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the-original-skipps · 3 years

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Omggg i really barely saw some mikey headcanons/scenarios here like i'm gonna cry 😭✨,,,, anyways is it okay if i request some scenario where reader is being bullied and harrassed but she don't tell mikey about it cause she don't want mikey to worry about her but then one day mikey saw it and he was furious?? like he saw reader's trembling body and she got hickeys made by her bullies? and everything is up to you just make angst and fluff ,,,, sorry it's longg 😭

Spoken Threats.

Warnings ⚠️: Bullying, violence, mentions of blood, sexual assault.

Word count: 1.5k

Note: Oh I've been waiting to write this and don't be sorry your request can be as long as you want. I've been thinking a couple days about this so here it goes! sorry for the grammar and spelling lol

"ーcchi"

"(Y/N)-cchi"

"(Y/N)"

You snap out of your daze, only to look up to see Mikey staring at you. His dark eyes locking straight onto yours, as if he’s trying to figure out your thoughts. He’s stopped walking and is awaiting for your answer. Only the light from the light post illuminating you both as Mikey walks you home. You sheepishly smile before apologizing, “I’m sorry, what were you saying?” holding the straps of your school bag tighter. Mikey remains silent for a moment before straight forward asking you. “Are you okay?” Even if his expression did not show it you could hear a hint of concern in his voice. “I-I’m fine, just tired from school.” You reply hoping he doesn’t hear the stutter laced within. Walking a few steps forward “Come on!” you call out to him, with a smile on your face. “I see…” He replies his lips forming a tiny smile before stepping forward till he’s walking by your side.

Eventually, you both stop at the front entrance of your house. “Thank you for walking me home.” You thank him with a genuine smile on your face. Mikey returns your smile with his hands in his pockets.

"Good night, (Y/N)-cchi.”

“Good night, Mikey.”

You walk towards the entrance of your house one hand on the door handle. “Bye bye!” You smile and wave, only when Mikey sees you enter your home does he step back. He waves with a grin before walking towards the opposite direction you both came from. You step inside your home and shut the front door. Once you were in the safely of your own home, do you fall to your knees, your school bag dropping carelessly onto the floor. You could feel your body uncontrollably shake, raising your two hands to stare at them. You couldn’t tell him, about what was happening. You bite your lip as tears pool in your eyes. You couldn’t tell him about them, Yui and her minion of guys. How she would corner you at the back of the school, pulling on your hair as you sat on your knees while she viciously insults you and assaults you. Her minions laughing along, what could you do? You couldn’t fight back against three guys, you tried and you were glad Mikey did not notice the bruises that had formed underneath your long sleeved uniform.

You dreaded going to school the next day, knowing what would be awaiting you. You sluggishly button your school uniform, while the mirror reflects back the horrible bruises that have littered your arms and stomach. You hand lightly brushes against your skin only for you to wince and pull your hand away. They were the painful reminders your mind refuses to think about as it only causes more fear within you.

Putting your shoes on, you step outside beginning your walk to school. You were silent as you walked, more students appearing the closer you approach your school. As you were putting on your indoor shoes, you jumped back in surprise at the sound of your friend calling out your name. Yui blinks confusingly at you before greeting you with a smile “good morning (Y/N)!” Her light brown curls bouncing along as she spoke. Your eyes widen and your breathing quickens, “g-good morning…” you managed to stutter out, your back pressed against the shoe lockers. None of the students paying any mind to the both of you. Yui smiles before leaning towards you, “come to the usual place after school, I’ll be waiting…” she whispers menacingly into your ear skipping away with a wave of her hand. Your hold on your bag tightens as panic flushes through your veins. Her words echoing repeatedly in your mind.

Classes passed by in agony as your mind continues to think about Yui's words. None of the teachers words registered in your head. What was she going to do to you this time. You only prayed that it didn’t take long.

Students scatter as class ends as you slowly put away your notebooks and books into your bag, hoping to delay the inevitable. It wasn’t long until all the students left leaving you alone in the classroom with a shaky breathe you prepare yourself as walk towards the back of the school.

“What took you so long bitch?”

Yui immediately corners you to the wall as her sharp eyes glare into yours. “I-I" before you could even form a response she grabs you by your hair forcing you to kneel down. Your hands immediately reaches out to hers hoping she would let go. “What a bad girl, you’ve kept them waiting you know?” Your eyes immediately widen as you see three tall figures loom over you. Your breath hitches in your throat as Yui's minions menacingly smile while their eyes rake over your body. “P-Please no…!” You manage to stutter out as panic flood your body. Yui's smile only widens before she kicks you to the ground, the dirt and dust clinging onto your clothes as you wince in pain.

“Have fun boys.”

Immediately, the guy in middle jumps on you-pinning your arms to the ground. You feel your back hit the ground as your breath gets knocked out of you. “N-No stop..!” Yui let’s out an estranged laugh before pulling her phone out to record you. “Smile for the camera (Y/N)!” The guy towering over you descends upon your neck, harshly biting onto your skin enough to draw blood. You scream as you struggle to get loose only for a hand to cover your mouth, if only if you had been stronger-strong like Mikey then this wouldn’t be happening. The image of your strong boyfriend flashes through your mind as tears cascade along your face as you continue to struggle.

Mikey…

In a flash, the guy above you was kicked away his body skittering before finally stopping-only for blood to ooze out of his nose and mouth. His body didn’t move anymore, simply lying on the dirt ground. Immediately all heads snap to a figure who had recently just appeared. The black jacket he was wearing and his blonde hair fluttering in the wind, his leg still raised in a kicking position before he lowers it down.

“W-Who the hell are y-you?” One of the two remaining guys questioned with fear in their eyes. You blink your bleary eyes as more tears fall, “M-Mikey…” you stutter out. Mikey remains silent as kneels before you, his face devoid of any emotion. He carefully pulls you up into a sitting position before draping his jacket over your shoulders. “Get him!” Yui calls out which snaps the remaining two guys action, causing them to run blindly towards Mikey with their fists pulled back. Before you could even blink, Mikey already has the two guys knocked out on the ground. “What just happened?” You knew your boyfriend was strong but this was unbelievable. It all happened in a flash.

Yui noticing that she has been outnumbered begins to tremble as her eyes land on Mikey. Mikey casually steps on the fallen bodies and approaches Yui until her back meets the wall, her phone clenched tightly within her hands. “Pleasー” Before she could utter the word a fist lands beside her head. In shock, Yui drops her phone. Mikey slowly pulls his fist away from the wall, leaving a crater in its place, remnants of the wall crumbling. Then he stomps on the phone laying on the ground crushing it to bits. “You’re lucky that I don’t hit girls…” Mikey stares down menacingly, his eyes devoid of any light. Yui could only cower as she begins to cry, mumbling incoherent apologies.

“Mikey, s-stop!” You manage to utter out as you try to stand, wincing in pain. You never seen your boyfriend like this, it was as if he was a completely different person and that scared you. “Mikey please..” Your eyes once again welling up with tears as you limp towards him. Before wrapping your shaking arms around his waist, placing your head on his back.

“P-Please…”

After a few moments of silence, Mikey finally speaks to you his back still turned towards you. “I came to pick you up but I couldn't find you then I heard your scream. I'm sorry I couldn’t protect you (Y/N)….” You buried your face further into his back, your tears wetting his shirt. “T-Thank you, for saving me…” You pull away as Mikey turns around to face you, an unexplainable emotion within his eyes. “Thank you, for saving a weakling like me...” You gently smile your glistening eyes meeting his. “You’re not weak!” Mikey exclaims as he carefully takes your bruised hand with his bloodied hand. “Not to me...” With his other hand he wipes away the blood on the corner of your lips.

“Let’s go home (Y/N)-cchi.” You nod as you both pull away from each other. You walk ahead picking up your dirty school bag, noticing how dark the sky has gotten as Mikey follows behind you then abruptly stops making sure you’re away from earshot, his head turning back to face the forgotten crying girl behind him.

“Next time you ever think of hurting her, I'll kill you…”

#sano manjiro #mikey tokyo revengers #mikey x reader #sano manjiro x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo manji revengers #tokyo manji gang #tokyo revengers imagines #tokyo revengers x y/n #skipps writes

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rocorambles · 4 years

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Kinktober Day 27: Overstimulation

Pairing: Kuroo x Reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Porn Star Kuroo AU, Overstimulation, Degradation, Corruption Kink

What Kuroo loves most about you is that you genuinely don’t care that he’s a pornstar. Of course you had been shocked at first when he finally told you his profession and he thought that he had lost any chances of being with you when you started stuttering, face becoming flustered as you struggled to find the right words and he steeled himself for the breakup he knew was about to happen. But when you had finally found your rhythm again and just said “okay, thanks for telling me”, still the same love and affection in your eyes as you stared up at him, he had been dumbfounded.

“You don’t care? You don’t have any questions?”

In an odd plot twist, it’s him who starts interrogating you for your surprising reaction, but something warm curls inside of him when you shyly bite your lip, avoiding his curious gaze and a sharp grin spreads across his face at your next words.

“You’re still you, Kuroo. This doesn’t change anything. Also what would I even have questions about? It’s not like I have any experience or know anything about sex to have thoughts about it…”

Your voice trails off in embarrassment and Kuroo can feel excitement rise in him when his quick mind puts the pieces together.

A virgin.

It all makes sense now, why you've always been so nervous about too much PDA and contact, so flustered whenever it's just the two of you alone in one of your apartments, so adamantly against sleeping over at night or letting him stay over. He had been worried that you just weren't attracted to him, that your love for him was growing cold, hence his confession in an attempt to be more open with you, to communicate better, to show you how much he loves you.

But this...this is a far better explanation than he could have ever hoped for and he can't stop himself from practically purring and trapping you in his wiry arms, smirking at your squeak as he buries his face into the crook of your neck and shoulder, holding you tightly to his body until there's not an inch left between you, his toned muscles right up against your softer figure.

"Do you want me to show you? Teach you? Here I thought you didn't like me, but my kitten was just shy."

You lightly scowl, trying to find some fighting words to stop your boyfriend's teasing words, but when he begins to lightly pepper open mouthed kisses up the side of your neck, words get stuck in your throat, tiny mewls escaping instead as you clutch at Kuroo's shirt. And he coos down at you, as your breathing becomes uneven, as your chest heaves up and down, your nipples pebbling as they rub against him. All from just a few kisses. And his thoughts get darker, more feral, as he wonders how much more he can ruin you, what other pretty reactions he can coax out of you.

You yelp when you're suddenly being whisked off to his bedroom and promptly dropped on a bed, but before you can move, you're pinned to the soft surface as Kuroo hungrily kisses you while he removes both your clothing. And when you're both bare, he pauses, just taking you all in, eyes ravenously staring at you. Shyness rushes through you and you move to cover yourself, to close your legs, but you whimper when strong thighs shove their way between your legs, when large hands pin your hands to your side, lips wrapping around one of your nipples.

Kuroo takes his time, mouth sucking, licking, biting, kissing every inch of your bare skin as he explores the treasure you've hidden from him. He smiles against your skin as you writhe against him, cute moans echoing throughout the room, groaning and biting you harshly as you rub your pussy against his quickly hardening cock.

Pleased with the blue, purple, and red marks he's left on you, he focuses on grinding purposefully against your drenched pussy, gritting his teeth at how wet you are, his cock already soaked with your slick even without sliding in and he has to control himself from slamming into you right then and there. But he distracts himself with the intoxicating view of your pleasured face, the way your hands clutch at his bedsheets.

You already look so ruined and he's barely done anything, but he wants to see you completely break apart and his fingers toy with your clit, relishing in the way you scream louder, the way you twist and contort even more, until suddenly you're tensing so hard he thinks you might break. And there's a moment of stillness as you stare wide-eyed at him, mouth open wide, eyes unseeing, before you fall to pieces, wailing and screaming in ecstasy when you fall over the edge.

You're exhausted, mind and body heavy and dazed as you lay in post-coital bliss, twitching every now and then as Kuroo's fingers continue rubbing against you. But minutes pass and you begin to whine as he doesn't stop, body instinctively trying to inch away from him, but you sob when hands grab your hips, keeping you still. Your eyes widen as he replaces his fingers with his cock, slapping your clit and teasing your folds with his heavy length.

“You sure you want this to be over already, kitten? We haven’t even gotten to the good part.”

He waits, giving you the chance to back out if you really want to, but he darkly smirks as you submissively stay still, parting your legs even wider for him. And getting impatient himself, he begins to slide inch by inch inside of you, letting you adjust, making you feel every part of him as he fills your tight unused hole achingly slowly. You’d heard horror stories about the discomfort, the pain, and yet you feel none of that as your sopping wet cunt stretches, a heady dizzying pleasure overtaking you. You never had a chance to come down from your last orgasm and to feel so full, so soon is mind shattering and you claw at Kuroo’s arms in an effort to ground yourself as you’re brought to new heights.

But your journey is far from over and when overstimulation begins to be overpowered by lust, Kuroo begins to thrust in and out of you, slowly building his tempo, but making sure every thrust is deep, strong, purposeful. And in hindsight, you think it’s easy to tell exactly what he does for a living as he smoothly rolls his hips, pistoning in and out of you in controlled, practiced moves, pace consistent, never tiring. The unknown pleasure is intoxicating and you feel the coil of arousal tighten alarmingly inside of you once again and all it takes is Kuroo biting your lower lip and tweaking a nipple for you to fall off the edge once again as he continues rocking in and out of you like a well oiled machine.

In. Out. In. Out.

That’s all your brain can think of as Kuroo continues working your body over as you lay there, forced to orgasm over and over again, forced to shatter around his cock again and again. Lewd moans become desperate sobs. Sobs become incoherent babbling. Babbling becomes quiet whimpers until you’re just laying there, barely conscious, body and mind destroyed and drowned in an overwhelming cocktail of pleasure and overstimulation. And Kuroo just keeps on going and going and going, putting years of practice, stamina, and endurance into play, feline eyes never straying from your face, your body, your debauched state only fueling him even more. But even he has a limit and when he sees the mess he’s made of you, sees the fucked out look on your face, he stops holding back, hands digging even deeper into your skin as he wildly thrusts, chasing his end. And when it arrives, he pulls out, stroking his cock furiously as he sprays thick white spurts all over your stomach, your breasts, staring in awe at how you’d look right at home on any of the sets he’s filmed.

But when you use the last bit of your energy to whisper his name, he immediately snaps back to reality and suddenly it’s glaringly clear that this isn’t work and that you aren’t just another porn actress he’s working with. And his heart soars at the love he sees in your eyes as you weakly pout for him to hold you and as he cradles you gently in his arms, sheepishly apologizing about being so rough and laughing as you grumpily mutter for him to not apologize for things he’s not actually sorry about, he thinks about all the other things he has left to teach you. After all, Kuroo’s always been a good student and it’s his duty as your boyfriend to make sure you keep up with your studies.

#haikyuu smut #kuroo x reader

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maldito-arbol · 2 years

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Okay so i just wanted to say a few things (quick vent post I’m so sorry for this shshsjsksk)

my mental health has been on a rapid decline the past few months (I wanna get into it but I Don’t at the same time because ugh making vent posts in general makes me feel so icky). this is affecting me in various ways obviously, one of which includes my writing (you already knew that. I keep saying this and yet I continue to update consistently anyway because i have no self control). Sad to admit this but i was thinking about delaying chapter 3 all the way up until last night when I got a sudden burst of motivation and proceeded to stay up till 3 am to finish it. I wrote like two thirds of it on a rampage in those five hours and now i am very tired so apologies if I sound incoherent in this little ramble (i am gonna take a nap after this). And I’m sorry if chapter 3 itself feels incoherent in any way, shape, or form. We’re just gonna slap the ‘oh it’s a fever dream it’s not supposed to make sense’ excuse on it and call it a day lmao. I Do Not want to spend anymore energy on it at the moment. (This is extra sad for me because I’ve been excited about chapter 3 since I started CMTO and all that excitement is just gone. I don’t know where it went come back I miss u)

Uhhhh so here’s my dilemma. I would love to take a break from everything (social media, writing, drawing etc) but in this state these things are genuinely the only things that are keeping my sanity in tact. Like. I have no idea how else to feel happy. I love my friends so much but for some reason I can’t just tell them what I’m feeling for one reason or another (they’re too busy to deal with my feelings, or they’re going through too much themselves, and other fun things my brain tells me or makes up, I can’t tell the difference between what’s real and what’s self sabotage anymore) so I rely entirely on projecting my feelings onto these fictional lesbians. Which means consistent updates probably aren’t going to go away anytime soon. I just hope you can understand if my writing feels different or less polished or just generally has really intense Angst. (I know u guys love Angst so I don’t think I’m gonna hold back on that one)

And uh, my Chapter Anxiety is really bad today as a result of all of these things, so I guess my point is I Am Once Again Asking You Guys to pls be gentle with me (which is a strange request, you guys are never mean to me, I don’t know why I even feel the need to ask—I just have this subconscious expectation that I’m going to be punished and I have to beg for forgiveness before it happens. Please don’t think I think poorly of you, this is all mal’s bad brain) anddd uh yeah that’s it for now.

Probably gonna delete this post later but for those who see it, hii, this is kinda what’s going on. Thanks for reading if u did, sorry for ventposting on main again, andddd I’ll see y’all in like 45 mins when I get the chappy up

#mal rants #tw vent #i wanted to make a post two days ago when I had a full blown breakdown but mal’s bad brain decided not to tell anyone about that #oops #I’m telling you guys #but just you. and just in the tags because I don’t wanna talk about it.#anyway I’m going to sleep for 30 mins brb

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dreamygeorgenap-archive · 3 years

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George seemed genuinely flustered and nervous at the start of his stream when he saw everyone in chat pointing out he was wearing the hoodie, even saying "i'm getting distracted" by it with the biggest smile on his face. Do you think george is thinking a little too much about the implications of him wearing "dream's hoodie" which he himself said is oversized so he can pretend it's dream's on stream? I mean, the only reason we knew about this whole thing in the first place is because dream talked about it in the trident stream and then later talked about it on sapnap's alt and posted the pictures (without george's consent might i add). George said he was gonna post about having the hoodie on his instagram but he never did so dream did instead.

That was basically just word vomit and i apologize if it doesn't make any sense but i'm basically just asking if you think george recieved the hoodie and then finally realised how this whole thing looks? This man wants an oversized dream hoodie to joke about how he borrowed one of dream's actually hoodies on his socials but then backed out when he finally got it. He now, presumably, wears it often and is super excited about how big it is. Now he wears it on stream as if to show it of because everyone now knows he has it but he gets all nervous about it. It's such, dare i say it, boyfriend behaviour and i think george knows that which is why he hasn't posted about it as he said he would and was all flustered on his stream because people were pointing it out. What are your thought? (If you can understand where i'm going with this, i'm so sorry if this is incoherent, it's late and i'm tired lol)

Dream didn’t send him the hoodie, George bought it which means he intentionally bought the hoodie oversized. He said he wanted to buy an oversized one in the trident stream and say it was Dream’s hoodie. Now he’s done that and even called it “Dream’s hoodie”. Interesting. I don’t know, he does seem pretty nervous about the whole situtation but he also seems to love the hoodie because he wears it all the time. I wonder if he wears it all the time because Dream called him cute when he wore it... hmm...

#asks #long post

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ghoulish-nova · 3 years

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Finding Yourself

I always tend to begin any piece that I create with an apology in advance to any level of incoherency found within the contents of my post. Today, I offer the same, but I'm not that bad of a writer per se, just one out of practice due to the circumstances known as shit happening in my life. I decided to write this first post on my blog today after much deliberation. The idea has made a circle around my mind for the longest time since I intended to have this account showcase the art I create and a blog. I've also been thinking about doing small artwork and posts I make, but that is still in the works. After all, how much can a university student do when every second is spent attempting to feel any semblance of life or doing homework? The push for my first post was reading a WeVerse post by a BTS member and well-known artist in his own right, RM. To those who know me, it's not particularly surprising that I've been inspired by BTS since I've become quite a big fan of them over the last few months (almost 6 actually, how fast time goes when you're having fun listening to a band). Like the post he decided to write today to fans, I seem to write not to fans but to whoever might be taking time to read this since I haven't written in my own journal outside of the times I really need a pen and paper in hand. The thing that has drawn me to BTS and, in particular, to RM is, to be honest about the difficulty of just being a person. Specifically, there is a level of pain in simply being a young adult, and they openly describe that feeling in a genuine and honest way. It's almost quite ironic how the teenage years of one's life are seen to be the most turbulent times; as such, they indeed were in mine, but it seems even more daunting to do so when you feel like you're still a teenager but now forced into the world that claims you're an adult already. RM's latest post describes his unconscious want for drama after having any level of stability. This note, in particular, rang familiar to me, and it most likely did for a lot of people. The notion of happiness which is associated with stability, is sought after so fiercely by us all. It's the ultimate goal in life, to be happy in ourselves and in the life that we live. However, no one tells you how much you're used to suffering until you actually get success and don't know what to do.

Frank Iero described this perfectly in several of his songs in which he describes the fear of being happy. The life of codependency in which I have lived my life with the feeling of suffering is, without a doubt, unhealthy, but it's the life that I've become accustomed to. I can't speak for RM, but I felt a wave in my heart reading that feeling surge in himself, and his decision to write that down for other people to see made me feel a little less alone. BTS has had a strong message in loving yourself and having a positive relationship with yourself. In many ways, I've started to build this connection in my own life to my own entity as, for years, I have struggled to accept the person I am. By seeing RM's post and for a person who has openly been an advocate for such a message, he carries it well and demonstrates how the process is such a moving and flowing process that never stops. Life is not stagnant, so how can we expect our growth as human beings who experience our lives to remain the same as well? I'm a bit out of fuel for this post but would like to end it on this note. I struggle, and most days, I feel tired. However, there is still some part of me that still wakes up, that hopes, that dreams, and waits for whatever comes tomorrow. Even with stability or the turbulence, I have in my life, I keep walking and try to navigate the complexities within my own mind. Whether I have or I don't have, I try to find the best in whatever it may be. 03.11.21 Signing off, I.

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laws-yellow-submarine · 4 years

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Hi! For the Mystery Event what do you think of Kid with the number 13 ? 👀 NSFW or no, do as what inspire you the most ! ❤️ Thank you 😉

Hi dear! Thanks for sending in a request, sorry it’s taken me so long! I also do wanna apologize in advance cause I was having a LOT of trouble with this, like, this is part of the reason I haven’t posted in forever is I’ve just been beyond stumped lol this is the ONLY thing I’ve been able to come up with (for some reason) and tbh I feel like it’s reaching a lot, but I hope it’s still at least enjoyable (even if I’m not sure it makes total sense lol I’ll stop apologizing for it now, enjoy! <3)

#13: “What am I to you?”

(Name) was annoyed, incredibly so, and as she stomped her way to her captain’s quarters, she decided Kid was going to hear her no matter what.

She’d been on the Victoria Punk for a few weeks now, very much the “newbie” of the crew, but she had yet to actually be assigned a job of some kind. She’d help where she could (usually in Kid’s workshop, though she didn’t know much about what he was doing in there), but the sentiment among the crew seemed to be that she wasn’t needed. As the only woman on board, it was also pretty clear (at least in her mind) that her most redeeming asset was, well...her assets.

“KID!! I’m coming in!!” She yelled, not even bothering to knock before barging into the man’s bedroom. It was cleaner than she’d expected, though there were still hunks of metal and pieces of some gizmo or another thrown haphazardly in a corner. The man in question was sitting at a desk, fiddling with something she didn’t care about, and glared at her as she entered.

“What the hell do you want, woman?! What makes you think you can just come barging in here, huh?!”

“What makes you think I can’t do any goddamn work around here, huh?! What am I to you, just a pretty face to make eyes at?! Been at sea too long, Eyebrows?!”

“Excuse me?!” He yelled, getting up in her face. “Well, maybe if you were actually useful!”

“Then why the hell am I here?! You said you needed crewmembers, not eye candy, so what gives?!” In truth, part of why she’d joined the Kid Pirates in the first place was because she’d genuinely liked the captain, but if he thought she was only good for looking at, he could just as soon drop her off at the next island. They stood glaring at each other for what seemed like hours, then to her surprise Kid’s cheeks took on the slightest shade of pink, and he turned away to grumble something incoherent. “What was that?” She demanded, brow raising in confusion.

“You’re...not useless...and you’re not just a pretty face…” She deflated a bit at what was clearly difficult for him to say.

“So why am I not allowed to do anything?”

“You are, I just...don’t want you helping the others.”

“Why the hell not?!” She snapped, getting tired of him giving her the run-around.

“Because I want you close to me, that’s why!” He yelled back, cheeks reddening. “But you’re better suited to one of the other jobs on the ship, like the med bay or something, so I just haven’t put you anywhere.” She blinked at him, not sure whether to laugh or cry at his “logic”.

“You could just teach me more about what you’re doing…” Kid huffed out a short laugh, earning another small glare.

“I’m not that patient,” he told her in a rare show of humility. “And if I let you work with me, then I guarantee we won’t get any actual work done.” Her eyes widened at the implication, turning her face away before he could see her blush.

“That wouldn’t be the worst thing though...would it?” She turned back to face him when he was silent, only to be met with a rather obnoxious grin.

“Well in that case, congratulations, your new crew assignment is in my workshop,” Kid stepped forward, closing the distance between them. As he wrapped his arms around her, she shuddered in anticipation. “Don’t be late.”

#eustass kid #eustass kid scenario #500 follower event #one piece #one piece scenario #thanks for the ask!

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slashersdownsouth · 5 years

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S/O with a Motor Tic Disorder

Hey, i don't know if asks are open right now so ignore this if they aren't (sorry never done this before). Anyways i was wondering if you could do some of the slashers with a s/o that has a tic disorder? Thank you!!!! I love your writing!!

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Howdy~

Thank you for the kind words~ very encouraging! If motor skills is something of a struggle, I hope everything gets better for you. Right now I have a lot of slasher matchups to work on, but I'm taking a little break for this reactions post - thought it was really good. But don't worry friends - I'm working hard!

Alrighty, let's begin!

Request By: @this-is-just-an-alias

Michael Myers

'Biting the lip'

• When he first met you, he knew something was different about you..

• You seemed ordinary enough to him, honestly.

• He knew you biting your lip was a thing, per se, but he didn't realize it was brought on by anxiety

• He saw you on the phone with a relative, he saw you getting jumpy and looking a bit flustered. Then he noticed it - the way the biting turned into nibbling and chewing

• "She's eating her face." he's thinking

• Once you explain, he won't think too much of it

• He doesn't mind it, it's a thing of yours and he's not one to judge on things.

• He'll probably just walk up to you and slide your lip out from between your teeth with his finger

• If that doesn't help, he'll steal you some lip balm so you don't chap up too much or so it can at least taste good

Thomas Hewitt

'obscene gestures/words'

• Thank goodness Sheriff Hoyt has a sense of humor, you flipping off the other victims while getting in the backseat of the car was the only reason you're still alive today

• You kept your hand up the entire time in the car , even when you walked in

• Of course, now at the dinner table, you calmed a bit, but the tension was high and so were your stress levels

• Now Luda Mae thought it was nice to have a guest, and an attractive one at that.. *wink wink Thomas*.

• Thomas kept his eye on you, he wasn't sure what, but you looked ... eerily calm but jumpy at the same time

• When Uncle Monty suddenly slammed his cane on the floor, both hands were high with the middle finger up - one at Monty and one above your head.

• Hoyt was dying, Luda Mae is trying calm you down a bit, Monty was not amused and Thomas is thinking, "what the fuck?"

• Once Luda Mae has you all calm and cleaned up, you take a moment to explain. Now she has no idea what it's like, but she can understand how much you struggle with this, so she'll take you under wing and care for you.

• She explains to Thomas it's like when she bites her nails when she's nervous and that he needs to be patient

• After nearly two years of living with the Hewitt's, it's gotten better thanks to Thomasand his mama, but sometimes Thomas will catch you flipping off the laundry hanging outside

Bubba Sawyer

'Sticking the tongue out'

• No lie, Bubba thought it was cute.

• He didn't mind the tic, cause it only happens when you're really excited about something!

• He figured that out when he presented you with jewelry he personally made just for you

• You were so giddy, your tongue just kept poking in and out of your mouth

• He knew your excitement was genuine, he'd try to groan out some incoherent words and just squeeze you with hugs

• Of course you've explained it to him it's just a tic, it could go away with time. He doesn't really want it to though, but he understands tics aren't normal for folks

• We've lost count for how many times Drayton and the boys (besides Bubba) threaten to cut off your tongue and throw it in the chilli bowl eww nasty fools

Jason Vorhees

'jerking'

• Now he met you when you were making a shitload of noise in the forest

• He understood something may have been wrong with you and you WERE alone, so he took you a cabin

• Once you saw him again, you explained your tics and how this was like a syndrome and how you jerk your arms and legs alot when your extremely anxious

• Now, he knows syndrome means sick. So you're sick. No worries, he'll take care of you.

• He'd watch you and show you around when you were generally calm. Letting you know where traps were and how to access him quickly

• He would be busy around the camp, taking care of traps and trespassers and such

• But he'd never be gone for too long in fear of you getting anxious

• He wouldn't want you to start jerking and hurt yourself

Brahms Heelshire

'wrinkling the nose'

• Now as his "caretaker", he's been observing you through the walls for weeks

• He saw how you'd scrunch up your nose when you got frustrated with anything

• It was a minor detail really - but he caught it pretty quickly

• Now it wasn't a big deal. It's just like a little scrunch.. kind of like when you smell something bad

• Thus made Brahms a little more conscious about personal hygiene thank God

• It wasn't until that new delivery boy called you out on it and made you visibly embarrassed/uncomfortable about it that he knew it was something you struggled with

• After that, he made sure to always do his best to help you and give you little eskimo (nose) kisses when you felt down

Billy Loomis

'blinking'

• When people are happy, they usually smile. Not you, you blink. Excessively.

• Now Billy, in all honesty, if he doesn't understand is gonna be all like, "can you chill the fuck out?"

• Once he knows, he'll feel a bit bad, cause this is a struggle of yours and him being a dick isn't helping.

• He'll research on how to help someone with tics, different exercises to help, write notes and try to be a little more positive around you

• When he learns that it happens when your happy, then he'll think it's kinda funny and a tiny bit cute

• If anyone tells you shit, they somehow appear on the next day's homicide news. Coincidence?

Stu Macher

'animal noises'

• Being with Stu has always been the funniest times of your day, hell, the BEST. Period

• Now, he's never spent the night, and for that you're kinda glad cause you have this "habit" of making noices when you're tired.

• One night though, he knocks on your window around 11 at night and you half asleep, just unlock it and let him crawl in

• He doesn't say much, just undresses into his tank top and boxers and slides under your covers and you just mold to him

• You know Stu though, he's a talker. He's talking about his day, and you're honestly trying to keep up but you're keep nodding off

• Then begins the "woof! woof! meow! woof!"...

• Stu is just stunned... and he's dying of laughter on the inside... he's googling "why is my gf making animal noices?"

• If he can't find anything, he's recording your ass so he can play it for you in the morning, this is your cue to explain.

• He actually thinks it's a good thing! Appreciates you sharing and tries to help should you feel down or upset about it.

Bo Sinclair

'snapping the fingers'

• Bo is a very hot-headed man, it takes a patient and strong person to deal with this slasher

• Sometimes, he says stupid shit and directs his anger at you and it's just stressful

• When the stress builds up and just pours out like a full cup, your hands have a mind of their own

• You just start snapping your fingers and it's difficult to calm your nerves to stop

• Bo never sees it first hand cause you hide it - you don't need more judgment from people who'd never understand

• One night though, Bo is blowing steam off at you again and runs out the house to check on any passing trespassers

• This is your chance to snap in the privacy of your room and you don't even realize you're crying

• You're just sitting on the bed,, crying and snapping and yea, that looks unnerving

• When Bo walks in and sees this, he thinks he finally drove you insane

• Now, everyone may not think the same, but Bo still has compassion, so when he sees this, he's heartbroken

• He'll just sit behind you and hold you close, whispering apologies to you and rubbing your arms so the nerves will relax

• Once you two talk, he'll try his best to cool it with the anger and should he hear you start to snap in future arguments, he considers that his cue to calm the fuck down and shut the fuck up

Vincent Sinclair

'twisting the neck'

• When he saw you, no lie, he thought you were trying to kill yourself via neck break

• He's thinking, "oh no, this one's a cuckoo".. might as well ease their pain

• But when he sees how your friends ignore it and leave you to do you, he thinks you're a captive and that they're torturing you "I'll save you sad girl!"

• He'll kidnap you and keep you in his art studio so you don't have to witness what he and his brother do to your friends

• Of course, you're scared shitless and this just makes the tic react even worse

• He has no idea what to do with you, honestly. He's looking through his dad's medical notes and he can't find anything

• Once you calm a bit, you willingly explain to him what a tic is, and how yours is simply twisting your neck

• Of course it's a dangerous one and sometimes your neck pops and you feel like you've given yourself whiplash, but Vincent's been so kind with you that it's actually helped your habit

• I guess living here in Ambrose won't be too bad

♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧

Hope you liked, will post new stuff very soon

- Cowgirl

550 notes · View notes

mysweetestcreature · 5 years

Text

Tomorrow Never Knows (President!Harry) Chapter 4: Yesterday

(Banner by the wonderful noblewomankat!)

***

Masterlist

***

Friday, October 3, 2008

There are a few outstanding moments in his life that Harry can recall having screwed up beyond belief.

The first time was when he was four years old and had let Gemma’s hamster, Crumb, out of her cage because he thought she needed some fresh air and the wide-open space of their backyard back in Holmes Chapel. Just hear him out for a second! For months he had been training her to do tricks, like how to jump over his Legos and even how to play dead (she was really good at that one). So, of course he thought she could handle herself outside! His sister had arrived home from tennis practice just in time to see the defenseless Crumb be snatched from the ground by an unforgiving hawk.

The second time had been when he was eleven and he had spoiled his nan’s surprise party despite his mum having specifically instructed him to shut his mouth about it. Preparation had started well over seven weeks ago, with family coming from all over England to celebrate her sixtieth birthday bash. His job was to run around and help her run errands while everyone set up for the party back at the house. It had started off fine, really! They had gone to the farmer’s market in Sandbach to get the freshest ingredients for Nan’s special eggplant parmesan that she was going to make that night for a mini celebration. And maybe –– just maybe, since he can’t quite remember the exact event –– he had said something along the lines of “I dunno why you’re cooking when Mum’s already having food catered for the part” as she was sorting through tomatoes for the ripest ones. (Although, he’ll be the first to defend himself and say that leaving him in charge of distracting his nan was just a disaster waiting to happen... so, maybe that one wasn’t entirely his fault.)

Finally, and quite possibly the absolute worst of them all is right now. He feels completely paralyzed. A pair of sticky glossed lips pressed firmly to his, and the cheers of the crowd on their post-game high roar through his ears, and yet he can’t distinguish a single sound. Arms limp at his side, his football helmet hanging only by the tip of his pinky finger. For a moment, it’s like he doesn’t know where he is. If it weren’t for the screech of a clarinet’s tune gone wrong from the sidelines, he would have remained in such a comatose state.

When his mind finally decides to cooperate with him, he’s able to blink his way back to reality, and with it is shoved back to how awfully wrong this all feels. Looking immediately in front of him, it all becomes that more real. Everything comes back to him, and it’s like all these senses flood into his consciousness. It all makes him feel woozy. His helmet falls to the ground, and he fights off the arms that insist on keeping him in their grasp until he’s free and his lips feel relief in the exposure of cool air. Like touching fire, he recoils, taking a huge leap back.

“Zoey,” he says so exasperatingly with his hands flying up to his head and running through his hair, “I... I’m not...” How is he supposed put this in a way she’ll understand? Without sounding like a complete arse? “I don’t-” But his jaw becomes slack as he’s brought to an abrupt halt when he catches glimpse of the pink and grey checkered scrunchie briskly making her way in the opposite direction. No! This was not meant to happen, or if it were to have gone his way, it would’ve been her stood before him instead.

Harry had it all planned out. The best game of his life had just been played, and it wasn’t for the glory or the bragging rights or even to make Coach Davis crack his first smile in over twenty-two years. It was meant to give him the confidence to finally tell the girl that he’s completely fallen for that she’s all he ever thinks about since the moment she’d almost knocked him over on that first day of school.

“Wait!” he yells after her, dodging yet another one of the redhead’s persistent attempts to bring him back in. He ignores all those who call his name, doesn’t even apologize for having accidentally bumped his left shoulder pad into a school reporter’s back. Her image is quickly lost, and he starts to grow more nervous because he can feel her getting farther away and all hope of catching up to her seems to be slowing vanish. All he can do is repeat her name over and over and count on her hearing him and turning right around.

But she doesn’t.

Once he’s able to escape the congested field, it’s like she’s completely vanished. She’s nowhere in sight. He looks all around, spinning in a complete circle just to find her amongst the hundreds of people in attendance, but none of them are her.

***

“Y/n...” Cici tries, turning to her in the back of her mom’s SUV. “Are you... I mean, do you want to talk about it?”

Y/n continues to stare intently out the window, only letting out a breath once the lights of the school fade away. She wipes along her lower lash line before slowly shaking her head. No order of words can be used to describe how she feels right now. This feeling is so unfamiliar and such a burden to carry in her chest. It makes her feel tired and hurt and hysterical all at the same time.

“There’s nothing to say,” she whispers, her voice cracking mid-sentence. She shuts her eyes tight, trying to appease the sting behind her irises before she completely loses control over the reign on her emotions.

But that awful image seems to be permanently embedded behind her eyelids like the most frightening of nightmares. No matter how hard she tries, it’s as though nothing can erase the memory. Seeing him with someone else –– it doesn’t even matter who it was –– was like having the rug taken from under her feet only to let her fall without sight of where she’ll land. Just having stood there, watching as he had just let her kiss him so easily had been too much for her to watch. And maybe it’s because that could’ve been her in Zoey’s place had she told him sooner that she’s been having these feelings for him that don’t seem likely to fade as much as she wants them to.

“Well how was the game, girls? I heard at the PTA meeting that the new quarterback is supposed to be the best Ashwood has seen in a long, long time.” Cici’s mom, Mrs. Fenderson, peeks at them through the rear-view mirror. She hadn’t been able to attend due to her son having just had his wisdom teeth taken out not even five hours ago. Cici tries to sign to her to stop, waving her hand back and forth below her chin.

Breathing deeply in through her nose, Y/n exhales in a sad chuckle before meeting the older woman’s eyes in the mirror. A weak smile decorates her otherwise saddened face. “He was great. Really, really great.”

***

It’s only when Olivia opens up the front door after having heard the Fenderson’s car park in the driveway that Y/n launches herself into her mom’s arms. At first, she’s taken aback, almost losing her balance and toppling over.

Y/n cries uncontrollably into Liv’s nightshirt with incoherent mumbling in between each choked out sob. And it only takes the mention of his name to catch Liv up to speed on the who ordeal. Mother’s intuition just knows, and like magic, she’s already equipped with the right things to say and the right things to do to make the sting in her daughter hurt just a little less, even if it is for a just a little while. This is one thing that all parents have to be prepared for. It’s one thing for your child to fall in love, but a broken heart is a whole new ballgame.

“Oh, my girl,” she coos, stroking the back of her head and gently massaging her scalp with her rounded nails. “I know it hurts, so you cry as long as you need to.” The same things that her mother had spoken to her during her first heartbreak are now being reiterated to her own daughter. If there’s one thing she can remember from her own childhood, it’s how much these feelings can hurt, especially when the heart is genuine and lost. And she continues the string of comforting words into the shell of her ear as they stand clinging to each other in the middle of the foyer.

“I was gonna...I was gonna tell him tonight.” Y/n pulls back slightly, just enough for Olivia to get a good look at her face lined with tears. And they just continue to fall. “Mom, I was gonna tell him!”

Liv hushes her, simply nodding her head and bringing her back into her embrace. “Maybe...” she trails off, biting her on her bottom lip as she tries to carefully organize her thoughts. “Maybe it’s just not the right time for the two of you.”

“Or maybe we’re just not meant to be anything more than friends,” the younger girl sniffles, burying her face in her hands. Her shoulders begin to shake uncontrollably.

Just then, Jeremy’s heavy footsteps sound from the top of the stairs, a desperately concerned expression stamped onto his features as he looks to his wife. He had just tucked Mason in for the night after having read the little boy three bedtime stories when he heard his daughter’s tragic cries from downstairs. If there’s one thing in this world that he can’t take –– aside from when his fantasy football league does shockingly bad –– it’s when his children cry, and there’s nothing he can do to make it better. It makes him feel so inadequate that he can’t protect his own daughter from all this.

Olivia holds up her hand to stop him from descending from the remaining steps and mouths for him to go back to the bedroom. She knows well that he’ll probably say something like how he’ll hunt down the bastard that made his little girl cry, and that’s just not what Y/n needs at this moment.

***

Saturday, October 4, 2008

From: Harry

Hey, I missed you after the game...

From: Harry

I asked Maxxie where you went, but he said you weren’t feeling well

From: Harry

Are you okay? I can bring some soup over if you’d like :( I know how much like chicken noodle :)

From: Harry

That thing with Zoey...it wasn’t what it looked like. I promise.

From: Harry

Are we okay? I know we were supposed to talk about something last night

From: Harry

Y/n, please say something...

From: Harry

Please just let me know you’re okay

The cellphone falls from her fingers and onto the floor. She pulls the blanket up to her chin and stares at the phone as it continues to light up in alert of new incoming messages. He’s been sending her texts all morning, but she can’t find it in her to reply to any of them. There had been instances where she had typed out a response, but just as quickly as she had formed it, would she delete each character. A simple and quick “I’m fine” had caused her such distress that she couldn’t help but press down on the red end button. Every time she thinks she’ll press send, it’s like there’s something stopping her. It’s the part of her that doesn’t want to give in because she knows it’ll just be harder to talk to him without that image of him and Zoey coming back to memory. There’s this question that persists in her mind, and it’s been driving her crazy since she woke up. Is she allowed to feel so upset when there might have never been anything deeper between them?

Say the answer to the question is no, how is she meant to pretend like everything about her is more than an ‘okay’? Just because they were never anything more than friends does not mean she’s allowed to feel any less hurt.

The rest of her feels numb inside, even though her eyes sting from having shed multiple tears throughout the night. Cici had tried to call her a few times, but she had sent the call straight to voicemail. She’ll reach out to them once she can talk about it without her bottom lip quivering before a single word is uttered out.

A scuffle of small footsteps behind her door distracts her from her thoughts. The shadow of figures appears in the crack that separates carpet and door. “But Daddy! These are my cookies!” Y/n smiles at the whiny voice of her brother.

“What happened to being a good sharer? And don’t think I haven’t found your little stash in the toy chest,” the second voice, her dad, says firmly. “Besides, your sister is a stress baker, so she’ll probably make you more if you ask nicely.”

“More peanut butter chocolate chip?”

“You know it.”

Suddenly, the door bursts open and bounces off the stomper from the force. “Y/n?” Mason calls, peeking his head in. “Are you awake?”

She can’t help but chuckle softy. “Yeah, Mase. I’m up.” She pulls the sheets down to prove it to him.

Her little brother gives her a toothy grin before he runs over and squirms his way into her bed. Something is clutched tightly in his small fists, and his unwillingness to release it prods her to help him up onto the mattress.

When he’s sat comfortably next to her, he holds his baggie up to her, his rounded eyes looking at her so happily. Another gentle giggle sounds from her, and she graciously takes it from him.

“Are these for me?” she teases, pushing the bangs away from his eyes.

“Mhm!” he hums, crawling closer until he too is buried under her heavy blanket, his head nudging her into her side. “Daddy said you were sad, and I don’t like it when you’re sad.”

She glances down only to find him pouting at her. He’s always been the sweetest whenever she’s had a rough day. Like when she’d sprained her ankle after a cheerleading accident a few years ago, he’d been there to cuddle with her and watch all the romantic comedies that looped on TBS and feast upon a few pints of Ben and Jerry’s Chunky Monkey. Or even a few weeks ago when she’d had the biggest headache and he’d offered to take a nap with her on the couch. “Hey.” She lifts him up and places him in her lap and squeezing lightly on his nose. “I’m feeling a lot better now that you’re here.”

Mason gasps excitedly. “Really?”

“So much better,” she confirms with a nod of the head. Even if it is just for that moment, she’s able to forget about all that’s troubling her.

“Does that mean we can we watch...13 going on...on...” His brows furrow as he tries to remember.

“30,” Y/n giggles. Reaching for the remote on her bedside table, she flicks the television on. The little boy cheers, taking the Ziplock from her and helping himself to one of her delicious peanut butter chocolate chip cookies. She looks at him knowingly. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Um...oh!” He bounces up onto his feet and shouts towards the door. “Daddy! I forgot the milk!”

***

“How do I tell a girl that I like her?”

Harry stands, looking so unsure of himself, in front of her recliner where Gemma sits, not even able to look up as he stares down at his sock-clad feet. All morning he’d tried to get a hold of her, but each time he had sent a text and received nothing back, he grew more and more anxious about all the things that had happened within the last twelve or so hours –– he stopped counting after sending the eighteenth message because now he’s just starting to annoy himself.

“Being honest with her is always a start,” she responds, shutting the book she’d been reading and placing it on the table. “What’s her name?”

Sighing, he plops down on the couch, his eyes focusing on nothing but the ceiling. “Y/n.”

“Was she the one you were snogging at the game?”

“No,” he says. He turns on his side, tucking his hand under the decorative pillow. “And that’s probably why she won’t answer any of my texts.”

Had he just pushed Zoey away as soon as she had come on to him, maybe this wouldn’t be happening. Y/n was going to tell him something, and now he realizes that he might have just blown his chance.

***

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

“Are you sure you want to go today? I can call the office and say you’re highly contagious and need to be put in isolation,” Jeremy suggests as they park outside the school’s entrance.

This manages to make her smile. “I have an Algebra test after lunch, but I’ll hold on to that offer,” she smirks. After the weekend, she was able to somewhat clear her head and come to terms with the truth. It sucks, that’s a given, but the sooner she accepts it, the sooner this ugly feeling can go away. After spending the rest of her Saturday watching movies with Mason, followed by helping her dad make a birthday dinner for her mom –– thank goodness she had bought her present months in advance –– and slowly did she start to keep all thoughts of Harry shoved into the back of her mind.

Besides, she had already stayed home yesterday.

Jeremy places a hand on her shoulder, his eyes still showing worry as he studies her. The last few days had been rough for the entire household, and not to make it about him, but he had somehow become both her and Mason’s personal butler. (He won’t even get into how the little boy had tricked him into buying both pizza and tacos on Saturday night when it had been Jeremy’s turn to pick dinner. Definitely gets it from his wife’s side of the family.) “You’re sure?” Y/n nods, but something in him refuses to let go. “I can work from home today to keep you company. You know how those college interns always stress me out with all that entitled talk.”

“Dad,” she warns. His lips purse to the side, and he falls back in his seat, his hands gripping the steering wheel. Obviously, she can’t allow for this to affect her schooling, especially since Mrs. Phillips makes it nearly impossible to make up a test, no matter how many mocha macarons she leaves on her desk! Although, it’s incredibly sweet of her dad to let her skip another day of class in favor of staying home with him and most likely ordering Chinese from Jade Garden. “If I want to go home, I’ll call you. Kay?”

A few seconds pass and more cars begin to queue behind them before he forcibly agrees and unlocks the door. He really is easy to convince. She smiles and leans over and kisses him on the cheek.

“Promise you’ll let me know if you’re not up to it?”

Opening the car door and hopping out, she turns back. “I promise.”

***

“Now remember what I told you,” Gemma tells him as they park behind the car ahead of them. Usually it’s Anne that drops him off, but his older sister had basically lifted him into her car (he didn’t even she was so strong) and buckled him up herself. “And don’t be dramatic about it, yeah? That’s why movies last so long, because no one can ever spit a bloody thing out!”

“I heard you the first twenty times,” Harry sighs, playing with straps of his bag. They’ve probably rehearsed everything he’s going to say to her over a hundred times already, and that’s not even an exaggeration. In fact, now he’s afraid that when he talks to her it’s going to sound completely scripted and she’ll probably think he’s mocking her.

Gemma whacks up upside the head. “Don’t use that tone with me, not after I listened to you go on and on about how cute you think Y/n’s nose is.”

“Say it louder, I don’t think she can hear you.”

She ignores him, and squints as students appear in bulks by the steps. “Okay, so which one is she?”

***

All anyone is talking about is the victory against Pleasant Valley, as well as added gossip pertaining to what had happened after. It’s like everyone wants her to be fragile in front of the whole school, and it’s a bit tempting for her right now if she’s being honest. She does her best to avoid listening, really, she does! But no matter how high she turns the volume up on her iPod –– it’s okay, she loves David Archuleta –– she can still hear his name being followed by someone she had once considered to be a friend.

“Are you sure you should be here?” Maxxie presses, pulling her left earbud out. “I mean, you’ve already finished your test. Why don’t you just go home? Relax! Take a nap! You know, that sounds like a fabulous idea!”

“You’re starting to sound like my dad,” Y/n arches her brow. “And just like I told him, I’m fine.” The day’s almost over and she’s succeeded in avoiding him. It started with Mr. Noone cancelling class due to a family emergency, so she was able to hideout in the courtyard behind the big oak tree. Next, she had purposely gone to Algebra a minute before the bell and finished the test in about thirty minutes (don’t worry, she’s almost positive that got everything right). During lunch, she had decided to hide in the Home Economics room, which wasn’t all too bad since she was able to finish spreading the chocolate on top of the eclairs (usually she has to come back after dismissal to do it). But she knows she can’t play this game forever.

Maxxie clicks his teeth together, all thoughts of going to Geometry forgotten as he follows closely behind her. “But think about it!” He pulls on her arm to turn her around. “Class?” He holds his hand, palm up. “Nap?” The other hand does the same. “Class?” He shakes his head. “Nap?” He nods. The scale fluctuates for a bit, until he ultimately decides which one has more power over the other. “I think the choice is pretty obvious here.”

“I changed my mind,” she says airily, and he smiles brightly thinking about how Cici won’t yell at him now that he’s convinced her to skip her last class with Harry. They had made a plan to keep the two apart until they’re sure Y/n is okay. “You’re way worse than my dad.”

His grin quickly loses its cheer as she walks past him and walks into Señora Gustavo’s room without hesitation.

“Cici’s gonna chop my balls off,” he whimpers, covering his vulnerable self.

***

“I like you.” He keeps repeating it under his breath. He just wishes he’ll be able to say it once she’s in front of him because he doesn’t know if he can take much more of this.

When she walks in, he’s ecstatic. It’s been three whole days since he’s last talked to her, and as she approaches her seat, he can feel his heart thud faster and faster. Right now, it’s a no brainer, he needs to take his sister’s advice and not chicken out because he’s sure if he waits any longer, she’ll probably think he’s not interested. Which in his head, might be the absolute worst thing that can happen because he’s practically bursting feeling the exact opposite. If he were a little more courageous, he would’ve shouted the contents of his heart when he had seen her this morning at her locker.

“Hoy quiero que hables sólo en español por favor,” Señora Gustavo says cheerily. The rest of the class groans, pulling out their notes. “A partir de aquí, no se permite inglés.”

“For fuck’s sake...” he grumbles, his hand comes and slaps over his eyes. Great, because he totally prepared this speech in Spanish. It’s like the world is conspiring against him, he’s sure of it! He glances at her, and briefly do their eyes meet before she quickly looks away. Flipping through his notes, he looks for something that may guide him in this situation.

“Uh, Y/n?” He slowly reaches for her hand. “Necesito decirte algo muy importante.”

She tucks her lips between her teeth. He squeezes her hand, and before she can stop herself, she faces him. Almost instantly, it becomes too much. Just looking into his seafoam green eyes that stare back at her the way he always does when they’re together makes her weak at the knees. Except this time, it’s different. All she feels is the constriction in her chest. “¿Qué?” she replies quietly. “Dilo ya por favor.”

“Sobre ese tiempo en tu...” He quickly peeks at his notes about parts a house. Fuck. What’s the damn word for living room? Of all the days for their teacher to have them practice their conversational skills, it just had to be when he has to do this. “...en tu sala de estar. Yo quería-”

“Creo que deberíamos olvidarlo.”

“W-What?” he stutters, and she looks away. Why would she want them to forget about it? “Y/n, I’m trying to tell you that-”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Señora tuts from her desk. She gives him a warning look and points to instructions on the whiteboard where she had written today’s rule. “No inglés.”

Y/n thinks she might end up hating herself for this, but she needs to stop this before she hurts ever more. If she can tell him that, then maybe she’ll start believing it and move on from all this. “Fue un error.”

It was a mistake.

Harry lets go of her hand, turning back in his chair to face the front of the room. His head is spinning, and he thinks he might not have heard her correctly. “¿Es eso lo que ibas a decirme? ¿El viernes?” But she doesn’t respond, just continues to avert her eyes from his. “Dime...” it’s barely above a whisper because he might not want to hear it. He’s afraid of hearing it.

“Lo siento.”

***

#president!harry #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles au #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles drabble #one direction #one direction fanfiction

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hemogobbler · 6 years

Text

Winter Warmer

A short (1k), fun catradora fic. Hopefully it keeps you as warm as it kept me writing it! Set shortly after a post-redemption arc, Catra drags Adora’s drunk ass home on the eve of Bright Moon’s big winter celebration. Teen + up, feedback always appreciated, merry xmas! Ao3 link.

Catra kicked open the door and brought a messy, uncoordinated Adora through, who was still giggling. ‘Twas the night before Bright Moon’s winter celebration, and Adora was positive she would be sleeping through the feast tomorrow. It was too cold to be anywhere but Catra’s arms, anyway.

She found herself nuzzling into Catra’s neck, who propped her up while holding the Sword of Protection in her other hand. Adora’s room was scarce, only furnished with pictures of friends and the occasional exotic weapon - the outline of an axe glowed pink in the moonlight, resting safely in the corner. It was the one thing Adora could see, save for the shadow of an inviting bed.

“You missed the light switch,” mumbled Adora, smelling of Bright Moon’s finest selection of booze.

‘Winter warmers,’ Glimmer called them, when Queen Angella brought out the royal selection and insisted that Glimmer have only one. She didn’t listen, naturally, and Bow had a difficult time keeping her civil.

“Don’t need it,” Catra winked at her.

Blue and yellow eyes easily found the bed, and she deftly avoided a few thumbtacks on the floor that she recognized as Adora’s revision materials. She swatted them away with her tail and lowered Adora gently down, one arm wrapped all the way around her back and holding her shoulder.

For Adora, at that moment, time slowed. Catra’s eyes seemed to burn, and it illuminated her face. She was smirking, that cocky smile that Adora knew took so much pleasure in seeing her helpless. Smiling back, she reached out and touched Catra’s hair with one hand, then both, and ran her fingers through it, reveling in its sheer mass and, as she reached her cheeks, the warmth of her skin.

Whatever words Adora had died as her head hit the pillow. An uncomfortably loud groan of relief escaped her.

“Ohh… that’s good. THAT is GOOD.”

“You are a disaster,” Catra laughed. “Where d’you want the sword?” She held it, swaying like a pendulum, between just a few fingers. She was still not friends with it.

“Eh, jus - just under the bed’s fine.”

“Really?” Catra asked, incredulous. “This almighty sword of the goddess? Just dump it with all your flashcards? What if some lovable rogue strolled by in the dead of the night and snatched it while the drunken princess was sleeping?”

She eyed the sword once more before dropping it. She kicked it under the bed before sitting down next to Adora. She began trailing a finger over Adora’s arm, at times reaching her palm and clasping around her hand.

“Any sneaky kitty trying that would be LOATHE to encounter my hyper-alert sense of hearing and - and freakin’ YEARS of elite training and - ”

“‘Would be loathe?’” Catra snickered. “Wow, you are drunk, I don’t even know what you’re saying. How much did you have?”

“I didn’t have any! It was She-Ra!” Adora proclaimed.

“Classic. Blame She-Ra. You were the one who demanded a drinking contest with Seahawk.” She tucked a hand underneath Adora’s blouse and tickled her tummy, eliciting shrieks of laughter until Adora admitted fault.

“Okay, you win! Stop! Stop! I was just helping him get the party started, and it worked. Turns out even the stuffy old castle dwellers can’t resist watching She-Ra bench a barrel of ancient mulberry cider,” She paused. “And then drink it.” Adora flushed and held her stomach. “Anyway, Seahawk looked so sad before Mermista arrived. I had to do something,” Adora spoke with a genuine, heartfelt tone that Catra immediately noticed.

“Yeah, that’s my b. I told him she wasn’t coming,” Catra shrugged, and Adora returned a furious, sober gaze. “What? He’s annoying!”

“Catra, that’s so mean! You need to apologize!” She decoupled her hand from Catra’s. Catra held Adora’s cheek instead.

“Yeah, I’m not gonna do that. And you’re totally gonna forget by tomorrow so I think I’m off the hook,” She stuck her tongue out.

“I promise you I will remember this out of spite,” Adora said, yawning and placing her hand on top of Catra’s. “You’ll see.” Adora was beginning to drift off, becoming more incoherent as her blue eyes faded into darkness. “I thought… big muscles.... big metabolism…”

Catra, still holding her cheek, leaned in close. Adora’s soft, short breaths relaxed into longer ones, though they were still just as smelly as they hit Catra’s nose. She didn’t mind. Adora’s hair fell loose with the flick of a claw, and smelt much nicer than her breath. Cheek-to-cheek, Catra whispered in her ear.

“Hey, Adora.”

“Mhm?” Adora’s eyes lazily opened, her last thread of consciousness all but severed. She noticed how close Catra was; still cradling her face, touching her ear, body resting on hers now, and her heart jumped.

“Earrings,” Catra remarked, gingerly unhooking Adora’s simple golden loops and placing them on the side in two swift motions, head never leaving Adora’s side. Catra backed up slightly and looked at her with that smile.

Before Adora could muddle together a drowsy thank you, she felt Catra’s lips press against hers. They closed their eyes and hardly moved, enjoying the pure feeling of closeness. Catra tenderly held Adora’s bottom lip, stroking the back of her head carefully. Circling her arms around Catra’s sides, Adora let out a quiet, content moan as she gave her an affectionate squeeze. Catra tried to pull back but Adora moved in, determined to make it last a second longer. They reopened their eyes as Catra withdrew.

“Mulberry? Not bad, I guess,” Catra said, licking her lips. “Or maybe that’s all you.”

Adora couldn’t speak for a time, and Catra thought she might have fallen asleep again, or was about to throw up. She really hoped it was the former.

“I love you, Catra,” Adora’s words broke the night. They were so gentle, so tired and yet so firm. Catra was thankful for the darkness surrounding them: it made everything just two shades. So much easier to speak, and so encouraged by the death of the day.

“Love you too, Adora, I do.”

A peck on the forehead later and Adora was asleep, while Catra, on her midnight walk back, thought hard about apologizing to Seahawk.

#catradora #catradora fic #spop #she ra #she ra 2018 #ty for reading <3 #she ra netflix #fluff #fic

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ambiengrey · 6 years

Text

Shapeshifter

I read this post on tumblr; and felt inspired. Sidenote: the second half I wrote the next day, so it ended up in another tense entirely. Idek.

Bruce passed through the grandfather clock in his study and trudged down the steps to the Batcave at a glacial pace, rubbing at sore eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

He’d only just returned home from a too-long business trip spent clothed in the persona of Brucie Wayne, which, while it did afford him the opportunity nowadays to gush a little and mostly boast about his children and their successes as he was expected to do – and secretly, or not so secretly enjoyed – it was a tiresome half-act amongst the world’s upper-crust, judgemental riches nonetheless.

He was happy to be home.

He’d be happy to go back to patrolling as well, though it was getting to be too early for that. The sun would be on the rise in a couple of hours, and by this time in general, he and the kids were usually headed home.

Bruce had no doubt, thus, that this was where he would find his three sons and daughter – coming in from what he could only hope had been a relatively quiet patrol, all of them home safe now and none the worse for wear – which was more the reason he was heading for the cave than any desire to squeeze in an hour or two’s patrol before sunrise himself.

There was chatter from the computer console, Bruce could hear when he at last reached the foot of the stairs, and when he looked up, focusing his tired eyes, he could see Tim in his chair, still in uniform. Cass sat on the desk next to the keyboard, legs swinging, and Dick and Damian were the ones speaking; only, as Bruce approached, it wasn’t their voices that caught his attention.

Instead, there was a somewhat indistinct mutter coming from—

Bruce frowned, and concentrated on the muffled, incoherent speech, trying to determine—

The…case…?

He turned, but – there was no one there.

It was, as always, only the spare uniform of his once second son, suspended in its glass case as if worn by a rigid, invisible body standing at attention.

My soldier.

My fault.

“A good soldier. A good ‘soldier.’ A good soldier.”

Bruce blinked, startled when the indistinguishable muttering suddenly became words in his ears.

But, still – where was it—?

“Betrayed. Betrayed. Betrayed me. Never avenged me. Never avenged me. Never-never-never—”

Bruce glanced all around, lost in his head, entranced by the voice – Jason’s voice – as he tried desperately to find where the young man was hiding, or—

Or, was this all in Bruce’s head?

Was he hallucinating his once dead son’s voice in his head? Was this the fatigue getting to him?

Or, something else? Why would it now, suddenly—?

“Betrayed-betrayed-betrayed. Never avenged me. You let the clown live.”

What was going on—?

“Father!” Damian’s voice cut in through Jason’s, all but startling Bruce out of his stupor.

He released a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding, hands coming to rest on his youngest’s small shoulders. “Damian…” he half-sighed. “I apologize, I was—distracted.”

“Tt,” Damian rolled his eyes.

“You’re not going mad, B,” Tim, who’d spun the chair around, said, too loudly. “We hear him, too.”

“Ear buds, Timmy,” Dick admonished, pointing, at the same time that Cass reached over from behind Tim to pop one ear bud out of his ear.

“Oh,” Tim said, taking the one from Cass and removing the other, “Heh, right. Sorry…”

Bruce only frowned harder.

“Honestly, Father,” Damian started, sounding exasperated and annoyed as he shrugged Bruce’s still-lingering hands from his shoulders. “Are you blind?”

Bruce looked down at him, and Damian, scowling, arms crossed, tilted his head in the direction of the case. “Look again.”

Bruce spared his other three children a brief glance, Jason’s voice distinct in his ears, never stopping, before he, if somewhat cautiously, looked back over at the case. “I don’t—” he started, feeling somewhat ridiculous and—exposed—with all his children’s eyes on him as he looked to that – but then, he did see it.

Nothing in the case or on it, but rather—next to it, seemingly facing it.

Like boulders, the same grey as the rest of the cave floor and walls, only, they weren’t rocks, they hardly seemed solid in fact, and the longer he looked at them the less they even seemed still.

They were just shapes.

A collection of grey, indiscriminate shapes, falling over and bumping into each other, moving one moment and still, almost unnoticeable the next, moving in a little cluster, all of them a heap barely reaching Damian’s height.

Moreover, and this was the most important and most alarming thing – Jason’s voice appeared to be coming from the mound of shapes.

“Let the clown live-live-live. Betrayed me. Never avenged me. Never-never-never—”

“What,” Bruce started, only somewhat unintentionally sounding like The Batman, “Exactly, am I looking at?”

“It’s Jason…”

“Todd.”

“Jason.”

“Hm-hm.”

A beat passed – “Betrayed-betrayed-betrayed—” – before Bruce breathed – in, deeply, and exhaled in a huff, turning back to his children, all of whom stood watching him with varying expressions of apprehension.

“Say that again,” he said slowly, “Use, smaller words, this time.”

“Uhhhhh...” Dick put a finger to his chin, his other hand on his hip, looking like he was genuinely thinking of smaller words. “It’s…Jason.”

“The one who failed.”

“Jason ‘once-a-Robin-always-an-ass’ Todd?”

Cassandra gestured with her hands, forming vague shapes, “Your son.”

“Tt.”

Bruce couldn’t tell if they were being serious or if this entire situation was just an awful prank. Had they gotten him on April Fools?

He didn’t remember.

“Just, explain how this happened,” he instructed, and at once four people opened their mouths to reply. Bruce threw up a halting hand, “Only one speak.”

“Todd was being an imbecile!” Damian declared at once.

“Dami!” Dick rebuked short on his heels, coming to stand by his youngest brother, dropping a hand on the boy’s shoulder, “That’s not—…technically untrue,” Damian smirked. “But let’s not point any fingers,” Dick intoned meaningfully, glancing sideways in the direction of the case, and…Jason, apparently. A bundle of shapes.

Bruce’s estranged son was a bundle of shapes.

Well.

“Died-died-died—didn’t die. You let the clown live.”

“There was a magician in town while you were away,” Tim started up, speaking quickly, when a momentary silence brought Jason’s voice back to their ears. “He and Jason apparently fought, and then there was a spell and now Jason is—” Tim paused, half-gesturing; Jason’s clumsy, chanting grey form speaking for itself.

“Shapes,” Bruce filled in the word anyway, brows furrowing even more.

“Shapeshifter,” Cass corrected.

“What?”

“At first he changed in normal ways, and, at will,” Dick began. “Different hairstyles, different hair colours – blonde, redhead, he had a little white streak in his fringe, and a really obnoxiously chiselled jaw at one point—” Dick gestured at his own chin with a thumb and forefinger, lips pursed, when Tim apparently decided it was time to cut in—

“But then he started changing into other things—”

“A dragon,” Damian supplied. “Which would have been somewhat impressive if he wasn’t such a tiny thing that couldn’t breathe fire or fly – he just sat there, flopping his little wings, fwap-fwap,” Damian gestured with his hands, scowling.

“You thought he was cute,” Cassandra said, having come up next to her littlest brother, to poke him in the arm.

“I did no such thing!” Damian snapped at once, hands fisted and ears tinged pink.

“Wanted to keep him. As a pet.”

“Quiet, Cain!”

“The robot he turned into next was…interesting,” Tim went on, before Bruce could give into his impatience and demand someone finish explaining. “But it was around there things went a little……haywire.”

Dick snickered, briefly, “But, we’re figuring it out. The magician said the spell would wear off eventually, the timeframe for it depending on the person,” he shrugged. “Nothing else to do but wait it out, apparently. He seemed sincere enough—”

“After some persuasion,” Damian mumbled.

“But just in case, we’ve been researching every known account of shape shifting caused by magic, and/or superpowers, permanent and otherwise. We’ll fix him if it comes to that,” Dick squeezed Damian’s shoulder; more to comfort himself than the younger kid, Bruce knew.

“You let the clown live-live-live.”

“He can’t…change back of his own volition?”

Tim shook his head, “That doesn’t seem to be the case. After the dragon, when he started shifting into things that weren’t human anymore, it seemed like he...”

“Got lost,” Cass said, solemn.

“Yeah…he doesn’t seem to know what’s going on at all. He’s stuck on…just the one thing.”

“He says the same things over and over,” Dick added quietly, the atmosphere in the cave having noticeably turned sombre. “Just stays there in the corner…by the case,” a tiny hint of disapproval in Dick’s tone at the word, that, Bruce knew, wasn’t for Jason, but rather for him. “Swears at you sometimes.”

“Hm.”

“Never-never-never—”

“Do you have any reason to suspect your magician might have been lying – about the spell wearing off?”

“Um,” the kids exchanged glances, before the boys collectively turned to Cass.

She gave Bruce a look, and he knew she knew what his intentions were depending on that answer.

“No.”

“Are you certain?” he asked pointedly, earning another distinct look.

“Yes,” she said, firmly.

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. The backs of his eyes were burning with fatigue and—something else.

“Get some rest then. You have things to do in the morning.”

None of them moved, however.

“We can all stay, Bruce, really. We don’t mind,” Dick said, and there was no tongue-click from Damian, who had his eyes firmly fixed on the floor and his arms crossed again.

“Yeah,” Tim agreed, “It’s no bother,” even as his fist clenched tighter round his ear buds.

Cassie gave him a small smile, “Come,” she ordered, grabbing Tim by the elbow and reaching for Dick’s free hand. “Sleep-time. Now,” she tugged. “Everyone – in Bruce’s bed. The biggest one.”

Dick exhaled a laugh, “Yeah, okay. C’mon, Little D,” he was already moving, half-guiding Damian along with his hand on the boy’s shoulder, but the entire procession halted when Damian stopped short not a full two paces along.

His arms tightened against his chest for only a moment, before he uncrossed them and spun back towards Bruce, determined, “Father—” but he came up short, lips left parted to say something more he was plainly uncertain of.

Bruce dropped to one knee in front of him, Dick’s hand discreetly slipping from the boy’s shoulder. “It’s good to see you, Damian,” Bruce said quietly, and Damian snapped his mouth shut. “I’m happy to be home, son. Get some rest, chum – please. We can talk in the morning.”

Damian watched him a moment longer, his blue eyes flitting this way and that across Bruce’s face. “Yes, Father,” he answered at last, posture relaxing. “I’m—it’s good to see you, as well,” and, swift as his reflexes would allow, Damian threw his arms round Bruce’s neck, squeezed and let go in what felt like only a second – far too fast for Bruce to properly react, at least – “Good-night,” before he’d sprinted past his siblings, heading for the stairs.

“Race!” Cassandra announced at once, and spun on her heel, running off.

“What—hey! That’s cheating!” Tim accused, following quickly in her wake.

Dick was grinning at their retreating forms, though, as Bruce got up. His eldest boy turned round to him, his smile somewhat diminished. Dick closed the gap between them without a word, to give Bruce a more proper hug, “He’ll be fine,” he said, as he pulled back. “Pissed to see you, probably,” he added with a rue smile and a shrug, glancing at the case. “But mostly fine.”

Bruce nodded in lieu of an answer, unconvinced that “thank you” was enough of a reply.

Dick seemed to know what he meant anyway, for he grinned, nodded back, and ran off after his siblings, “No fair, guys – you started without me!”

“Your uniform, Master Tim,” Alfred’s voice drifted from the top of the stairs as Bruce turned his back on the scene, turning once again to the case instead.

He stepped closer, somewhat cautious, not entirely certain how Jason in all his shifting, shaped glory would react to him – if he might be just the thing to snap his son from his uncomprehending state.

“Jason…?” Bruce whispered, when he was a mere pace away, but—

There was no reaction apart from the norm—

“Betrayed me. Betrayed me. Betrayed me.”

Sighing, forlorn, Bruce sunk to the cave floor, legs crossed, hands resting on his knees.

“Kiddo? Can you hear me…?”

“Never avenged me,” the shape seemed to hiss, and shift, and Bruce felt inexplicably as if it – as if Jason – had turned from the case to face him directly, even though there was no discernable face to his form that could prove it.

“Never-never-never,” his chant continued.

“I’ll just…sit here with you, then,” Bruce said quietly. “Until you feel better.”

“Betrayed me. Betrayed-betrayed-betrayed—

“You let the clown live!”

Bruce’s eyes droop for a moment, and he thinks, if fleetingly, that he might just rest them a little, at last. There’s no fear of falling asleep, at least – not with his second son’s continued chanting in his ears, in his head, echoing around his insides—

“Betrayed me. Betrayed me. Betrayed me.”

In fact, it’s because the chant stops unexpectedly, leaving the cave stunningly silent, that Bruce’s eyes snap open again at once, because—

What’s happened now?

Has he shifted into something else again—?

And—

Oh. Oh no.

He has.

Bruce blinks, as if to clear his vision, disbelief plain in his expression, and he’s not quick enough to hide it before his eyes meet Jason’s – back to their usual blue-green mix even as they no longer reflect all the usual angry hurt Bruce has come to associate with them. Because…Jason’s eyes have smoother contours, less angry lines, brows knit together in confusion instead of rage, and, freckles all over his nose and cheeks like he’d spent all day in the sun—

“What?” Jason asks, from where he lies on the cave floor curled into a ball, like he honestly doesn’t know, and his voice cracks a little like he hasn’t used it in forever, or, maybe, like he’s used it too much—

Bruce means to say something, but Jason’s the one blinking now, like he finally remembers, and he’s upright before Bruce can react, looking at his hands and the green gauntlets he wears, his expression—

Stunned. And…terrified.

“Jason—”

“No!” Jason snaps, jumping to his feet and tugging at his bright yellow cape all at the same time, “No, I’m not this anymore!” he’s frantic, and turning, and pulling at his gauntlets, and Bruce—

Has hardly been breathing, is half on his haunches and hesitating – does he grab the kid—the kid, what the hell?—by his shoulders and force him to calm down? Does he say something – what even?

For all that he looks thirteen, it’s still Jason – grown, once-dead, resurrected, vengeful Jason, and Bruce…Bruce has never known how to handle him.

“Jason,” Bruce tries again, cutting into the boy’s hissed curses at his irremovable gauntlets and boots, the swinging cape—

Jason finally looks at him again, face furious, throwing his cape aside as he swipes one hand defiantly through the air, “This isn’t me anymore!” he hisses, sounds more like himself even as his voice is the same half-forgotten echo Bruce sometimes hears in his dreams – when he dreams of all the mistakes he made and the things he regrets.

Jason scowls at Bruce just long enough for the older vigilante to gather his wits and remind himself he meant to say something placating, but then Jason has turned his head, looked away, and—

Bruce watches his son’s expression change, at first, anger and defiance back into the same shock and fear as when he saw he was Robin, and then—

The uniform he wears is tattered, and bloodied, frayed and burnt round the edges, his cape torn and half his mask missing – a twisted reflection of the suit in the case Jason’s staring at.

Jason’s gotten taller, his shoulders broader, in the almost-second it took Bruce to blink, and – there are already bruises blossoming beneath the tears in his uniform, blood trailing down his arms and legs, matted in his hair, and, his breathing has gone ragged, his knees weak—

“S’not’me,” he mumbles, wide-eyed, at the case, when he slumps to the ground and, Bruce has already moved to catch him—

—only, it’s not a fifteen year old, battered and bruised teenager he wraps his arms around, but his twenty-one year old son instead, the young man’s head lolling to the side, resting against Bruce’s shoulder as he mumbles one last time, “It’s not me…”

Bruce has his arm round Jason’s shoulders, his other hand on his son’s arm, gripping tight, “Jason?”

But Jason’s eyes have fallen shut, and the slow, rhythmic up-and-down of his chest suggest he’s fallen right asleep – likely a result of all the magic he’s been exposed to and all the shifting he’s done, not to mention how long he’d been in one incomprehensible form, muttering non-stop.

Bruce puts two fingers to his pulse anyway.

There are tears blurring the edges of his vision and Bruce can still feel his heart hammering in his ribcage, the image of his beaten, broken son, the corpse he’d found in a warehouse, burned into his mind’s eye anew.

Bruce lets out a shaky breath, shoulder’s slumping and his grip on Jason tightening.

“You’re right, chum…” he whispers. “You’re not…” he looks up, barely moving his head, to catch sight of the case and Jason’s old suit, “That anymore…you’re…someone else entirely, and I…” he trails off, uncertain. When he speaks again a moment later, it’s to address the butler he’s well aware of, in as composed a manner as on any other day, “Make up a room for him, Alfred. We should keep an eye on him, in case this…happens again.”

“Indeed, sir,” Alfred replies, as expected, but Bruce isn’t unaware of all the things Alfred doesn’t say.

#this one is kinda my fav #B*#bruce wayne #jason todd #dick grayson #cassandra cain #tim drake #damian wayne #alfred pennyworth #insert writing tag here #thursday's throwback has far to go #2015 writing

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trickstarbrave · 3 years

Text

I see some of my old posts abt this getting likes still so I did feel the need for whatever reason to post an update or rather restatement to my views on the topic

I know this is a horribly tired topic that was discoursed to hell and then left behind and for good reason so as a warning: ace discourse below

First and foremost I’m not in the business of telling ppl wholesale they don’t belong in the community. The vast majority of ace ppl are also other various lgbt identies and trying to “remove” people from the community is not a thing I’d ever advocate for nor have I really ever as far as I can remember. If I have in bad faith I would like to extend an apology bc I have bad memories problems and think those actions are wrong and harmful. If the consensus is ace ppl are lgbt then I’m not here to say everyone else is wrong and I’m the authority on lgbt identities. We are a coalition group, a mashing of communities w sometimes shared histories and experiences. Even if I think ace and aro ppl don’t have as many of those in common I don’t get to decide if they are or not. They are now and I’m more focused on making that work

Still though since it’s inception the ace community has not been a very healthy one. As at best a newer addition to the lgbt community being brought to light and given a label and community, the community has been toxic. Much of the foundational moments for identity were from the AVEN forums and a lot of harmful misogynistic, transphobic, homophobic, and ableist things were said on their and supported. This kind of behavior has continued well into the community even today.

This is not a moral judgment on asexuals or aromamtics. I’m aromantic. I was also subjected to these things. I always felt alienated from the community. Even when trying to engage behavior was half the time welcoming and understanding and half the time felt very hostile. I point this out because again: many asexuals and aromantics are other lgbt identies and this rhetoric is very harmful. It’s alienating. It makes you feel guiltier at times. Furthermore at times the community pressured ppl who did not have absolutely any desire for sex in any capacity to be okay with it, as though they were on the same level as people who liked and enjoyed sexual acts removed from sexual attraction to people. Sometimes it encouraged harassing people for saying having sex was a vital part of relationships for them and they felt incompatable with someone who was repulsed by sex and didn’t feel abstaining for a hypothetical ace partner would be healthy for either of them. Even more alarming was qpp’s, really originating from the aro community, spreading and simply being a tool for a while in many circles to coerce people into relationships who otherwise wouldn’t be okay with polyamory or were underaged. I’ve seen so much harm and been subjecting to it that I did have to (and still want to but avoid it for stress reasons) point this out. Even more alarming was during the discourse era seeing big name ace bloggers with large underaged followings bring on self admitted pedophiles to their blogs, and refusing to apologize when said pedophile admitted to sexually harassing minors. Lies were spread to demonize lesbians especially, and to a degree gay men as well, including that we steal funding we don’t need

As well (currently) the lgbt community hasn’t had the best resources to provide a good environment for ace and aro issues, and the ace community has not made it a priority in many spheres to curate those spaces either. As an aro sexual abuse victim there were many times I didn’t want to see public displays of affection or hear abt sexuality of any kind at times (despite not being ace) and I knew asking for those to cease in lgbt spaces would be harmful and come across as bigoted. Lgbt spaces are places to express your comfort in your identity and your relationships in the way cishet ppl can whenever they want to in society. Seeking out spaces without that just meant retreating and being alone. A curated space for aro and ace ppl would have removed tension I know many people have had and still do experience by providing refuge for sex and romance repulsed ace and aro ppl

I felt more boundaries would be beneficial, as while trans people are no doubt a part of the lgbt community (regardless of how many trabsphobes say we don’t belong), trans specific areas and communities still exist. Trans spaces where trans experiences are centered are a priority. The ace community regardless needs better spaces for ace people besides social media and Internet forums. It needs structure and accountability. It needs to unlearn harmful practices and bigotry that have run rampant for their own members’ sake, not for the sake of outside people to see validity in it.

And for a while, people who were otherwise cisgendered, heteroromantic and asexual would speak out in lgbt spaces about trans and gay issues because this is the “same community”. Cis gay men have no authority on lesbian, bi, or trans issues. Cis lesbians have no authority on gay men’s, bi, or trans issues. Cis heterosexual trans ppl shouldn’t talk abt lgbp issues w authority. Cishet ace and aro ppl shouldn’t talk those either. A lot of the hostility and early discourse was abt that, about those bloggers who very quickly left the discussions and website entirely in some cases, speaking about issues that shouldn’t concern them. About homophobia and how it should be treated or tolerated, using slurs they had no right using, and more. Even more alienating was ppl saying a character was ace rather than gay, and when pointed out they could be both it resulted in backlash as trying to take away ace representation, and then real human survivors of sexual abuse who were dead were framed as ace icons and ace representation while framing their discussions of their reactions to sexual abuse as “the ace experience”. Lies spread that ace conversion therapy was a thing and that doctors were going to hold you down and feed you medicine to make you want to have sex, terrifying many young bloggers on this website who genuinely believed and lived in fear of this happening until they were told it was misinformation and lies.

(Yes you can be sexually assaulted for being ace, yes victims of sexual abuse can as a result ID as ace or aro, that’s not what I’m arguing against in case somehow someone finds a way )

But from the other side I’ve seen and spoken out against people who just said bigoted things. Claiming there were too many gender and sexuality identities. I think the split attraction model is limited to ace and aro ppl to explain our identities more coherently and misapplying it to others only servers in the end to stigmatize various sexualities, but this went beyond that. For many people “grey” and “demi” modifiers are useful. I’m grey aro. My romantic feelings are complicated and inconsistent enough I think it’s not average. Sure to a degree “anyone” could be demi or aro and many ppl in the ace community have misattributed those modified identities to ppl who didn’t even fully explore how they felt, but they are not worthless. I can count to you how many times I’ve felt genuine romantic attraction, and I do not fully understand the intricacies of romantic attraction, nor the differences at time between platonic feelings in practice. I was mocked for my identity several times and saw people with identities like mine mocked. This was not a discussion of it these identities were harmful like claiming disassociating during sex was a normal sexual identity. At worst they are unnecessary.

I’ve been always more invested abt having a better community for ace and aro ppl bc that’s what I ultimately wanted. No, they didn’t have the messy intertwined history of other lgbt identities but also they didn’t have to be. Lgbt or not there wasn’t a space for ace and aro ppl I thought was really healthy. It was either they existed there in a group with other people with their issues being talked about or not at all. Ace pride colors were based on the at times toxic forum website AVEN. The aro community was often overlooked by ace ppl or at times actively thrown under the bus.

And lies and misinformation was still spread. Pieces of history incoherently being co-opted and misappropriated to seem legitimate. And to top it all off ace and aro specific oppression was incoherently discussed to. How different forms of oppression work together and often feed into each other or take new shapes was ignored. Studies were extremely limited in scope, loaded, and mostly inconclusive. Facets of misogyny and even homophobia were framed as ace exclusive and unique experiences, and people lied about real life discrimination for being ace (usually these were young people like the 15 y/o who claimed to have two gay dads who kicked her out for being ace, so I won’t dwell on those as much. Tumblr has been a weird website). Discussions of race especially were riddled w terrible behavior from white ace bloggers who resorted to lying, shaming, and guilt tripping. All this only serves to fan the flames and drive a wedge between communities even tho inclusionists claimed it was all evil exclusionists doing while refusing to call out the misinformation and bigotry they often spread. There was no purpose in harassing bloggers of color, no purpose in terrifying children so they lived in fear of medical professionals and most ppl, and no excuse.

Hopefully moving on from this it will truly die away, but I hope people learn from it. This wasn’t just as some ppl frame it cis gay and lesbian bloggers starting a harassment campaign to try and kick aces out on a large scale. This was a messy discussion that was years brewing until it exploded in even more vitriol, misinformation, and rage. It became an opportunity to critique an (albeit in comparison young) community for harmful behavior that was going unchecked and lead to even further bigotry, misinformation, and alienation. And the bigotry and misinformation didn’t serve a purpose and little understanding of what ace and aro people needed besides information and education to the public, which was already taking place before this, was had. And ultimately I expected more from the community at large.

To ace and aro followers and readers: I’ve seen some ugly parts of the community but I don’t necessarily demand you answer for that behavior, unless you’re personally guilt of it. I don’t say this because I have a mission to prove you’re bad. I think the community is toxic, but it will ultimately not get better unless ppl who are dedicated to it are willing to help find what resources ppl need, provide it, and refuse to encourage or call out shitty behavior. And ultimately that will come from a place of love and desire to create an environment future generations will feel welcomed in. I just don’t want other ace and aro kids being lied to about what they’ll experience, subjected to homophobia and transphobia of many colors, and at times groomed by adults. And I don’t want it based around just social media where anyone can lie abt credentials and act like an expert to further any of those horrible goals, even unintentionally

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kingoji · 7 years

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TFN17 wrap up post.

Apologies for not doing this sooner. Batteries were still too low!

While my bro and I arrived at the Hilton on Thursday and were met by so many of the friends and faces we only normally get to see at TFN already settled in and having a grand old time, for me the convention-associated shenanigans didn't start until the next day.You see, on Thursday something just as important was yet to happen: Godzilla.

Shin Godzilla was getting a one-night-only screening at select cinemas throughout the UK. If you know me well enough you know that Godzilla *probably* pips just about everything else as the thing I'm the biggest fan of. And the Japanese films have never had a UK cinematic release in my lifetime, until now. I was going, even if I went alone.Luckily I didn't have to. A small group of about seven of us all ended up going, which made it a happier experience for me. Thanks to all of you guys who came, hope you don't just bin the little figs I handed out in appreciation. ;)

For those who may not know, I'm a staff member for TFN. So a great deal of my weekend was spent flitting about doing different jobs here and there, whilst also trying to do a decent showing at the Forge table I was sharing with my bro and our Transmasters UK buds and cohorts Gav and Andy. AND trying to make sure I got to see some of the panels I was most interested in. So it was a very tiring but very satisfying weekend altogether.

Thank you, by the way, to everyone who visited the Forge and supported our arts and crafters (not just our table). I get the impression that it was a much more successful performance than it was last year, and I look forward to reading feedback from those who had stalls and getting a better sense of it all. But honestly I can only see it getting bigger and better in the future, for as long as it is desired.

Speaking of things getting bigger and better: the side panel room. I have to confess that we simply did not expect some of the events going on in there to pull in the numbers of audience that they ended up doing. Again you overwhelm us with your support and enthusiasm, and while we ended up having to repeat some items and relocate the panel room entirely to the next available room of greater size I hope we did so and informed you all promptly enough for it to have not had too negative an impact on your weekend.

Similarly, thank you all for making the Trial And Error comic a resounding success. Thanks in particular to Jim, Chris, and Andy for bringing me aboard to work on this project, and also to Gav and Herz for being wonderful collaborators who ensured the book remained of the highest visual quality throughout and bringing their own visual flair to proceedings. I was honoured, humbled, and very proud to have worked on this project and equally so with this team. I hope you everyone enjoys/ed the comic, and that those who attended the panel on it didn't find my mumbling too incoherent.

The guests I found to all be delightful as well.While I didn't get to speak to her as often as I would have liked in my free time, and didn't get to see her panel at all due to duty, Venus Terzo seemed very much to be a person where to meet her is to love her. She was very enthusiastic and seemed to be riding the wave of general good vibes on quite the high throughout the whole show. And much like Richard Newman last year, just hearing her speak in-character was enough to give me chills.

Mark Ryan was equally as enthusiastic and welcoming, and probably played the audience the most of all the guests. I think he'd be back in a heartbeat if he were asked.

Hal and Maggie were like a whirlwind of voices and energy. There was never a dull moment if you were even in earshot of them. I think it's safe to say that Hal stole the show in the script reading (which I was lucky enough to sit in on rehersals for). Given that he was often holding entire conversations with himself with three very different and distinct OTT characters, he was genuinely a sight to behold.

Maggie also got to create a Transformer for the script reading, giving a voice and personality to the convention's exclusive figure Rune (which I bought one of for her). I think she got a kick out of that, as she signed some things for people on the Sunday with Rune as a credit.Happily I did manage to make sure they all got copies of the prints I did, as well as the original art, very early on. Also managed to get my own copies signed too.

Other first-timers:

It was an honour and so very satisfying to FINALLY get Bob Budiansky to one of these things. He has probably got the dryest wit I ever met.

Jack Lawrence has proven himself to be a great bloke and very much OUR kind of guest. Fully expect him to become a regular.

Sara Pitre Durocher, sadly, I didn't get to spend much time with at all. I introduced myself, gave her a Starscream drawing, and got a couple of autographs, but otherwise I don't think I made her feel very comfortable in my presence. Sorry about that.

And Josh Perez. Oh, my god, Josh Perez.You ever meet someone for the first time and just hit it off? Within half an hour you feel like you've been besties forever? THAT'S Josh Perez. For every-fucking-one. If he doesn't become a regular I will rage-quit my life and go live in his drains or something.

As ever, it's great to see Nick, James, Simon, Geoff, Jim, and Stephen in any capacity. Although I didn't see anywhere near as much as I would have liked of Alex, Kei, and JP. But that goes for in life in general, not just the show.

I don't know where to begin with my friends, though. I was so SO happy to see and be around each and every one of you, no matter how fleetingly. Some of you are my anchors, some of you I knew before but started to get to know better, some of you i'm only really starting to learn about now. But you are all my heart and my family. I can only apologise for the little time most of you got, or that I didn't get the chance to give many goodbyes. Sadly my intorvercy and low self-esteem got the better of me as I watched all these people I loved laughing and joking with each other, and I began to feel somewhat surplus to events and had to make an unnoticed exit. Nothing upsets me more than being that guy, so next year I might handcuff myself into a group and not let it happen.

Because there WILL be next year. Wheels are turning, rooms are booked, invites are written.

Don't forget your shades.

Peace and Respect. Ed Pirrie

#tfnation #tfn2017 #tfnation2017

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