#disclaimer this is absolutely not meant as an attack

[spiritsglade]

The actual comics these are from, if you want to look into them further! I've added the real life year they were published, but it is from memory and thus may be inaccurate.

The DC timeline does reboots, which means that details and continuities get changed or ignored entirely from timeline to timeline. I noted some major changes to the best of my abilities, but I am no expert.

Specific comic citations for the above--post-crisis

1983-1988: Most of Jason's Robin days come from Batman v1. Post-crisis Jason is introduced in #408 and dies during the Death in the Family arc (#426-429). About Jason's parents: Catherine died of an overdose, Willis died because he betrayed Two-Face and got killed for it. Jason did not know Willis was dead until he inadverdently found out through the Batcomputer.

2002: Jason's initial return happens during the Hush arc (Batman Issues #608-619). This was initially Clayface posing as Jason; Winick later retconned it so it was actually Jason

2005: Under the Hood is the comic arc where Jason returns, officially. It starts with Issue #635.

2005: Teen Titans #29, the fight with Tim, happens in the middle of UtH playing out.

2006: Batman Annual 25 (Under the Hood Issue #14, part of the TPB) details how Jason returned. (Superboy Punch, digging out of the grave, etc.)

2010: Red Hood: Lost Days is a six issue run that elaborates on Batman Annual 25. This is his League of Assassins training arc.

2006-2007: He harasses Nightwing in Nightwing v2 #118-122 (this is where the tentacle monster happens), Mia Dearden + Green Arrow in Green Arrow v3 #69-72. He also shows up in Outsiders #44-46, but his role there is less actively antagonistic.

EXTRA, 2007: Countdown to Final Crisis / The Hunt for Ray Palmer happens, where Jason "teams up" with Donna Troy and Kyle Rayner for a multimonth trip through the multiverse for complicated reasons. He's more hero-adjacent here, but backslides by the end.

2009-ish: Jason shows up in Robin #177 fresh off of Countdown, antagonizes Tim, and gets shot and tossed in Blackgate. Tim bails him out and shows him Bruce's will in #182-183. Because Bruce is dead.

2010-ish?: Battle for the Cowl happens. Jason dresses up as gun Batman and does violence. He plays the villain in Batman and Robin v1 Issues #1-6, gets tossed in Arkham, shows up again in #23-25 where he convinces Dick to transfer him to Blackgate. He kills a bunch of people, gets broken out, teams up with Dick for a bit to save someone before flying off into the sunset. He had a sidekick/partner called Scarlet (real name Sasha).

New 52 - the timeline reset (2011)

CHANGES TO HIS BACKSTORY: Sheila doesn't exist--Jason discovered Catherine was alive all along and tracked her to a warehouse, where the crowbar and bomb happens; Willis Todd is written as explicitly physically abusive and an alcoholic; Jason initially met Bruce because he was stealing pharmaceuticals from Leslie's clinic

Some Batman Inc nonsense happens here. I haven't read very much of it.

Joker orchestrating Jason's life, Red Hood and the Outlaws (2011). Issue #0 and the actual arc where this is explored further happens across multiple titles vaguely around RHATO #17.

RHATO is also Jason's big run, where he teams up with Roy Harper and Kori'andr.

Jason has magic soul swords and is part of an ancient group of monks known as the All-Caste. He was a part of them during his post-Lazarus Pit training arc, prior to his return to Gotham.

Red Hood/Arsenal happens somewhere around here. It's a title specifically focused on him and Roy Harper.

Rebirth (2016)

CHANGES TO HIS BACKSTORY: At some point they changed the location of his death from Ethiopia to Qurac (fictional DC-specific country); Willis was retconned to be working for the Penguin and was actually alive all along, he used the alias Wingman, soft retcon on the abuse it's kind of vague; Ma Gunn was actually Jason's grandmother all along;

RHATO v2 happens with Artemis and Bizarro.

I don't really follow modern comics too well anymore. He's in a vague friendly orbit around the Batfamily that gets messed up every time he kills/tries to kill another person.

Minor corrections/additional details to the above post

After Bruce refused to kill Joker in the UtH confrontation, Jason then turned his own gun on Joker and said (paraphrased) "I'll do it. And if you want to stop me, you'll have to shoot me right in my face." Jason changed the ultimatum to be "Let me kill the Joker, or kill me."

The rapist's name was Felipe Garzonas, not Philip.

Jason's canonical deaths are just in Task Force Z (2021) and Batman #148. He's had fakeout deaths... so many more times than that.

The abuse thing

The incidents that people usually bring up in this regard are:

Bruce's reaction to Jason's death (17 real life years of using him as a cautionary tale for Tim and Steph. DC was in general pushing a narrative that victim blamed Jason for his death)

The Batarang Incident (end of UtH with the batarang to the throat)

Batman and Robin v2 Issue #20 - Bruce manipulates Jason into coming with him to the warehouse he died and asks him to remember what happened, anything that might help explain Jason's resurrection. Bruce's other son (Damian) had recently died and Bruce was trying to figure out how to bring him back. Jason reacts poorly 'you could have just asked' and then they fight for a few panels. Jason throws the first punch.

Red Hood and the Outlaws v2 Issue #25 - Jason shoots the Penguin point blank with a gun on national television (it is later revealed that it was a blank and Jason wasn't killing him on purpose.) Bruce proceeds to chase Jason across the rooftops and fights him. It's fairly one-sided. Jason's friends (Artemis and Bizarro) save him the first time but then they're dragged away through a dimensional portal. Bruce attacks Jason again, escalating to ripping the Bat symbol off his chest. Roy Harper had to intervene to save him. Jason needed at least a month of recovery time + couldn't shoot guns for at least a while after that due to his injuries. In Issue #27 Bruce tracks Jason down to tell him that (1) Roy is dead, (2) Jason isn't welcome back in Gotham, and (3) Bruce doesn't hate Jason, Jason just needs a good 'ass-kicking' sometimes. They hug.

Batman #138 - Bruce's split personality whose name I cannot spell activates a contingency plan and injects Jason with something that makes it so every time his adrenaline level rises, so does his fear. Jason is so immobilized by this that he cannot run.

can somebody explain the full jason todd lore please im about to lose my mind

[trixy812]

001 - Gossip is my passion

Tags: Nanami x fem!reader, fluff, funny, Sorcerer!Reader

Synopsis: A curse forces its victims to spill their secrets. This secret will be totally worth it.

An: Ok, this is the first fanfic that I write for this platform. I have written before… when i was 15? (kakasaku) Now I am 29. I had this idea for a while. Short and simple. I hope you like it. Maybeee… one day I’ll write smut. Let’s see how this one goes. Disclaimer: I am mexican that means my native language is spanish and since 2021 i've been living in Germany so, i've been speaking a lot of german.

🅼🅰🆂🆃🅴🆁🅻🅸🆂🆃

The night was dark, and the only light in the alley came from flickering street lamps that cast disturbing shadows. A soft night breeze slipped between the trees as you and Kento Nanami moved silently; cautious footsteps echoing softly on the cobblestones, down the dark alley toward the last known location of the curse you had been assigned to exorcise.

It wasn’t the first mission you had shared with Nanami, but being by his side always filled you with a mix of nerves and excitement. Despite Nanami’s typical stoicism, there was something about him that always managed to stir butterflies in your stomach. He treated you with respect, even with a certain warmth, and on more than one occasion, he’d given you a compliment that made you wonder if, just maybe, there was something more. But you quickly talked yourself out of it; Nanami was always polite to everyone, and it was d e l u s i o n a l to think he might see you differently.

Your thoughts snapped back to reality as he turned to look at you, his eyes calm and focused.

"Remember, this curse feeds on the shame of secrets it pulls from its victims. Stay alert and don’t let it catch you off guard," Nanami said, his voice low and calm but filled with a determination you found fascinating.

"Understood. It was also noted in the report that if it keeps feeding on shame, it could turn into a special-grade curse." Nanami nodded with an "Exactly." You tried to stay composed, hoping to show him you were focused, but you couldn’t help getting lost in the deep sound of his voice.

Suddenly, the curse appeared, emerging from the shadows as a spectral, twisted figure. Its purple eyes glimmered, and a malignant energy seemed to shroud it, extending like a miasma, reaching into the minds of its victims.

Immediately, you both took combat stances, ready to neutralize it. Nanami lunged at the curse with precise, calculated movements, his expression cold and focused as usual. You tried to keep up with his pace, but a spark of admiration for him distracted you. It was inevitable; Nanami’s elegance and strength always managed to capture your attention, even in the most dangerous situations.

That fraction of a second when you were lost in watching him was enough. The curse noticed it and shifted its target: its cursed energy began moving toward you. Nanami realized this immediately and, without hesitation, stepped between you and the curse, raising his arm to block the attack.

“Pay attention!” he warned, his tone severe and concerned.

The attack hit Nanami before he could evade it, and in a second, the curse began extracting a secret he had never imagined revealing under ANY circumstances.

An invisible force compelled him to speak, and, with a voice controlled by the curse, he confessed:

“I have a secret folder of photos of y/n on my phone…”

The alley fell into a heavy silence. It felt as if time had stopped when you heard those words, and your mind struggled to process what had just happened. A folder of your photos? On Nanami’s phone? Your heart started pounding, and a warmth rose to your cheeks as you realized what that meant.

Beside you, Nanami seemed petrified, his usual stoicism replaced by an expression of shame. This wasn’t common for him; his emotional control was almost absolute, but this time the curse had broken through. The creature’s dark energy intensified, feeding on Nanami’s shame and growing stronger with every passing second.

You knew you had to act before the situation spiraled completely out of control. Without missing a beat, you activated your cursed technique, Empathic Trace, focusing all your energy on calming Nanami’s feelings. Instead of shame, you began transmitting a sense of peace and happiness to him. Without realizing it, you were sharing the relief and joy you felt knowing that he thought of you more than you imagined. His shame began to fade.

Feeling the calm and happiness, you transmitted, Nanami regained his composure. With renewed determination, he struck the curse, delivering a precise attack that disintegrated the creature in a single blow. The evil energy disappeared, leaving the alley in complete silence, broken only by the murmur of your heavy breaths.

After a few seconds, Nanami looked over at you, still recovering from the surprise. His face reflected a mix of seriousness and vulnerability, but there was something new in his expression. Slowly, he took a step toward you, and you felt a palpable nervousness as the weight of what you had just heard settled over you.

“y/n…” he said, his voice much softer than usual. “I hadn’t planned for you to find out that way.”

You looked at him, eyes filled with curiosity but also a shyness you couldn’t control. The words escaped you before you could stop yourself:

“So… it’s true? You really have… a folder of my photos?”

Nanami didn’t look away this time. Instead, he gave a faint smile, something unusual for him, and nodded with an expression that mixed confidence with a hint of flirtation you’d never seen from him before.

“Yes, it’s true,” he answered, his tone low and full of sincerity. “On every mission or moment, I see you doing something… special, I’ve saved photos to remember those instances. Each one is a reminder of the moments we’ve shared, of how…” He paused, his eyes locking onto yours, intense and deep, “how I have someone who matters to me more than I’d like to admit.”

Nanami took another step closer, closing the distance between you. He raised his hand and gently placed a finger under your chin, making you look into his eyes.

“So, I guess you might like to know that, aside from the photos, I’ve kept certain memories of you. And… ” he murmured, his voice low and deep, his gaze tracing your face with an intensity that made you tremble. You felt your heart melting with each word. Your face burned, but your courage began to take over, and before you could think, you stepped even closer to him.

“Do you know what secret of mine that curse might have revealed?” you said, your voice low and flirtatious as your hearts beat in sync.

Nanami raised an eyebrow, surprised by the question.

“No, what?” he replied, curiosity shining in his gaze.

With a mix of boldness and desire, you leaned close enough for your faces to be inches apart. The tension between you felt palpable, as if the world around you had disappeared.

“That I would’ve given anything to kiss you,” you whispered, and in a bold move, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his.

The kiss was brief but electrifying, a spark that ignited the air between you. Nanami was completely caught off guard, his eyes wide open as you pulled away, feeling the world slowly return to motion around you.

Nanami stood in silence, his expression showing a faint blush he’d never revealed before. His normally calm eyes now watched you with something deeper, a mix of surprise and curiosity that you couldn’t quite decipher.

Not knowing whether to laugh or feel embarrassed, you gave him a small smile and shrugged, trying to lighten the moment. A hint of a smile crossed Nanami’s lips, but he quickly regained his composure. He turned back toward the path, casting you one last look that seemed to hold something unsaid.

“y/n… I hope we go on more missions together.”

-

🅼🅰🆂🆃🅴🆁🅻🅸🆂🆃

[snailsgoingdowntown]

Help, I Reincarnated as the Female Lead’s Sister-in-Law!

  Story Masterlist

Chapter 9

‘Slight’ Yandere! Dion Agriche x Fem! Reader

Arranged marriage AU

Warnings: thoughts about self-harm (biting thumb again), accidental self-injury(? + biting inside of lip which causes it to bleed), thoughts about implied murder, near panic attack, implied depression, slight blood, small/slight themes of obsession and possessiveness, slight themes of misogyny/some toxic behavior from Reader's family, please tell me if I missed any.

Nsfw warnings: OKAY, I honestly think Maria, if she becomes fond of a daughter-in-law, would absolutely push for grandchildren and take things into her own hands unless someone (Sierra) tries really hard to convince her otherwise. I’m really sorry for writing her as a creep but this will be the last time (either completely or for a very long time) I’ll write her like this. Anyway: suggestive, throwback to their 1st night, gifting of lingerie and aphrodisiac by Maria (again will not write her like this either completely or a long time, I tried rewriting this chapter so fucking much but this is what I settled on because it felt the most natural to me.) pushing for grandchildren, Maria somehow got the Reader’s measurements, please tell me if I missed any.

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT CONDONE ANY OF THE HARMFUL AND/OR DANGEROUS/TOXIC ACTIONS AND/OR BEHAVIORS THAT TAKE PLACE IN THIS PIECE OF FICTION. THESE ACTIONS/BEHAVIORS SHOULD NOT BE NORMALIZED NOR ROMANTICIZED AS THEY ARE BOTH EXTREMELY TOXIC AND DANGEROUS.

MINORS/BLANK BLOGS/BLOGS THAT DO NOT INTERACT OR REBLOG ANYTHING FANDOM RELATED (FICS, ART, ETC.) DNI.

===

‘Dear father and mother, 

I am doing well so far. The food is nice and the clothes comfortable. I haven’t personally spoken to my father-in-law yet, but I’m going to meet him for dinner tomorrow at the time of writing this. My husband, Dion is different from what I expected. Too nice. He’s not as brutal as others described him. It was surprising. But he’s a pervert and I almost hit him out of frustration and rejected his sexual advances like any sane person would. I know that you’ll say I should have let it happen, mother, but it hurt so bad I don’t think he’ll ever fit. Speaking of those vulgar activities, you lied he wasn’t flustered in the slightest until I started crying. Can you believe that? He’s a creep! But hopefully he doesn’t kill or torture me he’ll continue to treat me nicely.

Of course, as his wife I’ll do my best to support him in fear of him or Lant killing me otherwise in every field to the best of my abilities. Just how you forced taught me.

I have talked to a few in-laws, including my mother-in-law. I heard that you drank with her, mother. She's very  lively and has a sadistic unique personality. She’s very sweet to me. I have also met the fourth wife, Sierra. She’s lovely, I think you’ll also get along with her, mother. 

I hope that the two of you are faring well. The same goes for Zac and Elena, of course. Speaking of them, how has Zac’s studies been? He’s not skipping them again, is he or planning something dangerous like that stupid but well-meant plan he informed you, father, about? Yes, I overheard everything?

Is Elena doing well in her pregnancy? I know she moved out before me, but I’m still concerned about her and the baby. And Albert, he’s taking care of her, right? 

I’m not sure what else to write, so I’ll just leave it here. Please take care of yourselves. The same goes for my brother and sister.

Your daughter, (Name)’

“... I ended up writing what I really think… I need to rewrite this… again.” You sigh, leaning back in your chair as you crumble the letter. This was your fifth try, and while each one became less hostile and more casual, you weren't satisfied with any of the rough drafts to turn into a final draft. 

If you weren’t married to Dion, into this family, would writing to them be easier? You shake your head. No point in having these useless thoughts. Especially as Hana comes in with a knock and your permission, rolling in your lunch. 

In the end, you ended up going with Hana’s suggestion - basically saying that your husband fucked you too hard and rough last night and you needed to recover. Thanks to that, you didn’t have to change into the scarlet dress she picked out either - it was decided to be saved for the dinner you’ll have with both your husband and father-in-law tomorrow. 

You already asked Hana for indigestion medicine for tomorrow. 

“Thank you, Hana,” you put your stationary away and picked up the crumbled balls of paper that were failed attempts. She eyes you curiously but doesn’t comment on it. Instead she readies your lunch, placing the plates onto the table. 

The thought of eating makes you sick. You could barely hold down breakfast - could you hold down lunch? Or would your body give up immediately and reject the food? 

Warily looking at it, you notice two prettily wrapped up boxes - one pink with light red polka dots, the bow purple in color. The second box, a flatter one, had red wrapping paper with a tiny black hearts pattern, with the bow also black. Your heart speeds up as your gut twists painfully. If they were meant for you, they contain nothing well meant nor innocent.

“Oh, right,” Hana starts before handing both ‘presents’ to your unwelcoming arms, “Lady Maria sent these to you. I don’t know what they are, unfortunately.” With a grave look on your face you shakily thank her, a pained and forced smile stretching your lips. 

Maria sent these… oh boy, I sure do wonder what they are… 

“Later today, please help me pick out a gift for her. It’s only right that I repay the favor, especially since she’s my mother-in-law.” Placing them down next to your feet, you ignore the urge to kick them far, far away from you. It’s hard to keep your eyes off of the boxes. It’s hard to focus on your food, picking up your fork and knife as you cut into the grilled fish. 

It’s hard to chew, accidentally biting your lip hard enough to taste blood. It’s hard to drink the water as it threatens to choke you. It’s hard to not wince at the sharp sounds of cutlery against the plate as you imagine your head being chopped off like nothing. 

It’s hard to breathe. 

How much longer until you go crazy?

By the time you finish your meal, you’re sweating buckets. You hate it here. You want to go home -

“My Lady, are you alright?” Hana’s voice drags you out from your thoughts, flicking your eyes to meet hers. She’s picking up the silverware and placing it back onto the tray, but quickly takes a clean napkin from it and hands it to you. You take it with shaky hands, doing your best not to drop it. Thankfully your brain didn’t lag for too long for you to realize it was for your sweat.

You pat down your temples with the white cloth.

“T-thank you… v-very much, Ha-Hana.” Why is your voice so shaky? Why are you stuttering? Hell, why are you sweating?

You already had one panic attack - you don’t need another one. Your right thumb throbs at the memory and your teeth want to clamp down on it. The bandages suddenly feel too tight around the digit and you want to rip it off so you could dig your teeth into it. You bite your lip, only worsening the newly formed wound. The taste of your own blood spreads throughout your mouth again. 

You need to stop. 

Your attention switches to Hana, the woman staring at you uncertainly. It wasn’t necessarily out of concern but rather confusion - just how was she supposed to comfort her master? …you’re probably putting her in a rough spot. 

…right. I just need to accept my new reality… but today is not going to be that day.

Taking in a deep breath, you force your nerves to settle down - positive thoughts, positive thoughts. The sun is warm, the birds are lively, the bed is comfortable, your husband is gone - 

This isn’t the first time, and clearly it won’t be the last. 

“...thank you for bringing the food, Hana.” You’re not fully composed, not fully right of mind, but as the saying goes: fake it until you make it. You did it once, you managed to do it throughout the duration of the engagement, during the wedding despite feeling horrible, you did it while consummating your marriage despite being ripped open by Dion, you did it while at the tea party with Maria and Sierra, you did it last night when you told him off.

You did it back then, too. 

Force yourself to smile now. Tilt your head innocently. Act happy. Act happy. 

“I enjoyed it. Please give my thanks to the chief.” Your smile isn’t bright as the sun and slightly wavers. Your eyes aren’t shining brightly like stars, instead seeing past her. Your mind isn’t calm as you recall the brutality of this family that was shown and described in the story. 

Fake it until you make it. 

Yes, you think. Maybe you will have a conversation with Roxana. 

- - -

Hana left an hour ago yet you haven’t moved from your spot. No, instead you’re staring intensely at the presents in front of you on the table. They’re pretty, a bit childish. But knowing Maria… 

“...is it a trap…?” Carefully, you pick up the stereo typical present box and lightly shake it; it rattles. “Sounds a bit heavy… like a box within a box.” Curiosity gets the better of you and you gingerly untie the purple bow before ripping the wrapping paper. Despite the damn thing nearly sending you into another panic episode, it was satisfying to unwrap. 

A slightly smaller box is what you see once you manage to open the outer one. It was black and had a fancy red bow. Still a good size not to be something small. Unless it was a perfume. Breathing in deeply, you undo the ribbon and take off the lid. 

You’re met with a glass container roughly the size of your hand. Your heart drops at the yellow liquid inside. 

It looks exactly like the aphrodisiac your mother-in-law gave Roxana in the manhwa. 

“...what in the actual fuck… she’s basically telling, no, begging me to fuck her son… haha!” Your head rolls back as laughter overtakes you and shoulders violently shake. “I knew she was crazy, but fuck, how morally corrupt is this woman?” 

Instead of throwing it across the room like you should, you place it down on the table. You would have slammed it down if there wasn’t a chance that just smelling it could cause your body to heat up and become needy for a thing - a person - you don’t even want. 

“I’m scared to open up the other ‘present’...” in spite of that you pull at the black bow and unwrap it. You shake it - sounds like something soft. Like clothes. 

Oh. 

Oh no, no, no, no, no no -

“She didn’t. No fucking way… maybe it’s a sweater. Or a shawl. Gloves?” 

Trembling fingers take the lid off, a pink ribbon undone easily. This time, you throw the box to the floor after seeing what it held. 

A sheer black babydoll lingerie set. 

“Maria Agriche… you fucking creep…,” without another thought you shut the lid on it and shoved it into one of your drawers on your side of the dresser. Away from sight, out of mind you chant in your head, slamming the drawer shut. Your cheeks feel warm as both embarrassment and disgust fill your head and chest. 

… even if you wanted to sleep with him… or if you were in a healthy marriage with someone you love…

“...I could never wear that… it’s too revealing, too embarrassing.” Even in your old world you never wore such things. Not because you viewed them as dirty or slutty, but because they don’t suit you. Besides, putting in so much effort just for it to be taken off…?

‘I’m only going to ask once - would you rather keep your clothes on or off?’ 

“MMMMFFFF!!” throwing yourself onto the bed at the memory, scream muffled by the pillow, you mentally curse both son and mother. The son because he made your first time so horrible you’re mentally scarred and the mother because she’s a creep. More so than her own fucking son. 

A few minutes later you manage to collect yourself somewhat. Dreadfully you go to the dresser to pull out the offending clothing. You don’t plan on putting it on or to hold it over your clothes to get a vague idea of it either. Just to get a better look at it. 

Opening it and picking up the article of clothing, you examine it; pretty lace details on the him and breast cups, a flower pattern. It was soft as silk - clearly made from expensive materials. The straps were thin but they didn't feel too rough or stiff. Probably comfortable on the shoulders. 

Not like you would know - you never tried anything like this on. 

Curiosity killing the cat, you decide to see where it ends by holding it over your clothes; it barely brushes past mid thigh. 

When you go to put it back you notice an envelope and panties in the box. First, you pick up the lacy underwear, frowning as you realize that somehow, someway Maria had gotten your fucking measurements. Did your mother also tell the crazed woman your three sizes… “No, she wouldn’t. Even if she was drunk, she wouldn’t tell anyone such private details.” 

Carelessly dropping it into the box you grab the letter, opening it after a moment of hesitation. It takes even longer to unfold the letter. And even longer to actually read it, only for horror to come across your face and enter your heart. 

‘Sierra told me it may come across as inappropriate to send such things to you… but I’m just so excited for grandchildren! Oh, but don’t feel pressured into wearing or drinking those things tonight. The aphrodisiac lasts a rather long time. Besides, considering it’s Dion, I thought you might need some help to get in the mood whenever you decide to lay with him.

- Maria’ 

“No. Never.” 

Shoving everything back in, you shut the drawer close, making sure to hide the items underneath some layers of your… underwear…

You give up. 

“Ahh, why and how did I stumbled into the scene…” You turn around only to notice the yellow liquid contained in the glass bottle. Right. You forgot about that. “Maybe I should just pour it out…”

Not once did you realize nor notice how all the fear and fright left your body and mind, instead leaving caution and annoyance in its wake. 

- - -

Your husband returned at midnight, small amounts of blood splattered on his left cheek. When you look up from your book to greet him you notice that in the candlelight his eye bags seem darker. Deeper. 

“...welcome…back.” Your body starts to quiver and your heart beats loud enough you could hear and feel it once you meet his eyes. Quickly scanning his person you notice he’s wearing the standard male servant uniform: 

black shirt with red rimmed shoulder pads that have the Agriche crest on top, the shirt long enough to reach below his knees and splits at the hips, tied together with a brown belt at the waist. If he were to turn around you would see the family crest proudly engraved into the fabric. Blank pants that disappear into nearly knee-height boots with long, tied laces. 

The last time you’ve seen him in that uniform was the first time you met him, bored expression plastered on his face as Lant introduced him with a smug smile on that disgusting face of his. All he did was shake your hand as you stood still with prayers to a God who held no love for you. With your father glancing your way every minute as you were left in some corner with your then fiance to hold a conversation that never happened. When he didn’t spare so much as a glance at you, instead staring off into space as you couldn’t take your eyes off your lap. 

Wait. 

No. 

Maybe back then, you were too deep in your thoughts to notice that unnerving stare. 

The same one he has now - looking at you as though you were his prey, scarlet eyes glowing in the candlelight, like you belonged to him and he would never change that fact. That he would never let you change it, either. 

“Wife.” 

The word mixed with his sleepy voice sounds like nails on a chalkboard - it makes your ears bleed and eye twitch as you hold back the grimace of how he addresses you. He only wants you because you’re a normal person.

The moment you become insane he’ll let you go. 

That’s the only explanation. It has to be. That’s the only explanation your brain could come up with and accept. 

You’re too scared to bring up the night before yesterday. Beads of sweat slowly roll down your temples and breathing shallow as Dion walks towards the bed, heavy boots echoing. Time stops as your heart drops once he reaches the bed, reaches you and without a single word, he grabs your right wrist and - 

“What happened here?”

Oh. You forgot about your bandaged thumb.  

[tohwitchesduels]

REQUEST BATTLES OF WITCHES DUELS - Battle 55: Hunter The Golden Guard vs Matt Tholomule

Disclaimer: This is not a popularity contest or which character you prefer, in this tournament, you decide who is stronger/better/smarter/etc. opponent.

information for both opponents under the cut to those who don't know what they can do in their battle:

Matt Tholomule:

Mattholomule specializes mainly in construction and illusion magic.

Matt is known to be quite underestimated by those around him, but he does possess the skill, even if gloats to be able to bite more than he can chew. Matt is however pretty smart when it comes to the usage of his powers, even if he doesn't use them too offensively. He can however be pretty hopeless at times, being taken out easily if his opponents prove to be more formidable than him. He does lack drive and fighting spirit if he does not have confidence in his abilities.

Matt doesn't respect Hunter at all, considering him weak. In LR he really meant it when he said that he could take him. Matt recognizes how he may ultimately not be the best battler of this tournament but in his eyes Hunter is an absolute fraud who shouldn't have gotten this far as he did, so he wants to challenge him because of that, bringing up Hunter's fraudulent win against Luz (Luz beat Matt fair and square but how comes Hunter supposedly won the fight with her?). To Matt, it doesn't matter if he was the Golden Guard, to Matt Hunter, ain't shit.

Matt does not possess any known palisman, nor showcased any on the screen. Because of this anyone fighting him would also not be allowed to wield a palisman

Size alteration - Matt is capable of altering the size of any of his body parts. This displayed first during Covention with his head.

Construction Tool - Matt is capable of creating tools made out of earthen materials as displayed TTLGR when he created a key/blade to cut Gus free. This ability during battle can manifest as Matt is capable of creating any kind of tool or weapon to help him during the battle.

Geokinesis - Implied in TTLGR that Matt can telekinetically move earthen materials as displayed when he helped clean the graveyard by moving the broken parts of the statues placing them back and making them stick together. During the battle, Matt would be capable of throwing rubble at his opponents.

Rock Wall - as displayed in LR, Matt is capable of creating walls to block attacks. The walls are thin so can be broken through enough force, but Matt displayed pretty great reflexes with those walls and they are still fairly durable.

Rock Dummy - as displayed in FTF, Matt is capable of creating a rock dummy of himself to appear wherever he feels like it.

Camouflage - Displayed in its full glory in FTF where Matt made Amity completely disappear. During the battle, Matt can turn himself invisible temporarily and other people as well (battle royale-exclusive)

Smokescreen - Matt is capable of releasing a smokescreen that can disorient his opponents.

Link to more of Matt's capabilities here

Hunter The Golden Guard:

I will only mention moves by names rather than delve into specifics as they're too large for that. In the name (with a few exceptions for the sake of clarification for some), there's a link to more of Hunter's capabilities.

Hunter has zero respect for Matt and does not take him seriously in the slightest. He really is disappointed that supposedly he's the closest Gus has to a romantic partner at the moment, his little bro can do better. During this battle, Hunter is however even more peeved by Matt because he really talks a big amount of sh!t for someone who's not even worth dirt on Hunter's shoes. There is also the fact that Matt painfully reminds Hunter of everything he loathes about himself. To say the least, Hunter will show Matt why he was Golden Guard, to begin with, and put Matt in his place.

Hunter "Insert your preferred surname/s for him", also known as a former and the youngest Golden Guard in history, head of the Emperor's Coven, Emperor Belos's right-hand man. One must know that unlike other contestants (aside from Luz) he's not constricted to specific covens and tracks since as a former leader of the coven that allows all kinds of magic, Hunter will have expertise in all types of coven magic as well, and he's also very dedicated to studying wild magic.

Hunter himself was also known as a genius teen prodigy and is undeniably a child soldier who was raised by both hell and the library to get to the very top. While he was born magicless, it did not stop him from earning his title as the right-hand man of the most powerful witch of the Boiling Isles. Hunter spends days and nights both training and learning everything about magic both as a duty and as fun. He's incredibly knowledgeable regarding all kinds of magic, meaning it's hard to actually surprise him with anything. And since he's a child soldier raised in a magical military with no magic by himself, Hunter had to survive hell even worse than some of the adults that also were part of this coven went through, and he survived it all. Hunter has already been to countless witches' duels beforehand, he made it several times through a maze full of traps, and judging by how he calls getting from the top to the bottom of the mountain alive "a classic", this might as well suggest that this Hunter's version of "summer camp", as he did that numerous times and he considers it "fond memories". Hunter without a doubt has the most experience among all participants when it comes to battling, because you know Belos never gave him a break or easy time and for Hunter to be where he is today is all thanks to his own strength, intelligence, and resilience.

Hunter certainly has one of the strongest wills among all characters in TOH, as despite going through a ridiculous amount of pain, he is capable of brushing it off and pushing forward, with his only weakness being Belos. Hunter's willpower was even able to withstand Gus's trauma bubble which specifically puts you through your worst memories and even renders you useless, but Hunter resisted its effect and calmed Gus down instead, despite his pain being very fresh and severe and Hunter in fact not being ok with it, but Hunter keeps on going anyway. One must know it's very hard to break him, trust Belos, he tried but didn't succeed. Hunter even managed to resist Belos's possession for some time, which is a lot considering Belos was his abuser and had power over him metaphorically and physically in that moment.

Hunter displayed throughout the series to have some great athletic skills and agility, being able to keep up pace with running Luz without breaking a sweat while proving he has experience in parkour and acrobatics as seen in him flying on staff. Certainly, he can use his skills to evade incoming attacks with his reflexes while keeping up with his opponents and close distance between him and his enemies. He also has plenty of brute strength at his disposal as well, considering he managed to shatter falling debris by just swinging his staff in one hand.

Hand-To-Hand Combat - Hunter has proven to be efficient in hand-to-hand combat throughout the series. While Hunter overall plays more on defense as a protector rather than offense, he is not afraid to throw a punch. This post goes more in-depth about Hunter's proficiency in staff-wielding, but I will explain some of it here too. Hunter as a trained soldier and experienced martial artist has his body be his weapon. He knows how the body works and has great control over it. He defeated both Luz and Eda in his debut with a quick kick while evading their attack, straight-up toyed with Kikimora and had to be put to sleep to be restrained by coven scouts as he was still fighting and kicking. This also gives him a huge advantage against other competitors who are used to fighting across distance, whereas Hunter fights at a close range.

Back in EC Hunter learned how to be smart, resourceful, and strong, and as I've mentioned before multiple times, he's a child soldier. His opponents usually underestimate him, but he's not the one to be crossed. His victories compromise of defeating Eda and Luz on 2v1 in his debut; immediately defeating Luz in HP once he's recovered; defeating Kikimora in HP; and Tying with Amity in EL after being physically and mentally exhausted, in 2v1 with King (who was rather defeated by Hunter in this duel), while wielding a completely new staff and restraining himself to not kill her but just getting the key; winning flyer derby game on his first try; catching Darius off-guard (which is a feat with Darius's great reflexes); making a strong glyph combo on his very first try; resisting Gus's trauma bubble; kicking ass during Hexside against EC battle; he was defeated twice by coven scouts, which while fair, was also due to his poor condition and the second time he had to be put to sleep to be restrained; handling abomatons and scouts with rest of the Hexsquad during S2 finale; standing his ground and protecting Hexsquad from Belos while being severely weakened in KT; breaking through Willow's vines in FtF with his freshly awakened powers.

Hunter now is sub-merged with Flapjack meaning he does not require staff anymore to cast spells as magic now comes from within. What's more, I allow Hunter to also levitate/fly without the help of any staff. This is more of a fanon ability, but it's supposed to connect him to having the powers of a palisman (but no, he can't turn into a staff, nor is wooden) and abilities of a palisman are usually just enhanced abilities of the holder, meaning flight is in capacity of any witch, but all of them utilise staff since flight on its own is probably hard spell to pull off, but Hunter should do just fine for the sake of this tournament.

During this fight, Palismen are not allowed.

Flash Step

Comet Charge

Resistance Spell

Block Spell

Underground Escape

Tool Creation

Tying Spell

Battle Armor

Laser Bolt

Lightning Strike

Barrier Spell - is not demonstrated in the show itself but in storyboards of Yasmin Khudari, where Hunter could create a force field to shield Willow from falling debris. In the final product, he just used his own brute strength and staff to protect Willow rather than magic, but I will allow this spell meaning Hunter can create barriers that can withstand heavy hits and create them anywhere he desires.

Flesh-Eating Plant - - this is more of a speculation rather than a confirmed fact, but I rewatched ST, and Luz and Eda weren't originally standing in the flesh-eating plant until GG showed up, so I decided to be funny and say he actually made this plant himself to taunt them, especially since he also knew what it does (which also shows his expertise in plants among many things). Hunter in battles can utilise flesh-eating plants to set traps across the battlefield to both harm and distract his opponents.

Telekinesis

Sand Blast

Sand Construct

Rock Fist

Earth Magic

Water Magic

Aqua Jet

Water Hand

Wall Of Vine And Ice

Return to Masterpost

[cobra-creampuff]

anyway so seasons 1-early 3 mickey is a pessimist with a dash of nihilist (miserable), and because of that ian looks like an optimist verging on idealist to him.

the fact of the matter is that ian is not an optimist and he certainly is not an idealist. he's a little naive, sure, but less than what would be appropriate for his age. he's also not a pessimist or a nihilist (either kind). or a realist or a pragmatist or any of those.

no, ian is quite simply. unfathomably stubborn. and that is all.

he'll get into west point. he's absolutely certain of this. why? because he fucking said so.

he'll have a real relationship with mickey. they are in love and they are going to be together. this is true. how does he know? because. he. fucking. said so.

he doesn't have hope. he doesn't want things. that's pussy shit. there are precisely three types of things in this world: things ian isn't interested in, things ian already has, and things ian will have. that is simply that!

(which is obviously its own very specific mindset and is at least as extreme as pure optimism and pure pessimism, and is almost certainly just another fun little factor when the force of his will alone is not enough to change the reality of an ongoing traumatic event that contributes to the somewhat early onset of his bipolar disorder. but that's tangential.)

now. once again, disclaimer, these characters cease to exist past early season 5 for me, so there's every chance this next bit is exclusive to MY mickey and ian. there's just no way to know ❤️

that said. ian matures into a nihilist (carefree) - and i would say he's here-ish already in season 4, but in a maladaptive way at that stage - and then eventually matures further into a nihilistic (carefree)-leaning pragmatist.

mickey on the other hand - after a period of having no particular mindset of this type of thing at all which in effect amounts to a months-to-a-year long panic attack where his every action is fueled by emotional desperation and he has no solid concept of his own wants, needs, values, or future beyond the ever-present but totally incoherent certainty that he can't live without ian but ian can and will leave him with ease for even the slightest infraction or failure that terrorizes him like a weasel terrorizes a hen in his every waking moment - um. what was i saying.

oh right. mickey on the other hand, after All That, matures first into a sort of quiet idealism (kind of a pendulum swing maybe, but not quite not also progress, iygiygi), and then. into a less naive version of the old ian's way lmao.

there is no "that's how things are/go" or "that's how the world works" or "life is/isn't fair" or any fundamental human nature or any purpose or lack thereof to life or possible and impossible or likely and unlikely or anything else along any of those lines. there are only two types of things in the world: things that don't matter and mickey's next achievement. and that's that, baby!

and then eventually, mick finishes out at a relatively stable and sustainable realist-leaning optimism, heavily informed by romanticism of the Certain Things Are Meant To Be kind. like, he wouldn't necessarily express that or think of it in those terms. and he doesn't think it's a common thing, in fact it's rare and special and he's very lucky, and even if something is like that it still doesn't mean you don't have to put the work in for it to go well and end up Right. and he doesn't believe in a higher power or in Fate quite as such or in the will of the universe or a cosmic balance or anything like that really.

it's just, you know. sometimes. every now and then. there's just this one little thing that will continuously keep trying to happen without any heed to sense or logic or the incredible odds against it. just something in particular that will forever and always find a way to happen.

like say. for example. there's this gay kid, right? and he gets in this fight and he wins and he's about to bring down a tire iron and ruin this other idiot's pretty face and - for no discernible reason whatsoever - he just... doesn't. and maybe he'll think about it half a dozen years later and wonder why. that one tiny little thing that changed his whole fucking life, why did he do that? what was the reason? and there just. isn't one.

and that's not even all. see, these two dumbasses have no idea the other one is gay too, but some-fucking-how they don't have to say a word or even make any opening moves to just Know they want each other. it's like they read each other's fucking minds, even though he knows, he remembers, he didn't sense anything from ian. but for Some Fucking Reason he just never for a second considered ian wouldn't want him, and ian was in perfect time with him. and maybe he'll think back and try to find an explanation for this part too. was there some body language he read? was there some look in ian's eyes? but the answer is no every time.

and then after that, these two gay kids just can't be kept apart. they just can't. and it's not just that they inexplicably can't resist each other either. every time they're separated they find each other again, no matter what. even when they're the ones to separate themselves, situation after coincidence after happenstance after necessity keeps putting them in each other's orbits. secrecy and jealous exes and gun violence and imprisonment and infidelity and a fucking pathological fear of intimacy and conversion therapy and genuine threat to their lives and marriage to someone else and permanent life-altering illness can't break them up. at least not for long.

and then. somehow. SOME fucking how! after all that, and with the absolutely shit chances that they ever even hooked up in the first place, they actually fucking make it? they don't just get to be together, they get to be happy??

so no, he doesn't believe in god or destiny or soulmates or whatever the fuck. but at the same time, i mean. what other explanation is there?

[eowynstwin]

So, Ikea and Bunny. I need to talk about them too, though no one has explicitly asked about them.

The truth is, I am still so fucking angry at those two. There is not a kind thought in me for either of them. Either my worst suspicions are true, and they conducted the whole affair from behind the scenes, or they were willfully stupid enough to swallow Myka’s story for the sake of their own blog engagement. Because I sure never heard of either of them before this happened.

Those two were needlessly and joyfully cruel to me. They languished in attacking my character, my maturity, my intelligence, the way I phrased things, or that I did not say what they thought I ought to. They called me a sociopath. Ad verbatim they said my brain "doesn't fucking work right."*

I have been VERY open for a while now about being autistic. I certainly already had it in my blog description by the time they came after me.

They went on to accuse me of poor reading comprehension, bullying, and abuse. They accused me of setting my followers on Myka. When I referenced one separate occasion in which I had a public disagreement with another blogger earlier this year, they spun that reference out into a HISTORY of influencing my followers to go after others I didn't like. (There was no request for clarification on my part before they took that and ran with it.)

Bunny even went as far as to explain what Myka's original post meant, the way a third grade teacher might, to prove her point about my lack of reading comprehension.** Bunny, just call me a fucking retard and be done with it.

Then, as people began to point out that they were in fact doing the same thing they accused me of doing, they had the audacity to remind everyone not to harass me. So it's okay when you forget about that, girlies, but guillotine for me because I forgot?

When the truth finally came out, they backpedaled REAL quick. I even got some apologies in my inbox.

Genuinely. From the bottom of my heart. Absolutely fuck the both of you. I didn't have you blocked until I left. In fact, the both of you FOLLOWED ME. You never ONCE tried to talk to me first anyway. You two saw your chance to tear me to pieces and you fucking took it.

Disclaimer, because I know these two people by now: this is no call to action for anyone to go after them. I doubt you could anyway, since all of their blogs have been inactive since June. (the-original-honeybun is crashtestbunny's main.)

But these two did permanent damage to my reputation within this fandom. Even if they were to delete every single post they made about me, there would still be versions of them circulating. Their blogs are still fucking UP, ostensibly for accountability, but exactly how accountable are they if they haven't actually been there to take it?

*Specifically Ikea. Scroll her blog if you need proof. The post is still up. **Also still up on her blog, crashtestbunny.

[ffverr]

hello I come to you with a request. I watched x men 97 recently and was saddened by how little time the whole magneto in charge of the x men storyline got and I know he does this longer in the comics (I can't say why but the phrase "its seven in the morning max..." lives rent free in my brain) so I wanted to ask if you have any recommendation for comics from that era / any recommendations for comics with mister magnet-os because I want to get into x men comics but comics as always are so daunting

It is my great pleasure to answer this!!

Disclaimer 1, I am still going through a lot of the issues of this era but I will try my best to make it as clear a guide as I can for you!

Disclaimer 2, Headmaster of the school and leader of the X-Men are quite different positions that they kind of fused together in the 97 show so I do want to make it clear that magneto in the "seven in the morning" era is headmaster of the school, teaching young kids, while Storm is leading the X-men team and Scott is leading the X-factor team, so with that said:

Magneto's teacher arc starts in uncanny X-Men issues 199 and 200 (iconic issues containing the trial of magneto that was adapted in the show!) And then he is headmaster of the school in the book "The new mutants" by Chris Clermont, from issue 35 to issue 75. It is A LOT I admit and he gets a more minor place considering the book is about the kickass young class of new mutants that he's teaching. But it is worth checking out! Many consider this to kind of be peak magneto because.... he's trying so hard to be a good teacher and to handle all these kids and it's very humanizing for him!

I mean look at him and his 8 kids!

Now, how to get into Magneto overall? Let's get into it:

I believe it is impossible to get into Magneto without reading his ultimate origin story, Magneto: Testament by Greg Pack. It is a quick intro, it barely features his powers (not an action comic) and it is a very very emotional read. I consider it essential magneto reading!

Next up: Two One shots if you want to get a quick primer on the character pre moral arc instead of sitting through his few appearances in the Stan Lee comics:

A classic one: X-Men: God Loves, Men Kills by Chris Claremont. It is an iconic comic book one shot that can be read out of continuity just to see what his deal is when he's not necessarily on the side of the X-Men but fighting for his own ideals! It's overall a brilliant comic book!

If you want a more recent retelling of the first appearances of magneto you HAVE to read X-Men Mythos that retells magneto's major first appearance in the 60s in quite a beautiful and amazing way! It also has an absolutely insane magneto scene that is very memorable! (So this would "chronologically" come before God loves men Kills)

Now for his switch from cartoon villain of the 60s/early 70s to complex guy in the 80s, read the issues 149 and 150 from the run Uncanny X-Men by Chris Claremont. This is THE pivotal moment for "good guy" Magneto

(know that after issue 150, somehow he falls in the ocean from asteroid M, is rescued from a shark attack by Scott's girlfriend Lee Forester. They have a quick relationship where he struggled with his change of morals then he comes to the new mutants)

if you want to continue chronologically you read the issues 199 and 200 that I recommended at the start then go to the new mutants book I talked about earlier!

If you want MORE MODERN comics, then I advise you get right into what's happening at the moment!

House of X powers of X are two series that intertwine (you'll easily find them in the right order) by the same writer, Jonathan hickman!

It serves as a status quo change/relaunch of the X-Men universe. Magneto plays a big part of the story as he is directly involved in building a mutant nation. I'd say it's a bold but quite functional intro to X-Men comics!

Then he appears as a major character in the GREAT series X-Men Red by Al Ewing alongside Storm, a character that meant a lot to him in the 80s, so it's really nice to see again.

In this he is- epic, depressed, suicidal, sassy, it's great magneto stuff! This series is widely regarded as the best X-Men comic out right now!

(if you want context for this book read the event X of Swords, or I could explain if interested)

That's about all I will lay on you ! If this is hella confusing, don't hesitate to dm me! I can detail more cleanly exactly what you have to read and when!

Good reading!

[ask-aph-hws-iceland]

[OOC: hello! Paiko here! I just have a few things I'd like to discuss. Now, I do have to make a few disclaimers before I go on. I absolutely do not condone the harassment of anyone regardless of what I may discuss and how it may apply to anyone. I also want to make it known that this doesn't mean anything for my ask blog. I'm not abandoning it. Iceland is here to stay! I also would like to clarify that this doesn't apply to most of the people I've interacted with on this ask blog. Most of you are absolutely wonderful, and (contrarily to my portrayal of Iceland) I am a huge extrovert, so I absolutely love interacting with everyone.

That being said, I've noticed that some of us aren't too familiar with some common unspoken rules of having an ask blog, so I'll try to bring a few up, shall I?

Let's start with something simple.

1)You are not entitled to anyone's character. I'll try to say this as nicely as possible, but you're not playing dolls with your siblings where you can make demands as to how the story should go. Your version of a character is not absolute and people should not have to alter their character to fit your own mold. It is also very sucky to try and force your headcanons onto someone else. If you really dislike someone's character so much, you're more than welcome to find another ask blog.

2) your right to swing your fist ends at the tip of my nose. This one is slightly related to the last one, so it'll be a bit shorter. Do not try to force your chosen course of events onto someone else. Yes, we all love having our characters in strange little scenarios, but if someone isn't cool with that, that's a shame, but it never gives you the right to try and force them into it. Creating an arc in an ask blog community is... Hard. It's hard to get everyone on board. A great example of an arc well done is the meeting arc we had for a bit. That was funny, super sweet and it was actually quite immersive. Everyone had fun, we all caused chaos, it was great. When someone isn't entirely on board, then it gets a little unfortunate. If you want to have a full arc with a fellow ask blog you can communicate over PMs. I know not all of us care to use them, but it can be very helpful in coordinating something like this so there are no issues later on. Especially if said arc deals with any form of rivalry or conflict. Otherwise, you're just attacking someone for no apparent reason.

3) your fellow ask bloggers are not therapists. A bit of character angst can be nice when done right. It can help explore these kinds of issues in a digestible way, but when it's essentially just using mental health issues as a plot point to get the story where you want it, that's when we start having problems. I mentioned this before on my main blog, but trivializing mental health under the guise of representation really does not sit quite right with me and nor should it anyone else. My interpretation of Iceland is a really insecure teen. It plays a lot into his character and he has this self-deprecating humour that can come across as concerning at times. The difference here is that Iceland's character is not seeking help here. His character is meant to be relatable. A lot of us make this sort of joke. When it's just 'oh, this arc isn't going how I wanted it to? That's fine, let me just have the character have some serious mental problems as a result of that!' then I have a huge issue with it. If your character is the type to always complain about their life and walk around with a half empty bottle of booze belligerently yelling about their happenings, it's important that this character is treated as a punchline. Even as someone who has never and will never drink, I can recognise how funny and tension breaking a character like that can be.

4) please respect other people's personal rules. Some of us dislike shipping and whatnot for various reasons. Keep in mind that a lot of the people you interact with are minors. This isn't a dating simulator. I, for example, forbid shipping as Iceland is a minor and I am personally not comfortable with shipping him even if the other character is also a minor. If you're cool with that, fantastic! But not on my blog. This plays into the whole not forcing your storyline on someone else point, but it's important to me that people understand that when someone says they're uncomfortable with something, stay away from that something while interacting with them. I've stated wanting to keep this blog mostly PG. That is a boundary, not a request. I can and will ban anyone who disregards mine or anyone else's rules.

I'm sorry if this post came across as a little harsh. I don't mean to attack anyone. I'm just trying to ensure everyone's safety here. If you see a problem with anything I've said don't be scared to bring anything up. It never hurts to discuss.

Once again, thank you for coming to my yap session.]

[dearinglovebot]

my nonverbal person's guide to respectfully handling the handler

disclaimer: we aren't a monolith, we have different nonverbal experiences, etc. this is mostly meant to give basic information for non-mute fic writers or other creatives

is the handler nonverbal/mute? as far as we know, yes. she is a nonverbal character ergo canonically "mute". it would be disrespectful to erase this.

but she whispers. some mute people can do that. particularly elective mutes (those who can speak, but generally do not) and selective mutes (an anxiety disorder which prevents speech in certain cases). though, even those with one of the physical causes (brain injury, nerve damage, etc.) might be able to. it's deeply personal.

but if she can speak, how is she mute? mutism is defined by abnormally limited speech in daily life, not complete inability. someone who is silent 90% of the time is still mute. total mutism and partial mutism are part of the same nonverbal spectrum. however, we do have different lived experiences because of this. just like how two autistic people may have different support needs.

what causes mutism? in short, it is either a physical impairment like a TBI, stroke, neruological disorder, etc or it is psychological. often, psychological mutism is comorbid with other mental disorders. a large portion of elective mutes are autistic! it can also be a PTSD trauma response where you feel "blocked" from speaking. there's lots of ways mutism can occur.

what kind of mutism does she have? we don't know! we'll need her backstory to really know this. all we know is that she is primarily nonverbal with the ability to whisper short sentences/single words. this implies she doesn't speak often, though, as strained speech is a symptom of vocal disuse.

how do i respectfully portray her limited speech? my general rule is, what canon says goes. don't make a mute character speak more than they would in canon. does this character not speak at all? do that. does this character only speak in dire circumstances? do that. does this character occasionally whisper? do that. making a character speak less is alright, but an absolute no no is making a mute character speak more. this is ableist thinking. for example, part of ABA therapy for autistic elective mutes is making them "learn" to speak against their will. mutism is a disorder which will often be "cured" in media. like many other disabilities, we don't want magic cures. we want accommodations and acceptance.

how can i portray her communicating? look at canon! she uses facial cues, physical cues, and her whistle. those are all ways she canonically communicates with others nonverbally. maybe she and her raptors communicate different things by how long she blows the whistle or by making multiple whistle noises at once. maybe there's more than one whistle and that's simply her attack whistle. get creative!

[dawn-moths]

"Winner Takes All"

Dabi/Touya x Female Reader

word count: 5,000+

(*set in my “cerulean gaze” au // play fighting with touya ends up with you two getting a little more physical than you bargained for.)

disclaimer/content warning: 18+ content! minors dni! fluff & smut, established relationship, mentions of reader being harassed at work, some cute banter, play fighting, size difference, light choking, finger sucking, happy birthday touya <3

*ao3 mirror*

***

“Hey, what’s the matter?” Touya asked the moment you walked through the apartment door wearing a look of blatant agitation, brows furrowed and jaw flexing as you replayed some of the day’s earlier events in your head.

Tossing your bag carelessly onto the tiny kitchen table before completing the remaining three and a half strides to the living room couch, where you then flopped down face first and buried your face into the nearest pillow, letting out a blood-curdling shriek that was, thankfully, heavily muffled by said pillow, didn’t really directly answer your boyfriend’s question but it certainly did confirm one thing.

Something was definitely the matter.

You felt Touya’s weight sink onto the side of the couch your feet were hanging off of and heard him say, “Alright… Spill it,” before glancing at him out of the corner of your eye for a moment, only to sigh and turn your face back into the pillow that was still hot with the ghost of your furiously exhaled breath of a scream. You groaned something unintelligible, causing Touya to sigh and lightly roll his eyes before placing a big hand on the small of your back, gently rubbing  there in an attempt to help calm you down.

But this wasn’t one of your panic attacks. This was something else. This was likely— of the few times he’d seen you in this state that he could recall— something that, once he heard the truth of it, would make him wish he hadn’t buried Dabi and left his old life of violence behind.

Because this meant someone had undeniably, indisputably, and absolutely pissed you off.

And in his eyes, that was personal and probably meant they had to die.

“C’mon, you gotta tell me…” he further pressed, scooting over and giving your shoulder a light shake until you agreed to sit up and face him, legs crossed in front of you while you relentlessly picked at a loose thread sprouting from one of the second hand couch cushions, huffing and puffing and pouting as you mumbled things like, “Doesn’t matter,” and “Don’t wanna talk about it,” even though he clearly could tell that you did.

“I’ll make you a hot chocolate,” Touya bargained, unable not to find the way you perked up upon the mention of one of your favorite feel good treats absolutely adorable before the expression fell away a little upon him concluding with, “but you gotta tell me what happened, baby.”

Exhaling one last difficult, dramatic sigh, you said, “Fine…” and before the mugs even went into the microwave you were already delving into your tantrum-inducing tale.

Apparently there was this customer at your part-time job— a new regular, you made sure to clarify with so much mockery and disdain Touya was beginning to think you were adopting too much of his own annoyed speech habits— who just wouldn’t leave you alone.

The first time he’d come in on your shift, he’d merely complimented you, so you’d smiled and wished him a good day. The next time, he was very obviously flirting, which you didn’t reciprocate but still gave a wobbly, nervous smile in an attempt to not make things awkward until he finally left. Then he was asking you out, which you had to turn down because, as you’d tried to explain to him, you had a boyfriend. But that apparently wasn’t enough, because after that he still thought he should ask you out again, and again, and try to convince you why you should just give him a chance, that it could be our little secret, saying he wouldn’t take no for an answer, which had caused a pit to form in your stomach as that particular line brought back some bad memories you’d give anything to forget. Today you even outright told him to knock it off, but all getting angry seemed to do was spur him on further, like he thought if he kept wearing you down you’d eventually give in.

You’d tried being nice. You’d tried letting it go. You’d even tried logically explaining your way past his repetitive and unwanted advances. But there was just no way for you to be any more clear. Except, maybe, by saying what had almost accidentally slipped past your lips today.

“I should’ve just told him my boyfriend used to kill guys who messed with me. Maybe that would get him to back off.” It came out as sardonic and meant to at least be half a joke, but the way Touya went rigid and froze just before his own mug of scalding hot chocolate could touch his lips told you that that was probably the last thing you should ever say.

He let out a cold, curt, and completely unamused chuckle, staring at you with half-lidded eyes, his tone dark and warning as he said, “That’s not funny.” Besides, the thing Touya didn’t tell you was how often he was afraid someone from his old life would just happen upon him in his new one and turn his now unbelievably blissful reality upside down, losing you and therefore ruining the one good thing he’d ever had.

You flinched a bit but still gave a crooked, nervous smirk, replying in a mumble, “It’s a little funny…” Before taking a hesitant sip of the hot chocolate held in your hands, wincing as the seering liquid burned the tip of your tongue.

“Alright,” Touya’s harshness melted then, sliding closer to you on the couch and huddling you close, laughing when a soft yelp escaped you in fear of the sweet drink spilling over the edge of the mug. Once both your mugs were safely placed on the coffee table and you were cradled against his warm chest where you belonged, he said, “It’s a little funny. But seriously. Don’t just go around saying that kind of stuff. You never know who—”

“You never know who might put two and two together, blah, blah, blah, I know—” you finished his sentence with a bored sounding drone meant to imitate his voice when he lectured you, having heard it all before, tilting your head back to gaze up at him wearing a devilish little grin when you next asked, “But wouldn’t it be funny just to see the looks on their faces, only for a second, before they brush it off and figure I’m messing with them? I think it would.”

He had to give you that one. One of his favorite parts about when he’d done Dabi’s job was that quick expression of horror that crossed his victim’s faces when they realized they were royally fucked and there wasn’t a damn thing they could do about it. Jeez… Maybe you were picking up one too many of his mannerisms after all…

“I could at least tell him something like, ‘Oh yeah, well my boyfriend used to fight guys who messed with me.’ That actually wouldn’t be a complete lie either…”

Now Touya could allow himself to find some amusement in your little comeback fantasies, egging you on by adding, “Now that I can do,” which caused you to giggle and joke, “Actually, just one look at you and he’d probably never show his face in there again! If I knew where he worked then we could walk in, hand in hand, and give him a real surprise!”

Even Touya was laughing a bit now, the two of you imagining the same scenario and not necessarily taking it off the table if things kept going the way they were. It’s not like Touya had forgotten how to track people. Murder might’ve been a no-go but stalking without intent to harm was a loophole— and possible future intimidation tactic— he was seriously going to consider.

“Maybe I’ll just have to fight him,” you quipped, nose turned up with an air of confidence and a devilishly proud smile spreading across your lips. “He definitely wouldn’t see that coming.”

“That I’d pay to see,” Touya teased, reaching for his mug of hot chocolate again. You eyed yours, but based on the way the steam was visibly rising in tendrils from the surface, you figured you still had some waiting to do.

“Hope your bet’s on me.” You gave him a light nudge and pretended to punch him without making contact, striking ridiculous poses and making cartoonish faces like all you needed to win a fight was a crazy imagination and sheer will. Balling your little hand in a tight fist, you mimed uppercutting someone and said, with eyes narrowed and voice lowered to something husky and hilariously serious, like a character out of Mortal Kombat, “I’d knock him out with one hit.”

Touya almost choked on his next gulp, causing all your horsing around to cease and turn to real concern as you gently patted him on the back until he cleared it from his throat. Once you were sure he was ok, your playful mood seemed to slip away, the sudden interruption enough to remind you of the grim reality that was you’d probably just have to keep dealing with it or have your shifts changed for a while to throw him off.

Touya felt bad, wished there was something he could do— besides the fact he’d pretty much already made up his mind to at least find out where the guy lived, y’know, just in case— until an idea struck him.

Shimmying you out of his arms and standing from the couch to face you, one hand outstretched and beckoning you with a challenging motion of his fingers, he said, “Let’s practice.”

You now stared up at him with a bewildered expression and just simply asked, “What?” like you thought you hadn’t heard him properly.

“C’mon—” He took your hand and hoisted you to your feet. Even with you now standing he still towered over you, as lanky and looming as ever. He cracked his tattooed knuckles and rolled his neck, thin tendons flexing under the black ink that was etched there. “I can at least teach you how to throw a decent punch…” He placed his hand over yours, his palm swallowing your grasp as he moulded it back into a fist. Then, snorting out a sarcastic breath and giving you one of those if only you knew looks, he said, “If you try and hit anybody like you were punching the air a second ago, you’re gonna break your hand, doll.”

There was a split second where you wanted to pull away, admit that you didn’t actually want to hit anyone— well, actually, you did want to, in this case, you just knew you weren’t going to— and go back to sitting on the couch together and find a good movie to watch while you drank your hot chocolate, but Touya was already explaining which fingers to tuck and the right angle to strike from and, in all honesty, you were starting to become kind of curious.

“That’s it,” Touya proudly assured you after guiding you through a few test punches to an innocent pillow he held out in front of him. The very same pillow you’d unleashed that pent up shriek into earlier. Poor thing had been through so much abuse today…

“Am I doing it right?” you asked through a slightly nervous giggle, unsure of the foreign motion but still vying for his approval anyway. You gave one last extra hard punch that actually sent your boyfriend a hair off balance, and that’s when you actually felt proud of yourself. “Ha! Now I can say I’m the one who used to fight people!” You declared with confidence. Punching a pillow was a far cry from a real fight, but Touya kept that point to himself. He was just glad that you weren’t so upset anymore.

“I guess I never really thought about it, but maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to teach you some simple self defense…” he pondered, a sentence that you almost missed amidst your triumph. “Wanna learn how to like, dodge and deflect and get out of a chokehold and stuff?”

Your eyes lit up as you excitedly exclaimed, “You can really teach me how to do all of that?”

“Hell yeah,” Touya chuckled. Now that he had your full attention again, he began the next lesson. Forget watching a movie, fake fighting with you was going to be way more entertaining.

***

An hour later, hot chocolate gone entirely cold and forgotten, the early evening’s faded blue now painted over with the first dark brushstrokes of dusk, it was time to put your new skills to the test.

“So if a guy grabs you like this—” Touya took one of your wrists in his fist, not gripping hard enough to hurt you, but definitely tight enough that you couldn’t easily break away. “What are you gonna do?”

You took a moment to think, recalling some of the tips and tricks he’d shared with you before your thoughts caught an answer you thought might apply. You attempted to counter him but apparently made the wrong choice, because before you’d even finished following through you saw the corner of his lips twitching up into a sinister smirk, grabbing your other wrist and spinning you. The next thing you knew he had both your arms pinned against the wall your back was now pressed against, his sharp hip bones digging into your waist as he used his body to further cage you.

“Uh-oh…” Touya teased, voice low and dark, his lips growling out in a whisper next to your ear, “Make a move like that and it’ll get’cha in a place you probably don’t wanna be…” Your stomach lurched with equal fear and arousal as you swallowed hard, throat bobbing and arms starting to tremble a little as you used all your strength to try and push against the force of him holding you against the wall.

“That’s not— fair…” you grumbled, words strained as you tried to quickly yank from his grip, yet again, to no avail.

“If anything was fair, babe,” Touya responded, one inky eyebrow quirking up in mockery, “then girls like you wouldn’t ever be in situations like this.”

“I’m gonna knee you in the balls, Touya,” you stated with an unamused drone, trying to play off how nervous you actually were right now by acting a little pissed off. You could see him hesitate, backing off just an inch, but he didn’t let go. Not yet.

“I’m serious—” you began to warn more urgently, some panic woven into your words then, but that’s when he released you, letting you quickly slip past him at the first given opportunity. You stalked a few paces away, rubbing your wrists and giving him a glaring side eye until he looked guilty.

“Sorry…” he said, all that sapphire pleading for you to not hold it against him. “Too far. I was just messing around—”

“Sike!” you called, an evil smile crossing your features as you rushed him, tackling him with all your remaining strength, catching him just enough off guard to send him stumbling and tripping over his own feet. The only flaw in your plot for revenge— the fact that you held on a little too tightly and ended up tumbling down to the floor along with him.

Touya, who was laying underneath you, shielding you from the bone-crunching hardwood that he was also now noticing was desperately in need of a good sweeping, exhaled a wheezy groan and rubbed the back of his head.

“Oh my god!” you gasped, sitting up from where you were now practically straddling his lap. Your hands were hovering with concern over him as you anxiously asked, “Are you ok? I didn’t mean to— Are you bleeding?!”

“Oh, god…” Touya winced, pulling his hand back from his head where you were both relieved to find it wasn’t smudged with red. “I dunno… I just think…” His words trailed off, like he was losing focus, and you felt your concern for any potential concussions you might be responsible for swell. But then he was flicking that devious gaze up to meet your worried eyes, that signature smirk of mischief reclaiming its rightful place on his face as he said, “I just think next time you should pay more attention to my hands.”

You gave him a confused look, cocking your head slightly as you began to repeat, “Your hands…?” but Touya didn’t let you finish the sentence before he was gripping your hips and flipping you onto your back so now he was the one on top of you.

“Never said the fight was over, babe,” he reminded you, addicted to your deer-in-the-headlights expression of shock gaping up at him, both your wrists once again bound and pinned above your head in his hands, his shadow swallowing you. “Never turn your back on an enemy until you know you’ve won.”

You were frustrated. You were defeated. You were completely turned on.

“We never set official rules,” you said, your own air of mischief singing the edge of your words.

“Yeah, well, I’m settin’ one right now…” He gathered both your wrists in one hand, using the other to crook a lithe finger under your chin and lift your gaze just a smidge higher, a flex on his current power over you, and said in a silky smooth, seductive tone, “Winner takes all.”

Before you could try to protest or shoot back with something sarcastic, he was slotting his mouth against yours, your lips parting for his tongue to enter, any and all previous fight you might’ve had left burning away as warm, honey-dipped lust bloomed to life inside of you.

His hand was slipping up under your shirt, warm palm pressing down on your lower belly just enough to feel the reflexive flinch of your insides that he always liked to tease you about, would induce upon you just to prove a point if you tried to deny it. He knew all the places to touch you and at precisely the right pressure or lightness to make you squirm and writhe and beg him for more.

He was going to take his time with you now, you could tell, but that didn’t mean you still couldn’t fight back in your own way.

“What?” you taunted, trying to hide the strained crack threatening to shine through your voice as his kisses trailed down your jaw and towards your neck, his hand inching up closer to your chest, “Afraid of what’ll happen—” a soft, broken mewl escaped through your lips as you felt his tongue lav over your pulse, interrupting your sentence, “...if you let us be on equal ground here?”

Touya paused his ministrations, eying you with a dark suspicion. He knew what you were alluding to, but as he weighed his odds, his grip around your wrists gradually lessening, he eventually gave in to the challenge.

“Do your worst,” he taunted through a short puff of a mocking chuckle, and now, with your hands free and available to do your own damage to his cool, calm, and confident composure, you certainly intended to.

Diving back in to kiss you, Touya’s skilled hands gently brushed over your ribs, causing goosebumps to rise over the surface of your soft skin, repeating the motion a few times until he swallowed down another one of your precious little whines. Meanwhile, your own hands slipped under his shirt to trace along the muscles of his stomach, trying to pull one of those delectable sounds from him as well and start up your own tally of tiny victories in this game you two were playing.

The apartment was soon filled with the familiar sounds of your growing pleasure, delicate whines and broken moans lilting throughout the room as you melted into each other, losing all track of time and reality beyond the warmth and softness of your mingled bodies.

By the time your eager little hands were toying with Touya’s belt, the metallic jingle of the buckle clacking softly against the button of his jeans, you already looked a mess, lips swollen and spit shined, hair tousled and splayed around your head on the floor like the spokes of a sun.

“Oh?” he teased, a mean laugh lacing into his words. “What? Somethin’ you want?”

Normally, you’d nod your head and bat those doe-eyes at him as an adorably desperate whimper hummed in your throat, but right now, a piece of you still wanting to at least pretend you had a chance at winning this game, you just stared up at him, trying to suppress that devilish smirk as you continued to tug at the leather threaded through the denim’s loops, giggling to yourself when he realized that you weren’t intent on giving up just yet.

He took one of your wrists in his fist, pinning it back above your head and rendering your mission to undo his belt useless, despite the fact that he was already straining hard against his pants and wanted nothing more to be set free, just as eager as you yet better at hiding how needy he was. 

But, as had already been established, there weren’t really any real rules, so playing dirty was still on the table, as far as you were concerned.

Touya sucked in a sharp hiss of a breath when your free hand grabbed for the confined bulge of him, his grip on your wrist tightening a fraction before relaxing, partially hunched over you while he allowed you to attempt to stroke him through the rough black fabric.

“Alright— Enough— Enough—” he choked out, releasing his hold on you to abrasively pull his belt from around his waist, tossing it somewhere behind him where it hit the hardwood with a thud. You were reaching for the zipper of his jeans again but he got there first, slowly, carefully, while huffing out short, panting breaths, exposing his cock, your deft little fingers doing the job of helping it spring the rest of the way free from the waistband of his black boxers.

“Careful—” he growled, warning broken off into a raspy groan as your hand wrapped around the velvety length of him, grip a little mean and teasing at first.

“Why?” you continued to mock, “Afraid you’ll lose?”

Touya wrapped a hand around your throat, not hard enough to limit your air, but enough to make you pause and consider your next actions very carefully. “It seems you’ve forgotten who you’re up against…” he cautioned, that dangerous glint of something sinister and sadistic flashing through his cobalt gaze. His grip tightened a little more then, and upon your next attempt at a breath you found yourself unable to fill your lungs more than halfway. “Guess I’ll have to remind you.”

His palm nudged deeper against your throat little by little until eventually you were forced to use both your hands to grip his, trying to pry it back just far enough to allow you to breathe, but Touya wanted to scare you a little bit now. He’d never hurt you, not for real, anyway, but he couldn’t deny that there was something about the flicker of panic that crossed your features that turned him on, his cock throbbing when your eyes began to roll.

Your pulse quickened against his palm and you squirmed from under him, that warm, sticky sensation fluttering in your belly when he hummed out another one of those low, dark chuckles. Then, as your eyelids threatened to slip closed, Touya let you go, allowing you to gasp in a deep breath, all your limbs falling slack as you waited for the oxygen to flood back into you, your vision still partially spotted at the edges with black.

“You ok, baby?” Touya asked, his voice turned all tender with concern as he pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, his hands smoothing up and down your sides, soothing you. You gave a nod, and it wasn’t a moment later that he was grinding up against your damp core. You’d worn a skirt today, allowing him easy access to the pretty little panties you had a habit of wearing. He could already make out the dark spot that was growing at the apex of your thighs, playing his own private game where he tried to see how fast he could make it bigger.

“That’s it…” he sighed as you spread your legs wider for him, seeming to lose your fight more and more every time he applied just the right pressure to your pulsing little clit. “That’s a good girl… Just like that— fuck— so wet for me already, huh?”

You needed your panties off now, needed to feel the press of him directly against your sensitive flesh, and all it took for him to know that was you twisting your fists into his t-shirt and murmuring out a broken plea of his name.

The lavender lace was soaked now, the cold air that hit your drenched core once Touya removed them making your little hole flutter in anticipation. Touya was grinding down harder against you, damn near torturing you with the fleeting pleasure his cock granted. But then his long digits were prodding at the plush of your bottom lip, urging you to part them for him again. You obeyed, just like the good girl you always ended up being for him in the end, and when your tongue curled around his fingers he let out a low moan.

His other hand was back on your throat, merely resting there now, and when he felt your neck bob lightly under his palm he instructed, plain and simple, “Don’t swallow.”

He wanted to make a mess of you— wanted you to coat his fingers in as much glistening saliva as you could only so he could stuff you full of them the moment he was satisfied with you obeying his request. He was addicted to the way you looked up at him through your lashes, eyes gone all glassy and serene as he praised you for how well you were doing for him. You were addicted to how he looked at you, too. The way he gazed upon you with something almost reverent, like you were the creator of his most adored masterpiece.

You were, after all, his most admired work of art, every single curve and line of your body committed to his memory. You were one of a kind. You were all his, his, his.

Eventually, Touya pulled his fingers from your mouth, a strand of your spit arching out from his fingers for a moment before bowing and snapping, leaving a thin trail of it down your chin. He used his thumb to wipe it away from your face before the calloused pads of his fingers went to work on massaging skillful circles onto your swollen little bud, having your back arching painfully off the floor within mere seconds as you tried to grind your hips harder against his hand, greedy for more.

“Touya—” you moaned, the second half of his name breaking off into a clipped whimper. But he ignored your pleas, slipping his two middle fingers into your tight cunt and beginning to pump them in and out while his thumb continued the assault to your clit.

“Don’t beg for mercy now,” he told you, gravely voice dropped low and sultry, swearing under his breath when he felt your pussy clench especially hard around his fingers, about to lose any and all cool he had left and just sink into your heat as far as your body would allow him to go. “Besides…” Removing his fingers, he finally lined himself up with your soaked entrance, a slightly pained whine emitting from you as you felt the tip just barely begin to nudge in, “We’re only just getting started.”

In all honesty, you’d expected him to continue to be mean, expected him to bury himself down to the hilt in one quick, harsh thrust, but he didn’t. He took his time with you, allowing your pussy to swallow his cock inch by girthy inch, drawing out the delicious torture of it all, feel the slow, stinging stretch of him splitting you in two that, no matter how many times you two did this, your body still craved like it was something new.

By the time he started moving, pace smooth and steady, you nearly couldn’t take it anymore. “Harder,” you begged, your eyes already misted over with a thin veil of tears. “Please, Touya—” He would give you what you wanted, in time, but first he had to claim his true prize.

“Say it,” he growled, and when you flashed him a look of slight uncertainty, chest rising and falling with shallow, panting breaths, he clarified, “Say it. Say I beat you.”

You began to glare at him, but then he was nudging against that sweet spot deep inside, causing your eyes to roll back and abandon the sarcastic expression you’d originally had planned. “Say it,” he urged again, clearly toying with you now. “Say it, or I’ll stop.”

Upon your continued hesitation, you felt him begin to hint at pulling out, so you quickly stammered, “Ok— Ok, you win, Touya—” but before you could even finish moaning out his name, you were coming undone, trembling legs seizing as your back arched and your neck craned. Touya was just a few thrusts away from catching up to you, spilling his seed into you, filling you to the brim with a thick, balmy warmth.

You could barely catch your breath, your hands shaking as they twisted into the fabric of Touya’s t-shirt once more, little fists growing weaker by the second as you both came down from the high, echoing each other’s panting breaths as he pulled out of you, scooping you up and cradling you in his lanky, ink-covered arms.

“God…” he sighed, holding you close and delicate like the precious girl you were to him. Then he was pressing gentle kisses to your dewy temples, smoothing down sweat-damp hair from your forehead as he murmured, “That was just… I love you, baby…”

“I love you, too…” you muttered, voice buttery soft and broken with wisps of a sob. “Love you so much, Touya…”

Neither of you were concerned with who’d won anymore, the game all but forgotten as Touya led you into the bathroom with him to help clean you up, touch feather light as he carefully tended to his baby.

You were staring in the mirror at a particularly dark hickey he’d left on your neck, too high to cover with any of your clothing and too forward to conceal behind your hair. You figured you could just put makeup on it before you went to work tomorrow, fingers brushing lightly against the bruise. But then, as if he’d read your mind, Touya came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, bending down so his chin could rest over your shoulder.

“Don’t,” he said, voice low and sated, eyes glistening with that bright blue mischief. “Don’t cover it up. If that guy comes back, I want him to see it.”

Your lips cracked into a smirk, nuzzling your cheek against his as you stared at the reflection of the two of you intertwined and suggested, “Maybe you outta give me a few more, just for good measure.”

Touya wore a grin to match, his arms snaking further around your body, hands kneading at you wherever he could grab, and murmured, sinister and raspy in your ear, “Yeah, maybe I outta…”

That’s when you knew he’d meant it when he’d said earlier that you two were just getting started.

***

(Hiiiii ​​( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ and thank you so much for reading! I actually started the first draft of this like 6 months ago but then got busy and didn’t finish it until now. Last year I’d really wanted to have something out on Touya’s birthday but didn’t get the chance, but I made it this year so I’m happy about that :)

Anyway, I hope you all have a wonderful day and please remember to be kind to yourselves <3

See you next tiiiiiime~)

[theoreticaltranstherian]

I HAVE A THEORY!!!!

Let me preface all of this with this disclaimer:

I am a spiritual alterhuman. I belive I have the soul of a fae, fox, and crow, and they are all one being and that is who I am, all trapped in a human body. I am in no way writing this for purposes of discrediting any experiences including mine or other people's. I am not writing this to invalidate physical, psychological, spiritual, or any other kind of alterhuman, and belive we all have our own experiences. Please, do not attack me, I do not mean this in any way as accepted fact or as an absolute truth, this is a theory I came up with and am going to continue to research, and I don't want anyone to think I am trying to invalidate other experiences. This is based off my experiences, experiences of others I've talked to, and research I've done into human vestigial structures.

I think that the reason that tail shifts are the most common in the community is that the human body we are in has what's called vestigial structures, meaning parts of the body that ancestors needed for survival but we don't use anymore like the appendix, and one of those structures if the tail bone. It's where our primate ancestors would have, obviously, has a tail. Additionally, the phenomenon of "phantom limbs" is a common occurrence in people who have had limbs amputated or just don't have certain limbs. Together, I think it would make sense that, if someone was meant to be or was an animal, their human body would manifest this in the form of feeling what they belive they should have physically in phantom limbs. This could also be part of the reason that canine therians seem to be very common, as even if someone has multiple theriotypes, the tail would be most likely to manifest in phantom limb form, and so it would make discovering a canine theriotype the most common or easy to discover. Another vestigial structure in humans is the outer ear and scalp being able to be wiggled and moved, which is what makes ears that rest on top of a creatures head another very common phantom shift or phantom limb experience. Additionally, with hyperflexibility like I have, there is the ability to shift ones shoulderblades around like you have wings. I would be interested to see what the overlap is between people who have hypermobility in their shoulders or back and people who are winged alterhumans, because the hypermobility in those cases could be caused by some sort of adaptation from the animal form dort of being forced into human shape and stretching the mold a little bit so to speak? I kinda wanna do some more research on this now ngl

(Please reblog for reach, I would be interested in anyone else's thoughts on this!)

[ranna-alga]

I think about this conversation between Ellie and Tommy in TLOU2 a lot, particularly this line, because what if it was Ellie that died instead of Joel?

(Disclaimer: this text will make absolutely zero sense probably since I put very little thought into it and there are likely some plot holes. You can choose to dislike it or not but this is all hypothetical so let me have my depressingly whimsical wonders here)

Imagine it this way: Joel's death scene pretty much plays out the same way as it does canonically, except that the roles are reversed: Joel is the one who is pinned down and forced to watch Ellie be brutally murdered in front of him. Perhaps, in whatever way, Abby's group discover that she's The Immune Girl™ that Joel killed almost the entire Saint Mary's hospital for - the reason why Abby's father was murdered. If she's here, and is still as close with Joel as Abby may assume, then he couldn't be that far (say that members of the group saw Joel and Ellie moving together for a while before taking separate directions for whatever reason or something). The plan was to originally kill Joel, but Abby can't help but think: why do they get to live a picture-perfect life with each other as father and daughter, when he was the one who robbed me and my actual father of that life and she was the reason my father was in that position in the first place? How can he commit the sin and live without consequence after? Knowing that Joel would be looking for Ellie, the attack on her would start and continue even when Joel finds her and is made to watch - a sort of 'you took away the thing I cared about the most in this world, so now I will do the same to you and make you feel the pain I felt' message to Joel from Abby.

This would have been the second time he watched his daughter die. The second time he lost the one thing he lived for. The second time he's failed - as a protector, as a survivor, as a father. He had only four years with her, two of which was lost due to her anger towards him for what he did at Salt Lake City. And only the night before her murder did she confide in him about possible forgiveness, only for that to be taken from him? For her to be taken from him? After everything he did for her to ensure her safety, even if it meant the cost of her trust in him. Every part of him that died alongside Sarah was brought back to life slowly but surely thanks to this girl who stole his heart in only one year after two decades of being an empty shell of violence and resentment towards the world and himself.

His biggest fear came true - losing Ellie, failing her too - and it happened right in front of his eyes, just like Sarah.

Remember when it was heavily implied that both Tommy and Joel had a very violent and vicious past during the early years of the apocalypse where they were their darkest selves? Joel would have likely reverted back to that in this scenario. Absolutely nobody in Seattle will be safe. That man would turn that militarised city into a fucking ghost town, no doubt about it.

As for Tommy... Would he have been the same? Would he also want vengeance for Ellie as much as Joel did? Or would the pain of having another niece die + watching his brother descend into bloodlust and resentment again be simply too much to bare? Could he tolerate losing his brother and not get him back this time ever again?

It took twenty years after Sarah's death to find solace in life thanks to Ellie. He can't wait another twenty for another one - he can never go back, never again. He failed to save the lives of those he cared for (Sarah, Tess, Sam/Henry) and he feared the same for Ellie. But at least they made it into Jackson, their new home, alive and safe. But now? What more does he have to live for? How much more stronger would his self-hatred become for failing again and again and again where he can no longer see the light Ellie brought to him?

Knowing now that the surgeon he killed was Abby's father, he probably thinks it was an error to kill him instead of just knocking him out so that this WLF ambush costing Ellie's life wouldn't happen. But one thing he's certain he doesn't regret? Dooming humanity of a cure, because taking both of his daughters away from him proved Joel's decision to save Ellie from the Fireflies: to him, humanity didn't deserve to be saved, not anymore.

TLDR; I may be aromantic asexual but I'm still a proud Joel Miller simp who loves the thought of Joel in the bloody Santa Barbara appearance Ellie had in the canon TLOU2. No shame.

[gaysindistress]

Sad girl - sixteen

summary: James has an interesting new business proposal and one hell of a condition to deal with.

pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader

warnings: cursing, Bucky’s smartass, mentions of sex, the feelings, Walker has decided that he wants to be Joe Goldberg

word count: 2.8k

part 15 | series masterlist

Taglist: @missvelvetsstuff @angelsincident @spencerreidisagorgman @goldensunflowe-r   @i-have-no-life-charlie @esposadomd @reader-without-a-story @iateall-yourcookies  @littlelizardlizzie @alana4610 @kandis-mom @beware-my-thorns @ozwriterchick @unaxv @wh0reforbucknasty @cjand10​  @katymae12344  @vickie5446 @openup-yourmind

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/Pinterest

Busting through the hospital’s front doors, she runs up to the front desk, out of breath and with Nat in tow. The nurse looks up a little scared to see someone so frantic and angry at the same time. 

Tears are brimming in her eyes as she finally finds the breath to speak, “Barnes what room?”

“I’m going to need…” the nurse is interrupted by Doll’s loud and demanding voice. 

“James Barnes, what room is he in?”

The nurse gives her a tight-lipped smile as she types away at her computer, “And who are you?”

“His wife, what fucking room is he in?”

“He’s in the ICU but she can’t go in,” the nurse points at Nat. 

“Yes she can,” she grabs Nat by the wrist and drags her towards the elevator. 

The nurse stands to stop the two women however Steve comes out of the open elevator and gives her a look that has her sitting back down and not saying a word. 

“You” she points at him angrily as she stalks towards him, “You absolute dick, why didn’t you answer your phone when I called you?”

“I was a little busy.”

“Too busy to give me any sort of fucking information about my husband?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Steve tries to calm her down but to no avail. 

“I don’t care what you meant, just start talking. How is he and what happened?”

He clenches his jaw before explaining, “He was shot but he’s fine.”

“Excuse me? He was shot? And you didn’t think that was an important detail to tell me?” her voice breaks as fear and anger collide. She all but collapses into Steve as anxiety throws her into an attack.  

He guides both women into the elevator and keeps an arm around her as he speaks, “I didn’t want to worry you until we knew more. He’s asleep now but Doc said he’d probably be awake in the next hour or so.”

She nods, trying to regulate her breathing, and blindly searches for Nat’s hand. Nat’s hand finds hers first and squeezes Doll’s. The tears fall silently down her face and she doesn’t bother wiping them away. Steve takes note of her frazzled state; hair impossibly messy, leggings, Bucky’s old army sweatshirt, an oversized raincoat, and vans so tattered they must be from her high school days. 

The hand around her shoulder goes to her hand to pull it against his chest so he can whisper into her hair, “He’s going to be okay.” 

The elevator bell dings as she nods again, pulling away from him to wipe at her face. Nat is the one to help her walk towards the room while Steve is in front. The ICU is silent aside from the occasional beep from the various machines. Nurses and Doctors mill around the unit, taking care of the gravely ill and injured. Loved ones of other ICU patients keep their heads tucked down as they shuffle past the trio, no doubt holding back their own tears and fears. They stop before they go into the room and Steve tells them to stay put for a moment. Sam appears from the room and pulls Steve aside to whisper something before hauling the two women into a hug. 

“He’s awake and asking for you,” Sam tells her, rubbing his hand up and down her arm with a compassionate look. 

He’s awake and coherent which is good. He’s asking for her which is also good but it does nothing to calm the storm inside of her. She still has no idea what happened to him or what damage his body endured. Of course, anxiety pictures the worst-case scenario of him laying there missing limbs or barely alive, but no matter what she does it won’t leave her. 

Nat lets go of her hand, offering her a sad smile as she takes a step away. Doll wipes her tears again before stepping into the sterile white room. Machines like the walls, monitoring every vital sign possible and keeping him alive. In the center of the room is the bed that he’s lying in with his left arm covered in bandages but his chest otherwise bare. The sight of his dog tags missing from their usual place brings around another round of tears. The symbol of his strength, power, and past is gone, leaving him vulnerable to the world. She stills in the door frame at the sight of him, trying not to choke on her sobs. He hears the shaky breath that leaves her and cracks open his stunning blue eyes to check for the source. The weight of her sadness bridges the gap between them as she slowly approaches his bedside and takes a seat in the chair next to him. 

“Hi Doll,” his voice is gruff and hoarse, no doubt from sleep and pain. 

She reaches a hand to touch his arm, hesitating at the thought she might hurt him. 

“It’s okay, you’re not going to hurt me.”

“I might hurt Steve though,” she says as her tears start to fall again and she grabs his right hand, pulling it to her forehead as she leans against the bed. His heart breaks watching this woman fall apart in front of him. His own tears start to form at the sound of her sobs. 

“Come here,” he whispers, gently pulling her into him and sitting up. She lets go but only wraps her arms around him. Cautious of his left arm, she hugs him tightly and sits beside him on the bed. 

“No told me anything,” her words are muffled against his skin now wet from her tears, “I was so fucking scared, Bucky.”

Not trusting his own words, he nods in response and lets her go so they can look at each other. Their hands rejoin on her lap as her eyes look over his body for any other signs of injury aside from the obvious one. 

“I tried to call you myself but they wouldn’t let me. Steve even took my phone away. Did no one tell what happened?” he asks. 

“No, he just said that you’d been injured and sent the address. The bastard wouldn’t say anything else and I about shot him when I saw him in the lobby.”

“Yeah, he’s not much of a talker sometimes,” his voice softens when he takes her in; her frazzled appearance and tear-stricken face do nothing to hide her beauty. The pure concern and worry she carries tugs at his heart, making him believe that he’s never loved her more than he does at this moment. 

“And I don’t take well to being left in the dark so he’s going to have to learn to be a talker real soon or so help me god.” 

“Even when you’re crying, you still find a way to threaten people and make me fall even harder for you,” The words slip out faster than he had intended, maybe due to the painkillers or the tension of the situation. 

She swallows at the words and her eyes snap up to his to see if there’s a hint of anything in them. He tries to backpedal out of it but her intense stare stops him.

“You love me?”

He continues to stumble over his words and thoughts, his brain unable to come up with a single word as she stares at him in confusion and hope. Hope is all she has anymore; hope that her mother is safe, hope that her father will raise Morgan better than he did her, hope that John Walker will walk right out of her life without a second thought, and hope that Bucky feels for her what she feels for him. Hope is a dangerous thing for a woman like her to have but she has it. 

“I need you to answer me right now, do you love me?”

Between shaky breaths, he whispers out his response, “I do. I love you so much it hurts and it scares me. Every day I fall harder and harder for you and it’s torture not knowing if you feel the same. I lose my mind whenever you’re not around because you consume my every thought and all I can think about is you. And I know that you were forced into this so you don’t love me back and I’ve accepted that. I can live with that as long as I have you close and I know that’s selfish but I can’t help it.”

“What makes you think I don’t love you?”

“You’ve made it very clear that you will never be mine,” his brows knit together in confusion at her question. It’s so obvious to him that she’s only faking her feelings for him because of the arrangement.

“I love you, James Barnes, more than you’ll ever know and I cannot, for the life of me, figure out how you can’t see that. I know what I said in the beginning and that was out of frustration with my father but I never let that change what I feel for you. At first I blamed you because I thought you wanted this but now I know you didn’t have a choice either. What I feel for you, the love I have for you, is 100% real and I’m not going anywhere,” she seals her confession with a kiss, one completely different than any they have shared before. 

This kiss is not a battle for power, it’s an admission of their love for each other. The need to show their love overcomes them as they kiss, lips lazily sliding against one other in an effort to map every centimeter of skin. 

Pulling away to rest her forehead on his, she speaks again, “I love you but do not ever scare me like that again or I will kill you myself.”

A hearty laugh rattles his body and those three words warm his hear, “I promise to be more careful from now on, my love.”

“You better be. I kind of like having you around.”

“Only kind of?’

“Okay, maybe a lot but that’s all you’re getting. I’m still mad at you for this,” she circles a lazy air around his left shoulder. 

“It’s not that bad. I’ve had worse,” he settles back into the bed as he teases her. 

“Well, I haven’t so keep yourself in one piece, please, and thank you.”

He fake salutes her with their joined hands earning a breathy laugh from her. Spotting his sweater under her coat, the love in his chest grows. 

“You’re wearing my clothes and you said I love you first. I think I should get an apology.”

“What?” she looks down at her torso, “Oh well I missed you and I haven’t seen you wear it so I figured it was fine. Wait, what do you mean by an apology?”

“Remember all of those times you fought with me about ‘how you were never going to be mine’? I think I deserve an apology for that because here we are.”

Rolling her eyes at him, she sighs, “I’m sorry your highness for hurting your ego. I’m still not property but yes, subjectively, I am yours but you are also mine.”

Raising their hands, he kisses the back of hers and says, “Yes I am yours, Doll.”

A week of sleepless nights and anxiety-ridden days is what it took for Bucky to come home. Since the bullet embedded into the side of his humerus, there wasn’t much that the doctors needed to monitor. The blood transfusion had been successful, there were no major arteries hit, and his humerus, while it needed surgery, wasn’t completely shattered. Steve and Sam teased him endlessly during that week that he was one lucky son of bitch and that if it had been anyone else, they wouldn’t have survived. He claimed his lucky rabbit’s foot had been Doll and the thought of making it back safe to her which earned many eye rolls, chuckles, and a gentle slap to the uninjured arm from her. 

No one else had been in the room when they confessed their love for each other; however, it was evident in the way they looked at each other and how her hand always held his. It might have also been the fact that the dog tag chain was now around her neck rather than Bucky’s. Regardless no one mentioned it all agreed that they were happy for Mr. and Mrs. Barnes. 

On his discharge day, she’s a tad bit distraught, constantly asking him if he’s okay or in pain and never leaving his side. Doctors and nurses are giving each other side eyes as they watch the woman worry over the comically large man. 

“I promise I’m okay. I’ll tell you if something is wrong,” he says to her with one hand on her cheek so she has to look at him and acknowledge his words. 

“I know, it’s just…” she trails off as she looks at his arm bandaged and in a sling. 

“You worry, I know but I’m fine. It’s nothing I can’t handle,” in classic Bucky fashion, his hand slides to the back of her neck to bring his lips to her forehead. 

Once the caravan of SUVs and men in black make it back to Barnes' home, the questions are boiling inside of her. She refrains from asking her million questions until he’s settled and comfortable. He, on the other hand, can feel her nervousness as she bounced her leg the entire ride home and her hands shake slightly on his bicep. The painkillers make it so he’s not bothered by it but he does make a mental note to ask her what’s going through her head later on. 

Making it up the stairs and into their shared bedroom that he hadn’t even seen yet, she leads him to the bed and leaves him to grab the rest of his stuff from Sam. 

“Here you go,” says Sam, handing her Bucky’s mission backpack and the hospital bag with his clothes from that day. 

“Thank you. Can you stay with him while I grab water and some other stuff?”

“How about I go and get it for you? What do you want?”

“Um sure. Just some water bottles and my computer from his office.”

Sam nods before heading downstairs and she returns to the bed, taking a seat next to Bucky. 

“What do you want to know first?” he speaks up, feeling her eyes on him while his eyes are closed as he reclines against the cushioned headboard. 

“What was the mission?”

“A senator was in over his head and lost some files he wasn’t supposed to. We were sent in to get them back but weren’t told that it was at the Wakandan’s headquarters.”

“The Wakandans were the ones who shot you?”

“I didn’t see who it was but I’m assuming so. We were on our way out when it happened so I had my back turned.”

He can hear her take a deep sigh before she continues, “You said this wasn’t the worst injury you’ve had.”

Slowly nodding his head, he opens his eyes to look at her, “During my deployment, I was shot in the same shoulder and shattered my clavicle. It caused some arterial blood to spill into the lung and my lung almost collapsed.”

“Jesus,” her eyes surveyed his arm and shoulder for any sign of scars. She spots several faded scars across his collarbone and his ribcage. Her fingers lightly brush over the scars as she studies them. 

“Nothing can beat the burn of your side eye though,” he chuckles as she continues to run her fingers over his torso. 

“You’re one to speak. Your side eye is worse than mine.”

“Agree to disagree.” 

She removes her hand and looks back up at him, “You promised me a date however I don’t know if you’re in any condition to go out.”

He tries to sit up a bit, causing his arm to move in an awkward position and him to wince. 

“Exactly, stay where you are,” she guides him to lean back again, “how about we have a stay-in date? I’ll make dinner.”

“That’s not a date. That’s an average night for a married couple.”

“Then we’ll wait until you’re fully healed,” she snips back playfully. 

The side eye comes out once again, “Fine but we’re not counting this as a first date.”

She suppresses a laugh as she pulls out her phone to plan their not date. Bucky’s right arm wraps around her and tugs her to lie down with him. Settling into the bed, he’s content to finally be home with his girl as she lays with her head on his chest.

[jaemmphilia]

★ 𝘪 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘣𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 ★ || b.c

★ summary: an accidental confession gone wrong, and fate forcing you to meet the one person you never wanted to see again.

★ characters: bang chan, cannon y/n (he/him pronouns and a masculine frame), holland (the sweetest gay idol in the entire world)

★ warnings: lots of hurt, the reader is an idol, and his stage name is Mars (for the sake of the story, reader also has a last name), so much heartache, grab your tissues bc channie is about to break your heart...this story doesn't follow exactly how chan became an idol, so for the sake of the story, he moves to korea after high school, internal homophobia, mentions of depression, reader has an anxiety attack :(

★ word count: 3.7K

★ requested?: yes, thank you to @cheeseflirty47

★ binnie's thoughts: ohhhh this one is a doozy, yall... i love writing angst so much, and i'm no stranger to rejection and heartbreak, so this is gonna be a little personal for me, so i hope i do it justice...I AM SO SORRY THIS IS SO LATE BUT I STRUGGLED SO BAD

★ disclaimer: this fic in absolutely NO way represents the stray kids members as people. this is just for fun, so don't take it to heart. just enjoy!

Having a dad who grew up with his best friend from diapers all the way into adulthood, meant that you were required to get along with his best friend’s son. It didn’t matter if you and Chan liked different things, you had to get along with him, according to your old man. Lucky for the both of them, you and Chan got along perfectly. You were both born in the same month, just 3 days apart, with Chan being the older one. You two did everything together growing up, mischievous little boys who rolled in dirt and played with bugs. As you got older, you both realized how much music meant to you.

Music was a staple in your home, your mother was in her school’s choir, and she was in theater. Your father was in a band that he formed with Chan’s father and two other friends, and they would perform for the neighborhood whenever there was a cookout or barbeque. So it was no surprise that you picked up on their musical talent, at such a young age on top of that. 

You and Chan were going on a fishing trip while your mom was on a three-day trip with her middle school music class. You and Chan are playing with the wrestling figures that you brought along with you in the back seat, the two of you making punching noises with your mouths as your characters duke it out. The radio plays softly in the car, your dads making conversation as the car rolls smoothly on the road. Suddenly, your favorite song in the entire world, The Girl is Mine, by Michael Jackson featuring Paul McCartney comes on the radio and you gasp, immediately kicking the back of your dad’s seat. 

“Dad, turn it up!” Your voice calls out, ignoring the super important heavyweight champion match you were previously having with Chan. Chan just pouts, he was so so close to winning. He had your character pinned in a finishing move, and was about to count to three. 

Your dad turns up the radio a little with a shake of his head. You wiggle from side to side in your seat, the music taking over you as you begin to sing the lyrics. As your little voice fills the car, Chan’s dad looks at your dad with an incredulous look. Since when did you have such a good singing voice, and why are they just now hearing it? 

“What? You didn’t know my boy had the voice of an angel? Believe me, I was surprised too.” Your dad says, a cocky tilt to his voice. Chan’s dad lets out an awed whistle. 

“He sounds real good, mate,” Chan’s dad starts, taking a sip of his soda as he looks at you belting your heart out in the back seat, “Do you think he’d be famous one day?”

Your dad has definitely thought about you growing up and becoming famous one day. He would be so proud, but he would never force you into a life of fame if it wasn’t something you wanted. “Yeah, but I feel like it’s too soon to think about that, you know? He may not even want to be a singer when he gets older.” Chan’s dad hums, and then he hears another voice joining in on your singing, although it’s much quieter. He breaks out into a smile, knowing that the voice belongs to his very own son. He knows Chan is shy about singing in front of people, so he’s glad to know that you bring out that side of him. He's really happy that you and Chan are close. 

Things remain the same as you and Chan get older. You both have ventured into high school. You still hang out with Chan every single day, you study together after school, and then you ride your bikes to the park and you play a little bit of soccer (or football, whatever you want it to be) until it’s time for you to part ways for dinner. 

Things do change when Chan gets a girlfriend. Vanessa Clovers. A pretty girl with wavy black hair that stops at her shoulder. She has tan skin, probably from playing softball for the school. She had soft blue eyes hidden behind a pair of thick glasses, her teeth covered in silver braces. She was known as one of the prettier girls in your grade, everyone wanted to get with her. Well, everyone but you.

 Chan had expressed interest in her to you before, and you felt this weird rumble in your stomach. You just dismissed it as you being hungry, and you clapped Chan on the back, encouraging him to go talk to his crush. As you watched him approach the girl, you turned back to your open locker, your eyebrows furrowed. You couldn’t understand why you were feeling so… angry. You turned your attention back to Chan, who is deep in conversation with the girl. She’s laughing at something, her arm coming up and playfully slapping Chan’s arm. You close your locker quietly and rush off to class without Chan, something you’ve never done in your life. 

You were guilty. You were guilty because you hated Vanessa. You hated her because she had something you so desperately wanted, she had Chan. She got him before you did, and she makes him happy. You want to be the one to make Chan happy in that way. You want to be the one to kiss his cheek and hold his hand. You hated her for no good reason, she never did anything wrong to you. She was actually nice to you, and oftentimes tried to have a decent conversation with you. All you could really do was muster a fake smile as the ugly green head of envy consumed your being. 

Considering that your birthdays were only three days apart, it only made sense to combine your birthdays together. This year was really no different. You shouldn’t be surprised when Vanessa shows up to the party, a black gift bag in her hand. She makes a beeline to Chan, who’s standing at the grill talking to his dad. She wraps her arms around Chan, giving him a kiss on the cheek, and you can hear a soft happy birthday, baby, fall from her glossy lips. You roll your eyes before you could stop yourself, looking down at the table you’re sitting at. You all of a sudden don’t want to be here, not when you can see Chan and Vanessa sucking faces just a few short feet away from you. Your younger sister must know that something is bothering you, because she walks over with a slice of cake. 

“Stop moping around like an idiot, it's your birthday party too, remember?” She says, plopping down in the seat next to you, setting down her own slice of cake. You’re so glad she’s here, she always knows when something is bothering you. She always gives you something you like, rolling her eyes while telling you to, “get over it, loser.” All you can do is chuckle at her bluntness, your arms tugging her close as you hug her. She may hate when you hug her or pretend to give her a kiss, but you know she’s glad to have you as her older brother. 

“I’m not moping around. I just don’t feel like celebrating, that's all.” You say, stabbing the red velvet cake with your fork, placing the small bite in your mouth as your sister lets out a scoff mixed with a laugh. You roll your eyes at her dramatics, watching as she points her plastic fork at you. 

“You’re just upset that your only friend is busy with his girlfriend. You feel like this birthday isn’t for the both of you, you feel like it’s only for him.” She says, hitting the nail on the head. It makes you cringe internally. 

You’ve never been good with change, whether it be drastic change or something as small as dinner plans being switched to something else. It always throws you off, making you groan dramatically (dramatics run in your family unfortunately) and complain about the sudden changes. 

“I hate how well you know me, Liz.” You mutter, tugging at your hair as you indulge in the delicious cake in front of you.

“I would consider it a blessing, big bro.”

You should consider today to be a good one. Vanessa is out of town for some family trip, meaning you have Chan all to yourself. Which is why you should be happy, but you aren’t. You and Chan are chilling out in his room, the only sound in the room being Chan strumming on his guitar. You can faintly hear the hums coming from his mouth, his body swaying side to side as he plays. The two of you haven’t said much to each other, just a short greeting and a side hug. You can’t help but feel like a stranger in the room you’ve been in dozens of times growing up. 

You look around the room, noticing the changes Chan has made to his space. Something pink catches the corner of your eye and you turn your head to look at it. A shirt, a tank top to be more specific. You already know whose it is, and it makes your stomach turn knowing that she’s been here. 

Did she sleep in your spot on the bed? 

You shake your head to get rid of the idea of her sleeping in your spot on Chan’s bed, the churning feeling becoming stronger, making you want to spill your lunch. You decide to just focus on your phone, scrolling through social media. This goes on for hours, until Chan’s phone rings loudly in the once quiet room, scaring the both of you. 

“Fucking hell,” Chan mutters, grabbing his phone. He lights up when he sees who's calling, his cute dimple appearing on his face. You watch him with a soft smile, wishing that it were you making him smile like that. 

“Hey, gorgeous! How’s your trip?” Chan says, holding his phone up to his ear. You try not to listen to their conversation, knowing it isn’t your place to be nosy. But, you are your mother’s son, you can’t help it. You listen as they talk, your heart breaking as Chan talks to Vanessa with such intimacy. 

As their conversation comes to an end, you’re stuck with your thoughts. Thoughts of wanting someone so desperately that you would do anything to be with them. You would change every single thing about yourself if it meant Chan loved you the same way you love him. You don’t stand a chance against someone like Vanessa. She’s everything you aren’t. Maybe things would be different if you had been born a girl. If only you weren’t attracted to the same gender, maybe you wouldn’t be in this predicament. You wouldn’t be hanging on to something that will never be, a small fire of hope so close to being blown out by the harsh wind of reality. 

“Man, I miss her so much.” Chan says, placing his phone down as he looks at you with this lovesick puppy look on his face. It makes your head hurt knowing it’s not directed at you. 

The words spill from your lips before your brain has time to stop it. 

“I love you, Chan.” 

No. This isn’t supposed to happen. Not like this. Your body burns with anxiety, your eyes feeling wet as tears gather. Your mouth is dry, your jaw slack. You start to sweat as you look at Chan’s face. 

You can’t deny the look in his eyes. Humiliation, disgust. Oh, no. You start to sweat, your hands shaking slightly. You can’t seem to bring yourself to do anything.You’re frozen, eyes locked on Chan as his own eyes dart around the room. 

“You know I’m in a relationship, and I’m not into guys.” He says, not looking at you. What he says next makes you want to crawl into yourself and rot away into nothing. His voice is harsh, his tone like a rock. He’s never spoken to anyone like that, much less you. 

“Even if I were into guys, I wouldn’t date you. You’re my best friend and you’re like a brother to me, that’s just weird.” 

You can literally taste the disgust in his voice. So potent and loud, it makes you dizzy. You bite back a sob, tucking your bottom lip in between your teeth. You feel like if you attempt to even say anything, you will throw up. 

“Besides, Vanessa was telling me about how you don’t like her. She said she heard you talking bad about her to your sister at our party. What the hell, Y/N?” Chan says, his expression quickly switching to angry. 

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. You know she’s lying, you have never said anything bad about her. Well, not out loud. You want to defend yourself, but your mouth won’t move. Your brain is screaming at you to say something, anything. All you can do is look down at your shaking hands as Chan scoffs at you.

“You aren’t even going to deny it? So what she said must be true. I can’t believe you, Y/N! She’s never done anything wrong to you!” 

You can’t even defend yourself. You sit there as Chan expresses his frustrations to you, his words hitting you hard. He hates you now. All because of some girl that entered his life two years ago, when you’ve been there the whole time. 

“Get out, Y/N. I can’t even look at you right now.” Chan says, opening his door and motioning for you to get out. You hesitate, your legs feeling like the stiffest bowl of jello as you stand. 

The tears don’t stop as you make your way out of the Bahng household, ignoring Chan’s mom as she greets you from the living room. She hears Chan’s door slam and she frowns. Something must have happened, the two of you have never argued. Of course the two of you had little disagreements as kids, but it was easily solved with talking and hugging. She knows this is not a talking and hugging situation. 

You rush home, your vision blurry with salty tears that sting. You enter your home, making a beeline to your room. You close the door softly, not wanting to alert anyone of your arrival. You don’t want to see or speak to anyone. You try to catch your breath, choking on the sobs that come out of your mouth. You grip your chest, feeling your heart racing under your hand. Your heartbeat reverberates in your ears, your body shaking as you drop to your knees. You hear voices in your head, berating you for confessing to Chan. They call you names, they point out your flaws, your weaknesses. 

You wish it would stop.

You honestly didn’t expect to meet Chan again. Especially not after your debut as a solo artist in South Korea. You recently made your debut and everyone loves you. You go by Mars, one of your nicknames growing up. You’re known for singing soft songs, the words relatable and full of emotion. Your debut album was a hit, causing you to gain fame fairly fast. Your fans liked that you were authentic, not some tasteless blob molded by an entertainment company for money. You were also one of the first openly-gay idols. 

That day you left Chan’s house was the last time you ever saw him and his family. Just a few short months later, they packed up and moved to South Korea. When you found out, it broke your heart, knowing that the last interaction you had with your best friend was a negative one. 

Your sister had found you in your room, you were struggling to breathe as your entire body shook. She immediately called for your mom frantically, not used to seeing you in such a panicked state. Your mother managed to get you to calm down, helping you breathe properly before you passed out. After that, she took you to see a doctor, and you were diagnosed with anxiety disorder and a mild case of depression. Your mother was supportive, she got you into therapy and you slowly got better, but there’s still times where you don’t feel 100%. 

Which brings us to now. An award show. Everyone is there, all of the people you idolized were right in front of you, and a few of them actually expressed excitement about your debut album. You thanked them, telling them that their music inspired you to start making music yourself. 

As you’re sitting in your seat talking to Holland, another idol under your label, and a fellow openly-gay idol, you hear some commotion coming from behind you. You turn your head and see a group approaching you. Normally, that wouldn’t bother you, but when your ex-best friend and previous (he still is) crush is in the front, you tend to freak out a bit. Your eyes go wide and you whip your head to face forward, causing a laugh from Holland. 

“What’s got you so freaked out? You didn’t see a ghost, did you?” He asks, turning back to see what you were freaking out about. All he sees is the group Stray Kids, taking their seats behind you. He turns back around to you, taking in your wide eyes and the way you bite your bottom lip. The pieces start to come together.

“Oh,” he starts, “You are totally crushing on one of them.”

“What, no way! That’s ridiculous!” You sputter, your face heating up. 

Holland just laughs, his hand clapping you on the shoulder. 

You sit on a stool in the middle of the stage, a large piano in front of you. You are belting the words so passionately, the lights shining down on you, heating your body up, making you sweat a little. Everyone in the crowd is moved by your performance, but every time you open your eyes, you keep looking at Chan. 

His face is unreadable, almost as if he knows the song is about him and not some old flame like you claimed in every interview. The lyrics just feel too familiar to him, his mind going back to his teenage years with you. He misses those times with you, laughing and messing with your little sisters. He feels bad for how things ended between you, and he wishes he could apologize. He’s heard your entire album, he’s had it on repeat for weeks. He’s not an idiot, your debut album is about him. He has to find a way to talk to you and apologize. 

Finding you was easy. He catches you backstage after your performance, watching as you talk to a pretty blonde guy. You’re smiling, toothy and bright, and he feels his heart skip in his chest. Where did that come from? He walks towards you, catching your attention. 

He watches your eyes go wide, your entire body freezing as you stare at him as if he grew two heads. He thinks you look silly like that, and he can’t fight the smile on his face. 

“Y/N, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” He says, mentally kicking himself for being so damn awkward. 

You hesitate, your eyes looking everywhere but at him. You noticed that Holland isn’t at your side, and you remind yourself to flick his forehead when you see him. “It has.”

“Do you have a moment to talk? Maybe we can get some dinner and catch up?” He asks, his voice hopeful as he tilts his head at you. Your heart flips at the way he looks, his brown hair flopping to the side. 

You wonder if this is a good idea. You could easily get hurt again, but you would also like some closure. There’s so many questions running through your head, it makes you dizzy.

“Uh, yeah, sure. Dinner sounds nice.” 

You and Chan leave after the awards show, and you go to a secluded sushi restaurant. The air is awkward, but it passes quickly when Chan brings up the time you both filled his parents bathtub with frogs you captured in the mud. You can’t help but laugh, reminiscing about your wild child days. 

“Y/N, I missed you. So much.” Chan says, his eyes on you, not once looking away. You feel your face get warm, and you try to fight the smile creeping onto your face. 

“Chan, I missed you too. But I can’t forget how you spoke to me that day. It really hurt that you believed Vanessa over me.” You say, ignoring the aggressive bounce of your leg as you tell him how you felt that day. 

Chan cringes when he hears that name. “Right, Vanessa. We actually broke up not long after I…kicked you out.” Chan says, and you gape at him. 

“If you don’t mind, why did you break up?” You ask, picking at the loose strings of your sweater; a nervous habit you picked up from your anxiety. 

“It turns out she lied about you being rude to her because she was jealous of how close we…were.” Chan sighs, taking a sip of his drink as he rolls his eyes. You were right all along. She wasn’t to be trusted. 

“I always knew she was the jealous type. She thought I couldn’t see when she would glare at me whenever you and I would talk,” You say, pointing your chopsticks at him. “I never said anything bad about her, that was Liz.” 

Chan laughs at that, knowing that your little sister had quite the attitude. It makes him miss Hannah and the rest of his family. 

“You aren’t still mad at me, are you? Because according to your album, you sound like you hate me.” Chan asks. “If you aren’t mad, then I’d like us to pick up where we left off as friends.”

You thought about it for a second. You would finally have your best friend back in your life, but not in the way you truly desired. Could you live with that? Sure, it can’t be too hard. You’ll always have other people in your life. 

“Yeah, we can go back to where we left off. We’re brothers for life, right?” You ask, a gentle smile on your face as you look at Chan. He smiles back and you both make a toast to rekindling a once broken friendship between brothers.

[nutzgunray-lvt]

My Thoughts On The Dark Izuku Arc

A popular consensus on this site and in the fandom in general is that the Dark Izuku arc was a let down. Though fans have this opinion for different reasons, I'll be using this to word vomit why I myself don't like this arc and what I personally would have done differently.

Heads up: this is a UA critical, Class 1A critical, anti Bakugou, Pro-Heroes critical post. Don't like, don't read.

When I first heard about the Dark Izuku arc, I got excited. I was hyped up to see more world building, more people in Izuki and All Might's corner regarding the secret of One For All, as well as seeing the price Izuku was paying for his self sacrificial tendancies. To a very minor degree, it delivered on those aspects. I love the bunny/fox lady that Izuku saved and how it touched on the worsening discrimination those with mutant Quirks faced, I'm glad that Izuku could finally tell other people about One For All, and I was glad to see Izuku FINALLY being told by people other than All Might that he was working himself too hard and that he could rest.

Those were the only good things this arc did for me.

As for what this arc DIDN'T do well for me, it's a lot. To break it all down, my problems with this arc are: the mixed messages being thrown out and how Izuku's point of view and wellbeing is ignored.

Just a disclaimer, I don't agree with Izuku having to put this burden upon himself. Yes, he has One For All, but he's a CHILD at the end of the day, and he should have NEVER been put in this position. HOWEVER, narratively, I completely understand why he did it.

All For One was out of Tartarus along with many other incredibly dangerous villains, and on top of all of that, AFO had Ragdoll's Search Quirk. This meant that he essentially had eyes on Izuki (and One For All by extension) 24/7. Had he wanted to, he could have launched a full-scale invasion/attack on UA, putting numerous people in danger. It was this reason as to why Izuku made the decision to leave UA in the first place. His plan to use himself as bait to lure AFO and Shigaraki out of hiding made sense narratively, but was also an incredibly dangerous one... which is why it made absolutely no sense to me why these Pro-Heroes (who are ADULTS), were fine with it.

I understand that they were in an incredibly tough position. Japan was in chaos, public trust in heroes was at an all-time low, and Tartarus just had a mass escape. Many heroes were either dying, retiring, or went over to AFO's side. They were probably stretched thin as it was, but for there to be NO ONE saying, "I really don't like this. He's just a kid, and this is incredibly dangerous for him to do. Why don't we have one or two of us traveling with him to protect him?" is just mindboggling to me.

Yes, All Might insisted on going along with him, but he was Quirkless. Physically, there wouldn't be much he could do if someone had successfully gotten the drop on Izuku.

Then, these same heroes who were seemingly completely fine with this plan get all *surprised Pikachu face* when Izuku strikes out alone and begins pushing himself to the breaking point. Yes, they tell him that he needs to take a break... but then they indirectly pressure him more by saying that he's their best and only bet against AFO and Shigaraki. At this point, Izuku is ignoring food, rest, and his injuries. At this point, they should have been putting their foot down that, "No, you're a kid and you're in no condition to be doing this anymore. You need to rest."

This keeps going and going until Izuku is overwhelmed and nearly captured by Dictator, only to be rescued by Class 1A.

Once again, Izuku's point of view and wellbeing are ignored as all 19 of his classmates corner him and start fighting him into submission. I know they had the best of intentions - they didn't want Izuku to shoulder this burden on his own, they wanted to show him that they cared - but as I said above, Izuku was NOT in the right physical or mental condition for this to happen. All it wound up doing was pushing him away from them and making him try and run away. In fact, they're lucky they didn't scare him away entirely.

What's more, they all rally behind Bakugou while doing this.

I've made my intense dislike for Bakugou clear on my blog, so I won't get into it here. But the fact that they sit by and not only allow Bakugou to blame ALL MIGHT for all of this, but also let him repeatedly insult Izuku while TRYING TO SHOW HIM THAT HE'S NOT ALONE is just infuriating. Again, Izuku is in awful shape both physically and mentally. The absolute last thing he needs to hear is Bakugou insulting him and projecting his own flaws onto Izuku.

Even worse is how the hell the teachers at UA are even okay with this?

I also understand that they're probably stretched thin as well, but they were totally okay with not just Izuku leaving, but the rest of 1A following behind him? Yeah, I call bullshit. These were the same teachers who were divided on whether or not to let the first years participate in Work-Studies, teachers who apparently regard the students at UA to be like their own children (as said in the light novels). I'll excluse Aizawa from this, seeing as how he was busy healing in the hospital.

Again, if there was more of the ethics of this being debated in universe (hell, even making the public's trust in heroes fall even lower), I would have been okay with it, because it would have been warrented.

The worst part of me is how in my opinion, the narrative itself doesn't even know how to feel about all of this.

Yes, Izuku essentially dropped out of school to go chase Japan's #1 villain. Yes, Izuku is destroying himself trying to protect everyone, and everyone's warning him not to push himself too hard... but he's getting results, GREAT results even! He's saved countless people and even defeated high-ranking villains such as Lady Nagant and Muscular, among many others. Even the Pro-Heroes are saying how Izuku is their best bet to stop AFO and Shigaraki, so which is it? Should he have stayed and let those villains run around and cause mayhem, or should he put himself in a severe amount of danger but at the cost of those villains ultimately being aprehended?

My final gripe with this arc is just how rushed it is. You're telling me that all of this took place over the course of one month? That Izuku neglected his health to the point of having to use Black Whip and Float to move around, only for it all to be made better by a bath and nap? Again, I call bullshit.

What I would have done differently with this arc is this: have Izuku leave UA without telling ANYBODY. He could still leave his letters for Class 1A, but other than that, he's gone. All Might could let the Pro-Heroes know about OFA, but they'd be trying to find Izuku and bring him into protection because as a kid, he should not even be in this position. All Might himself would also be joining them in these efforts. Izuku would spend several months aprehending villains and traveling across Japan, unlocking and mastering more parts of OFA. He could still push himself towards his breaking point, worrying the past users of OFA, but instead of the entirety of 1A swarming him, only have his closest friends come to being him back.

This brings us to UA and their reaction.

The UA teachers could finally be let in on the OFA secret, and maybe have one or two of them at a time try to find Izuku. Have them state that as students, 1A is not allowed to go out there and try to find him, as they're needed at the campus. Ochako, Ida, Todoroki, Asui, Fumikage, and Aoyama can say "fuck it, we're going anyway" and try to calmly bring him back. They can acknowledge why he left but state that, as his friends, they're not scared of being caught up in the crossfire. They can state that they'll shoulder the burden alongside him, and Izuku can still pass out and be taken to the HOSPITAL. He'd be hospitalized for a week or so and then the debate as to whether or not to take Izuku back to UA can take place. Because on the one hand... there's the whole reason he left in the first place: to protect the civillians and teachers and students there. On the other, they're not about to just throw Izuku on the streets and say "good luck. Try not to die."

For that matter, this could cause some pushback against the heroes for "using a child soldier to do their dirty work." They can truthfully say, "We don't condone this. He ran off on his own and we're trying to find him and being him back."

Anyways, that's my take on the Dark Izuku arc. I left some things out, but this is the essence of it all.

[runningfrom2am]

i am a god

summary: after a fatal bar fire leaves the whole city distraught, your best friend can’t help but notice that you couldn’t care less.

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader

wc: 3.9k

tags/warnings: possession, violence, blood, gore, s/h elements, death, all that fun stuff. also reader is a psycho. semi-platonic jj x reader, SOME jjiara (i couldnt resist- sorry kie girl ily), implications of a non-straight reader, manipulation.

a/n: this is for day one of obx week!! day one: au with jj maybank! if you couldn’t tell by now, i went with a jennifer’s body au. don’t ask why, it honestly just came to me in a raven simone style vision and i honestly hate the final product. but i thought it was so perfect getting into the spooky season :)

i hope you enjoy and i’ll see you again tomorrow for my first ever john b fic!!

disclaimer!! : please be mindful of the warnings on this one! there are references to assault and violence and self-harm so if any of this is disturbing for you please do not read this! come back tomorrow for some fluff :)

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"JJ, it's literally not that deep. Don't be a baby. It'll be fun." You scoff, throwing your bag over your shoulder as you get up off his bed.

"For you, maybe. I don't get why I have to come." JJ sighs, following you down his hallway anyways as you sway your hips in the cocky way you always do.

"Because we're best friends. Duh."

"Okay, sure, but what am I meant to do when you ditch me to go hook up with the lead singer like you're insisting you will?"

"His name is Rafe Cameron, and he's an absolute rocket." You giggle. "You're not gonna join us?" You tease, turning to him and tilting your head.

"No, Y/N. I'd really rather not." JJ pushes your hands away as you reach out to fix his shirt.

"You're so boring, J." You pout, huffing and walking out the door. As usual, JJ follows like a lost puppy.

At school the next day, all anyone can talk about is how the bar you had been in got burnt down. All JJ can think about is that awful dream he had after he saw you off in the bands van, leaving him behind to go have sex with Rafe Cameron. The dream that you'd come back to his house, eaten all his food, and puked this awful black liquid all over his floor before trying to attack him, hesitating, and then running out- he even dreamt that he cleaned it all up. The uneasy feeling in his gut the only tangible evidence of the event.

"JJ, would you believe it if I told you he genuinely believed I was a virgin?" You whisper in the boys ear, coming seemingly out of nowhere and draping your arm over his shoulder in the school hallway.

"Honestly? No, I wouldn't." JJ replies, slamming his locker shut. "He must have been dumber than I imagined."

You giggle, taking a step back from him to lean against the lockers. "Even so, the sex was subpar at best. It was really upsetting. Almost traumatic, even." You sigh dramatically.

"Can't you have the slightest bit of empathy? People died last night, Y/N." JJ whispers, hoping you're not drawing too much attention to them in the quieter than normal hallway.

You roll your eyes. "Loosen up, Jayj. It's literally not that deep."

"It is, actually!" JJ replies, shocked as you start to walk away.

"Love ya! Catch you later." You blow him a kiss and strut off, leaving him to shake his head in embarrassment. You've always been a force to reckon with, and truly no one understood why the two of you were friends, but even this was out of character for you.

Later that day, Topper Thornton had turned up dead in the forest behind your school. You had paid no mind. It had been a month since then, and JJ saw you in person less and less, despite how close you always had been. You called him frequently though, hushed voices crackling over the landline late at night to make up for missed time.

He took the opportunity of you not incessantly calling him to invite over his girlfriend. Kie had always put up with your friendship, but she wasn't your biggest fan- the way you walked all over him never rubbing her the right way. Why would it? Regardless, she was thankful to spend some time with him one on one without you there to ruin her mood.

It's when JJ freezes on top of her, muttering about how something is wrong and he needs to find you, that Kie snapped. Internally, that is. That was the final straw. She would go to the upcoming formal with him, and then they were done. She just couldn't take it anymore. JJ didn't really care that when both of them fled his house to their separate cars, Kie had left in a huff with a slam of her door. He was only really worried about you.

The panic rose in his chest as he got on his bike, revving up the engine and taking off. He didn't know where he was driving, just that he was driving to you. He took a right onto a dead street he hardly ever drove down, scanning the dark street based only on his gut feeling that you were close. What he didn't expect, was seeing you stumble out of the woods, if that even was the word, covered in blood as the red fluid dropped down your chin.

He screams, swerving out of the way as you stop right in his path, almost rolling his bike in an attempt to not hit you. He screeches to a stop at the side of the street, looking around frantically with his chest heaving. You were gone. JJ thinks he's going crazy- did he see what he thought he saw? There's no way, right?

As he shakes his head to knock some sense into himself, he looks forward and sees you standing right in front of him again. "Hi, J." You smile. Did you always have fangs?

JJ screams again, hammering the reverse and flying back on the bike, frantically turning around and speeding off. Whatever that was was not you. That was not his best friend.

In his panic and fear, he made it home and screamed for his father who JJ, for the first time ever, wished was home. Of course he wasn't. He sighs and wipes away his fearful tears, running upstairs to his room and crawled into bed in the dark. He lets out a sigh of relief- finally, he should be able to sleep, hellbent on admitting himself to a psych ward first thing in the morning. He must be losing his mind.

"Hi." He jolts up when he hears you speak, cheery as ever and feels you shift beside him to sit up.

"Oh my god!" He screams, leaping out of bed and smacking the light on.

"God, JJ- enough with the screaming! You're such a pussy." You say, kneeling on his bed in nothing but one of his t-shirts and your underwear.

"Get out!" JJ shouts in response, cutting you off and pointing to the door.

You pout, placing your hands on your lap. "But we always share your bed when we have slumber parties." JJ takes in your appearance. You were clean, head to toe; not a hair out of place or a drop of blood to be seen.

He doesn't say anything, breathing heavily as he stares at you in partial relief. He may be crazy, but at least you're not trying to kill him. You sit up on your knees and move to the edge of his bed, reaching out to him with a small smile on your face. "I'm not gonna bite you..." You smile, placing your hands on his shoulders, gently rubbing them.

"I'm afraid you might." JJ mutters, uncertain as he feels you play with the hair at the back of his neck.

Your smile grows slightly and you pull your lower lip between your teeth. "Only if you want me to." You shrug, suddenly leaning in. Closer, closer, until your lips are almost touching.

JJ is horrified, frozen as you brush your thumb over his bottom lip before ever so gently pushing your lips together. He can't even bring himself to close his eyes while you kiss him, but something draws him into the temptation to kiss you back. Eventually, as you lay back on the bed, he lays over you and kisses you again, in some sort of trance as you hook your leg up over his hip.

"Wait- what the fuck is happening?" He quickly pushes himself off of you and sits up.

"My god, J bug, what's gotten into you?" You chuckle, sitting up again and tilting your head at him in a way he's all too familiar with.

"I saw you! I saw- I saw you in the street covered in blood and now you're just here like nothing happened and we're kissing and I have a girlfriend and you know that and I-" JJ rambles on in a panic, trying desperately to figure out what is going on with him.

"Blah, blah, blah-" You cut him off. "Slow down, tardy slip. You sound like a sped."

"I'm gonna call the police." JJ nods, settling on what he has to do, even if he doesn't know how they'll help.

"Uh, okay, why don't you narc me out? I have the cops in my back pocket. I'm fucking a cadet, remember?" You say smugly, crossing your legs and leaning back.

"What do you want from me?" JJ sighs. He knows you're right, and he's crazy anyways- so what would calling the cops even do?

"I just want to explain some things to you." You admit. "Besides, best friends don't keep secrets. Right?"

JJ just nods, waiting for you to continue.

"'Kay, so remember the night of the fire? I got really messed up. And those guys from Low Shoulder, Rafe's band, are like totally evil. They're basically like agents of Satan with really awesome haircuts." You explain the whole ideal- how you insisted you were a virgin and they should find someone with more experience if their plan was assault. True fear like none other completely enveloped you, up until you passed out from blood loss and pain from their masochistic ritual- all in an attempt to get famous. From the second you left JJ's side at the burning dive bar you knew something wasn't right. Fear was the last emotion you felt, but you left that, and the fact that you were screaming for him in what should have been your final moments, out of the story.

"They killed you..." JJ mutters, a tear dropping quickly from his eye and staining his shirt.

"Well I'm still here, aren't I?" You scoff, seemingly unfazed now by the horrific events. "I mean, they did go all Benihana on my ass with that knife and it should have killed me, but for some reason it didn't."

JJ shifts uncomfortably. "Maybe it did."

"Anyway," You quickly brush off his comment, avoiding his eyes as you pick at your nails. "I don't really remember what happened after that. I just know that I woke up and I found my way back to you."

"I remember." JJ nods. He wasn't dreaming- it was real. It was all real, and he curses himself for not checking his trash to see if he really had cleaned up your mess that night.

"I couldn't bring myself to hurt you." You smile softly at him, leaning now on your elbow. "I mean, I'm a really good friend, but I was just so hungry. And ever since then, I just knew what I had to do to be strong."

JJ goes to speak, trying to understand but he has so many questions, when you just continue anyways. "And when I'm full, like I am right now, I'm like, unkillable." You say, a smug tone to your voice. "Like, I can do shit like this. Watch."

You grab a pen from beside the bed, and before JJ can even get a word out you're plunging the tip into your forearm and dragging it down towards your wrist. His eyes widen in horror, reaching out for you as you remove the metal from your arm. "It's really cool! Just watch, look." You stop him, the lighthearted tone of your voice settling him only slightly as he watches the blood drip down your skin. Within moments, all of the blood retreats the way it came, back into your body as the deep cut seals back up.

You smile and make a sucking noise, mimicking the one your skin made as the cut completely disappeared. "It's like some X-Men shit, right?"

JJ watches in awe and confusion, staring at the place on your arm where your skin should still be broken. "What do you mean, 'when you're full'?" He asks after a moment, eyes returning to yours again. "Why were you covered in blood?"

Your smile fades quickly as you look back at him, unsure how to explain. Or if you want to.

"You didn't even look human." JJ adds, genuine fear and worry behind his eyes.

"You know, J-Bug, maybe you should talk to somebody about these disturbing thoughts that you're having..." You shake your head at him as you speak. "We're all really concerned. Especially Kie."

JJ shakes his head and stands up. He didn't expect you to gaslight him, especially when you just showed him to his face that you're invincible now, and now that he knows what really happened to you the night of the fire. "I think she may be having second thoughts about you." You continue, and he's fed up. He points to the door dejectedly.

"Leave." He tells you firmly.

"Come on, JJ, let me stay the night." You plead. "We can play boyfriend-girlfriend like we used to." It sounds like you're offering it to him, like it should be something tempting, but it isn't to him. Or at least he thinks it shouldn't be- but in reality he would love nothing more than to let you stay.

He sighs, looking away from you. He knows he wouldn't be able to say no. You nod almost sadly to yourself and get up, pulling your pyjama pants on before climbing up to the window.

"What are you doing?" He asks as he turns, seeing you go to the window instead of the door as you climb up onto the ledge.

"Uhm, you said to leave. See you at school." You reply snarkily, and before he says anything else, you're gone.

After attending another funeral for a boy JJ hardly knew and then one for a girl he also hardly knew, with new information knowing that his best friend was the one doing this, he couldn't just sit on it. He had to do something, he had to figure out what was wrong with you. He started with something he never did; reading.

He concluded after weeks of reading, that you're possessed. More specifically, by a succubus; and he's going to have to kill you. A blade to the heart when you're at your weakest. Even though he hasn't spoken to you since you left his room that night, he doesn't know if he can do it. But he certainly can't sit and watch while you kill every boy or girl in your school and eat them for brunch.

His breakup with Kie was hard- but she didn't believe him. He could see it in her eyes when he tried to explain that she thought he was crazy- that he needed help. To Kie, of course he would ditch their plans to go to the dance together just to "watch" you. She should have known that he was always going to choose you.

As she walks to the spring formal all alone, her lavender dress swaying in the breeze, she's startled by the sound of a bird flapping its wings not far away. When she turns back around, she's faced with you. "Kie, didn't you hear me calling your name?" You ask, ignoring how startled she already seems.

"You weren't." Kie looks you over. Under your makeup your eyes are sunken, you look tired and thin- despite any attempts made to cover it up.

"Yes I was." You insist.

"I-I couldn't hear it." She stutters, uneasy with the interaction already.

"Listen, I need to talk to you about you-know-who." You say, wringing your hands in front of you as if you're nervous. "Our little J-Bug."

Kie nods a little. While she's never been your biggest fan, it seems that you do have his best interest at heart. You're worried about him too. You grab her hand and lead her off towards the old pool building so you can talk somewhere more private.

"He's been... acting a little off." Kie says as you head up towards a wooded area.

You sigh, stopping and turning to face her. "Look, I think I know what's wrong with him."

"What? What is it?"

"You know how JJ has been really upset since Sophie Mally died?" You say, dropping her hand. Kie nods, looking confused. "Well, it's not just because she was like, brutally murdered and stuff." You hesitate, bringing a hand up to your head. "I don't want to say this, I-"

"Just say it." Kie insists, already battling with what she knew you were about to say.

"JJ and Sophie were intimate." You say, suddenly showing no hesitation. "And by that, I mean they were porking on a semi-regular basis." Any empathy in your tone and face was long gone, Kie could see that, but it looked like you were trying.

She just shakes her head a little, avoiding looking at you. It's not entirely beyond the realm of possibility that he was cheating, and hearing someone you're close with get murdered could cause a mental break like the one he was clearly having. She just expected that if he was ever to cheat, that it would have been with you. She didn't want to believe it, though.

"Trust me, they were doing things you've never even heard of. Total varsity moves." You add when she doesn't reply.

"Okay, Y/N! I get it!" She snaps, surprisingly making you smile.

"I just, you know- I can't believe he would mess with you like that. I told him it was wrong, that he shouldn't do that to you but I was totally caught in the middle. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner... I was just scared, I guess." You explain, smile faltering towards the end. "I didn't want to hurt him, but I see now how it could hurt you more. I didn't want anyone to get hurt. Truly. I care about you both so deeply."

Kie chews on her lip as she listens. If you were in her shoes, it would be really hard. She understands why you wouldn't tell her, even if she needed to know.

"I care about you so much, Kie." You add, grasping her hand again. "More than I have ever had the guts to admit."

You step closer, running your hand up her arm now. "JJ didn't deserve a girl like you."

As JJ stands inside the gym, basking in the sickening irony of Low Shoulder agreeing to play at their formal, he faces the nerves that he hasn't seen you yet. Thankfully, he also hasn't seen Kie, who he begged not to come. She was stubborn, like you, so he expected his ex to show up anyways just to spite him.

As he lifts the plastic cup of punch up to his lips, he gets a shiver that reverberates through all his bones like he just jumped in a frozen lake. Kie. Your voice echoes in his mind, and suddenly it's no wonder he hadn't seen either of you there.

He rushes out of the building following only his gut instinct- like when he got on his bike all those weeks ago. His intuition will take him to you.

By the time he runs away from the school, through the forested area and up to the pool house, he can hear Kie screaming for help. He rushes in through a window, stumbling over the overgrown vines and his eyes land on you and Kie in the dirty pool. "Kie!" He shouts, making only brief eye contact with her before you turn from where you had your back to him. Your jaw looked almost unhinged- and there were those fangs again, this time covered in the blood of his ex girlfriend while the colour drains from her skin.

He dives in without another thought, attempting to pull you off of her, shoving you away as quickly as he can. Under the water you see the two of them- JJ between Kie and you. You can't hurt him. You just can't.  They scramble to get out of the water and you find yourself levitating out instead- it's more graceful, that way. Kie should be embarrassed, you think- suppressing the urge to laugh at her as they struggle.

"She can fly?" Kie coughs out, blood pouring from the puncture wounds in her neck now.

"I guess!" JJ replies, just as your feet land on the ground. "Y/N- this is insane! You can't keep killing people!"

"God, you just don't get it." You scoff, crossing your arms.

"No, I do. I do, I know what's going on with you." He insists, still standing between you and Kie.

You shake your head, rolling your eyes at him. "God, J-Bug, don't you care about me at all? If you know everything about me like you say you do, you should know I have to do this."

"You don't! If you were the Y/N I knew you would have killed yourself to avoid this." JJ says, and the air gets thick. "You were never a good friend to me! When we were little you broke my toys, poured juice in my shoes, not to mention all the weed you never paid me a dime for, but you would never do this."

"And now I'm eating your girlfriend." You scowl. "See? At least I'm consistent."

"Why do you need her?" He asks, dirty water dripping from his hair and down his face and neck. "You could have anybody that you want, Y/N. So... why Kie?"

"Ugh, god. Boys are so dumb sometimes." You chuckle to yourself. "You know why."

JJ's chest is heaving as he takes in your appearance. You look nothing like you used to.

"You're actually gonna make me say it?" You laugh, Kie jumping a little where she's sitting on the ground behind him, startled by the loud noise. "Because you're my boyfriend. I have loved you for years in a way no one else ever has. A way no one else ever will."

"Do you mean that?" JJ mutters.

"JJ!" Kie gasps, shocked that he would even consider believing this crap.

"Every word, babe." You smile softly, nodding as you step closer to him.

"JJ, come on! You can't be buying this!" Kie cries out.

"I mean it, I swear." You say again, attempting to drown her out as you place a hand on his cheek. He flinches only slightly before leaning into your touch. "I pinky promise."

For the first time in months, you were being real- you had the energy to be yourself, despite the fact that you were starving. You couldn't live a life like this without him, and you wouldn't leave him behind.

"Come with me." You whisper, leaning closer. "We can be perfect together, J."

He glanced briefly down at Kie, who no longer has the energy to protest.

"Don't you love me?" You ask, jutting your lip out in a familiar pout and you tilt your head.

"I.. I do, yeah." He nods, his voice barely above a whisper.

"This will only be a pinch, J-Bug." You smirk, kissing him briefly, softly, before moving quickly down to his shoulder and biting down on his soft skin. He cries out until you pull away, a small smile forming on your blood stained lips.

You've never looked more beautiful to him.

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