goal. this is despite her knowing that every one of the tva workers is a variant plucked from the sacred timeline. this sets up a weird sort of transactional nature in how sylvie views other people - to her, they’re less important than the mission, and she doesn’t hesitate to eliminate threats.

was this a long section? this was a long section. i would like to call back to the fact that this is not a sylki post for this next part. and also to praise anyone that got this far, because fucking hell, is this excessively long or what? who would have the time to write this out?

sylvie’s bond with loki

i want to go back to that whole thing about her relationship with loki. he’s the first person she’s really spoken to since she was a child who isn’t about to face imminent death. furthermore, despite their differences, they have quite a lot in common - enough to hit it off surprising well for two people who kind of want to kill each other. they’re able to relate on common ground like frigga, and even though they clash due to loki’s initial carelessness, they’re overall able to get along well enough aside from occasional bickering. the blanket scene from episode 5 is probably the best example of this. sylvie allows herself, albeit briefly, to be vulnerable around loki.

except, not really. one of the first things she does is tries to ensure he won’t betray her. i’ve seen somebody cite this before as proof that her fondness towards him isn’t real, and that she was planning on betraying him from the start, hence why it was on her mind. that’s definitely possible, but i think it’s far more likely that it’s just her difficulties connecting to people stopping her from feeling safe around him even as they share a nice moment. she really does seem to care about loki - an easy example of this is her asking how he is during episode 4 without being prompted. she’s just unable to properly process these kinds of feelings due to an incomprehensible amount of trauma. as loki puts it, she can’t trust.

and loki can’t be trusted. she knows - or at least, thinks she knows - his nature as a trickster and a villain. loki embodies a part of sylvie that she considers herself completely separate from; the tva-approved liar whose purpose is to bring out the best in others. while she does show him more decency than to treat him like that, at the end of the day, he represents something that makes her deeply uncomfortable, hence her rejection of the loki name. despite what they have in common, loki is an incredibly difficult person to trust, especially for somebody who has deep-rooted trust issues. so, this brings us onto...

who betrayed who?

so, sylvie and loki make it to kang’s castle. after all this time, she’s finally about to reach her life’s goal. she’s clearly nervous - this is out of her comfort zone, unlike most fights. loki reassures her, and they head in. they meet kang, learn the true nature of the tva, have the opportunity to kill him...

and loki stops her.

loki’s motivations are left ambiguous. the uncharitable interpretation is that he wants to rule the tva for himself, as per kang’s offer. he’s expressed such an interest to sylvie before. for the loki we know in avengers 1, this seems perfectly in character.

however, for the loki we’ve seen in the show, there’s a different option. he believes kang’s threat that there are multiple of him, and that killing him won’t solve anything. to him, he isn’t willing to risk unknown horrors for the sake of taking his revenge out on kang. this is the loki who offered diplomacy and guile to counteract sylvie’s brute force.

but sylvie, who can’t trust, assumes the worst.

to her, loki was the one who betrayed her. they had a plan - find whoever pulls the strings, and destroy them. to her, loki’s hesitation isn’t caution, but treachery. taking kang’s offer to rule the tva is exactly what she thinks she should’ve expected from the guy who hurts everybody who loves him. her fight or flight responses kick in, and she chooses the one she always chooses. loki’s attempts to reassure her fall on deaf ears, not just because she doesn’t want to trust him, but because she’s physically incapable of it. she makes the short-sighted decision of brute force, just like she did back on lamentis, because it’s all she’s ever known, and the cause she’s dedicated her life to.

from the outside, it looks like sylvie was the one who betrayed loki, but things look pretty different from where she’s standing.

this is why i take issue with people calling sylvie a ‘villain’ or questioning whether this was her plan for the start. in my opinion, her motivations line up pretty clearly as a creature of habit, one who panics at the first hint of smoke and pushes away the first person she’s been able to bond with for the sake of self-preservation. did she make the wrong decision? unquestionably - the effects of her actions will no doubt plague the multiverse (and the mcu, for us) for as long as they go unchecked. but she made the only decision she was capable of making, and that’s not villainous, just tragic.

conclusion

well, this is a kind of depressing way to finish this post. for what it’s worth, though, i don’t think sylvie is a doomed character. regardless of how brief it was, she did show a real connection with loki. just because something requires a lot of healing doesn’t make it impossible. this is why i like sylvie as a character so much; she’s deeply flawed and complex, but that complexity makes her interesting, and relatable. marvel has a long history of sexy lamps and supposed ‘tortured backstories’, but sylvie is the first time they paid attention to this with their character writing without having to give somebody a wholeass prequel movie. with loki confirmed to appear in multiverse of madness, i’m hoping we see more of sylvie - not as a villain, but as a hero who can overcome her past experiences and rise to better things.

or maybe another kang shows up and kills her immediately. who knows.