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hiraethwa · 8 months ago

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one summer day

07 sun and moon. where you plan a surprise for ushijima’s birthday with the help of his teammates

<< 06 saturn ii. | >> 08 to be human.

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x reader a/n: as inspired by “i promised myself i would never fall in love but it was 4am and we were laughing way too hard and i felt happy for the first time in a long time" this one got a little out of hand hahaha :) hope you enjoy a cute slice of life chapter after all that angst from saturn parts i and ii - ave word count: 2.8k warnings: cursing, falling in love tags: @lemurzsquad -- (inbox me if you want to be added to the tag list)

august, second year

you hope that the boys did a good job of keeping your plan under wraps as you signaled to semi in the volleyball gym,. it’s summer break, and you had baked ushijima’s favorite cake as a surprise for his birthday. you have been planning this since the break started, coordinating with the boys on the team to celebrate his birthday.

you stay hidden from his sight outside the doors, watching as tendo claps his hands twice to get the team’s attention, counting to three before they launch into a terrible rendition of the birthday song. it physically hurts you to hear the out of tune and unsynchronized singing, but you make your feet move forward.

the candles on cake flicker as you step into the building, joining in to the singing as best you can. ushijima turns around to find you smiling sweetly at him, dressed in a white summer dress that falls to your knees, as if he heard you among the sea of voices.

there is surprise in the way his eyes slightly widened, lips parting. he did not see this coming, you note with a strange sense of satisfaction, feeling a song coursing through your body.

you stop in front of him, lifting the cake for him to blow the candles out. “happy birthday, toshi” you have been using that shortened version of his name for him lately, preferring the way it sounds. what you didn’t know though, was that the team has been giving him grief about you doing it, teasing him to no end when you were not around despite his repeated rejections of claims that the two of you were dating.

a wide smile graces your lips as you soak in the way he stares back and forth at you and the cake before closing his eyes for what only felt like seconds, making a wish. you watch as his tongue darts across his lips before he puts out the candles in one breath.

you hand over the cake to one of the first years, as ushijima thanks the team for the surprise and orders them back to practice in his captain voice. the third years had chosen him to lead the team, leaving shortly after they were done with interhigh nationals to focus on preparing for university entrance examinations.

you know how significant it was for him to be chosen as captain. how he valued being relied upon by his teammates to see them through to victory. he aspired to be the dependable ace, and now he is.

you place a hand on his arm, stopping them from resuming practice. it was evening now, and definitely time for dinner. you have a reservation booked at a restaurant in town, and have made the necessary arrangements for the team to be able to attend it.

“coach gave you all time off tonight,” you announce, enjoying the various looks of surprise and respect on their faces except ushijima, who looks like he saw this coming. “c’mon, we have a dinner reservation in thirty minutes.”

they stand frozen in place, before one of the first years, shirabu, breaks the silence. ��how did you do that? coach is so strict, he never lets us slack off at practice.”

you laugh, noting how they felt comfortable to address you now, a far cry from the beginning of the school year when they were too afraid to approach you whenever you visited your friends at practice. “that’s because i’m coach’s favorite,” you wink at the setter, sending him into a blushing fit.

though the coach seemed hard to get along with, he had taken a liking to you after you brought him homemade food on a few occasions to bribe him into letting you stay and watch the matches. despite the mean facade he wears, he was always kind when he interacted with you.

you remember him taking a look between you and ushijima back in may, having noticed how you two seemed to appear together and how you stood closer than normal friends would, elbows touching and how only ushijima got packed bentos from you, and bluntly asked if you were dating.

you had looked at ushijima, meeting his eyes and immediately looked away, heat burning your face all the way to the tip of your ears. and the two of you had denied it so quick and loudly that it caught the attention of the shiratorizawa players who were in the middle of a match. the spike the opponents sent back caught your team off guard, hitting soekawa in the back of his head and scoring the match point.

coach had made them do a hundred serves each as penalty after the visiting college team left.

sometimes you wonder if ushijima has told him anything about you to make him treat you so kindly. sometimes when you sat next to him at matches, helping him record the plays since they did not have a manager, and he talked to you about your life and your plans, he felt like more of a parental figure than your own parents. sometimes when he looks at you with that all knowing glint in his aged eyes, holding his words back and trusting you to make your own decision, you wish your parents were more present in your life.

“go change into clean clothes, please!” you shoo the sweaty boys away from you when they try to give you a hug. the first years, recognizing the influence you have with their coach, had taken to lining up in a straight line, saluting to you with reverence. “yes, senpai!”

you shake your head at the younger boys as they start cleaning up, jumping with excitement at the prospects of being given time off. you place the cake back into the cake carrier to bring to the restaurant as dessert.

“y/n-chan!” tendo casually walks over to you, hands placed on his hips. “you look real pretty today. ushijima-kun must be over the moon that you dressed up for his birthday.” he grins at you teasingly.

you elbow the boy, rolling your eyes at him. “shut your mouth if you don’t have anything good to say, satori.”

“huh? anyone with eyes would be.” he sticks his tongue out at you, leaning back on the bench with his hands braced on either side of himself.

you sit down next to him, watching the team packing up the equipment and mopping the floors. particularly the team captain. you got serious, remembering their recent loss in nationals. “how was practice? i know the interhigh loss must have been tough.”

“well enough, i suppose. we are constantly pushing each other to improve, ushijima-kun most of all.” he shrugs, pausing. you know that he gives his all and more to be the best out there. after all, he is one of the top three aces in the country at the high school level. but still, you worry that he is pushing himself too hard.

when school was in session, you had to drag your boys out of the gym by the neck on some evenings. they would lose track of time, practicing hours past practice, wearing their tired bodies down. and you would be there to tell them off. on some days, bribing them with food gets them out of the gym.

tendo pins you with a knowing look. “i’m glad you found each other, you know.”

“who?” you frown at him. he needs to stop being so vague and whatever this is.

“you and ushijima-kun. he’s different around you, a good different,” he gestures toward you, “and you, you are happier around him. you smile more, and you come out of your shell to hang out with us. it feels like he’s the sun and you’re the moon, and you reflect the light he shines on you radiantly.”

you understand what he meant. you, of all people, would know. being around ushijima feels like basking in warm sunlight in spring when it’s a little too chilly without the sun. though you don’t want to admit it, it feels like home.

you don’t care to dig deeper and put a name to the feeling. you just wish to savor the present before it slips through your fingers. all you know is that you truly felt safe to be yourself around him. you love the person you are, the person you are becoming, with ushijima by your side.

since that vulnerable night you shared with him months ago, he had kept his promise. whenever you took a step towards the light, he was right there next to you. and when the darkness tried to lure you back into its familiar embrace, he held your hand tight, refusing to let you go.

slowly, but surely, you began to look forward to plans you made with your friends and classes that you found an interest in. to see the summer transition to autumn. to the life you would have after high school. music started to feel like magic instead of an escape.

the hazy future that had avoided you became clearer. you had friends who cared about you. you grew the courage to show yourself and say the things you were too afraid to say in conversations. you smiled more, laughed more. you started living, and it felt good. it felt amazing, actually. you have developed the confidence to be the person that you kept hidden away for far too long.

“i’m the lucky one,” you mutter to yourself, lost in your own thoughts, failing to notice that tendo had been called away and the boys are filing out of the gym, chattering excitedly. semi calls out to you, “let’s go, y/n!”

“wait for me!” you yell back at him, jumping up and grabbing the cake carrier. semi links his arm through yours as you catch up to them.

a lively air surrounds your group of friends as you head into town for dinner. your party of twenty takes up a good portion of the restaurant. talking and laughing about the most random things, from semi’s recent obsession with styling his hair to the time ohira got so nervous talking to a girl he said he likes her friend.

the waitress comes by the table to take your orders, timidly trying to speak to the boys, but they are all distractedly speaking amongst themselves. so you stood up, clinking your fork to a glass of water to get their attention, telling them to decide on their orders and tallying up the different sets that they chose. she shoots you a grateful smile for making her life easier and not having to interact with the intimidating group of boys. you return an apologizing smile to her for your party who is being difficult to handle.

dinner flies by with you seated between ushijima and semi. tendo rose to his feet, copying your earlier actions of clinking a utensil to a glass to get everyone’s attention. and proceeds to give a birthday toast to ushijima. “ushijima-kun, i am grateful to be able to call you my friend. happy birthday to the best team captain i have ever had!”

you all cheer for his sweet and simple birthday wish, sounds of clinking glasses and whoops fill the air. soekawa, seated beside tendo goes next, and then, ohira, and one by one, going around the table, birthday wishes are said to ushijima.

shirabu wishes his senpai a great year of volleyball ahead and to win the nationals in his final year. semi admits that he admires ushijima’s work ethic when it comes to volleyball and for the soon-to-be third years to do their best.

and then all eyes fall to you, the last one at the table to say something. the only girl sitting at the table full of strong-framed volleyball players. but somehow, you don’t feel like the odd one out. no, you feel perfectly comfortable with the group of friends who is beginning to feel like family.

but it is the pair of earth colored eyes that knocks the breath out of you.

“wakatoshi, it has been my honor to call you my friend in the past year. you’ve seen parts of me that no one else had seen,” you pause, the hoots and excited clapping from the second years interrupting you. you shoot them a glare that promises death, realizing how your words implied something else.

but you ignore the burning in your cheeks as you continue your toast. “and yet you stayed when you did not have to. you’re an amazing person, and an even better volleyball player. let’s celebrate this day next year and every year after that. happy birthday, captain!”

you meet his eyes, a warm light to them. a silent thank you reverberating in their depths.

no, thank you. a blink, and then a slow smile back to ushijima as the world fades away to silence until it was just the two of you.

you see the understanding in his eyes. so many words left unsaid because they were not needed, not with him. they say soulmates complete each other. but you never believed in soulmates. even if they did exist, he wouldn’t be yours.

tendo is right. he’s a sun, capable of powering entire planets, and you are but a barren moon, thriving under his care, much like the other planets and their own moons in the solar system. just as the moon orbits the earth and the sun, so does the sun orbit the center of the milky way galaxy. and the sun is always out of the moon’s reach, destined for greater things.

you are grateful to have him in your life, but you know that sooner or later, he will move on. he is meant for more than just this. such is this life. so you will take whatever fate has given you and hold on to it tightly while you can.

even if your souls are made from the same fabric, it is not enough for the ill-fated hand that you have been dealt. it should be enough for you to be able to share this time with ushijima. it has to be.

and then the noise comes flooding back in, pulling you back to reality as ushijima looks away towards someone who pulled him into a conversation.

you stand up abruptly, unsettled by the realization that crept up on you. “i’m going to get some fresh air”, you say tightly to no one in particular, grabbing your purse and walking out the door.

you settle on the curved bench, throwing your head back and enjoying the occasional cool breeze kissing the warm skin on your neck, legs stretched out like a cat. you stare up at the sky, at the moon and the stars twinkling in the distance.

a heavy weight settling besides you startles you, sending you scrambling to sit up. “it’s me” ushijima.

“hey, you. what are you doing away from your party, birthday boy?” you relax back into your comfortable position. sometimes you think you get high on air around him.

he nudges you. “not the same without the person who made it all happen.”

you unconsciously scoot closer to him despite the heat radiating off his body. “i enjoy their company, but i think the quiet suits me more.” against your best judgement, you lean in towards him, resting your heavy head against the curve of his shoulder. the silence always feels so loving in his presence.

“thank you,” you turn to look at him, finding his gaze already on you. his face is inches away from yours. that’s the closest you two have ever gotten, you think. you could lose yourself in his eyes forever.

“for what?” it comes out as a whisper.

there is a twinkle in his eyes. “for today. for making my birthday such a memorable one. for all the food you made me. for the green tea you keep stocked for me. for seeing me.” a smile graces his lips, “for being on my side. for nothing. for everything. for being you.” he lists, counting on both hands.

maybe it’s the way his voice calms you and soothes your fears. maybe it’s the feeling of his arm against yours. maybe it’s the way the moonlight is shining in his hair. maybe it’s the feeling of the melody that had been slumbering in you shift and open one eye. maybe it’s the way he saw your darkest and ugliest parts and still chose to stay. maybe it’s the way he felt like home.

because despite your best intentions, despite the promise you made to yourself to not fall in love, you find yourself stepping off the cliff.

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reblogs and comments are appreciated! i wanted to yell so much as i proofread this part omg AHHH my inbox is also open if you would like to yell about them privately <3

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smokeybrandreviews · 1 year ago

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Lack of Conviction

Episode five of Ahsoka really hammered home how goddamn ridiculous the entire Clone War situation truly was. Watching Ahsoka on the front lines of that Geonosis battle, a fight where she was canonically fourteen or fifteen, was ludicrous back in the original show, but seeing the character in that situation portrayed by the age appropriate Ariana Greenblatt was f*cking jarring. Greenblatt is sixteen years old, splitting the difference of Aksoka’s age range throughout the Clone Wars. She’s as close to a real, teenage, Tano, that we’re going to get and it is wildly apparent that she is a CHILD. The goddamn Jedi Order, was sending child soldiers to fight in a trade war against an analogous Sith overlord and his army of drones. I don’t care how good at space wizarding your teenager is, they are still just a goddamn teenager! And Ahsoka wasn’t the only one. Barris Offee immediately comes to mind! The age you become a Padawan Learner to a Master Jedi is around twelve. That means there were children as young as twelve taking laser shots to the face, not to mention the wholesale slaughter of these cats during Order Sixty-Six, because of a goddamn trade dispute. How f*cking ridiculous is that? Anakin even said the quiet part out loud when addressing Ahsoka’s hesitation. He told her that Obi-Wan trained him to be a peacekeeper, but Anakin was training Ahsoka to be a soldier. That sh*t was the intent. That was the plan. That was the whole dynamic; Train an army of child astro-sorcerers in the ways of war, by throwing them headlong into one. From anyone’s point of view, that’s f*cked up and lends credence to everything Poppa Paps was talking about. Imagine trying to convince the ludicrously powerful Chosen One you’re in the right, when the only other person outside of his mom and wife whom he genuinely loved, was put in his charge to turn her into a weapon. And then when she turned out to be a fantastic one, they cast her aside the second someone gets murdered in those hallowed Council halls. Cats give Anakin sh*t for slaying them Younglings but how are the Jedi any goddamn different? They literally use children until they are used up. I can only imagine the trauma the kids who survived will have to endure. Hell, we’ve seen a few of them already. Ahsoka, Cade from those absolutely dope games, Hera's dead baby daddy, and that one chick from Kenobi; None of who are healthy, well adjusted, stand-up adults! Absolutely emotional train wrecks, the lot of them!

More than that, this episode proved to me just how much of Anakin is in Ahsoka. They mirror each other as much as Ahsoka and Sabine. It's wild to see in live action, especially getting that from Hayden who finally got to play a complex version of Anakin. Clone Wars went a long way to redeeming that character but seeing him actually force a catharsis in Ahsoka was rough. I've seen them cross lightsabers before and it broke my f*cking heart. I've spoken at length about that, but seeing it here? Knowing this is training from a fully fledged Jedi Master Anakin? I cannot articulate how amazing that is. He pushed Ahsoka to her limits. Forced her to confront the grief and guilt she had for being a weapon, for abandoning Anakin. Hayden gave this role so much depth, so much emotion, it was just breathtaking to witness. Seeing him flit between Vader and Sky Guy was almost too much but it very necessary. It was necessary for Ahsoka. She had to see that, to come to terms with that, in order to move forward. She is everything Anakin is, even Vader, as demonstrated by those Sith eyes when she contemplated the unthinkable. Interestingly enough, even channeling the Dark Side like a champ, you can tell Anakin was concerned for his Padawan. Not that he would be killed, Anakin is beyond even that at this point, but that his Padawan, would fall like he did. Ahsoka did not. She chose life and Sky Guy gave her that smirk, telling Snips there was hope for her yet. F*cking everything. That last exchange was f*cking everything. Especially when you take into account that Anakin pulled her into the World Between Worlds to save her life. As a goddamn Force Ghost. What the f*ck does THAT even mean??

#Ahsoka #Star Wars #Star Wars: Ahsoka #Lucasfilm #Sky Guy #Snips

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transmutationisms · 1 year ago

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given how you have talked about succession and race before, do you have any thoughts on the recent interview by Juliana Canfield in Vulture? The main gist of the Jess scene in the last episode being meant to be funny, according to one of the (white) writers. (Quote: "Three weeks later, a bunch of us went out to dinner and one of the writers, Lucy Prebble, was like, “We’re cutting together episode eight, and the scene is funny.” I was like, “It’s a funny scene?” It had never occurred to me that it was written to be funny. I saw it as deadly serious, existentially chilling, and reminiscent of the 2016 election.")

so, wrt that scene in particular, it's not totally clear to me what prebble thought the joke was, and imo that would make a difference. to me it read as a very dark joke aimed at greg, who's clearly torn between thinking mencken is 'bad' in a very distant way, and wanting to please his boss and do his job. jess's lines i did not think were delivered or played as funny, and the overall effect of the scene, to me, was to shift focus to the people who work for waystar but cannot really be said to make executive calls: assistants, underlings, &c. i read jess as feeling like she's been complicit in what atn was doing this entire time, and trying, too little too late, to stop it. her field of action is obviously very limited because she, like everyone else on the show, is still operating within waystar's orbit, and within capitalism.

more broadly, i think this jess convo is a little bit frustrating in some of the same ways the sophie stuff has been. it's a very last-minute shift for the show, to actually address head-on (sort of) jess and sophie as women of colour and what that means for them as people who are involved with the roys in different capacities. it's hard to do this well this late in the game, and especially in a season where by necessity the siblings' grief is so central. we still haven't spent any time with jess alone, and we've never really gotten into her head---also a problem with sophie. so, just as the sophie scenes work mostly as kendall characterisation, the jess/greg convo does a lot of its work as greg characterisation, and kendall's remarks to jess earlier in the season about atn covering african politics also tell us much more about how kendall sees jess, himself, and racism than they do about jess herself.

none of this is a new problem for succession; it has always been pretty clear that it's about its white characters. so, these last-ditch gestures toward more commentary on race can read as a bit tacky at best. with the election night thing, i don't mind a joke at greg's expense (it's continuous with him trying to claim he has "principles" in s2), but it is true that in that scene the show is using jess and her race (implicitly) to do that. the show's premise has always foreclosed a lot of potentially interesting questions about people like jess and in jess's position: again, disempowered, but also benefitting in some way from the company and from selling reactionary politics. that could make an interesting avenue to explore, but it's simply not one that this show has chosen to go down. again, it's not clear to me from that interview exactly what prebble thought the joke was so i can't really say much more about her specifically, but the scene itself in the show is part of a larger pattern in how the writers handle race (usually weirdly ignore it, sometimes use it to explore their white characters' psyches).

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questionableratatouille00 · 1 year ago

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𝓜𝓸𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓞𝓷 4

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Steve mentioning his regrets about what he did during a traumatic event prompts Y/n to think about her own regrets. This sends her into a spiral, but a very special outing helps her out. Especially when the invite comes from that same redhead.

Warnings (Entire Series): This series deals with mature topics, including, but not limited to: death, mental health issues, physical, emotional, and sexual abuse, grief, trauma, general unwellness, illness (both mental and physical), and a most likely inaccurate portrayal of group therapy (though it’s much better than whatever was going on in TFATWS.) Please mind the warnings below.

Warnings: grief, mentions of a dead lover, heart attacks, talks of trauma, cursing, self-hating thoughts.

🌻Series Masterlist 🌻

————————————————————————

𝐈 𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐑𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐭

“I regret what I did. When it happened.” Steve confessed, and you frowned.

“Would you like to share more about what happened?” Coulson invited him to speak.

“There isn’t very much to share. I was thirteen, my dad and I were outside. He was cutting down a tree, and then…well, he just clutched his chest and fell over. I think he called for help. I can’t…can’t remember it very clearly. But I just stood there. I just stood there like an idiot.” Steve swallows, clearing his throat.

“And I’m not saying he was the best dad, or the best man, because he wasn’t. He was a drunk, and he’d do stupid shit when he was drunk. But I’d never…never seen someone die before.” He rubbed his hands together every so often. “I regret it. If I’d done something, maybe he could’ve lived.”

“That’s not your fault, you know.” Wanda says gently. “You were a child. You couldn’t control that.”

Steve just shrugged in response.

“Does anybody else want to share similar feelings or memories?” Coulson addressed the crowd.

Regret. You understood that feeling. You regret what you did the morning of the accident. How you didn’t get to tell her goodbye that morning before she went to work. How you didn’t tell her that you loved her.

Warm sunlight spilled through the blinds of your bedroom, the blankets strewn about the bed. You’d chosen these bedsheets together, you remembered. You’d picked them out in the store together, soon before you moved into your apartment. These were good bedsheets. Warm, and comfortable, and safe.

You heard the distant sound of Natasha making coffee in the kitchen. You wanted to get up, to kiss her cheek and tell her you loved her before she went off to work. But God, you were so tired, and the sheets were so comfortable and warm and safe. Besides, you’d see her later anyway. She was only going to work. She’d come back around dinner time, and then you two could cook together or she’d bring something home. Like any other day.

But it hadn’t been any other day. You knew that now. God, you were such an ass. You should’ve just gotten out of bed like a normal, functioning human being and told your girlfriend you loved her and hoped she had a good day. It was so easy. Why couldn’t you have just done it?

But now Natasha is gone, and the last time you got to talk to her was the night before she fucking died, and what had you said to her?

“Can you take the trash out when you leave tomorrow?” Fuck, you wanted to beat yourself with a chair. Your last words to your girlfriend were asking her to take out the fucking garbage. Not ‘I love you, goodnight’ or ‘you’re my everything’ but ‘hey, can you take out my fucking garbage because I can’t get up off my ass and do it myself?’

You weren’t very present as you listened to the rest of the meeting, and you weren’t present when you walked out to your car, either.

“Hey,” a familiar feminine voice called for your attention. “Are you alright?”

You looked over your shoulder to see the redhead. “Yeah. Yeah, m’fine.”

“Are you..sure?” She asked softly. God, there was something about her, about the way she spoke, that made you want to tell her everything.

Fuck, you were just downright awful, huh? You couldn’t even be bothered to tell your girlfriend that she mattered to you, and now you’re just going to dump your baggage onto every attractive person you meet?

“I…” You trailed off, opting to rub your thumb against your keys. You decided to just shrug in response.

“Would—would you like to get lunch together? Tomorrow?” She blurted out. She bit her lip immediately after, and you could tell she regretted saying it.

But you nodded. You couldn’t lie, you’d been attracted to her.

“Great. Uhm—here’s my number.” She hands you a tiny piece of paper, and you’d realized that she’d been waiting to give this to you.

“Thanks.” You smiled. She nodded quickly, rushing off to her car. You chuckled to yourself, opening your car door and getting inside. You didn’t feel as shitty anymore.

As you drove home, you couldn’t help but think about her. You and Wanda were always pretty friendly with each other, exchanging a few words or compliments here and there.

———————

The next day, you made sure you didn’t look like you’d just rolled out of bed, taking the time to pick out a decent, matching outfit and even accessorizing with a necklace. It wasn’t fancy by any means, you were just going out to a cafe. You’d texted with Wanda about where the two of you were going to go, and you’d both eventually decided to meet at the cafe at 12:30.

You were out the door at 12:00, driving down to the cafe as you anxiously anticipated the…whatever this qualified as. It wasn’t a date. It couldn’t have been a date, Wanda liked men and only men, right? Just because someone isn’t homophobic doesn’t mean they’re gay.

When you arrived, she parked next to you.

“Hey,” you greeted awkwardly, wiping your sweaty hand on your thigh.

“Hi.” She smiled, and her nose crinkled. It was adorable, and she looked genuinely happy to see you.

You walked inside together, ordering your food and taking it to a table to sit down. You’d ordered your favorite food from the cafe, and she’d gotten a cup of soup with a half of a sandwich.

You chatted about anything and everything, and you smiled warmly throughout the entire conversation. Wanda had that effect on people. Even in group therapy, whenever she talked to anyone they ended up smiling.

You’d been to a quite a few meetings, getting to know everybody. The weather was still decently warm and the sun was still out, but it was clear that fall was approaching.

“Any plans for Halloween?” You asked after a few moments of silence where the two of you were eating.

“No, I don’t think so. I normally have a bunch of trick-or-treaters, so I’m probably going to end up decorating a lot this year.” She explains. “Normally my husband would’ve helped, but..” she shrugged, smiling up at you lightly. You envied Wanda in her ability to be so put together after losing a partner. Her husband, no less. Natasha meant the world to you, and maybe one day you would’ve gotten married, but there’s a whole lot of extra stuff to do when your spouse dies, isn’t there?

“I might invite the group over and we could do it together. I’d make or get dinner or something, and we’d get time to get to know each other outside of therapy. Maybe that’s not what I’m supposed to do, but they all seem like really nice people. What do you think?” She suggested.

“I think that’s a good idea.” You shrugged. “I don’t know. I’d be willing to help, if you want.”

She smiled. “I think I’d like that.”

#moving on #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff fic

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littlerosetrove · 6 months ago

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Well. I have some thoughts, which some of y’all may not like or agree with, and that’s fine. But please please if you’re going to “well actually” or “okay but” in the comments or reblogs then make your own post, okay? I need to vent on my corner here. You can do whatever you want in your own.

This got long, so my venting about Eddie's cheating storyline is under the cut.

Let me state: if you’re enjoying this cheating storyline for Eddie? Truly that is fine. I don’t think anyone who likes it is bad or anything. This is fiction after all. I, however, am not enjoying this fictional storyline, which is also fine. I just won’t engage with people who are on opposite ends with me for this story, and I’m asking the same in return.

Also to be very clear: this is not me bashing or hating on Eddie. This is me very much disliking the storyline the writers have chosen for my favorite character. I fully understand Eddie is a flawed human being, but that doesn’t mean I have to like or enjoy every story they write for him.

Now, has 911 done a cheating storyline? Yes, with the mains Hen, Michael, and Buck, and at least a couple times with random people on 911 calls. It may not be new, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it. I didn’t enjoy Hen’s, Michael’s, or Buck’s cheating storyline, and I’m not enjoying Eddie’s either. I’ve rarely enjoyed cheating storylines in any media. It’s just not my thing. ALSO. Funny how every cheater in this show has been a queer main character. Eddie may not be canonically queer YET, but it’s obvious he’s going to be. So thanks, I hate it. 👍

No seriously. I DO think they’re eventually going to make Eddie queer. But then. Y’all. That will confirm Eddie as the FOURTH queer character to cheat. Like what the actual fuck. As a queer person, I do not care for this honestly gross trend.

Clearly the writers and Tim wanted to do a story where Eddie romantically pursues a woman who looks like his dead wife, because Eddie has not moved on in 5 years, but more on that aspect later. Ok, fine. But why did they have to make it even more messy and complicated and unoriginal by having Eddie cheat? No seriously. No one cares about Marisol nor the nothing burger of a relationship between her and Eddie, because there’s nothing there! To either part! Hell Eddie keeps joking about breaking up with Marisol, so he definitely sees an end date to them (despite, I think, Ryan saying in an interview that Eddie cares for Marisol, and the word love was used, but? cool we’ve zero evidence of this in canon, so whatever).

Why could the show have not had Eddie break up with Marisol nolastname first, and then quickly jump into dating a woman who looks like his dead wife? That way there’s no fucking cheating. Eddie is still grieving Shannon, sure I get that, but for his grief to drive him, knowingly, to be a cheater? For what purpose?????? Eddie is clearly unstable and acting irrationally, so frankly it’s enough to highlight this with, again, first breaking up with Marisol, and then immediately start dating Shannon’s doppelgänger. Boom. No need to cheat, and it’s still messy as hell.

To quote @eddiegettingshot from their post here, when it comes to Marisol “it’s literally just flimsy writing she’s not even adding an emotional element except for by virtue of her existence.”

Let’s circle back to Shannon.

Look. I’ve never made it a secret that I don’t like Shannon. She’s not an unsympathetic character, and I know she’s flawed because she’s human. I Know. But I still don’t like her and never will. I’m also not a fan of this show keeping Eddie on a hamster wheel with the ghost of Shannon for FIVE seasons. I’m tired of Eddie’s stories constantly coming back to and revolving around Shannon. This is a TV show guys, not real life. I’m fully aware what grief can do to people, I have experience, but my gosh. Watching the story of Shannon dragged out for five seasons now is so. tiring. And yes, FINALLY, the show is addressing the Shannon of it all so Eddie can move the fuck on, but good gosh. It’s taken five seasons to get here. I really wish they’d taken the opportunity to do this story in season 6, but alas.

Kinda repeating here, but fucking finally they’re working on Eddie moving past the ghost of Shannon, because Eddie’s been hiding who he is and what he wants behind her AND, to bring Chris into this, hiding behind him too. Using Chris as a shield to protect and deny himself from who he is and what he wants. We know a big reason Eddie dated and stuck with Ana was because “my kid loves her.” Eddie thinks he needs to give Chris another mother, for various reasons. Because of this he hasn’t been following his heart. Thus, Eddie has clung to the ghost of Shannon and their relationship because that is known (the nuclear family and the heteronormativity of it all, which I really don’t think Eddie actually wants, hence a fuck ton of denial and compartmentalizing), and the “unknown” is more terrifying to Eddie. Super understandable. But this is TV and I need Eddie to do something different and new.

I don’t think they’ll go this far, but what in the world was Eddie planning to do? I mean I don’t think he’s even thinking far ahead at all, but what would happen if Eddie brought home this Shannon look-a-like to Christopher? That would be hella traumatizing to Chris, who is of course still struggling with the loss of his mom, and the mother he recognizes/understands left him.

A connected side not to all of this is, we still have zero knowledge of how Chris feels about Marisol. Sure the three of them went for ice cream, so we can interpret Chris is fine with her, but nothing more concrete or illuminating that. For once I’d love for Chris to actually get to say how he feels about things like this. SO we can only guess that Eddie, without talking to Chris, had moved Marisol in then back out of the house. We have no idea if Chris knew about Marisol moving in or not. Nothing.

So we take these two huge things, Eddie possibly not talking to his son about having his girlfriend of maybe four months move in, and the potential (because again I don’t think they’ll go this far, but who the fuck knows now) of Eddie bringing a Shannon doppelgänger around Chris. I know grief is a hell of a thing - again, I have experience - but it all paints Eddie as a bad father (this season), and I don’t get why they’re taking it this far. Eddie is flawed, of course he is, and oh my god I know he’s only human, but come on. Why is the show painting Eddie being as, honestly, pretty damn selfish in this way? Again, we’ve zero knowledge of Chris’s feelings on Marisol, really, and now Eddie is cheating on Marisol nolastname by chasing after a woman who looks like his dead wife, and to what end???? (to be clear, I don't think Eddie is a bad father, it's just that the show is making him kind of look like one.)

All of this is going to blow up in Eddie’s face, and he’ll deserve it. 1) He’s cheating on his girlfriend with a woman who looks like his dead wife. I have no fucking clue how Marisol will react when the truth comes out, but my gosh if they have her easily forgive Eddie… I don’t care at all about Marisol, but if she has no backbone the way Ana never seemed to have one, then good grief. I’m white, but that will be two Latina characters just letting Eddie’s bullshit slide (to an extent). Idk, but that doesn’t feel right. 2) He’s going to hurt this “looks like his dead wife” woman because Eddie refuses to process his grief over Shannon. Thus adding a layer to Eddie’s selfishness. The show can have Eddie be selfish of course, but it does Not need to be in this way (i contain multitudes. i am ok with the doppelgänger weirdness on its own, but at the same time see that it's a very selfish thing eddie is doing). 3) Eddie is certainly lying to everyone, but he lied to Buck’s face. And remember how Buck felt so terrible about lying in any way to Eddie in 7x5? Yeah.... Yes Buck has experience with cheating on his girlfriend, but Eddie used Buck to lie. There's a difference. 4) Where the hell does Chris fit into all of this mess?? Christ, for both their sakes I hope Chris does not learn that his dad cheated on his girlfriend to date a woman that looks like his mom because, again, Eddie refuses to properly grieve and let go of Shannon. Chris already needs to go back to therapy anyway though, let’s be honest.

However this mess of a storyline plays out, FFS, they better put Eddie back in therapy. Even without the cheating part, Eddie NEEDS to go back to therapy for so many valid reasons. He needs to talk about his guilt and grief when it comes to Shannon, his Catholic guilt (currently forgotten??), it hasn’t been brought up yet but his mommy issues, and he needs to learn about consent especially when it comes to sex. Like come on. Eddie has plenty of issues, so WHY was it necessary to throw in cheating? I’m so serious. They want him to continue to be messy? Fine, but pick a less uninspired path to add to the mess.

*tired sigh*

Bottom line, I feel like the show is just continuing to disrespect Eddie and his character. In season 6 they handled his loneliness and then dating storyline, particularly the dating aspect, in a joking way. It wasn’t handled well in my opinion. Now in season 7 he’s cheating on Marisol who still has no character, and they’re in a no substance relationship that I don’t feel an ounce of investment in. A cheating storyline should resonate on some level, but it’s not here and it doesn’t resonate because we have two women no one cares about beyond the general feeling of “it sucks to be cheated on” and “it sucks to be lied to.” Congrats on the shitty writing. They want to (fucking finally) work on Eddie actually confronting his grief about Shannon after five years of being on a hamster wheel? Great. But do it with more care. Not this. And remember how they introduced and treated Eddie’s apparent Catholic guilt as a joke? Yeah there’s that too.

Eddie has complicated trauma and I really don’t like that it’s being treated as a mix of a joke (catholic guilt) and just disrespectfully (cheating). Eddie dating a Shannon doppelgänger is already messy on its own - and honestly I would have been fine with that because Eddie is a walking trauma, guilt ridden, repression bomb waiting to go off - so we did not need to add cheating to the mix. While I’m on board with Eddie being hella messy and delusional to date someone who looks like his dead wife, but the cheating never needed to be here.

After all this mess blows up in Eddie’s face? Ya’ll. Eddie needs to go to therapy and it’s not a bad or wrong thing to point out that he needs to be single for a little while. Hello????? Just look at the mess Eddie is right now.

*another tired sigh* I think I covered everything I wanted to say....

#911 spoilers #911 critical #911 negativity #9-1-1 #Eddie Diaz #Shannon Diaz #stating in the tags that if you're cool #with this cheating storyline for Eddie #please do not engage with this #this post is not for you #my thoughts

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backjustforberena · 4 months ago

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hi!

i read what you wrote on the fact that ryan didn't tell steve and eve about the affair, so another interview (tvline) has just been published, and once more steve mentions how he was completely unprepared for alyn and addam, and how he can't understand how corlys's love for rhaenys - in his opinion a love that is genuine since for corlys she is the one - can be reconciled with the fact that he cheated on her with the same person.

i've been thinking about it, and honestly, i believe the biggest issue is that the show will likely try to sanitize corlys' image and won't address the age difference with marilda. i think the fact that 60 yo corlys had two children with her when she was 16 and then 18 is crucial to understanding that this relationship was driven by lust and a power imbalance, it's grooming. there's nothing romantic about it: corlys exploits a young girl for his own amusement and then leaves her and their children, commanding them to stay away from the places where his family could meet them (which is already a huge difference from the show). all of this shows that the 'problem' is not in rhaenys-corlys' relationship but in corlys himself.

it's all very dark in the book and for this reason i don't think they'll respect it. but in changing so, all steve's issues with the character are created and can be solved only by admitting that after all, at least from corlys's side, this love was not so deep and that at same point of his life rhaenys wasn't really 'the one' anymore.

I've always been a bit curious by this "buzzword" of "sanitizing" a character. One of the reasons that I do is because, well, frankly, it suggests something nefarious. Something duplicitous on the part of the showrunner or the writer and I'm always really hesitant to go all in on that. It also suggests a job complete - like they've done such a whitewash on a character that there is nothing that an audience can criticise or loathe them for. Something painfully untrue. None of these characters are exempt from bad behaviour that we, as an audience, can judge or condemn.

I doubt the writers have a list written out of Corlys's timeline to say: oh, let's change that to make him look bad or let's tweak that to make him look better. A lot of the changes are from other things, larger frameworks and choices like time jumps and the arcs of other characters and condensing things down and combining events etc etc. And necessity and representation and if they can do it, within the world they've already built up.

The writers have chosen some darker paths and opinions for Corlys that aren't strictly there in the text. They make him far more forceful with proposing Laena as a bride for Viserys, far more dismissive of Viserys as King, far more callous with Laenor (as he has to wed the day of seeing the man he loved beaten to death) and dismissive of his sexuality, far more wayward in that he leaves his wife alone for six years, far more cruel in having Alyn and Addam near to him but not acknowledging them. There is all of this as much as we have scenes of him showing vulnerability, grief, loss, love and actual emotion that we don't get from the text. That's just the nature of adaption, especially adaption for TV.

I would also like to ask the question: can you sanitize this text? It's a historical text made up of historical figures. We have no idea of motivation, interpersonal relationships, dynamics, emotions, or thoughts. What happens is that people invent, interpret, analyse, assume and create narratives around the facts we are presented, but the foundation to sanitise is so fundamentally shakeable - no one reads things the same way. What may be one person thinking they've sanitised a character (an active task to do) may just be the fact that a person has read the exact same thing and just interpreted it or chosen to interpret it differently, without acknowledging the darker take. No harm, no foul, just different.

You say that the Marilda and Corlys relationship is "very dark" and of course you can read it that way. It's not good at all. The age gap is massive, the power discrepancy is huge. But, and this is just my opinion, we do not have anything concrete enough to say with absolute certainty that it was "very dark". The text offers no judgment on Corlys as a character, no condemnation and no opinion from those involved. Indeed, it offers no confirmation on Corlys, as you can easily read it and say the boys' are Laenor's. It could be that that only 2 out of 5 readers think that, but that's the point. That creates the wiggle room to diverge from the fact that it is "all very dark in the book".

Please don't take this as me dismissing your opinion. It is a popular one. There's a lot of virtue in it. It is just me pointing out that it is opinion, and not objective fact. We are not beholden to this idea that the relationship was "driven by lust and a power imbalance" because we don't have any facts. We assume. We interpret. Which leaves it fair game for other people to assume and interpret. Corlys might have thought he loved this girl, taking out "lust" as a sole motivator and making it something different. He may have found nothing amusing in the situation at all, may have been reckless or fearful or firm or angry or cruel. He may not have had the intention to exploit her. Of course, he may well COULD have. But we don't know.

Do you see the point I'm driving at? The showrunners have latitude and freedom that we may not want to give them as it contradicts our reading of the text, but nevertheless, the text does afford them. And then on top of that, there is the usual freedom and necessity of changing things for an adaptation.

Corlys's adaptation and changes in this storyline do not begin with how the showrunners want to tackle this story and the changes to this story may not have been done purposefully to make Corlys seem a better man. Corlys has been aged down. This is likely done to be more palatable to an audience, to have an actor across all the time jumps and to have a representation of a middle-aged and equal relationship within the story. None of that has to do with Marilda.

The Hull boys have been aged up and brought into proximity to Corlys. This has probably been done to help seed the Dragonseed storyline, make it easier to introduce them, have them fit neater into the timeline, give them some background and aims and ambitions prior to the war and also to populate a different location and add complexity, as well as lean away from child soldiers. That is all separate from their mother.

At present, due to the lack of information about their mother, and the lack of information about ages across the board, it's not a blot on Corlys's name, nor does it absolve him. The mother of Alyn and Addam has not been cast and not been mentioned. There is NO reason to think, assume or hope that Marilda was 16 when she gave birth to Alyn. They can easily age her up, the timelines have shifted etc. Rhaenys probably wasn't 18 when she gave birth. Either way, the chances are that we'd be meeting an actress close to Steve and Eve's age, given the age of Abu. That's not necessarily an agenda, it's just the way that it'll need to be done due to the overall changes in the show.

Do you want Marilda to be as young as she was in the books when giving birth? It's impossible for the age gap to be the same due to Corlys being aged down. We don't know how old he is but he's not 60 when those boys are conceived. But do you want it? Would it make you happy? Why?

Moving on, I think it's a mistake, at this juncture, to say that Corlys's genuine love for Rhaenys is only Steve's opinion. It's not only Steve's opinion. It's not a "headcanon" that's being challenged, it's a fact of the text, and of the scenes, and of the narrative and of the characters. It's played. Corlys loves his wife immensely and that's more than an actor's opinion, it's the basis of the relationship within the universe. It's something from the source and the showrunners.

"Admitting" that this love was not so deep from Corlys's side is not an option because it would undermine everything. It would be putting it out there that Season 1 and all the work done before is not only a lie but insufficient and unreliable. They have this narrative. They need to stick with it. It's also just really bad form and really bad storytelling. And it also may not be what they want to do! It's not something they have to do. It's not easily tossed aside because we have (and this has continued into S2 and so the only way to address it would be in S3) 18 episodes chock-a-block with the motivation for Corlys in that he loves Rhaenys. And that she is that guiding light. Corlys can have cheated in the past AND still have this love for Rhaenys. The two things can coexist but, at the moment, we have no idea how they might do because that is the work that is lacking.

My issue isn't that this storyline suggests some cracks in the relationship or it suggests a period in time or mindset in which Corlys strayed - it is that they haven't helped the actor with it. Was it a bit crappy for them not to mention it in S1? You betcha - I don't know why they didn't, maybe they thought it wasn't relevant or they hadn't decided what to do with the Hull boys or they just didn't think. I don't know. But the mistake, I believe, on the part of the showrunners is they haven't provided a framework in which to reconcile the actions and make it a part of Corlys's and Rhaenys's story, especially when it is something they have to react to.

Steve's issues are not this "darkness". He hasn't got a clue what the book says so he isn't responding to Marilda of Hull. He doesn't even know the name, from what I can gather. The issues come from Corlys having these sons and that is not a fact changed from the book (even if circumstances and ages have been). The issue comes from the cheating, not the specifics of it, because he has no specifics of it with which to find issue.

#house of the dragon #corlys velaryon

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laz-laz-ace-pilot · 2 years ago

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I love the High Republic Jedi

I really need to talk about the Jedi in The High Republic because damn I can’t stop thinking about them and the contrast with the Jedi Order we know during the prequels.

I’ll try to keep this as spoiler-free (and coherent) as possible, but the central three books of Phase One of The High Republic follow the events of three ‘disasters’ that the Jedi try to assist with. It’s also a time when the Republic is expanding into the Outer Rim, and when unity is the calling card of this movement. And the Jedi respond to each of these disasters by working together – I know that sounds pretty basic written like that, but these books cover several perspectives as they come up with plan after plan to help save lives, however they can, pushing the limits of the Force together to achieve their goals.

But the Order isn’t just one monolith of thought; the series explores perspectives that we largely don’t see in the mainstream content around the Prequel Era – from newly-made Council members struggling with Coruscant priorities versus the realities of the Outer Rim, to Padawans who just want to study the galaxy, or who have to learn under new Masters when their previous one dies. New Jedi Knights who are given Padawans they’re not ready for. Jedi who question the close relationship with the Republic. Jedi who struggle with grief but don’t go on a genocidal rampage to deal with it. Jedi who go on soul-searching journeys after using the Dark Side to save lives.

It explores how Jedi interpret the Force through different lenses; some understand it as music, some visualise it as a vast ocean, some like a vast constellation of stars. How these lenses help them explore new abilities, but also how they need to look beyond that to overcome their weaknesses.

Then there are whole areas and disciplines that no longer exist in the Prequel Era – the autonomy of Jedi temples far away from the Core and the Jedi Council, raising Jedi that may never even see Coruscant. Jedi who disagree with the direction of the Council, or the Order, and strike out on their own, but remain Jedi. Wayseekers, who follow the direction of the Force above all else. Mediative retreats that can last whole lifetimes, like the Barash Vow. Shit, Yoda goes on fucking sabbatical!

And then there’s the crazy stuff that a lot of Disney Star Wars could never do. The Jedi to ex-Jedi mercenary mindmeld/ drift compatible moment that allows them to tame two dragons to ride into battle. The ancient creature capable of cutting Force Sensitives off from the Force and husking them. Yoda had a non-binary Padawan who left the Order for a hot boy they met at the circus. Autistic Jedi. Asexual Jedi. SO MANY LESBIANS.

But at the core of it all is teamwork and compassion. Even as threats escalate throughout the story, the Jedi retain their respect for life throughout, and avoid taking it where they can, mourning it when they do. And as more lives are lost and Jedi are traumatised by the events they see, they actually address this trauma and how it might affect a Jedi’s ability to keep to the Code. There are no chosen ones or super powerful Jedi that save the day; everyone pitches in what they can to help the greater effort. And its this that inspires unity within the Republic – selfless compassion for any stranger who needs them, who act together to achieve the impossible.

I don’t know if this even makes any sense but I love the High Republic Jedi so much and I absolutely recommend the series to everyone, but especially to people who only know the Jedi through Obi-Wan and Anakin and Ahsoka because it is so much more than that.

And I just know, in my heart, that if Yoda had announced to them that they had no other choice but to split up and become Generals to battalions of slave soldiers who were going to be slaughtered in their millions under the direction of an increasing corrupt Senate, they would have put him in a retirement home so fast and there wouldn’t have been a Clone War.

Just saying.

#the high republic #jedi #star wars #prequel era #like several temples would sraight up go rogue if faced with what Yoda proposed #Elzar would ask what crack Yoda had been smoking #the disgust at the blatant manipulation and abuse of the clones #Cohmac going on a tirade about how they're losing their independance from the republic #Reath refusing to go into a highly suspect war when he could be READING #the suffering Burryaga and Imri would go through #it just wouldn't fly

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girl4music · 2 years ago

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WILLOW and MAGIC and TARA'S DEATH

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WILLOW and MAGIC

"Willow's arc also looks promising in the early episodes. 'Same Time, Same Place' got me really excited. Maybe I forgot, I thought. Maybe they handle Willow's issues from Season 6 in a thoughtful drawn out way. 'Same Time, Same Place' does a number of insightful and successful things. It addresses Willow's avoidance of difficult situations and the way she uses magic, even subconsciously, to make that easier. Here magic is as it is at its most consistent. An extension of Willow's emotions. The scene with Willow and Buffy at the end is one of the few acknowledgments of their paralleled stories last season. But after that, Willow's struggle with controlling those around her and quick fixes is replaced with this generic "I lost control and killed someone". And her final scene in 'Chosen' is emblematic of these greater issues. Overcome by grief and on the heels of identity-based behaviour addiction, Willow's hair turns black when she absorbs magic in an attempt to stop feeling. Not only does she absorb magic but she makes a clear distinction between the self she is now and the self she's become and she starts talking in third-person to remove herself from the pain of what's happened. And then in 'Chosen' Willow's hair is white... because white is the opposite of black. She was bad when her hair was black and she's better now... so it's white. Get it? Even though we get no serious explanation as to how or why. And without dealing with the grief or the issue with control and quick fixes. The imagery alone isn't the problem. It's the fact that the imagery is a placeholder for what should have been a proper narrative undertaking. HOW did Willow's perception of magic and how it relates to her anxieties of usefulness change? How did she recontextualize her own helpfulness and even where that desire to be needed even comes from? Did she find other ways to prove her worth? Especially in relation to being Buffy's lieutenant. None of this heavy lifting is done. Imagery is great but it's not a substitute for actual themes it's meant to represent. Willow's main problem isn't that she was a murderer. It was her pathological insecurity, need for control and need to be needed."

TARA'S DEATH

"Tara's death is a big part of last season's debris that is brushed aside. Not only was it the catalyst for Willow's most extreme turn, but she was a big sister to Dawn and a support system for a depressed Buffy. Yes, there are bigger fish to fry. But the fall out from this doesn't feel like a Scooby was lost. The way that Tara's death is dealt (or not dealt) with feels disrespectful to what she would've meant to the team. Grief about her is scrapped and accelerated through. And what should be a significant character opportunity with the traumatic event of the loss of a Scooby becomes a footnote. 'The Killer In Me' is an excellent example of this half-baked execution and I might talk about it on its own at some point. Even though I really don't want to talk negatively just for the sake of it. It appears to be a character study but brings up questions without ever answering them. Think about it - what was the resolution? What was the problem solved by the end? In this episode Willow's grief is finally spoken of directly and how it relates to her hesitancy to use magic. Then in the last minutes of the episode Willow finally addresses her guilt, feeling like she's somehow responsible for what happened to Tara and that by even considering the possibility of moving on, feels like she's betrayed her. And she completely breaks down. And then as a solution, Kennedy kisses her. And it's over. And this is never spoken of again. The episode is so confused. It digs at an emotional truth, uncovers it and then rather than tackle it narratively cuts to credits. It feels like a slow chug-chug-chug to the top of a rollercoaster that has no descent. Why did you build this?"

This is an instant like because you said the way I feel about Season 7 precisely. Every issue I have with it you explained coherently and concisely. It could have been so good. And it just isn’t.

#buffy the vampire slayer #season 7 #willow rosenberg #tara maclay #the issues #missteps #missed opportunities #poor execution #lack of significant character interaction and development #loss of meaningful integration #thematic symbolism without narrative substance #willow and magic #tara's death #I wish I could and don't love season 7 #five by five takes #Youtube

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corruptedsilence · 2 years ago

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SPEAKING OF MY SIDE CHARACTER CUZ I AM NOT SORRY I HAVE A LOT OF MUSE FOR HIM RIGHT NOW

I really do love the idea that the grief demons when the ywere first born had to actually learn how things work.

until it’s shown how the grief demons were born im just going to assume they were more or less, formless sentient beings like Des was literal fire who over time would make themselves a body as the anger tapered off as his anger might have like--- ya know killed people.

Plus depression would have come in and kinda FLOODED THE WORLD which would have cooled him down. so his body literally just form itself over time as the fire was cooled off and hardened into a physical form.

but Des, having only been born in and with Anger having difficulty just dealing with anything around her. Often destroying things at the smallest annoyances, causing conflict and issues. And i really, really love the idea of the artifacts needing to figure out their gender and sexuality. Yes I know the whole stereotype of “they’re genderless not complying to social norms!” thing but also just, Des finding himself comfortable as a male, maybe having gone through a period they didn’t know what to be and actually settling on finding a comfortable spot in identifying as a man and trying to learn what it means to have that title.

We see like a lot of things about how people born outside of societies standards and reject them because they don’t understand it but for at least some of the grief demons they not only learn what it means but also can find comfort in it by choosing their own identifiers, their own names

AND DONT GET ME STARTED ON THE WHOLE GRIEF DEMONS BEING ADDRESSED BY THEIR ‘BIRTH NAMES’ AND NOT THEIR CHOSEN NAMES

BECAUSE THAT WHOLE THING OF DEADNAMING THEM AND I HIGHKEY HEADCANON DES HATES WHEN OTHER PEOPLE CALL HIM “ANGER” AND WILL ONLY ALLOW IT AS A ‘NAME’ IF HE’S INTRODUCING HIMSELF BECAUSE HE *WAS* KNOWN AS ‘aNGER’ BUT HE IS NOW DESHFJKEW WHATEVER HIS SPELLING NAME IS

#Out for a Bite // OOC #Screams from the Abyss // MT #;; LET ME HAVE MY GERNDER CONFUSED BABIES FINDING COMFORT IN THEIR IDENTITIES

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smokeybrand · 1 year ago

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Lack of Conviction

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deyasworld · 4 months ago

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Bringing this back because I cracked something about the villain I was criticizing:

Kylo Ren, from Star Wars

He’s a Type C Motivation, because he joins the Sith thinking his grandpa was held back from his full potential and thinks the means justify the ends. The writers gave him a poorly fitted Type B Personality, saying that he turned this desperate because his parents didn’t give him attention growing up, and because his uncle spotted a “darkness” in him, which supposedly harms his self image, adding a cheaply written Type A Motivation.

He’s given a Type A Redemption, that instead of addressing all the conscious bad stuff he’s done for self-gain, it coddles him and says “He just needed love” 🤦‍♀️ And I haven’t watched the third movie but from what I’ve read this ends up almost corrupting his love interest.

Can the types have overlaps? Yes. Sometimes the mindset goes from one to another when their original traumas are addressed but could not be healed.

Here’s an example:

Jinx / Powder, from League of Legends: Arcane

She starts as a Type A Personality. Grows up believing she’s a nuisance to her sister and friends, and this negative mindset only worsens when she causes the death of two of her best friends at a young age.

She gets adopted by a notorious Type B bad man, that although he loved her very much, he was nurturing her hatred towards the world in hopes this would motivate her to see the world as he sees it ( ie. Tells her to adopt the “Jinx” taunt as her personality, as opposed to Powder, which is how the people who loved her called her ), and further made her hate herself.

She spends her developmental years fantasizing about confronting her sister for leaving her, indicating that she believes she deserved better and she’s not that bad of a person, but this taints her further into hating herself because she feels she’s only gotten worse since the last time they saw each other 😔💔

At some point of the plot, she attempts suicide and gets rescued by her adoptive father. She understands she’s loved, but now she’s at a Type B Conflict: Which side has done more harm to her self image?

Now that the lines of right and wrong are blurring, she has to choose what her motivation of living should be. She brings both people she considers her family together to make her judgement, and pressures them into convincing her to choose between being Powder, or Jinx.

Her conflict shows in her mental health throughout the show, but the writing does not allow you to excuse her wrong-doing. She sometimes lashes out and shows Type C behavior because of this, but the consequences are shown, and she feels guilt most of the time.

At the climax of her conflict, she unconsciously kills someone she loves. The grief spirals her further into “madness”, and has chosen a Type C Motivation for living, as she’s desperately looking for pleasure and doesn’t care if it’s right or wrong, all while remaining a Type A Personality.

Considering all she’s ever craved is love and validation, her redemption should be based on learning to forgive and love herself, and by getting a strong support group. To make her listen, she’ll need to be challenged, and might need intense therapy to distract herself from the traumas she can’t make amends for.

Made a little Morality Chart for Villain Redemption with a friend over Discord because Villain Redemption is tricky to write, and many pieces of media have been doing an awkward job at making their redemption arcs make sense.

Here are three ( some not the best ) examples:

Type A: Prince Zuko from Avatar the Last Airbender

He has been conditioned to hate himself and believes he’s a bad person. Fortunately for him, his Uncle Iroh is there to support him unconditionally. It takes a while for him to understand he deserves love and patience, and discovers he’s capable of making people happy. He seeks to make amends with the Avatar and joins his team.

Type B: Vegeta from Dragon Ball Z

He’s a kingdomless prince whose planet and people were destroyed by the space emperor, Frieza, and is forced to work for him. Frieza is killed off by his rival, Goku, and slowly learns to live life in a different planet, starts a family, and befriends his rival.

Type C: Teruki Hanazawa from Mob Psycho 100

This is a psychic boy with a superiority complex who had the world at the palm of his hand, and used his powers for vanity. His ego is reprogrammed into humbleness after almost killing Mob and understanding this was not what he wanted, and gets defeated. He learns to move on and become a better person after seeking to learn from Mob’s humbleness.

#Villain Development #Long Post #Kylo Ren #Jinx Arcane

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sconnie-doesnt-know · 4 years ago

Text

So Wrong

Characters: Lee Bodecker, Reader, Jane Bodecker, assorted OCs, also gonna go ahead and say Lee is kinda soft/dark in this one

Word Count: 8000

Warnings: Infidelity, alcohol usage, smoking, somewhat dub-con sexual stuff, but not really

Summary: The Reader is a young single mother and widow new to the town of Meade. She gets drawn into a social circle that includes the Sheriff’s wife, while also being drawn to the Sheriff himself.

A/n: I truly don’t know where this came from or why I wrote it. I watched TDATT and suddenly this whole thing just popped into my head complete with a Patsy Cline soundtrack. There’s infidelity on Lee’s part, and his wife is terrible, and these are fictional characters so I am trying to not feel guilty for making that happen.

There’s more to this story, probably extending into 1 or 2 more parts. I don’t know what to say for myself, I cannot pwp. Feedback and constructive criticism are welcome. Not beta-read, so please let me know if there’s an error.

Hope you enjoy!

Meade is as good a place as any to settle. Surrounded by wilderness and small towns, it’s quiet, far from anyplace and anyone you know. A welcome adventure and a place to dispose of your grief, finally - hopefully.

You pull up on a quiet street and sit there just a moment to breathe, to look at the life you had that is settled in between the few boxes and suitcases of belongings, the folded up flag, and the little boy you buckled into the seat.

Through a tangled web of connections, you are able to rent a little upper duplex apartment from the widow in town. She claims she doesn’t mind a little noise as your son stomps up the stairs and gives you an open invitation to join her at church on Sundays.

It is six days into your new residence, the first Monday in town when the apparent welcoming committee shows up at your door. She wears a gentle smile on her face and presents you with a warm pie still wrapped in cloth.

“My name is Jane Bodecker, my husband’s the Sheriff. I wanted to introduce myself…”

You know the routine after moving around a few times already. You imagine the conspiring during the luncheon after church yesterday, the ladies munching on dry cookies and deciding who would be the first to talk to you.

You nod and smile, and accept the offering.

“Some of us like to get together to play cards and socialize on Tuesdays, it would be nice to have you join us and let us get to know you.”

Of course she means that they are chomping at the bit to know why a single woman with no family ties has moved into town. You’re familiar with the ritual and know you need to go along if you want to make it work in this place.

You return her smile, “That would be so kind of you, as long as you don’t mind my son coming along.” You gesture to the little boy hiding in your skirts behind you.

“Of course he can. He can play with my boy, Robert. We will see you at two.” She leaves you with her address and directions over, telling you to look for the house with the red shutters.

Their house is in one of the newer, more developed parts, with some manufactured homes lining the street and looking boxy compared to the traditional farmhouses, but it's charming. The red shutters stand out, that’s for certain. It doesn’t take long to figure out that Jane is a proud host, head of the gossip chain, and is required to mention “My husband, the Sheriff” at least once per conversation.

You let the ladies ask their questions and nod politely as they give you the required chorus of condolences. You feel the shift when Jane steers the conversation to what they all want to know. “Now, I don’t mean to spread gossip, but some folks were wondering why you rented a place here instead of goin’ home to your family.”

Your shoulders stiffen, ‘so much for not putting me on the spot’ you think, but you still smile politely as you answer. “I have no other family. My daddy was gone when I was a girl and my momma dropped me off with an aunt and uncle when she was with husband number three and I don’t know where she is. They said it was the first thing she did that made a lick of sense,” you try to joke. “Well, they didn’t exactly approve of me and Jimmy, so when we married they told me not to go back.”

“And the boy’s other kin?”

“Ain’t no other kin. Jimmy’s family was small, they’re gone now.”

“Well, ain’t you a tragedy,” she says in a chirpy, high voice.

Your face tightens and you stare at your lap, “We get by,” you weakly mutter.

They all assure you that they have some nice gentlemen they can introduce to you, and go on about how fortunate you are they are pulling you into their group. You hear about faceless people and their minor transgressions, but get bored with it fairly quickly and use the time to look over the Bodecker home. It’s nice, a mixture of modest and a few state-of -the-art updates. There’s more dust than you expect, the sofa cushions look worn down, with only a few photos on display. The sheriff’s face shrouded in shadows in the one you can see, but you figure their son must take after him since he doesn’t have the pinched look his mother seems to naturally have.

You don’t even meet ‘her husband, the Sheriff’ until your third Tuesday afternoon of cards at their home. Jane herself is practically giving a campaign speech since the election so close. You never paid a lot of attention to local politics, and you try to give her your attention, but when she starts to ramble on it’s just too much. You happen to look to the side to avoid rolling your eyes and catch just when he strolls in, as if on cue with the uniform all perfectly in place. He scans the group of women until he stops on you, eyes lighting up with interest.

Your own breath catches in your throat at the sight of him as he removes his hat and looks you over.

“Well,” he drawls, “You must be the sweet new thing that’s got all the fellas in town rioting.”

You have to look down, lest the embarrassment make you combust.

“Now, Lee,” Jane scolds, “That’s no way to say hello. Come over here and introduce yourself properly.” She guides him over, and you almost say it with her when she recites, “This is my husband, the Sheriff.”

“Apologies, miss. I know you aren’t trying to get them all riled. Janey told me ‘bout your husband. War is Hell, shame to be losing boys like that.”

He holds his hand out to shake yours, his hold firm and warm and you are hesitant to let go.

“I appreciate that, thank you, Sheriff. Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” he nods, eyes flicking over you one more time. “What are your plans in this lovely town of ours?”

“Oh. Well,” you freeze up for a moment, it’s the first time someone’s asked and you don’t have your answer prepared. “Well, I was thinking that I would get a job. We get by right now, but once my boy is in school, I would like something else to do.”

Jane jumps on your answer, “Let’s just see if we can’t find you a bachelor around here. Plenty of boys can use someone to take care of ‘em, but if you want a man who will be home on time, you stay away from any of the deputies. I can’t remember the last time Lee wasn’t busy with something or other from the county. I suppose that’s the life we’ve chosen though, isn’t it?”

Her voice sounds overly sweet, but you can sense the daggers in her words. It’s the way he reacts, shifting on his feet and rolling his jaw like he’s annoyed. Jane doesn’t even pay attention to anything but the cards in her hand. Some of the other ladies nod, but the sheriff just lowers his head before he pulls Jane to the side to talk to her quietly.

You track his movements, fascinated until you shake yourself out of it. It’s been years since you felt like that or even saw a man that caught your attention - not since Jimmy. It’s alarming, unnerving.

The wave of guilt that washes over you is more than you can handle.

“Please excuse me, but we must be going.” You get up without waiting for any response and practically yank your son right out of the house as Jane calls after you that she will see you again soon.

You brush off the incident after having some time to think, convinced that it is just because you were caught off guard, and try to go on as normally as you can.

Your days end up filled with social calls, running errands or helping your landlady, and keeping your son busy. He asks to play with the Bodecker boy nearly every day, but you try your best to keep your distance when you can, especially when she starts trying to arrange dates for you even when you politely decline.

You look at the other ladies sometimes and wonder how many of them are just tolerating her the way you do. There’s just something grating about the way her voice goes especially nasally when she has something not-very-Christian to say, or the way she talks so openly and obscenely about the apparent whorehouse in town. She doesn’t even seem the least bit shameful when she begins to complain about her sister-in-law and the trouble she gets up to despite her brother being the sheriff.

Sheriff Bodecker, on the other hand, is a bit more friendly than you anticipated, expecting him to be cold or rude, but usually he’s the one pushing his wife to extend a coffee or supper invitation your way and making small talk when you are still around when he gets home from work or if he catches you around town. Your own mind suspects that it’s maybe just a sense of civic duty to know his neighbors, but it’s nice to have company nonetheless.

Conversation with him comes easily. He talks with you about interesting news stories, about the boys, about some of the other towns, and even plans for the county. It’s interesting, not just debate on whether the new curtains chosen by someone or other are tacky. There are times you get lost talking with him and need to be corralled back in by Jane or Steven getting antsy.

The way he draws your eye is a mixture of curiosity and interest. It makes you notice when he’s driving the patrol car or when you see him around town. You catch how tired he seems at the end of the days, how he’s usually got a piece of candy to slip to kids when they come by and are brave enough to ask. You notice how he knows everyone in town and seems to have an eye on everything, checking in at the shops and breaking up the young men when they start to roughhouse.

In a place like this, Jane Bodecker is far from the only gossiper in town, so while she might not share much about herself or her husband, plenty of others do. Some of the things they say are just nitpicking and you try to drown it out. They’ve been decent to you since your arrival, but it’s hard to ignore the constant whispers of how power went right to their heads.

When the election is over and she gets the right to continue to say “My husband, the Sheriff” you start to really see what they say. She loses the facade of playing the good wife, but still hosts her weekly card meetings to keep up to date. Instead of just coffee and tea, she starts slipping sips of whiskey and gives her opinion a bit more freely than before, and often hurling insults anywhere they can land.

It’s painful to watch her put down everyone, but especially the sheriff when he gets in her way. When you catch him sending a frustrated look at her turned back or rolling his eyes at her complaints about the town and its people, you pretend not to notice and remember to keep a smile on. Her outbursts get more and more unhinged and brazen, and the defeat and exhaustion in his stance makes you ache. There’s a hurt you can’t vocalize without overstepping, but it eats at you, chips at your patience bit by bit.

When the sheriff pulls the cruiser over one day while you’re walking between stores to say hi and make some small talk, you’re pleased. He seems less worn down, it’s nice to see.

“Oh, Sheriff, you’ve got some good timing,” you reach into one of your shopping bags, pulling out a paper bag of hard candies you bought from the candy shop. “While doing the washing, I found a handful of wrappers. Turns out the boys were getting into your candy stash. Thought you might need a refill.”

You hand him the bag and the smile he gives you in return makes your chest tighten up and ache.

“Sweet things from a sweet thing, thank you darlin’.”

You bit down on your lips, desperate to not react to his flirtatious words. “It’s nothin’, Sheriff.”

“Not to me.”

You start to sway from foot to foot, looking down at the sidewalk with a hum and trying to come up with something else to say. Silence hangs in the air for a moment before his radio crackles with a call from the station. You take the opportunity to make your exit.

“I’ll be seeing you, Sheriff.”

He shoots a glare at the radio, but looks back at you with what you could only describe as longing. “Sure will, Sweets.” Usually something like that would sound condescending, but from him it sounds endearing. He winks and pulls the car away, talking to the dispatcher while he drives.

‘Sweets...sweet thing...darlin’’ his voice repeats over and over in your head, fingers trembling and clumsy with the rush they give you and the way your heart races.

You get nearly sick when you recognize the feelings you’re having. It’s like it was when you were first with Jimmy. When you couldn’t even look him in the eyes because you felt too overwhelmed by your feelings for him. When you flushed and overheated when he got close and said pretty things. When you used to hold onto his hand and promise yourself that you would care for him every day and prove your love to him.

That’s when you realize you’re coveting another woman’s husband.

It’s Thursday, which means you need to head down to Main Street to visit the pharmacy for your landlady, Mrs. Martins, and gather some groceries for the week. You had made plans with Jane to let the boys play together while you took ran errands. You don’t have a good excuse to change the plan, but you can’t help but ask again, “You sure you don’t mind him being here?”

“Not at all,” she smiles, a bit wider and more manic than usual, “Now if that handsome Wilford boy happens to ask you for supper, don’t you worry about rushin’ back, ya hear?”

You laugh at her latest unsubtle attempt, “I will keep it in mind, thanks.” She and a few others had started to meddle, putting eligible bachelors in your path and setting up dates on your behalf. You do try. You talk to them, let them flirt, but none hold your interest. They’re boys - lanky and lean, still all reckless and rowdy. Not what you’re looking for, nothing like the solid, filled-out figure of a man, someone secure and stable and in a uniform. But that’s something to think about another day.

Wilford does indeed ask.

You do not feel so inclined to take up the offer, especially when he pinches the round of your ass as he asks you to consider dessert before any supper.

He has you pressed against the wall outside the hardware store, letting the sun blind you and bring tears to your eyes as the bricks snag the delicate threads of your dress.

He only backs away when a loud voice booms out, “There a problem here, son?”

He turns his head to find Lee pulled to the side of the road, window down and arm resting on the frame, his jaw clenched and eyes narrowed.

“No sir, Sheriff, just makin’ some supper plans, ain’t we?” Wilford looks back at you with a leer. Your hands press flat against the building and your knee twitches with the urge to jerk up and hurt him.

“I thought we were expecting you tonight, isn’t that right?” Lee asks you pointedly.

Your attacker looks back at Lee, then to you, and you nod. Finally, you’re given some space.

“I imagine you need to be moving along then?” Lee checks, waiting impatiently for Wilford to answer.

“Yessir.” He gives you a wicked grin and spins away to go back down the street. “Maybe another time when you’re free.”

You shake your head, eyes narrowed at his back as you glare.

Lee taps the side of the cruiser, “C’mere.”

You take a shaky breath and gather yourself with a nod before taking the few steps across the sidewalk. Leaning down you take a moment to look him over in his uniform, the badge gleaming in the sunshine and eyes clear blue as the sky.

“You alright, Sweets?” he asks, voice low and gentle. He’d taken to calling you that since the candy incident, always in that same tone - like it’s precious and important. The way it hits you right in the center of your chest hurts more than the physical damage done a moment ago. You know he isn’t asking if your heart is aching, or if you’re alright being lonely, or any of the ways you’re feeling it right now, but it strikes you in an unexpected way.

“I’m fine,” you smile tightly, “Thank you for checking.”

“These boys just don’t know how to handle themselves when they see a pretty lady.” Your cheeks ache as you try to keep from beaming at the off-hand comment. “Ya know, I’m getting ready to head on home, you need a ride that way? I’m guessing your boy is stirrin’ up some shit with mine?” He turns and scans the road and sidewalk around you, fidgeting a bit as he asks.

“I still have to make another stop and my car is at the end of the block, but thank you.” You stand up.

“Well, I mean it, you and Steven stay for supper tonight, I’ll square it with Jane.”

“You don’t hav’ta do that-”

“No worries, darlin’.” He winks, taps his fingers on the shell of the door by the painted logo and waits until you nod in agreement. “See you soon, then.” And with a nod he pulls off the curb.

You watch the cruiser drive away, then look up and down the street, but no one else is there. You finally manage to draw in a full breath, and rush to get to the cool air of the pharmacy to ease the flush burning you from the inside out.

You make it back to the Bodecker’s before the sheriff, glad to have a few moments to smooth things over with Jane since she clearly had not expected you to turn down the date she arranged for you.

“He wasn’t too much of a handful, was he? I told him before I left that he better mind you today.”

She waves you off, sitting back down at the table with her abandoned cigarette in the tray and a small glass of brown liquor.

“Well, the boys’ll sleep tonight, that’s for sure. They’ve been running circles round the whole damn house.” She ashes the cigarette before taking another puff and settling against the backrest of the chair.

You take a moment to look over the kitchen, a pot is just about to boil over so you make your way to it. “Can I help you out with anything? Give you a moment to freshen up ‘fore Lee gets home?”

“I suppose that’s the least you can do.” Her cheeks draw in another puff and she hums, taking her glass with her as she goes to their bedroom.

The boys run inside, breathless and sweaty, both shouting while they tell you about a nest they found outside before you order them off to get washed up themselves. You look down the hall, waiting to see if Jane was on her way back or if she was expecting you to finish her cooking. Rather than let it burn, you do just that, taking care of the potatoes, adding a few seasonings as you go, and pulling out the meatloaf from the oven.

The screen door squeaks and boots thud through the house when Lee enters and makes his way to the kitchen. You nervously look over your shoulder, catching him leaning against the door jamb, spinning his hat in his hand, a soft smile on his lips as he looks your way.

“This is a sight. If I didn’t know better I’d think I wandered into the wrong house.”

You let out a bit of a nervous laugh, then look back down to the greens you were tending to, “I am so sorry, I kept your wife busy longer than I should’ve. She’ll be out in just a minute.” You go back to busying yourself with finishing up the meal.

“Not complainin’,” he mutters under his breath, but you still hear it and it makes your breath hitch. Jane could set you on edge with her snide remarks, so could Lee, but for completely different reasons - some that had been dormant for so long you didn’t know what to do.

Just then Jane makes her grand reappearance, hair freshly combed and lips tinged with a touch of color; her cheeks look ruddy, but you can’t tell if it’s rouge or flush from the alcohol she’s been sipping.

“Don’t you go adding too much milk to my potatoes, nobody likes ‘em all runny. Here, let me,” she says and nudges you out of the way, “See you gotta mix in just a little bit right there.”

She overpours anyway, her hands moving unsteadily as she mashes the potatoes up, making them runny just like she warned you about.

From behind you, you see Lee go to the table, picking up the liquor bottle and examining the contents, making marks with his fingers against the side of the bottle and shaking his head. He takes a swig himself and sets it back down.

He mumbles something about being sober, then walks down the hall to where Jane disappeared, stopping to say something to make the boys giggle on the way before they wrestle each other at the bathroom sink to wash up for supper.

The meal starts off quiet, just the utensils scraping along the plates, but Jane being the gracious host, finally tries to perk it up with conversation.

“I know Wilford might be a little rough ‘round the edges for someone from a bigger town, but there are still several other young men I can introduce you to,” she offers, unprompted.

You choke a little before you recover and finish chewing your bite of food.

“You needn’t go through the trouble, Mrs. Bodecker. Really.”

“It’s just, you’re so young to be widowed already and all alone. What kinda home will it be for the boy with no man around? And don’t you want more kids? I bet you just glow. Some of the ladies at my bible study wouldn’t mind setting you up.”

The idea makes you squirm. No, you aren’t dead inside, but there’s no way for you to get what - who you really want.

The sheriff speaks up then. “My old man took off on my ma, sister, and me. That’s just the way shit happens sometimes,” he says and you feel the dark cloud start to clear just a bit. You nod at him, acknowledging the little bit of affirmation.

“What was your husband like?” Jane presses, digging a little further into that painful wound. “Maybe that will help me out.”

Your Jimmy didn’t have much to give you, but he gave you all he could. He gave you the kind of love that made your cheeks hurt from smiling, and your stomach swoop with butterflies. Your eyes flick toward Lee and you think again about how alike they seem to you, handsome, intuitive, assertive, strong-willed. He catches your gaze and pauses his chewing for a brief second while he waits for your answer.

“He was a good man, strong and fair. I’d like to think he and Mr. Bodecker would’ve gotten on quite well,” you finally say, smiling kindly at them both in turn.

Lee’s lips curl into a smile while he finishes chewing, then sits back with a stretch. “You’re makin’ me sound like an old man,” he whines, “Call me Lee when I’m not on duty.”

“Yes sir,” you automatically reply. “Lee.”

His smile grows. “Say, Janey? Why don’t you go get that jug of wine up for us?”

She nods and gets up.

“Wine?” you ask, surprised.

“It’s nothin’ special, someone up the road makes it. Tastes better than that church wine, but don’t burn like the shine some other folks are brewin’ up.”

Jane comes back with three glasses and pours generously for you all, her own motions increasingly sloppy from her afternoon drinking.

You sip at it, the taste a little tart, but not as acidic and thank them for their generosity.

“Jane, you do something different with the seasoning tonight?”

“No,” she answers, then goes right back to her chat with you, you think about speaking up, but she goes back to leading the conversation. “So, you still thinking about becoming a working gal?”

“Not right away, but yes.”

“Oh?” Lee asks, “Something at the diner? I think the grocery is hiring?”

“Nuh uh,” her voice takes on a nasty tone, “Nothing like that for her. She went to secretary school.” The lilt in her voice makes it clear that she doesn’t care for that little fact. “Can you believe that? School just to learn to file a paper or take a message.”

“There’s more to it than that,” you quietly defend.

“Jane, what the hell do you know? You haven’t worked a day in your life?” Lee asks.

Jane rolls her eyes, body slumping a bit in her chair. “Well, whatever you do, just make sure you don’t go working at the Tecumsah.” She snorts into her glass as she takes a sip. “That’s where Lee’s sister works. I told you ‘bout her before.” She gives you a look. “That place is a den of sin, if you know what I am gettin’ at.”

“You’re are gonna spoil my appetite talkin’ like that,” he says. He drops his fork and you startle, his glare at his wife making clear this is another sore subject.

“Wouldn’t be the worst thing,” she mutters. “I’m gettin’ tired of mending the buttons on your clothes.”

Your jaw nearly drops. You wring your napkin on your lap and scramble for something to change the subject and break the tension, “Jane, there are such lovely flowers planted right by the library, is there a gardening club around here that you haven’t told me about?”

She’s bored by the topic, but it does enough to distract her and send her on a tangent. You nod and hum while you pick at your food. Occasionally you glance to Lee at the side and find him looking at you appreciatively.

You keep turning the conversation away from yourself, getting her to talk about anything you can as she keeps refilling and sipping down more of her wine.

You use the next lull in conversation to make your exit.

“This has been lovely, and I am so thankful for everything today, but we really oughtta get back home. I need to make sure Mrs. Martins gets her items from the pharmacist and I need to try to fix the old projector she’s given me.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Lee asks, leaning forward.

“No idea,” you laugh. “I was hoping to puzzle it together.”

“I can take a look for you,” he offers.

“If you have a moment,” you turn to Jane, “And you don’t mind sparing him.”

She scoffs and waves her fingers, “Nah, take Robert with you.”

He grunts in response while the kids leap up, excited for more time together. You do what you can to clean up and ease the load for Jane, but she’s getting more irritable by the minute, so you shuffle to the door to leave.

You head to the driveway where your car’s parked, waiting for him outside while the boys chase each other around the cars. He steps out the door, swinging his key ring on his fingers, looking at ease without the uniform on, but still strutting with an air of authority. It makes your stomach swoop.

“The Martins place? What road is that on again?” he asks jarring you out of your staring.

“Just follow me, Sheriff. I mean - Lee,” You nod as you get into the driver’s seat, Steven climbing in on the other side.

“Don’t mind if I do.” He mutters it loud enough that you hear him. The tilted, teasing grin on his face as he climbs into his own car almost makes you certain it was his intention.

When you get out, there’s a lump in your throat and the air suddenly feels heavy. Thankfully, the short walk up your drive is quiet, the sheriff walking leisurely next to you and laughing at the boys as they race each other down the sidewalk.

“I gotta go in the back way,” you swallow thickly as you tell him while you open up the gate, “There’s a private staircase for us there.”

He nods and follows.

When you enter the small apartment, you’re grateful that you don’t have much to fuss over and that it is tidy by default.

“Why don’t you boys go play with the Lincoln Logs or race cars? Nothing too loud right now,” you suggest and push them off toward the small room Steven occupies. “I got the parts all together right here, but I think something is missing.” You point to the box with the projector parts and reels.

“No problem,” Lee’s voice is quiet in your small space. He takes out the parts and starts to fit things together, checking a few switches here and there after a couple of minutes before patting the top of it with a, “There you go.”

You smile widely, “That’s it? Really?”

“That’s it, Sweets,” he matches your smile.

You suddenly hate the idea of him leaving so quickly, so you look around for something else.

“Coffee?”

He nods. “It’s like you read my mind,” there’s a glint in his eye as he gives you a generous once-over.

You feel a flush and quickly turn away to the kitchen.

Your hands tremble as you fill the kettle with water and scoop grounds into the press.

The boys break into a fit of giggles and before you can call after them, you feel the warm presence of Lee shuffle up behind you. His boots scuff against the floor as he stops, then seconds later his arms cage you in from behind, his palms resting against the edge of the countertop.

His breaths are deep, his nose just tickling along the neckline of your dress and you feel your back stiffen at the rush.

“You’re so lovely Sweets,” he whispers.

Your breath shakes as you suck it in. “S-sheriff,” you swallow thickly, “Lee? What’re you doing?”

“You’re beautiful, y’know.”

You remain still, unable to whisper anything but his name again.

“I see the way you look at me,” he presses a kiss to your skin that’s so gentle and tender but nearly makes your knees buckle. “Like you want somethin’.”

“I’m not - I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you weakly deny.

One arm leaves the counter to wrap around your middle, pulling you even closer to him while he steps right up behind you, the whole front of him up against your back. The movement makes you gasp and arch just slightly. You’re unable to catch yourself from rolling your head back to lean against him fully and feeling him grunt.

“You don’t need to make any excuses. You want me, dontcha?” he talks with his lips pressed right against your neck, heavy breaths tickling at your hairline.

God, do you want him. The sudden feeling of a warm, masculine body against you is something you didn’t realize you missed so much. For years it’s just been you and your boy and focusing on the day to day, not thinking about the way a strong arm feels pulled around you with fingers just tickling at your sensitive skin - until suddenly that’s exactly what is happening. And how you’ve missed it, your muscles nearly seize up with tension as you try to fight how good it feels.

It’s like trying to drag yourself from a dream, slow and muted as you try to make sense of everything at once; a sharp clarity punches through hard and fast.

“Your wife,” you reach down to cover his hand with your own, ready to try to pry him off.

“That fucking pig? I don’t love her, I don’t want her. She don’t want me either.”

“Don’t say that. You can’t say that,” you tell him and start to pull away, squirming away but getting nowhere since he doesn’t budge an inch. He allows you to spin around between himself and the countertop. “Lee? What is this? What’re you doing?”

It’s a stupid question. You know what this is. You can remember moments like these with your late husband, but Lee is not your husband. You know his wife. You just spent the evening with her in their home.

He doesn’t answer. Instead his free hand starts to skim up along your side until his thumb catches at the curve at the bottom your breast, then slides up so that he can rub his thumb back and forth over your dress, teasing at your hardened nipple.

It makes you whimper and nearly fold in half with how sensitive you feel.

“I’ll make you feel so good,” he coos, his lips parted and eyes tracking the movement of his thumb.

You lift your arms to his shoulders, uncertain yet if you’re planning to push him away or pull him close when you hear the quick footsteps of the boys.

Lee steps back to give you some distance and your hands flutter mid-air as you try to compose yourself.

The boys start to whine over each other-

“Momma. Robert keeps knocking over my building.”

“No, he keeps takin’ the blocks I’m using.”

Some kind of clarity forms and you rush out a solution for them, “Why don’t you get out your TinkerToys and split it all up? Alright? Go back to the other room,” you nudge them away.

Problem solved, they run back to the room, leaving you standing in the kitchen, Lee lingering just feet away and the half-finished coffee press on the counter.

“Jane must be expecting you home by now.”

He grunts and shakes his head ruefully, “She’s probably passed out by now.”

“Oh,” you nod. You search for something, anything to excuse yourself and catch your breath, “I need to go to the bathroom. Excuse me a moment.”

You slip out of the kitchen and into the door just down the hall. Taking a moment to relieve yourself then press a cool rag to your cheeks. You’d nursed the glass of wine Jane had poured, so you knew deep down you weren’t tipsy, you were just overrun by the feelings the sheriff gave you. Once you get your first full breath in minutes, you feel better, calmer and more controlled. You look at yourself in the mirror and decide - you just need to send him on home.

You barely crack open the bathroom door when it’s pushed open wide, Lee wedging in when it’s wide enough and nearly slamming it shut behind him.

“Don’t hide from me, Sweets,” is all he says before he’s got one arm around your middle again, and the other holding the back of your neck while he presses his lips against yours. After gasping in surprise, you instinctively return the kiss - your tongue and lips tentative against his dominating mouth.

It’s strange - all of it so strange after so long. It’s been years since your last kiss and you feel clumsy, out of practice, but he doesn’t hesitate one bit, doesn’t seem turned off by your uncoordinated motions and hands that can’t keep still over his middle and shoulders.

He takes in a deep breath, pausing for just a second to position himself better, then he’s back on you, and you feel ready for him this time. One hand resting on his chest while the other hooks up around his neck, your fingers stroking through the soft, short hairs at the back of his head. He turns the both of you, pressing you against the vanity sink.

“Lee,” you whimper when he wedges a leg between yours.

“Shh, shh, sshh. I got you.”

His kisses are relentless and make you light-headed, gasping for breaths every time he slightly lets up. His hands push and pull, struggling against your dress and your undergarments until he’s freed one breast and can drop his head to suckle at your hard peak.

Your mouth falls open in a silent cry, mind painfully aware of the children in the room nearby. You crack open an eye to make sure the door is still closed and try to focus on the sounds the kids are making, but his tongue and lips are too distracting. He pulls as much of your breast into his mouth as he can, greedily swirling his tongue all over the sensitive bud, and pulling away with a loud pop.

You slap at his shoulder while he just looks up at you with a shit-eating grin.

“Feels good, right?” He places his hand to cup your breast, thumb flicking at your nipple. “Let me have you, I’ll make you feel so good, my sweet girl. Please?”

His own eyes close as he ruts up against you, his hard length pressing against your hip and sending a tremor through your body, practically shaking your bones. You don’t move though, your hands stay frozen where you hold onto him, but he continues to lead and coax you along.

One wide hand holds you at the back of your neck, just holding you in place. His mouth moves across your cheeks and at the hinge of your jaw. He whispers quiet promises of satisfaction, telling you how lovely you are and confirming every word with a kiss. His other hand leaves your breast after one final and quick pinch and grabs at the bottom of your dress. The fabric bunching in his fist as he gathers it until he can feel your thigh.

Then he teases you with just the tips of his fingers, sliding right up and over til he meets where your thighs meet. It tickles, makes you shake a little, and then you’re sucking in a hard gasp when he keeps going until he pets and presses over your sex with the pads of his fingertips.

“So wet,” he says on an exhale, pressing right where you feel your excitement leaking. “You want me too. It’s alright.”

To prove his point, he presses harder, flattening his hand until he’s cupping you and making your body jerk between him and the sink. You bend your knees to open your thighs wider with the touch, and he groans and presses hard against you again, the heel of his palm putting pressure to your throbbing clit. You struggle to not hook your leg right over his hip to let him in.

“Lee,” you start to beg, “Please. Oh my god, please.”

It’s so overwhelming you start to sob, the tears already prick at the corners of your eyes. Just being touched, feeling the warmth of him, and the words - it’s all that you remembered being with a man to be and more. His hand keeps a rhythm against you, driving you higher. You hadn’t had a man’s touch in years, but suddenly you need Lee like you need air.

“Please,” you say again. Your body tingles with electricity that has nowhere to go.

“So pretty. You’re so pretty, baby. I’m gonna take care of ya. Am I what you need?”

“Yes,” tears start to roll down your cheeks. He pulls back slightly until he can slip his fingers underneath your panties, gliding right through your arousal. You feel two of his fingers slide into you, and you squeeze around them instantly.

“Fuck,” he grunts. Your wetness drips down his fingers into his palm. He presses the heel of it against you again, right against your sensitive clit this time. “Come on my fingers, sweetness.”

He fucks you with his hand, his thick, solid fingers caressing you while he sends jolts of pleasure through you with pressure on your sensitive button. You squirm to get away, but the hand still at the back of your neck tightens and holds you down, making you take it.

“It’s alright,” he whispers, “It’s alright.”

And that’s it. You freeze for a moment as the pleasure peaks and then you’re trembling as the shocks of it rush through you in a blaze. You can hear the wetness drowning his fingers as he keeps pumping them into you while you clench over him repeatedly and sob as quietly as you can, which must not be very quiet because he starts to shush you and slow the movement of his hand, gently attempting to calm you down.

“You’re okay, s’alright baby, just breathe, c’mon,” you hear him coach, but all you can focus on is the thumping beat of your heart as it races and trying to catch your breath between sniffles, the tears falling freely down your cheeks.

His hand slides out from your panties to grab you steady at your waist, the hand from your neck moves so he can use his thumb to wipe away your tears. He presses his forehead to yours and tells you to breathe with him.

You blink your eyes open, eyelashes glittering with wetness and you take a minute to focus. Once things are clear, you tilt your head back to look at him. His cheeks are flushed, lips wet and rosy, and his eyes - they nearly glow as he looks you over. It’s something to see - awe, tenderness, pride all in the twitches of his lips as his lips turn up with a smile.

“Sweets, will you touch me?” he asks. For such a big man, his voice is suddenly so small.

“Lee, I can’t-I haven’t…” you struggle to find the words.

“It’s alright, that’s alright,” he assures you, circling your wrist with his fingers still sticky from your arousal, and guiding them to the bulge in his trousers. You flinch, but don’t pull away, your arm tenses, but goes with the motion. He presses your palm against the solid length, pushing down to give him some relief. His hips press against you in return and once he’s sure you aren't going anywhere, he lets go of your wrist, then starts to undo the belt and button in quick movements. He tugs the waistband of his trousers and boxers down together, just to release his cock.

You feel the fabric move under your palm, but keep pressing against him, your hand sliding just slightly out of remembered instinct. When the fabric of his boxers slides away and you’re met with the heat of his cock, you gasp. Your hand wraps around him, fingers circling around his shaft to hold him and pulling a strangled moan from him.

“Shit-fuck,” he hisses. “Won’t be long.” He wraps his hand over yours, pulling your fist up and down over him while he pumps his hips into it. Precome drips down from the slit, easing the glide.

His eyes close and he presses his temple to yours, his face pulls up in concentration, focusing on the pleasure, “You’re so soft, so sweet,” he rasps, “Want you so bad, want you all to myself.”

You can imagine it, if you’re ready to be totally honest, you have imagined it.

“Kiss me?” you whisper.

His lips meet yours roughly for a long press, then he tilts his head and licks at the seam of your lips, making you open up to him. His hand and yours start to speed up, he keeps guiding you up and down, just the slightest twist at the head with each stroke.

The kiss turns sloppy, more sharing air and pecks than anything as he spirals with the pleasure you’re helping to give him.

“You’re gonna -you’re gonna make me-” with a pained expression, he nudges you away, his hand stroking frantically as he leans over your sink until he starts to come, streaks hitting the porcelain as he chokes down groans. You watch his neck and face go red, trying not to watch, but you can’t help yourself and catch the way his cock twitches with his release, all swollen and red. You don’t think you could possibly blush more, but still fire burns underneath your skin.

When he finishes coming, he reaches for you again, pulling you into another hard kiss. “God, darlin’. Fuck,” he whispers while he attempts to catch his breath. “Fuck. Haven’t been tugged off like that since I was a deputy.” He chuckles, the laugh coming out in hard puffs of air.

You struggle to look at anything in the bathroom, eyes straying back to Lee, to his softening cock, to the come dripping slowly in the sink basin. Just then you hear the boys start to giggle and reality hits you again, making your chest seize up in panic.

“Oh, Lee. No,” you raise a hand to your mouth and quickly rush out the door, piecing your wardrobe back together as you walk back into the kitchen. You hear the water run in the bathroom and murmuring as Lee talks to himself.

Your movement must have distracted the boys because they manage to sound like a stampede heading toward you. You wipe at your nose and eyes as best you can before you turn to see what they want.

Both the boys pause, but it’s your son that speaks up, knowing how you look when you cry. “Momma, you alright?”

Lee exits the bathroom then, shirt tucked back in, belt and trousers back in place - only the flush from the neck up giving anything away. His eyes bore into you with heavy emotion that you are ashamed that you can read so well - concern, sympathy, desire. A mixture that you remind yourself you don’t deserve.

“Yeah, baby. I am. You know I get sad sometimes, I’ll be fine. Are you boys ready to say goodbye for tonight? I think it’s well past your bedtime.”

You grab Steven and fuss with his hair, with his messy shirt, and then turn him around and hold him against you like a tiny human shield. “Say thank you to the sheriff for fixing the projector and for letting Robert play.”

“Thank you, sir,” your son dutifully responds.

Lee can see what you’re doing and he’s not happy with it, his mouth going flat and shoulders heaving as you pressure him into leaving.

He just nods, then nudges at Robert’s shoulder, “Say thank you for indulging us.”

“Thank you,” Robert quietly says.

You send Steven down the hallway to get ready for bed, and then you follow behind as they step toward the door, Robert too tired from a full day of play to put up a fight. Lee opens the door to the back steps, telling Robert to be careful going down. When the boy starts down a few, Lee turns back to you.

Before you can react, he’s giving you another kiss, quick but meaningful. “We’re not done,” he whispers.

“We are. Go home, Lee.”

He gives you a long look before stomping down the steps. “Til next time, Sweets.”

...

#lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker smut #lee bodecker angst #lee bodecker fanfiction #hoedecker club #hoedecker cult #tdatt fanfiction #my writing #fic title so wrong #lee bodecker x you #lee bodecker x female reader

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apixrl · 3 years ago

Text

DRIVER'S LICENSE.

katsuki bakugou x fem! reader

WARNING(S): angst. cheating. swearing because it's bakugou.

word count: 4.5k

song: drivers license // olivia rodrigo (i wonder why...)

note(s): so i captioned this *at the time of writing* 'hello and welcome to i've had the worst two weeks ever so i wrote a katsuki oneshot to cope' and it's probably one of my most personal pieces of writing tbh

"-come Tuesday and we'll potentially see an end to this heavy downpour of rain. Temperatures will be on the rise to around-"

The talk on the radio cut short at the jab of your finger, heaving a great sigh which faded into the muffled pitter-patter of rain from outside. The streets had been showered with heavy downpours for the last week or so, no sign of sun or a still and restful day. Notwithstanding the miserable outdoors, the windscreen wipers on your car never ceased in their duty to grant you a clear view of the road ahead. And whilst you were grateful for their devotion, it didn't feel clear in the slightest. In fact, the road had never felt so blurry.

Shivering against the cold night chill and tucking your knees cosily to your chest, you eyed the raindrops on the windows. They raced against one another before they dripped down to your car's body, their glossy presence obvious thanks to the many hues of street lamps that surrounded them. You could have watched them for hours, being honest. Something about the droplets of water battling it out quite enticing. Anything to take you away from the cruel reality you were living in.

Your heart ached and yearned. But to no avail, the one you ached and yearned for didn't love you back.

Not anymore, at least.

Just the mere thought provoked a pulsating pang to resonate throughout your entire body. A pang filled with grief and sadness. Anger and hurt. You missed his sun-kissed face on the sunny mornings. You missed his eyes and how they gazed at you from across the room. You missed the smiles and laughter he would only show for you and you alone. The sense of glee and euphoria that came with that honour. Yet all of it was gone and there was no way you could get it back.

The memories of what had been triggered more waterworks. Hot, salty tears dug at the corners of your eyes and trickled down your face. Your motionless car concealed your cries and sobs. Every thrash against the wheel as you questioned to nobody in particular what went wrong and why. How you didn't see the signs sooner. What you could have done better. When he stopped loving you. If he ever planned to stop loving you. Whether it would have hurt more if you found out sooner.

All these questions with nothing to answer them.

Katsuki Bakugou had always fascinated you. From the very moment you met. You accompanied your friend on a double date, and he was the guy who she matched for you. Whilst he originally acted as though a blind date was the last place he wanted to be, underneath the aggression you could tell there was something much more genuine and true.

And your assumptions were correct. Truth be told, Katsuki Bakugou was one of the most genuine and truest people you had met (at the time). Once it was just the two of you, he allowed his true colours to unveil. Through the smallest of kind gestures that still haunted your mind to this day. Then upon confrontation, as you bid each other goodbye at your back door, his denial resulted in a flirtatious contest which then proceeded to an intimate night that changed your life forever. From there your mind was set.

He was the one.

Emphasis on was.

So blinded with a fairy tale love you grew so accustomed to, you never saw it coming. Never in your two-year relationship - that had so much strength and commitment built on top of it, never did you think that Katsuki Bakugou would throw it all out of the window like it was nothing. Disregard your loyalty and adoration for a drunken one night stand that slowly became an occasional hookup. Which soon became a mandatory pastime once a fortnight. Then twice. Maybe more than that. You wouldn't put it past him with what you knew now.

He kept it from you for nearly six months. Six months. The only reason you discovered his lies and deception was because you were let off early one night from work. You worked a night shift, see. Your last job had fallen to shambles, and it was temporary whilst you searched for a new one. And whilst that did take a toll on your relationship with Katsuki Bakugou, mostly finding time for intimacy since his working hours were during the day, none of that gave him any right to go and do what he did.

That wasn't one of the only reasons, you knew that for sure. There were other motives for his lack of loyalty. But you were never told. After you froze at the sight of another woman under his hold and stormed straight back to your car to flee. After he chased you down the flights of stairs in nothing but baggy pants into the streets of a twilight Musutafu. After you screamed into the darkness and belted your fists against his chest. Fists that were driven with rage and hurt and every emotion that burned like the hottest of fires and froze like the coldest of ice. He never even told you. He never made an effort to address it. Nor had he attempted to call or even try to visit your Mom's house - where you stayed as you searched for a permanent place to live. Just because you retreated for your car and cried that it was over, he never tried. But that didn't mean you weren't allowed an explanation. An apology. Something to give you a form of closure and a reason to move on. But you never did.

That wasn't even what hurt the most, either.

As silly as it was, the thing that hurt you the most was the very car you sat in.

EIGHT MONTHS AGO . . .

The red glow of traffic lights hit Katsuki's vermilion irises as he stared dead ahead at the long line of vehicles, the ash-blond heaving a sigh into the air. His finger tapped impatiently against the steering wheel he gripped with one hand, the spare rested casually against your upper thigh affectionately.

"I can't believe we have to sit through this torture just to go to some damn party," Katsuki grumbled, taking a glance over at you. His brows furrowed when he met you peacefully slouched down, nose dug into your phone as you presumably played some sort of game to pass the time. Like you had no care in the world for your predicament.

"It's your best friend's birthday, love," You mused back, Katsuki surprised you even listened based on your focused expression directed towards your phone. "It's not like we can just miss it,"

"Yeah, but we could have missed all this pain by taking the train instead of driving across town during rush hour,"

"Trains are icky, the seats would have ruined your suit and my dress," You pointed out, looking at the blond over your screen, sending him a sweet smile. He cocked a brow, a smirk creeping its way onto his lips as a scoff of a laugh broke out between them.

"Right, and laying down like a sloth is gonna help keep your dress uncreased?" He returned, amused at your realisation. At his comment, you sat up faintly and pouted your lip.

"Driving means more time to play Gravity Pops, and so does traffic,"

"Seriously? That's the game you're playing? You're such a dumbass,"

"Yes! I'm in the top 11% globally! I need to get to number one!" Was your protest, your arms flailing ahead of you briefly for dramatic emphasis. Katsuki clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes, though the small smile plastered over his lips betrayed his initial reaction. Unable to deny your determination, he spoke with confidence and almost a sense of pride.

"Number one, hm? Clearly rubbing off on you aren't I?"

"In a way, yes,"

"That's my girl," Katsuki remarked, earning a giggle from you that was uplifting to hear. It was there your attention went back to your phone, but Katsuki wasn't done. "So, speaking of cars, Y/N," Hearing his chosen tone - which sounded suggestive, you eyed him closely. Hesitant to reply as you had a sense of what he planned to say.

"...Yes?"

"Have you thought any more about getting your driver's license yet?"

Called it.

"...No,"

"What?" Katsuki began, tilting his head. He was surprised that he felt surprised. You had said those words in regards to this topic countless times. Still, he persisted. "Is that a no meaning you haven't or no meaning that you don't want to?"

"Both?" You half-guessed, sheepishly grinning at the look you were sent. "Look, cars scare me okay? And so do roads. And people. My nerves wouldn't be able to handle it! I can barely communicate with people face to face, so me being on the road is a recipe for disaster!"

"I know but -," Katsuki exhaled sharply, understanding your reasoning. You had voiced these concerns when confiding to Katsuki about your fears of the road. Something built and corrupted from social media as well as phobias and fears in general, it was a battle you had yet to overcome. You wanted to drive but was terrified of messing up or causing chaos on the road. Potentially inflicting harm to someone and yourself. You still weren't sure what triggered it all, but over the years it had manifested into something quite irrational, to say the least. Katsuki had been supportive of it and whilst he truly would love to always act as your personal taxi - you couldn't hide from it forever. It wasn't his job to keep you in your comfort zone. That, and he couldn't always be there for you that way. What if he was miles away and you had somewhere urgent to go like the hospital? "It's not as scary as you think. I know it's hard to believe that but seriously. The freedom you get from driving is amazing,"

"I'll think about it a little longer, okay?" You said with hesitancy, looking at Katsuki for a sign of confirmation. He nodded in defeat, knowing you probably needed more time and felt put on the spot. So he averted his eyes back to the road to check if the traffic had moved at all. It had not.

"Okay," Katsuki said. "But I can't be your taxi service forever,"

"But I like you being my taxi service," You jokingly said, a little sadness in your tone. "Your road rage is funny and I like watching you get out of the car and walk to my door after pulling up in my driveway,"

"What do you mean?" Katsuki asked, catching the twitch of a smile on your face upon saying those words. It struck his interest in what you could mean.

"You know, like when you say you're coming to pick me up?" You explained. "You pull up at my driveway and I don't know... simple things like that just remind me of how much I love you. It's dumb really, but it's important to me,"

"Really?" Katsuki questioned in disbelief. How something so small and meaningless could mean so much was puzzling. He couldn't understand why it was so special to you. But that didn't invalidate it in any shape or form. So he pushed that aside, replacing his wonder with gratitude. He returned to your bashful and flustered features, feeling a smile grow on his face.

"Yeah," You said, shrugging to downplay your words. "I love you. Stuff like that means a lot to me,"

"I love you too, even though you're a dumbass," Katsuki said, humbled by what you had said. The two of you shared a gentle exchange, your hand grabbing hold of Katsuki's as you gave it a squeeze. He squeezed back, and silence ensued. Had he realised such a thing sooner, then Katsuki would have pulled up in your driveway much more than he had been doing. But at that a thought struck his mind, victoriously smirking as he had an idea on how to potentially sway your worries. Or begin swaying it. Something was better than nothing, after all. "But what if I wanted you to pull up in my driveway one day?" His words caused you to look over at him in curiosity, hearing the seriousness in the question. It caught you off guard momentarily, having to contemplate as you gradually concluded that he had a point.

"Well one day, maybe I will," You vaguely replied and sat up a little bit. The hand holding yours pulled back and lifted to land on your shoulder, gripping reassuringly tight.

"I hope you do, I'd like to get in on this driveway action," He joked and smirked, faith riddled in his expression. You giggled ever so slightly, tempted to lean forward and peck Katsuki on the lips in thanks, but never a thing was to happen as the alerting red light from outside switched to warm amber.

"Ah!" Katsuki yelled in triumph, his attention leaving you swiftly as he got back into the driver's seat. Giving you no opportunity to respond to him and overall ruining the moment. "Took fucking long enough!"

The light turned green, and he set the car in motion, leaving you with your thoughts and the words he had uttered that day as the traffic stood still.

All your efforts, all your time devoted to getting over your fear of driving and the road as a whole... all of it was pointless. You did it for him. You promised him you would overcome your fears and better yourself. He built that motivation up brick by brick until you could grab hold and seize control. He wasted all that time to get you to reach such a stepping stone only to abandon it once it was through.

Just so you could pull up in his driveway, just like he requested. And what did you get in return when you finally did? A stab in the back and the loss of your other half.

You wiped your eyes via the sleeve of your hoodie, dampening the cuffs. Sniffling and exhaling a shaky breath, your gaze landed on nothing in particular. Yet somewhere within your clouded mind, you found interest. As that was where your gaze remained for a certain amount of time. You weren't sure how long exactly. It could have felt like an hour and only been five minutes. Or it could have felt like five minutes and was actually an entire hour. Either way, the clock ticked on and didn't wait for you to stop.

It was a good thing you had pushed your fears down and rose above them. It just pained you that you didn't even do it for yourself. Without Katsuki Bakugou, you never had any intentions of doing so. As a matter of fact, you had set out to take the train or bus for the rest of your life. Hell, you were going to use a bike and scooter if you got desperate. Had he even acknowledged how much work you put in just to get where you were? Was all that effort part of the reason why he decided to cheat? There was absolutely no telling. Absolutely no telling at all.

You wondered what he was doing now. Was he laid in bed resting peacefully? Out with his friends for a boy's night only? Maybe cooking his favourite curry? Possibly on a late-night jog despite the harsh weather? It never stopped him other times.

Did he ever think about you? Regret what he did and the actions he took? Had he ever considered apologising? Would he ever apologise? What if he was celebrating the fact you were no longer in his life? Had there ever been any love there for you in the start? Did he ever actually want you to get your driver's license because he believed in you? Or was it so he could get rid of you with much more ease? Make his departure less severe and less selfish? A way to justify his choices because it's not like you were hopelessly left to suffer everyday life now that you had a means of transport. Was he really that cruel?

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sharp jingle of your phone, the device lighting up as it sat in the passenger seat to your left. It took two or three rings for you to glance over at it, E/C eyes sore and drained from crying out. You squinted them to read the caller, seeing the name 'Work' fade in and out on the brightly lit screen. For a second or two you argued back and forth on whether to even bother picking up. Something about reaching across for your phone requiring a magnitude of energy you no longer possessed. Having spent it all on your cries of agony and the deprivation of your old life as a whole.

However, you had ignored your work in the last couple of weeks too many times now. So many times that pulling the same stunt again would probably risk you losing your job. It's not like your work was interested in why you felt such overwhelming pain... all they cared about was you turning up to do what you were hired to.

So using a forceful hand, you leaned over to pick it up. You fumbled to grip your phone and accepted the call with a dainty tap of your thumb. Then you blinked away your tears and subtly sniffed, pressing your phone to your ear to address the caller.

"Hello?" You practically croaked, quick to clear your throat and push any signs of upset down. It was presumably dry from how much you'd cried in the last two hours.

"L/N! Hey! Glad you finally picked up!" Unlike the droll and unvarying tones of your boss, the person on the other end was much more lively and greeting. So much so you could only assume it was none other than your work colleague, Etsuko. Probably the only person you genuinely liked where you worked, and the only person who made the time pass by faster. "I was worried you were gonna leave me on answer phone again,"

"Hm, what? Oh right. Yeah. Sorry about that. Haven't been feeling too great," You lied, even though it wasn't a complete fib. You hadn't been feeling great at all. You had never felt so rock bottom. It all just originated from your mind over anything else. But when did work care about that?

"Sounds like it, I hope you've been okay!" Still cheery as ever, Etsuko followed up with a laugh to fill the silence you created by not saying anything. "Is everything well? It's nothing serious, is it?"

"No. It's not. Just some dumb cold I caught," You excused. "I'm better now, though," Slouching down in your seat, you decided to ask the question that had been roaming your mind the last minute or so. "So why are you calling?"

"Oh, right!" Etsuko said. "Mr Kobashigawa was just wondering when you planned on coming back - for schedule reasons and to get people to fill in for your shifts,"

"I er...," Not entirely sure how to answer, you stuttered as your words cowered away in your attempt to speak. "I don't -,"

"It's okay, he doesn't need an answer yet," Etsuko reassured. "Maybe in the next day or two, though? He wasn't really specific, being honest,"

You sighed at the guilt brewing in your stomach. You weren't even sick for crying out loud! Why were you lying just so you could wallow in your own sadness?! Like that was going to change anything! Sitting around and crying wasn't going to give you what you wanted. You weren't getting him back. Katsuki Bakugou wasn't yours anymore. He made that clear by cheating. By making minimal effort to give you an explanation. By causing you so much pain with little care or concern. Why couldn't you get it through your thick skull that your feelings didn't matter anymore?! That they were being wasted on a lost cause. A lost relationship!

"Well I mean -," You started, running a hand through your hair as you tread carefully on your words. "I could come in tonight? Has Mr Kobashigawa got someone to fill for me yet?"

"Um... no? I don't think so?" Etsuko answered, uncertainty in her voice. "Let me go check. Be right back!" And with that, the line fell dead. The call didn't end, just Etsuko placing the phone down to get an answer for you. Leaving you all by your lonesome once more.

Reflecting, you could see the logic in your thoughts. The best course of action would be to hold your head up high and live life the way it was before. When you were happy. Just... excluding the factors that actually made you happy. Which was him. Wouldn't that be healthier than crying all the time?

Yes, it would. But was it what you wanted? Not really.

"L/N!" The voice in your ear startled you to the point you nearly dropped your phone, panicking through a gasp as you fiddled to grab hold of it again.

"Wa-! Careful you nearly scared me half to death!"

"Oops, sorry!" Etsuko giggled softy, sounding as perky as ever. "I'm just excited to tell you that nobody's filling in your shift! You can still come in for ten-thirty!"

"I-I can?" You asked. After an upbeat 'yeah!' filtered through your ears, you considered your options. Remaining in the serene, quiet confines of your car with only the downfall of rain to accompany you sounded like utter bliss, given how you felt. But you felt an internal kick up the backside which told you - no... demanded you to just get over this moping attitude of yours and look on the bright side. To get over the lack of closure and simply... move on.

Yeah... if he found out you were an utter train wreck thanks to the damage he inflicted; Katsuki Bakugou would probably revel in it. He had a history of gaining pleasure from other's misfortunes... or it was rumoured he did (during his younger years, anyway). You had never wanted to believe it but you couldn't find a reason to refute it anymore. After all you had been through, it seemed to fit his character and personality more than ever. So with that fact apparent, you held a firm forefront and searched for a determined tone, and made your answer to your friend.

"You betcha I'm coming in! I'll see you in half an hour!"

Too enthusiastic? Probably. Still, it was better than acting pessimistic and hopeless. No matter, however, because that was exactly the attitude Etsuko had been hoping for.

"Alrighty!" She exclaimed, smile audible in her voice from the other end. "I can't wait to get our dynamic duo going again! I've missed you!"

"Yeah, me too, 'Suko," You hummed in agreement.

"Great! Catch ya later my partner in crime,"

"Heh. You too, dumbass," You found a reason to smile from her childish behaviour, though your choice of wording seemed to hit a nerve. It did more than that, it practically reverted all that confidence and progress you had made in the last ten minutes of being on the phone. All from one innocent word that escaped your lips.

Dumbass.

That's what he used to call you.

The phone call had ended without you even noticing, your phone still pressed to your ear as a small buzz sounded into it. You stared dead ahead, flashes of all the times he had said that word to you running through your memory. It was his form of a pet name. Some might see it as a little degrading on the surface, but you never minded. Once you learned the deeper meaning of the name, it became something equivalent to the likes of 'Sunshine' or 'Angel'. If anything, you ended up preferring it to those sorts of nicknames. Hence why Katsuki Bakugou had called you it on so many occasions.

No. Stop it. You can't let something like that bother you. Not after the efforts you just went to. Stop. Shaking yourself out of it, you returned to reality and permitted your phone to drop onto your lap. Your hand once holding it gripped onto your steering wheel, the other following shortly behind to do the same.

"I love you too, even if you're a dumbass,"

That rung in your head one final time, tormenting and mocking your present. The things you'd be willing to do to hear him say that to you one last time...

"No," You firmly shook your head, banging it lightly against the headrest to return yourself to reality. An attempt to knock those words to the back of your mind where you could lock them in a securely tight safe for the rest of eternity. "Just... just don't think about it. Easy. Just focus on what you're doing now," You reached for your keys which sat in the ignition, taking hold and turning them ever so slightly. Your car stirred to life, engine rumbling and the dials lighting up in a form of warm greeting. "You're going to work. No more feeling sorry for yourself,"

No more feeling sorry for yourself.

Your eyes set themselves on the road ahead. The vacant, dark and solitary road that didn't wait for you to make your decision. Life moved on after all, so if you were going to do anything - it was to catch up and take the winning lead.

So despite your circumstances; your inner desires and wishes and begs for what you wanted back but to no avail would ever get, you pulled out of your parking space (which had long exceeded the time limit, thankfully nobody was around to see) that drowned in pitiful rains of the night, and began to make your way down the street. In search of a place better than the one you were trapped in.

An endless road that wasn't all that clear, you were going to tackle it. Not for anyone else, unlike the last time you met difficulty and hardships. No, no, no. This time it was for your sake. All the mental energy to recover and become a better version of yourself, in the endgame it was all for you. You could push past all the deceit and lies you had been told and you could push past your normality which was him. Katsuki Bakugou. The man that hurt you as nobody had ever done before. You could create new normality without him.

A thought of forever he created and destroyed, resorted to driving alone past his street, never to be thought of again.

#katsuki bakugō #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou x reader #anime x reader #anime #x reader #angst #katsuki bakugou x female reader #katsuki bakugou x you #katsuki x y/n #katsuki bakugou

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alyssadeliv · 4 years ago

Text

The Forgotten One

First Previous

Chapter 4

Everything hurt. Her body felt as if it was on fire, her limbs were heavy and her head was pounding, she tried to open her eyes and understand her surroundings, but they refused to cooperate so she sought to use her other senses to identify where she was, even in a lot of pain she couldn’t forget her training, so she remained calm until she knew what she’s dealing with. It only takes her a couple of seconds to remember what happened. The attack on the League, the Temple crumbling to the ground and her being trapped under it. After that it was a void, so she must have passed out at some point.

She could tell she wasn't still trapped under the rubber because she could feel the softness of a mattress under her and not the hard temple training grounds, it was either nighttime or she was in a room without windows. She couldn’t hear a thing that indicated that there was another person with her, but she can identify cars in a far distance, so she must be close to a city. She feels cared for, so rules out being captured for now.

She isn’t sure how long she laid there, but streams of lighting start to appear somewhere above her from what she can see with her closed lids. The sun is up when she finally can open her eyes.

She is in a bare room, that must be used as storage from all of the boxes around. She’s in an attic in an elevated part that contains just the bed, an iron stair makes way into the second part of the room, she can see from her position that the only way out is through the trap door on the floor, although she can assume that the lighting coming from above her must lead to a balcony. She feels better now, her pain is gone and her limbs ultimately start to obey her again. She had just sat up when the trap door started to open.

She prepares herself for what is to come, she does not have any weapons and she’s not sure she can beat another assassin in a fight in her current state, even with the pain now gone. To her surprise is her godmother that enters the room she’s resting in. She carries a plate with food and a glass of water. She has a warm smile that Marianne has only seen a couple of times, normally reserved for birthdays and celebrations, but still reassures her that she’s safe and cared for.

“It's good to see you’re finally awake. Gave us quite a scare”

“Where am I?”

“Safe” With her tone she can tell that the conversation is over, so she simply accepts the plate that is offered and starts to eat what's been given, a tasty sandwich with a red tart at the side. If it was any other person that came into the room she wouldn’t have been so quick to accept the food, but she knew that her godmother would never hurt her, she was one of the only people she trusted with her life, like a second mother to her.

“How do you feel?” Sabine asks only after the food is gone.

“Surprisingly fine. The pain is gone and I feel normal again. How is this possible? Where are we? How long was I out? What happened with the League? What happened to Damian? Is he here? Is he safe?” The questions jump out of her mouth before she can control them. Rambling has always been a trait of hers, one that she thought to be long under control. But given the situation, she can’t blame herself to look after answers.

But Sabine calmly answers every one of her questions. She doesn’t get into details about the attack but she understands that one of her grandfather’s star pupils betrayed them and orchestrated the attack to take the Demon Head power to himself and rule over the Order of Assassins. Sabine and Master Fu were together at the Temple when it all started and went to look for her, only to realize that she must have thought the same and went to look for them. They saw her being crushed by the falling debris, and they were the ones that dug her out.

She died.

That piece of information stays in a loop in her mind. She died. Master Fu brought her back. Being brought back to life wasn’t impossible, she knew that her grandfather had been doing that for centuries, but he needed the Lazarus Pits for that, and she knew the symptoms of someone that used them, she had seen them first hand from her grandfather or when she was in charge of training a recruit that her mother had taken pity on. She was only ten, and the boy 13 at the time. One of her most proud accomplishments. Her grandfather was so proud of her for training the next generation, even if the boy was technically older than her. She knew the symptoms and she definitely wasn’t brought back using these methods.

“Master Fu will arrive here shortly, he can explain it better”

“Where is here? Where are we? Where's Damian?” She’s desperate, she needs to know where her baby brother is. That he is safe. “Please tell me he’s here!”

Sabine has a heartbroken expression on her face, and that's all the confirmation she needs. The tears roll down her face before she can stop them. All her efforts had been in vain, Damian wasn’t here.

“We are in Paris. He’s not here, but he’s safe” Her godmother tries to reassure her, she dries the tears in her face and strokes her hair trying to comfort the distraught girl. “He’s in a safe place as well, your mother made sure of that. But for now, you can’t go after him, Master Fu will explain why, you just have to trust me when I say I only want what’s best for you”

She then proceeds to tell her best-kept secret so far. She’s married, and they are at her husband’s house, above his bakery. She tells her of how in one of her missions she met the love of her life. But because of her, she knew she couldn’t leave the League just yet, she needed to be there for little Marianne and her bright smiles, to make sure the League didn’t kill the kindness in her. She always visited Paris after a mission. It became some kind of ritual, and no one ever questioned it. Her husband, Tom, knew about her lifestyle and knew that she couldn’t just leave her goddaughter behind, he respected that, even loved how caring his wife was. Sabine begs Marianne to not be guilty that she couldn’t have a better kind of life because of her.

“The best thing in my life is knowing that I helped raise the most selfless and kind woman, I’m so proud of what you become. Never forget that.”

By the time Master Fu finally arrives she’s just so tired. But her need for answers is bigger, so she allows her godmother to guide her to the living room. When they get there she’s surprised, to say the least. Her master is there, but he is not alone. He’s accompanied by two very anxious Kwamis.

“Marianne is so great to finally meet you! I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long!” Tikki, The Goddess of Creation addresses her. But she stays there stunned. She grew up learning about these entities, preparing for the moment she would get to meet them, but there she stays, unable to properly function. So much has been happening in the last 24 hours, and she feels like she’s in shock.

“Great job sugar cub, you broke the kid” Plagg, The God of Destruction comments.

“She’s probably just surprised to finally see us, don’t be rude”

It feels surreal to see these mystical creatures just bickering like children in her godmother’s husband’s living room. She almost feels like she’s dreaming. Feeling her discomfort, Master Fu decides it is better to address the situation.

“Come sit Marianne. It’s time I give you some answers.”

For the next hour, she learns a part of history she never knew about.

Her Master calmly explained to her that by the time they were able to release her from the ruins of the temple, it was too late. But something in him knew there was still hope. Because she was Tikkis chosen, her soul takes more time to disconnect itself from the physical world, so The Grand Guardian did something that wasn’t wrong but still considered taboo. He asked Tikki to use her energy in order to anchor her spirit back into her body. He didn’t use the wish from the Miraculous, so it wasn’t as dangerous. That had only been done once, somewhere when the pharaohs were still in power. One of the Guardians had fallen madly in love with a woman chosen by Tikki, but she got sick and died. Consumed with grief he ordered the Kwami into bringing her soul back.

Because it had happened so long ago they didn’t know the reaction it would cause in her already existing powers. So, for now, it would be better if she stayed in Paris, close to her Master’s, where she could finish her training and receive guidance if needed. They still didn’t know the situation within the League, so it was best to lay low for a while.

So there she stayed. For a whole month, she lived with her godmother and got to know the man she called her husband. It was funny, that the super badass and strict woman everyone knew would turn into the warmest person when around the baker. Marianne could tell they loved each other very much just by the way they looked at the other. In the League love was not something that happened very often. So it felt nice to be in contact with something so pure.

She also kept going on with training, just like Master Fu said they would. It was as if her life was completely new but completely equal to what it was before. She would wake up early, eat something, normally delicious made by Tom, and go to where her master was living, a massage parlor that served as a disguise from his real job as her teacher. They would start by meditating and then move into physical training. It was different, Fu wasn’t so young anymore so now she tended to train alone. She missed her brother so much that it hurt. Knowing where he was but not if he was okay. She wished that there was a way for her to contact him, but knew it would be safer if she didn’t. Just knowing he was with Father makes her feel a little better, she remembers her Mother’s stories of the fearless Batman, so if the time comes she knew he would be safe.

Nothing out of ordinary happened so far, her powers kept the same, maybe a little more intense, but nothing she couldn’t handle. But they were confident that there would not be any other side effects so far. Everything was back to normal, or that’s what they thought.

Imagine their surprise when on one of their meditation sections the both were suddenly overwhelmed by the intense energy that they received. It was dark, nothing like she ever had felt.

“Master, what was that? I have never felt something like it” Her teacher looked like he had seen a ghost, pale and with an anxious expression

“I’ve only felt this type of energy once. We must prepare, something bad is on our horizon. It’s time to activate your miraculous”

“What? Are you sure Master? Please tell me what is going on!” She pleaded.

“The Peacock and the Butterfly Miraculous, a long time ago, when I was just an apprentice, were thought to be lost. This was when The League and the Order were constantly at war. Some of my fellow disciples got greedy. They wanted the power the Miraculous had to offer, they thought themselves worthy of wielding their power and destroying the League of Assassins. There was a fight, and the first Temple of The Order was compromised. Some of us escaped, but we lost a lot. That day… I felt the same type of energy. I believe somewhere in this city, someone is preparing to cause chaos. We must be ready for when it happens.”

“How do we do that?”

“We need to find the Cat Miraculous wielder”

There is a little easter egg in this chapter, let’s see if anyone can tell what it is! The taglist is still open so feel free to ask to be tagged! Please tell me what you thought of this chapter, I’m dying for some feedback

Taglist: @macncheesemonster @jumpingjoy82 @silversaphire12 @jinx-jade @swiftie-miraculer13 @greatcatblaze @megaafangirl @ramos123 @theamityislife @maskedpainter @toodaloo-kangaroo @nyx-in-line @ketchupqueenboiiii @iamabrownfox @lozzybowe @user00000003 @kashlyn @msshadows97 @ira-sairain @stackofrandomstuff @myazael @frieddonutsweets @asrainterstellar @our-preciousss @laurcad123 @nyaabinch @rverfades @thefangirlwholiterallydies @astoriaandromeda @unnamed2357 @little-lady-bird @imdaqueenie

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