#granted these two interviews are more than an hour

[jlf23tumble]

What do you think was said in Harry's interviews with Howard? I'm just curious, I don't pick up well on stuff

Hello! At this point, I'd have to go back and relisten to them both, each interview was an hour plus of a LOT of info, and I didn't recap it at the time, so it's hard to recall it all from memory (the tags you're referring to are Harry talking about how much of his life is online, people can see how he kisses, etc., but all the talk around that moment was equally revealing). Don't beat yourself up, though, I bet you can pick it up on your own just as well, just give those interviews a listen with your own ears! I feel like this tag post from @ahurricanebehindthedoor is my own vibe, so many times people skip over the source material to get someone else's read on something when their own is just as valid (if not, more so because you'll have the benefit of ACTUALLY doing the two minutes of labor vs. just reacting to reactions).

[ssahotchnerr]

I saw your request for aaron hotchner valentine’s day! maybe an aaron hotchner x bau wife reader and they are all away on a case and they’re still there on valentine’s day and it’s been a rough case and y/n has been extremely stressed but Aaron makes sure she still feels special and treats her to a nice dinner and surprises her with flowers

too married

happy vday pt 2!!! cw; fem!reader, your usual cm case descriptions, mentions of food/alcohol, fluff <333

"it's disheartening, isn't it?"

aaron hummed from in front of you, fiddling with the key to grant the two of you access into your hotel room. "hm?"

"that we're here. on valentine's day." you could laugh if pushed, your voice sharp and inches away from wavering.

no matter how little the inflect, and even if you hadn't shown it at all, aaron still noticed it. he paused and turned back to you, a forlorn expression on his face. "sweetheart-"

"it's fine." you brought your hands to your face, frustratedly and tiredly rubbing your eyes for a moment. "sorry, i'm just looking for something to complain about. it's been a long day."

"a hard day." aaron added in your regard, reaching out to touch your arm soothingly.

your current unsub clearly hadn't felt the universal love within the air; he's been most brutal the bau had endured in a while. full of mutilation, a sickening signature, devolving by the minute.

truthfully it had gotten to you; you were finding it extremely difficult to compartmentalize, and spending most of the day staring at the graphic crime scene photos didn't help. at one point you couldn't bring yourself to look at the pictures, lowering your head down to the table and wanting nothing but to cry into aaron's shoulder.

but he was nowhere to be found, you've barely seen him. he had spent a good portion of the day conducting interviews, off following leads that only resulted in dead ends.

you did see him at lunch, but ignored his occasional, concerned glances. if you were to make eye contact with him, and despite how tempting that was, you would have lost it. in addition, the fact it was valentine's day, made it kind of worse.

sure, it was partly a hallmark, commercial holiday, but you couldn't help but yearn to be out to dinner with aaron - eating ridiculously priced food in a restaurant you could barely see him in, giggly and warm from the wine, serial killers being the least of your concerns.

and rather than going to bed to continue the night, you were going to bed to get a few hours of shut-eye if you were lucky - given the late hour and horrors of the day to keep your mind awake. before it was right back to where you had left off.

"besides, we're also too married to do anything too special, right?" you forced a laugh, the sound sounding foreign in the empty hallway. aaron internally winced, the strain and exhaustion in your voice tugging sadly at his heart.

you continued, "and if we were home, it'd be a quiet night-in wouldn't it? maybe we'd get take-out, watch a movie, go to sleep early."

a lie, but anything to make yourself feel better.

but, that's where aaron, without fail, always stepped in.

"well," he started, but didn't finish his thought - finally managing to get the room key to cooperate and pushing the door open, entering with you at his footsteps.

his back constructed your view, but once he sidestepped towards the bathroom to your right, he revealed a bouquet of red roses, chocolate covered strawberries, accompanied by a card waiting on the desk.

"i know it's not much." aaron explained as you froze, his hand finding the small of your back. "and it's not everything either, i do have more planned for once we're home but-"

maybe it was the near delirious exhaustion, the day you had, him, or all the above, but you only had one means of responding.

you grasped onto the lapels of his suit jacket, bringing him to you and kissing him so forcefully he nearly tripped up against the wall. aaron laughed gently in your mouth, but the kiss was long and deep, the two of you melting into each other.

not enough? it was everything, and the kiss alone silently proved that.

"thank you." you whispered once the two of you separated. your palms were resting on his chest, the fabric of his shirt soft under your fingers.

aaron smiled, the kind that caused the ends of his eyes to crinkle happily. "i love you. and although today wasn't how it should've been, and i would've loved to have spoiled you endlessly, and jack would've definitely been staying at jessica's for the night." his lips turned upwards into a light smirk, a wicked glint in his eyes before turning to their softness. "just like any day, i'm reminded how lucky i am you're my wife. whenever i'm with you, wherever we are, i'm home."

you blinked at him, in utter bafflement and awe. "how do you always know just what i need to hear?"

"because you're my beautiful wife, and like you said, we're too married." he teased, but his playful demeanor sobered, his voice lowering to a whisper. "i'm sorry you had a bad day."

"it's okay. it's better now," you answered just as softly as you looked into his eyes, stroking your thumb along his cheek before turning back to your surprise, "and when did you manage to do all this?"

"i can't reveal all my secrets, can i?" aaron quipped with a smile, pulling you in for another kiss. you reciprocated, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"happy valentine's day darling. and to many, many more."

[trippinsorrows]

with me + part eighteen

authors notes: two updates back to back! i felt a lil bad for leaving ya'll on a cliffhanger of sorts. granted, this one kinda does too but....not in a bad way. more of a plot twist, than anything.

status: in progress // masterlist

warnings: angst, fluff, language, suggestive themes

song inspo: with me by destiny’s child

faceclaims

words: 7k

taglist: @pixiedust4000 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @southerngirl41 @wanderingreigns @romanreignsbae

24 hours.

It’s been 24 hours of absolute chaos and madness.

24 hours of a rush of conflicting and yet corresponding emotions. Anger. Confusion. Sadness.

In the past 24hrs, your love and basically life story have gone from being known to a select few to now being trending topics on every social media platform. Your Instagram, which was already private, had literally hundreds of follow requests the last time you checked it. There are emails in your inbox from several news platforms requesting interviews and offering exclusives. 

Hell, a couple of people even reached out to you on your LinkedIn.

It’s all so extremely overwhelming and chaotic, so much so that you had to force Alexis to leave and find some way to calm herself down. Her furious energy, while valid as hell, wasn’t helping. And it's not that you don't get it.

You do. God, you do.

You’d like nothing more than to take a steel chair to Mariah’s head, for you and Alexis to do a beatdown part two since the first one seemingly didn’t send a strong enough message.

But, you can’t. And she can’t either.

The whole world now has eyes on you, now is waiting to see what else comes out of this story that isn’t a story for you.

It’s your fucking life.

“We’re definitely looking into our options here, and there are some routes we can take, but without anything from her specifically saying she was going to do anything—”

“Wait.” It’s the first thing you’ve said in this emergency meeting with Joe and his legal team, a couple of intrigued eyes falling on you. “That’s—that’s not exactly true.”

Joe, as you expected, is the first to speak. “What are you talking about?”

This….this is the last conversation you expected to be having right now. The last thing you thought you’d be doing right now. You should be continuing to prepare for the move, decorating the house, planning how you’re going to tell Joe about your pregnancy.

Instead, you’re sitting in your new kitchen surrounded by lawyers, men in suits, and the man you love who you now have to admit to lying over something, at the time, you thought was nothing.

But that nothing has turned into a nightmare that has not only your personal life being used as media fodder but pictures of your sweet, beautiful, four-year-old daughter circulating the internet, just waiting to fall into the hands of the depraved.

That…..that’s what kills you the most.

It’s not even the “tell all” interview you only managed to watch for 10 minutes before having to turn it off. Even staring at her caked face, most likely to hide the lingering bruises from Alexis beating, makes you mad. Almost as mad at the absolute way she’s taken your and Joe’s story and dramatized it to the point of delusions.

Saying you plotted on Joe from the beginning. That you intentionally got pregnant by him. That you were sleeping with multiple men, meaning there’s a chance he could not be the father. That Joe’s ex-wife called and cussed you out, threatening to beat your ass. That you make Joe give you an allowance.

Just lies. Pure, unadulterated lies that make you sick to your stomach.

This whole thing feels like a never ending cycle of nightmares.

“Y/N?” One of the suits saying your name brings you back to this space, this place of here and now where another lie, one of your own making, is about to be revealed.

Licking your lips, you try to explain it as best you can, though there is no good way to come out and admit you weren’t honest with him. “She—she’d been sending me messages.”

“Messages?” Joe’s interruption is fair and expected, but one of his lawyers jumps in before he can continue. 

“Do you still have them?”

Nodding, you pull out your phone, opening Mariah’s thread. You’d blocked and deleted her contact from your phone so it’s just her number as the title for the thread. Reaching the phone to the lawyer, it’s quickly intercepted by Joe.

Just watching his eyes read over the messages, you can almost see his anger growing. He hands the phone over to his lawyer, and you watch as one exchanges the phone with the other.

“This is perfect,” one of the suits shares to the group. “We can definitely slap her with a couple different lawsuits with this evidence. I’m thinking extortion. Most definitely a cease and desist.”

“Defamation too,” someone else chimes. 

Joe isn’t interested in any of that at this moment. He just wants to speak with you alone, that much is painfully obvious. “Can you give us a minute?” He doesn’t wait for a response, just stands up from his seat, motioning for you to follow him.

Nervous about what’s about to ensue, you do so regardless, following him up the stairs and into the first room on the right. 

You start to plead your case as soon as the door is closed. “Joe—”

“You lied to me.”

His tone kills you. You haven’t been on the receiving end of this side of him in months, not since he first found out about Callie. “I—”

“I fucking asked you did she say anything, and you lied to me, Y/N!”

“I didn’t think anything of it, Joe.” You can’t and won’t necessarily defend the lying part, but you will attempt to help him understand your logic that was at play. “Mariah—she’d never done anything remotely close to any of this to make me think she would ever do something like this. I thought—I thought she was just saying shit to get a reaction out of me.”

He stops his pacing, looking at you with a sense of incredulity. “I didn’t ask you what kind of shit she was saying, I asked you if she said anything at all, and you stood there and you lied to me with a straight face!”

“I’m sorry, okay!” There’s a solid attempt to keep your volume down, well aware Callie is only a few rooms down playing, oblivious to all of this chaos unfolding. “But I was in a really bad place during that time, Joe, okay? I—I didn’t care about….lawyers and lawsuits, I just wanted custody of my child back.” Eyes starting to water, you shake your head, asking, “do you have any idea how hard that was for me?”

“Of course, I know, Y/N.” His tone is a little more calm, still angry though. “I was going through the same damn thing.”

“No, you weren’t!” As much as you want to control your emotions in this moment, control your temper, it’s hard when he’s clearly not trying to hear where you were coming from. “You got to see her! You got to speak to her! I didn’t! Mariah didn’t accuse you of awful shit, it was just me!”

“So you don’t think that shit impacted me at all?” His voice still carries anger, but there’s specks of hurt there. You feel bad, you didn’t mean to invalidate him, just wanted to help him see there was a difference. “Seeing you like that? Seeing Callie like that?”

Pressing your hands against your temple, you shut your eyes, explaining, “that’s not what I’m saying, Joe. You’re not listening to me.” 

“You’re right.” His agreement takes you by surprise. You didn’t expect him to be so self-aware. “I’m not listening cuz’ I’m fucking pissed off with you that this all could have been avoided if you had just been honest with me. Our daughter’s photos wouldn���t be all over the fucking internet if you had just told me the truth.”

It’s not hard for you to read between the lines of what he’s saying. But, it is hard for you to stomach what he’s saying. “You blame me for this, don’t you?” And it’s when he looks away, nostrils flared and jaw clenched. “You do….”

“I didn’t for the DCFS situation, because that was absolutely beyond your control. But this…..” He looks up at the ceiling, eyes closed, most likely trying to maintain composure. “I’m gonna go over to Jey and Kaylah’s place for a little bit. I just need to clear my head.”

Your throat constricts. Joe has never been the one to leave in the middle of an argument. He’s that one to always say we’re gonna stay here and figure this out together, so you don’t know what to make of him wanting to leave. 

“Joe, please….” Walking over to him, you place your hands on his chest, forcing him to look at you. “Don’t go, okay? We just—we need to work this out right now.”

“I love you, Y/N. I love you too much to stay here and have this out with you right now, because there’s not many nice things I have to say.” 

There’s a shred of hope that fills you in the way he cups your cheek, staring at you for a minute before he turns to walk out of the door. But the hope is easily dashed at the fact that he still chooses to walk out the door. 

Sniffling, feeling the tears oncoming, you walk out after him only to see he’s already completely descended down the stairs, already out the house most likely. Standing there, you try to keep the tears at bay, try to keep your shit together.

“Mommy….”

“What, Callie!” The second it leaves your voice, the harshness, the volume, the cruelness, you want to melt into the ground. Callie, understandably, looks devastated at you snapping at her. And you feel it too. “Baby, I’m—I’m so sorry—”

She doesn’t give you a chance to grovel because she turns on the heel of her shoes and darts back into her room, slamming the door behind her. 

Your chest tightening, the tears starting to fall. It hits you so hard.

You really fucked up. 

—-------

“You ready to talk yet?”

Joe knew the second he walked into his cousin’s house, grabbed a beer out the fridge and plopped himself on the steps of their back porch that he didn’t come over here to vent. He just needed to get away, to clear and sort through his head so he didn’t end up saying anything worse than what he’s already said to Y/N.

And Kaylah recognized as such. Recognized something must have happened, which is why she allowed him his privacy for the time being.

“Not really,” he answers, finishing off his beer and tossing it to his side.

“Too bad,” Kaylah dismisses. It’s not a major surprise. “Cause I am.” Joe says nothing as she slides down on the step, sitting beside him. When he still says nothing, “what happened, Joe?”

Joe chuckles bitterly. “Check the news. Any of them.”

Kaylah frowns. “You know that’s not what I mean.” She’s very well aware of that part of this shitshow. “What happened with you and Y/N?”

“She lied to me, Kay.” Joe really doesn’t want to talk about this, but he knows he needs to. Knows he eventually has to go back home and face the music. “I had asked her if Mariah had said anything, not even anything bad, just anything in general. She told me no, but that wasn’t the truth, Mariah was sending all kinds of messages alluding to doing something if Y/N didn’t answer her…..now look at what’s happened.” 

Kaylah takes a second to digest what he’s saying. “When did you ask her?”

“When the whole DCFS situation happened. My lawyers were trying to see if we could build some type of case against Mariah.”

Kaylah is smart, always has been, so it’s not difficult for her to put the pieces together. “And you think if she had provided these messages, you could have done something to avoid this latest shitshow?” Joe doesn’t have to answer her question. She already knows his answer. “That’s a big if, Joe, and you know it.”

“Of course, I know it. It’s just…….fuck.” He shuts his eyes, head titled back. “It’s like shit just keeps happening.”

“It’s rough, I can imagine that, but it’s not just rough for you. Y/N is going through the same thing, and instead of sitting here in your misery, blaming her, you two should be handling it together.” Kaylah lifts her finger to silence him when he goes to either agree or protest. “I’m not saying she wasn’t wrong for not telling you the truth, but Joe, we both know that if she had even an inkling that Mariah would do something like this, she would have told you in a heartbeat.” Her voice softens. “She made a mistake.”

“And I know Mariah has put your business out there too now, and I don’t mean to make it seem like this doesn’t impact you as well, but Y/N is the one being dragged to filth on the internet right now. I sincerely hope she hasn’t read some of the stuff being said about her. It’s awful. Mariah lied about so many things and has made Y/N out to be this horrible person when she’s not.”

Joe thinks that’s the part that pisses him off the most, that made him so angry he unintentionally took that anger out on the person being affected the most in this situation. He watched the entire interview Mariah did, heard the way she took parts of the truth and piled a shit ton of lies on top. 

Heard how actually had the fucking audacity to drag Jadah into it, claiming she had texts and recorded phone calls between the two of them talking about how Y/N was a whore and broke up her marriage. All kind of just lies.

And he knows it’s not true, because he knows Jadah. Hell, he spoke to Jadah just this morning. 

It infuriated him even more to read some of the comments, people speaking so cruelly about the woman he loves. Even going as far to drag Callie into the cesspool of bullying. 

A man who doesn’t like not having control, it tears him up to not be able to do anything to dead the shit immediately. 

But…..there are some things he can do, and he can’t do them if he’s sitting here in his feelings.

Joe looks over at Kaylah, gently shoving into her side. “Thank you, Kay.”

“Anytime.” And she means it. Joe is like a brother to her. Always has been. “Now you’ve got twenty minutes to get your sorry ass off my porch and back to your house to take care of business. Cause I know you, Joe. You don’t play about your family. Let that bitch know she’s fucked with the wrong one.”

—-------

“Mama, I really messed up.”

Crying over the phone to your mom at your big age definitely wasn’t in your bingo card for 2024, yet here you are.

Granted, most of what’s happened this year wasn’t in your bingo card anyway, so it lines up.

“Oh, honey. You made a mistake, You’re human. It happens.” Your mom’s voice is soothing on the other side of the phone. “And don’t worry about Joseph. He’s just upset right now. He’ll calm down.”

“He’s right to be upset. I shouldn’t have lied to him.” Sniffling and wiping at your eyes, you bring your legs to your chest. “And look at what my mistake has caused mama. My baby’s face is all over the internet. Personal photos just material for people to make posts and tweets and TikTok’s about.”

It makes you sick to your stomach to think of how low Mariah has gotten in this whole situation. All of those snaps you shared with her of your daughter, precious moments you thought you were sharing with your best friend, she’d sold to whoever would buy them for 15 minutes of fame and a slice of short-lived relevancy.

“None of us knew that girl is as unhinged as she is. You’re not psychic, baby. You had no way of knowing this would happen, and Joseph knows that. He just let his pride get the best of him and took out his frustrations on you, which, make no mistake, is not right. And you definitely need to check him on that.” Your mom briefly switching gears brings a smile and small laugh to your face. “You know I didn’t raise you to take shit from no man, and that includes him.”

“I know….” And you will address it with him, even if deep down something tells you he already feels bad for how he spoke to you, knowing it was wrong. “I just—-I feel like we can’t catch a break. It sometimes makes me wonder if…..if I’m doing the right thing.” The past 24 hours have caused you to experience such a whirlwind of emotions, emotions you’re sure are exacerbated by a pregnancy no one knows about yet. “I would never stop Joe from being in Callie’s life, but if me being with him causes all this mess for him and her then….”

“Don’t do that. Don’t you dare do that.” Your mom’s interjection is fierce and sharp. “That boy loves you. He’d do anything for you and baby girl. Don’t let Mariah trick you into thinking that somehow you being happy with the man you love and father of your child is somehow wrong. Don’t let her win.”

Blowing out a breath, you try to heed to your mom’s guidance. She’s right. You know she’s right. Mariah being psychotic doesn’t change shit about your love for Joe, his love for you, the way he’d do anything for ya’ll and vice versa.

Mariah is just jealous. Dissolving what is otherwise a happy family would bring her nothing but great satisfaction. And over your dead body will you let that bitch get what she wants.

“You’re right.” Shaking your head, you try to counter all of your negative and anxious thoughts with more optimism and logic. “It’s just….it’s hard right now.”

“And it will be for a little while, but that’s when you lean on the people you love, and baby, you got no shortage of that.”

Sniffling, tears drying, you thank her, “thank you, mama.”

“Just let me know if you need me to fly down there.” And you know she will. Know Joe won’t hesitate to pay for a plane ticket for her to come stay with you.

And after you tell him about your pregnancy, you might do just that.

“I will,” you promise, telling her you’ll call or text her later to let her know how everything pans out before ending the call.

Stepping back into the kitchen and sliding the door closed, locking it, the last thing you expect to see is Joe standing in the kitchen.

Gasping, hand over your chest, your shoulders slump as you murmur, “you scared me.”

���I’m sorry.” It’s a layered statement, multiple meanings and several different applications. A knowledge that comes from being with and knowing this man for all these years. 

Walking over to him, you cross your arms over one another. “I shouldn’t have lied to you.”

He shakes his head. “Didn’t give me an excuse to talk to you the way I did or to say the things I did.” And as strange a thought it may be to have in this moment, this is one of the many reasons you love the man before you. Joe is mature and man enough to both admit when he’s fucked up and is always intentional about making it right.

Swallowing, you advise, “this is just a really fucked up situation that neither of us really knows how to process.” Ain’t that the fucking truth. “But, we can handle it…together.”

He gently pulls you into his chest and your eyes shut as he holds you, apologizing into the top of your head.

“I’m sorry too.” you apologize, hand on his chest. “I know that situation was difficult for you too, and I shouldn’t have invalidated your feelings.”

“Neither of us was 100% right.” And he’s correct. He was wrong for lashing out the way he did, and you were wrong for not being honest and invalidating his experience. 

Neither of you could pull the ‘right’ card.

“Agreed.” You murmur, eyes softening as you switch topics a bit. “Callie….I accidentally snapped at her after you left.” The guilt still eats at you for that, for taking out your emotions on your sweet little girl. “I spoke with her and apologized, but….I think she heard us fighting.”

That really kills you. You don’t think it’s entirely unhealthy for kids to hear their parents go at it from time to time, but not at 4. And not for a sensitive child like Callie.

Joe looks equally upset at this, offering, “let me talk to her. If she heard us, she needs to know that me yelling at you wasn’t okay.”

There’s no disagreement nor protest as he heads up the stairs to find Callie.

Joe stands outside Callie’s door with a knock that’s followed by her head snapping up and smile brightening. “Daddy!” She rushes over to him, Joe leaning to pick her up, holding her. “You came back!”

Her words crush him, the idea that she could even think he could ever leave her, leave either of them.

“Of course, baby girl.” Joe moves to the only adult sized chair in her room, holding her on his lap, caressing her cheek. “Callie, I know you heard me and your mom arguing, but I need you to know that I will never leave you or mommy. Daddy was just….very upset, and I took it out on your mom which was wrong.”

In a soft voice, she asks, “did mommy do something bad?”

“No, she just….made a mistake, and that’s okay, because we all make mistakes, but it wasn’t okay for me to yell at her like that.” Joe decides to take this unfortunate occurrence and make it a learning lesson for his daughter. “You never let any lil’ boy yell at you or talk mean to you, you hear me?” Callie nods her head, as he adds. “And if he does, let me know, and I’ll take care of it.”

Callie turns up her nose. “Boys are gross.” She then adds, “cept' you, daddy.”

Joe laughs but quickly agrees. Let her think that as long as she wants. Forever, preferably. He tugs her a bit closer, holding her snug to him. “That’s right. All of em’. Every single one.” 

—-------

Given only a few rooms in the house are fully furnished, the three of you sleep and stay at Joe’s place at night given he doesn’t plan to sell it until you’re all completely moved in. Not feeling like cooking, or rather not feeling like helping Joe cook, you decide on takeout.

Subsequently, ya'll share dinner while watching Finding Nemo 2, the chosen movie of the night by Callie.

There’s extra measures on your end to make sure she’s really forgiven you, needing her to know that you’re truly apologetic, and of course, your inherently kind child shows absolutely no sign that she holds any type of grudge against you.

You couldn’t be any more grateful for her wonderfully big heart.

You handle getting her to bed, seeing that Joe is tired. It’s something you noticed the minute he arrived at the new house from the airport. He looks exhausted. How can he not be? Preparing for WrestleMania, training nonstop, finishing up his documentary, and now this?

A person can only take so much.

You’re actually happy he’ll have a week off post WrestleMania. He needs that. He needs time to just rest.

It doesn’t surprise you that he falls asleep in a matter of minutes, big body laid out over yours as you gently caress his naked back. His heavy shoulders lifting in alignment with his breathing is a soothing source you zone in on while scrolling aimlessly on your phone. Pinterest only. You can’t allow yourself to check out anything else.

That is until you receive a text from Alexis telling you to check Joe’s Instagram. 

For a second, you consider ignoring it, but curiosity gets the best of you.

Logging back into the app, you go straight to his profile, gasping when you see the latest post on the grid. 

It’s a photo of the three of you. One of the ones taken when you’d surprised him at his show back in February. He’s holding Callie who has her arms wrapped around his neck, smiling big at the camera with his other arm hooked around you, your body angled into him, hand on his chest.

It’s one of your favorite photos.

Your eyes drop to his lengthy caption.

@/RomanReigns: I’ve never been one to openly discuss my personal life because, quite frankly, it’s no one’s business. Unfortunately, I’m now forced to do so due to a clearly unwell and pathetic individual who has taken parts of the truth and padded it with lies. My girlfriend and I share one child together. This is my biological child. There’s never been a question of paternity. Her mother never coerced or blackmailed me into shit. Y/N has been villainized as a vindictive gold-digger and liar when that is absolutely bullshit. She is an amazing mother, friend, and partner whom I love fiercely and protectively. The same goes for my daughter. They are my world, and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to protect them. Having our daughter’s photos and personal videos posted all over the internet has been equally heartbreaking as it is infuriating for the both of us. Legal action is currently being pursued for all involved in the doxing and sharing of personal media of my family as well as other atrocities that have taken place behind the scenes you all don’t even know about. All of this is entirely unacceptable and will be dealt with to the fullest extent of the law. And to everyone who has so much to say about a situation you know nothing about outside of the lies circulating, remember these are real people with real feelings.

But most importantly, keep my girlfriend and daughter’s name out of your fucking mouths.

~Joe

Tears are starting to burn your eyes as you stare down at the man sleeping on top of you. The man who never ceases to amaze you with how far he’ll go to show you just how much he loves and cares about you.

He didn’t have to do this, didn’t have to go against his preference to keep his personal life off the internet. But, he did. He did it to send a message to everyone.

To send a message to Mariah.

You press a gentle kiss against the top of his head, knowing doing so won’t disturb his sleep.

And though against your better judgment, decide to read a few comments, knowing it’s bound to be a batch of mixed reactions. 

@/User1: Damn, Roman said keep my wife’s name out your fucking mouth! Watch Will Smith join the match at WrestleMania.

@/User2: Used to be a big fan, but I could never support a cheater. Unfollowing.

@/User3: How many of you actually watched the interview with the “friend”? It’s obvious she’s lying about a lot of things she said, because most of it wasn’t adding up.

@/User4: My thing is why did you hide this kid and girlfriend you supposedly “love” so much? Feels like you got exposed and now you’re trying to save face.

@/User5: This is all so messy and shameful. He definitely needs to lose his title at WM. What a joke and embarrassment to the WWE.

@/User6: It’s funny how so many of you are ignoring the fact that he signed this with his real name. “Roman” is a real person clearly going through heavy shit right now. Who cares about a fucking title?

@/User7: How about you learn to “acknowledge” the truth, Mr. “tribal chief”?

@/UceyJucey: Man, this family right here. We go you, Y/N and Big Dog. For life!

@/BigLexPurr: Ya’ll gon see JOE don’t play about HIS!

@/JonathanFatu: FOE 

@/RomanReigns has turned off comments for this post. 

The comments are to be expected, though it warms you to see familiar names coming to your defense, seeing that while there may be a lot of hatred being spewed your way, there’s still an abundance of love and support that encompasses you.

But, it’s when you come across a reference to the Bloodline that an idea hits you, smashes into you so strongly that you have to wake Joe to get the ball rolling.

“Baby.” He’s knocked out, so it takes a couple of shakes and slaps to finally get him to stir. “Joe!”

Finally, he stirs, sighing loudly as he groans, “fine, you getting on top though.”

Rolling your eyes, you shove his shoulder. “Not that. Can I use one of your cars tomorrow morning? And I need you to stay and watch Callie for a bit.”

At this, he opens his eyes, looking you over with confusion. “Where you going?”

“It’s a surprise. Just….trust me, okay?” Leaning to kiss his cheek, you throw out a quick ‘thank you’ and turn back on your side. Only to squeal quietly when his big hands move you onto your back. One look at him, and you know what he wants. “Joe, it’s like 3 o’clock in the morning.”

“Should have thought about that before you woke me up….” His mouth is on your neck, right hand moving under his shirt that hides your nude body, gripping your breast. “Let me just taste you….”

There’s a strong desire and almost responsibility you feel to press your legs together and direct him to go back to sleep, but raging, most likely pregnancy fueled hormones, along with the fact that you want to enjoy this for as long as you can before pregnancy body stops all sexual acts, are just too damn strong.

So you simply chew on your bottom lip, watching his dark silky head disappear under the covers and enjoy the toe curling ride of fantasy that is his skilled tongue on you.

—-------

You’re out of the house by 7am sharp, the sun still making its way to introduce the new day, but that doesn't matter. 

You’re a woman on a mission, a mission that has a ticking deadline. Joe has to fly back out tomorrow, so you can’t waste one precious moment.

Target has almost everything you need, sans a couple of items that you pick up at Walmart. 

And Alexis, who finally calmed down enough after getting drunk as hell and hooking up with some random she met on the boardwalk, agreed to keep Callie for you for a little bit. It’s a double win, because Callie always has a good time with Alexis, and Alexis can’t catch a murder charge if she’s on babysitting duty.

Of course, Joe being Joe, has a million and one questions. Understandably so.

“Can you at least tell me why you had Alexis come get Callie?” And before you can give him the vaguest answer, he adds on, “or what the hell is in those boxes?”

His question comes from behind as you carry said cake boxes up the steps, reaching the top and offering him a teasing glare. “And you always say I suck at surprises.”

“I’m too old for surprises, baby.”

Baby…..

God, you can’t wait to see his reaction.

“Patience, lover. Patience.” You then gesture with your chin to the first door with a sticky note on it. “Open that one.”

Joe looks taken back, reading the post-it. “Option 1? Option 1 for what?”

This man….. “I see where Callie gets her questioning nature from. Boy, just open the damn door.” 

He rolls his eyes, walking in and looking around. “There’s literally nothing in this room.”

“Yet,” you correct, encouraging him. “Just….be mindful of the layout and what it could be.”

“It can’t be anything considering it’s empty as hell.”

“Joe, I swear to—” You close your eyes, taking a deep breath. “Come on. Let’s look at the other ones.”

And you have him do just that, viewing two more rooms that he doesn’t realize you’ve shortlisted as potential nurseries. He makes his smartass comments, of course, but you also know it’s in jest and he really just wants to know what’s going on. 

So, it’s when you finish and bring him back to the kitchen, directing him to sit on the barstool as you lay out the two boxes in front of him. “You gon tell me why you had me look at empty rooms while you carried boxes?”

“Stop being difficult.” Slapping him on the shoulder, your nerves begin to set in as you motion to the counter. “Pick one to open. Only one.”

Joe’s curious gaze is on you, humor dropping a bit as he asks, in all seriousness. “Y/N, what’s going on?”

“Just…..trust me.” It’s a simple but powerful thing to say given the past couple days. You know he does and know he will. “Pick one.”

Waiting for him to carefully pull the tape off to open the box, you time it perfectly so at the same time he’s lifting the lid, you murmur, “I think it’s a boy too…..”

Joe’s gaze snaps to yours at your statement but also refers back to the now open box. “Y/N….what is this?”

Eyes starting to water, you manage to tease him, “don’t tell me the Tribal Chief suddenly doesn’t know how to read.”

There’s a close and careful watch you have on Joe as his eyes go from left to right, clearly reading the words you have beautifully decorated on the inside of the cake box that’s filled with freshly baked chocolate chip cookies dyed blue with food coloring.

The other box is filled with chocolate chip cookies dyed pink.

Same message located on the lid of the box.

BREAKING NEWS: 

New Bloodline Member Coming Soon. Ready to acknowledge daddy in September, 2024.

He does that one, two, three times before slowly looking back up at you, a level of emotion in his gaze and eyes you’re not sure you’ve ever seen. 

His voice is so low, so imbued with vulnerability that you almost have to ask him to repeat himself. “You serious?”

Shaking your head, you reach out, pushing back some of his hair. “I wouldn't lie to you about this, Leati…….” Taking his hand and placing it on your stomach, you layer your own on top of his. “I’m pregnant…..we’re having another baby.” Sniffling, tears finally starting to spill, you add, “and no one knows but you and me. Not my mom. Not Alexis. Not Callie. Just you and me.” Licking your lips, you acknowledge. “I didn’t do it right the first time, but I’m gonna do everything right this time.”

Joe not saying anything initially makes you second guess yourself. Were you wrong to assume that he would be happy? Given everything that’s happened, has it changed his views on things? You thought that he would be thrilled at the idea of expanding your family, but what if you were wrong?

It’s only seconds later though that he shoots up from the chair, wrapping his strong arms around you, holding you maybe tighter than what’s necessary.

All concern is washed away, a happy giggle leaving your mouth as he spins you around. 

Back on the ground, his hands on your face. “I love you.” His thumbs brush over the apples of your cheek. You swear his eyes are glazed over with unshed tears. “I love you with everything in me.”

“I love you too,” you murmur, choked up and moved by his reaction. He's thrilled. “And I know things are a mess right now, but I couldn’t miss this opportunity to tell you while you’re in town.”

Everything is certainly not the way it should be, but for him to be here, to be with you, and for you to not tell him felt so wrong. You didn't want to make him wait any longer than he needed to.

“September…..” You can see he’s doing the math in his head, hand dropping to your stomach. “You’re three months?”

“Just about. End of March will mark officially three months, but I just found out at the OB-GYN appointment I had. I wanted to tell you right away, but I also wanted to do it in person, because you deserve as much.” You find yourself rambling, probably over-explaining, but the last thing you want is for him to think you’ve been keeping this from him. “It’s up to you, but I do think we should tell Callie first.”

You've thought about it, and to some extent, you have some concern about how she’ll respond. She’s been an only child her whole life, obviously. And she already doesn’t like ‘sharing’ Joe with you sometimes, how will she respond to a brother or sister?

Joe must be reading your mind as he kisses your forehead. “We’ll figure it out.” Another realization also crosses his mind as he connects more dots. “The rooms…..you think one of them could be the nursery.”

Playfully rolling your eyes, you tease him. “Well, it took you long enough to put two and two together.” Yelping, you laugh when Joe squeezes your hip and picks you up, bridal style. “Joe!”

“Let’s go look again,” he implores, and you know it’s because he wants to go again because now he knows this will be the room where your baby will stay in, the room where you’ll nurse him or her, where he’ll finally be able to enjoy being a father from conception to birth. 

It makes this moment even better.

But, you need something else.

You call for him to wait, pointing to the box of cookies. “What?” You ask after he moves close enough for you to grab them. Rubbing your belly, you remind him with all the pride in the world, “mama’s eating for two now.”

—-------

The day is perfect.

Absolutely perfect.

It’s a day where you can temporarily forget all of the bullshit in your life that doesn’t matter in these moments where it’s just the three of you.

Well, four, technically. 

The day is spent shopping, of all things, Joe refusing to leave without you finally getting a bedroom set. The one, ironically, that Alexis pointed out the other day. It really does look like the both of you.

He also might have made a sly comment regarding making good use of the mirror.....

On top of that, you start to casually peruse nursery furniture, nothing too obvious to where Callie can tell. You and Joe haven’t settled on when or how to tell her, but you’re leaning more toward after WrestleMania. He’ll be off that week, so it gives you both time to tackle any big emotions that might come up.

And Joe….

It deeply endears you to notice the little things. He’s always been touchy feely, but his hand seemed to find a space on or near your stomach all day. Gentle kisses pressed against your temple and more “I love you’s” than usual. You know it’s all because he’s wholly and fully happy. This pregnancy means more to him than you could probably ever comprehend.

And being able to make him so happy when he’s made you happier means everything to you.

Even laying in bed together, enjoying your time with each other before he has to leave early in the morning, his big hand is splayed protectively across your stomach. You appreciate all of these moments, know that the next almost six months of your pregnancy will be filled with them.

Even with some dread at trying to navigate this pregnancy with Joe’s crazy work schedule, you’re more happy than anything. Ecstatic that you get to experience this pregnancy with him this time around.

Together. 

Sleep is finally about to overcome you when your phone dings on your nightstand. Tempted to leave it, it’s hard to do so when it vibrates several different times.

Not knowing if it could be something serious or requiring immediate attention, you reach over, unlocking to see you have five texts from an unknown number.

But, the sender is no longer unknown the moment you open the thread.

Unknown: Hi, Y/N. This is Jadah. 

This…..this has to be a joke, has to be some kind of cruel prank that’s all a part of Mariah’s apparent master plan to ruin your life.

Because there’s no way in hell Joe’s ex-wife is texting you. No way in hell. 

But before you can block the number, chalking it up as a cruel prank, you see she’s sent a screenshot of a conversation between her and Joe. Zooming in, you see it’s from around October with them discussing the details of the divorce.

Holy…..shit.

It is her.

Jadah: Just so you know it’s really me…..

And if you weren’t already about to drop your damn phone onto Joe’s head at the fact that thee fucking Jadah is actually texting you right now, her next set of messages nearly send you into cardiac arrest.

Jadah: Super strange/inconvenient way for me to reach out, but given everything that’s going on, I think it’s time we met and talked face to face.

Jadah: Even more, since this hoe got so much to say about OUR lives, I also think it’s time we take back the narrative and pull an Uno reverse card.

Jadah: How do you feel about going on IG Live together?

[hidtired]

hi! i saw your post and i would like to suggest something sweet and fluffy. maybe a confession after years of pining on the road and alexandria fells like a fresh start to daryl and reader!

Your wish is my command!

(Daryl Dixon x Reader) Masterlist

Unspoken Things

Description: Words never came easy to Daryl. After the loss of the prison and finding Alexandria however, he just couldn’t stop them.

1.3k words

You and Daryl would hover near each other. Everyone had always just assumed that something was going on between you two. Daryl was a private guy that liked privacy. Woodbury and others that came to the prison knew as well or thought they did. Referring to them as “the hunter and his lady.” He never corrected them, and little did he know neither did you.

He knew you cared about him. You had shown him that much. Just as you had known. It was unspoken. Just like how while on the road again after the Prison and Terminus. Your place was next to him. You would walk with him in the back. Sleep next to him. Took watch with him.

You sat next to him while having to eat the dogs you found. He rubbed your back as you tried not to cry about what you were eating. You loved dogs but you simply had to eat. You had hugged him before you all were going to start walking again. You were seeking comfort. It made Daryl heart pound thinking you wanted it from him.

You would let him walk off the path to go “looking for water/food”. Not before offering to go with him. You saw he was struggling after Beth then Tyrese. Mostly Beth. He felt guilty anyone could see it. That boy has way more heart than he lets himself believe.

When it started raining stopping the long quest for water. You just lent your head back to catch it into your mouth. Then you looked to see the expression on his face. You realize while starring at him that you were fully and utterly in love with him. To the point his pain was yours. You wanted to take care of him and wash that expression from him like the rain.

He lead you all to a barn after the rain became thunder. You sat next to him by the fire but were mesmerized by the flames and drifted to sleep sitting up. What woke you was him getting up and tapping your shoulder after saying something to Rick walking off.

You were confused but followed after him. He lent back down against a wall and sat there. You flopped on your side facing him. Putting your hand on his leg looking at him worriedly. He inhaled looking down at you. He grabbed your hand off his leg and started rubbing it feeling how cold you were. You curled the other arm under your head and fully laid down.

You don’t know how long you slept a hour or two before Daryl was rushing up beside you springing you awake ready for danger. Still with sleep in your eyes you stumble moving to keep the door to the barn closed.

Morning came leaving you all exhausted from the dead and storm. Then a man named Aaron. A man you will soon attribute your thanks for safety in a community.

Alexandria unnerved you. By the looks of it everyone is a little unnerved. It’s like you walk into a TV show. After having interviews with the leader you were granted a house. Well 2 but you’re not splitting up. That first night you had showered and were laying on the floor near Daryl completely passed out.

Daryl would look from the outside the window to your sleeping form. He took pride in the fact that you felt safe enough to sleep as hard as you were. A unspoken form again of saying how much you trusted him. Unspoken he thought. That always seemed to be the case no words spoken between them about this thing about them. Just actions. But why?

The next morning everyone went exploring or to there new jobs. You stayed at the house. You were apart of the people who went on runs now. You didn’t see a need to leave the house you were tired. You sat on the porch glass of water in hand watching Daryl fiddle with his crossbow. Then for the first time. That unspoken silence was broken.

“I think ya might be the prettiest person in the world…”

You look to him with wide startled eyes trying to process if you actually heard what he just said. He thinks is all the time. Thinks a lot of things about you. This was just the first he said it out loud and well, to you. The smile that came across your face as you tilted your head toward him.

“Are you trying to butter me up Dixon?”

He only held your gaze seeming resolved. “Among other things.” You chuckled and had a warm smile and a look in your eyes. “Well it’s working.” You held your hand in front of your face to try and cover its probable redness. Sure felt like it.

Daryl looking down at the floor shyly as well. He thought a lot last night while you slept. Alexandria was either another thing to crush or enjoy. Either way it was a new start. He just didn’t think he could do it any longer without having something…. More with you.

“As far as I’m concerned Daryl.” You stood up and made your slow walk backwards into the house. “You’ve already swept me off my feet.” Daryl heart ached in his ribs. Are you saying what he thinks you’re saying? Did you just challenge him to try and come fishing for more from you? He abandoned his crossbow by the door and slowly walking into the house after you. You’re fully smiling at his entrance. That expression on his face was like nothing you’ve seen him make. Like… if you poke him a little he would spill. He also looked like when he was hunting.

He walked closer to you hesitantly putting his arms around your waist. Your heart pounding at the fact this was finally happening. He looked down at you before that sweet look became mischievous. He tightened his hold on you and swept you off your feet. Your laughter filled the room at the sudden movement. Arms flying to hold on to him. “Now that’s just cheating.” You said leaning back to look at him. He started walking over to the couch with you in his arms. “You said I already swept you off your feet. Thought I could at leas’ do it properly.”

He sat you down on the couch. You looked up to him, “Properly hmm?” He sighed and looked to your smiling face. He was nervous. “I just thought that maybe- I just care about you so damn much. Unlike I do with anyone else.” Your face changes from happiness to awe. “I want you, as mine.” He grunted in frustration at the inability to speak his feeling.

Your then awe then soon turns to shock at his words if you weren’t careful you might start crying and attack this man with all you bundled hidden affection. He still continued by dropping to his knees. In front of you to be eye level. It was now just flowing out of him with no filter and overthinking with his words. “I’m hopeless when it comes to you. I’ve never know love but know I have it for you-” You were slowly leaning toward him catching his face in your hands. He keep stammering on. “If you have’ ta break my heart, it was only ever yours to break.”

That did it. You leaned into him kissing him surprising him. Your hands going to in tangle into his hair. He sighed into the kiss bring his hand to your waist. He slowly raised himself to above you on the couch. Leg in between yours as his hand moves to grab and angle your face up more into him. You break to breath huffing out air looking up into the man that just poured his soul into your own.

You tilted your head back farther looking up at him. “I’ve always been the ‘hunters’ lady, I suppose. Always been in love with him to. He is just the kind of guy you want to grab and say..? Keep his heart safe.” Your arms come around his neck, he is looking at you like a puppy. His arms come under yours lifting you into him. He leans back with in you his arms standing. “He sounds stupid for leaving things unsaid…”

Requests are still open and waiting! Also FYI I’m heavily dyslexic so apologies for mistakes. I reread this all like crazy but still miss a lot.

[dira333]

Away from home - Oikawa x reader

Follower Celebration Request

A/N: Since I had quite some trouble characterizing him, I'd appreciate it if you told me how well I've managed

Your last roommate had been less difficult.

Granted, he’d only been on the lease for a month before he moved out again, and even then, you barely saw him. 

But this guy is different. He’s been overly charming during the interview, to the point that it made you suspicious. Who flirts that much over a simple room? Especially when it had already been clear that he got it?

Oikawa Tooru is tall, good-looking, and aware of it. He’s also your roommate of one day and is already going on your nerves.

“The laundry.” You’re standing in the doorway to his room, laundry basket heavy on your hip. “You need to put it away when it’s done or I can’t use the washer.”

“Oh, I was going to do-” Tooru scrambles up from his bed where he’d been watching something on his laptop, his ridiculously floppy hair bouncing as he moves. He’s like a walking shampoo ad.

“Yeah, now.” You put the laundry basket down. “And I need it in half an hour when my load is done.”

“Sure thing, honeycup.”

“Don’t call me that.”

You had wondered, for about half a minute, how he was dealing with the culture shock that was Argentina. It had been tough for you, coming from America, but it had to be worse for him. You still remember how he blushed when you casually used his first name - like you were used to doing - before realizing that that’s not really a thing in Japan. 

Was he as homesick as you? Did he miss familiar sights, the simple things like being able to get your favorite brand of chocolate in the nearby store instead of having to find a specialty shop and paying an arm and a leg for it? 

You wanted to ask, kind of, until you walked back to his room thirty minutes later only to find your laundry basket still filled with wet clothing.

“Are you serious?” You ask. He looks up from his laptop, brows furrowed.

“What?” He asks.

“The laundry. I told you I need the basket.” 

“I was going to-”

You grab the basket, lift it up, and turn it over, watching with a sick kind of satisfaction as it drops heavily on his bed - and partly on him too. 

“I’m not your mom.” You remind him and storm out of his room before you can lose your temper even more.

-

A week later you’ve learned a few things about Tooru.

One, he needs longer in the bathroom than you. Especially in the mornings when you really have to pee.

Two, he has the worst diet you’ve ever seen and you lived with your diabetic grandfather until you moved here. How can he survive on coffee and Tortas Fritas and still look like someone cut him from marble a few hours ago?

Three, he never seems to sleep. Twice you’ve got up in the wee hours of the morning because your bladder insisted on it, only to find him up, watching sports on his laptop like a maniac.

Four, he owns at least five pairs of Alien-themed loungewear. That you know because he keeps forgetting to put his laundry away.

Which brings you to the fifth thing you’ve learned about him. He never, ever, ever puts his laundry away.

It’s a miracle he even knows how to start a washing cycle. But as soon as he presses the button he seems to forget that the machine even exists until you put the laundry basket in his room and insist that he hangs his clothes to dry. When you come back around and find that he hasn’t done that, you can either hang it up yourself to avoid the smell or nag him until he does it. Which in turn will lead to you nagging him about taking down the dry clothes. You suspect he just picks them from the clothes line whenever he needs to wear them, entirely foregoing his closet.

And you should be above this. He’s your roommate, not your friend. He’s a stranger and not part of your family. He’s not even a child, even though he acts like one. So even if you’re studying pediatric medicine, that does not mean you have to throw yourself in front of every man-toddler who seems to need your help.

But he does. And you cannot make yourself stop caring.

-

“Listen up, Buttercup.” You start the moment the door clicks shut behind him.

“Oh?” He asks, voice hopeful. The smile slips from his lips the moment he sees you.

Your hair is pushed away from your face thanks to the most ridiculous headband you own - it has two plush black crows sown onto both sides instead of cat ears because your little brother had both a sowing and a crow phase at the same time. You hold your spatula like a sword and point it at him.

“We’re cooking today.”

“I don’t need-”

“You cannot live by Tortas Fritas any longer.” You declare. “My medical degree will not allow it.”

“You don’t have a medical degree yet.”

“And you’re not Karch Kiraly but you sure act like him.”

That makes him perk up. “You know Karch Kiraly?” 

“Who doesn’t?” You throw an apron at him. “Get dressed.”

“Do I have to?”

“Do you want to ruin your clothes?”

He makes a face like he’s hurting. “It’s just… it has crows on it.”

“Yes, my brother made it. You can use your own apron if you cannot handle some cute crows.”

The hurt look intensifies but he wraps it around his body, fiddles with the strings.

“You’re hopeless.” You step behind him and tie it closed, making sure to pull it extra tight as punishment for last week's actions.

“Do you have any allergies? Sensory issues?”

“I don’t like slimy food.”

“Well, you’re in luck, we’re not making slime today.”

-

Tooru is, surprisingly enough, not a fool in the kitchen. He knows how to cut vegetables without hurting himself and he manages not to burn anything. 

But he talks. A lot.

His English is as good as your Japanese is rusty. His accent is kinda cute, but you choose to ignore that. His Spanish is downright criminal and you have to remind yourself of his awful laundry behaviors to keep from swooning every time he points at something and names it in Spanish.

“You’re very adamant.” You point out. “Your Spanish is good, you could probably slack off a day or two.”

The look he gives you has you shivering.

“Why should I slack off?” He asks. “What do I gain from that? Do you know how hard it is to get rid of your accent?”

There’s an intensity to his voice that makes you take a step back only to bump into the table behind you.

He stops, freezes, and for some inexplicable reason - ducks his head.

You stand there for a second, speechless and confused until he seems to realize that whatever he was waiting for isn’t coming. When he straightens up again, sadness washes over his face and you know that look - it’s Homesickness.

“Who are you missing right now?”

“Iwa-chan.” He turns around to flip the frittata. “He’s my best friend.”

“Did he ruffle your hair?” You ask, “Is that why you ducked your head?”

“No.” He laughs, still not facing you. It must be easier for him to be open like this when he’s not looking at you. “He’d throw Volleyballs at my head when I was misbehaving. I’m sorry, by the way. I didn’t want to scare you.”

“Like you could scare me.” You joke, trying to downplay the effect he really had on you.

“Oh, I can be scary when I want to be, don’t you try me.” He turns this time, but the smile on his face ruins the joke. You like him more when he’s honest instead of charming.

“So that Iwa-chan.” You move to plate the food. “He’s your mom? Mom-Friend? Did he also make sure you did your laundry and went to bed early and ate healthy?”

It’s more meant as a joke than a real question and you falter when you realize that you hit the nail on the head. 

Tooru seems to fold under your question. 

“Yes.” He pouts. “I thought… Well…” He grips the edge of the sink, stares out the window instead of facing you. “The team I play for offers housing. I had a nice apartment all to myself.”

“But you need the reinforcement of a second person to actually get your life together?”

“Yeah.” He doesn’t even sound ashamed about it.

You step forward, as close to him as you dare. When he turns, you level him with a glare, stick your pointer finger into his ridiculous buff chest. 

“You listen to me, you little shit. I am not your mother and I am not your Iwa-chan. I will not run after you and remind you to eat and take a shit and go to sleep. You are more than capable of doing it yourself.”

He opens his mouth to answer but you’re not done yet.

“If I catch you with another Tortas Fritas this month, I’ll whoop your ass.”

Tooru smiles so bright you can see a dimple forming. “Is that a promise?”

“Eat.” You turn away before he can see how flustered that comment made you.

-

Two days later you find him in the kitchen, making a ridiculous show of it as if he’s there to film an ad for an apron instead of cooking.

He’s bought an apron for himself. Something told you he wanted to buy an alien-themed one but couldn’t find one.

Should you tell him that Godzilla isn’t an alien? He seems pretty happy about the little guy destroying cities on the flimsy fabric.

It’s been a rough day for you. Both your period and your work studies have you rubbed raw. You want to crawl into bed, not think about the boy that came in today, the one who reminds you too much of your little brother.

“Hey, am I doing this right?” Tooru calls after you as you make your way to your bedroom to unload your stuff.

“For sure.” You croak out, half turned to look at him. 

There’s something in his smile that makes it look wobbly. Not for the first time you wonder if he’s just as homesick as you are. You drop your bag on the floor in front of your bedroom door and walk back to the kitchen.

“What are you making?”

“Curry.” He waves his spoon around like he’s a magician instead of a cook. “My mother’s recipe.”

“Oh, I don’t think I’ve ever tried Japanese Curry. Can I try?”

“Of course.” Tooru grins proudly. “I made enough for both of us. And there will be leftovers.”

“That’s neat. What’s the special ingredient?”

“No special ingredient. It’s a basic recipe, I can teach you if you want.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” You lean against the sink, surprised when he pulls something from the fridge. 

“Iced coffee. Thought you might like one when you get home.”

“You’re a godsend.” You groan and take the first sip. You’re not sure what’s more effective at waking you up, the caffeine or the coolness of the drink against the heat of all of Argentina.

“You shouldn’t drink that much coffee.” He points out when you’re halfway done with the drink.

“You shouldn’t tell me what to do.”

“You could sleep more.”

“I will when you do it too.”

He looks up, a grin on his face that speaks of danger. “Deal.”

“What?”

“Bedtime for both of us. Does ten sound okay?”

“You’ll never be able to get to bed at ten. Don’t you have to bingewatch sports for five hours at night to feel complete?”

“Ouch. I’m just doing research.”

“Mhm, or you have a fetish.”

He laughs at that, loud and carefree. You like him like this.

“Tell me about your mom.” It sounds a little too harsh, but he doesn’t seem to mind that you’re demanding instead of asking.

He looks different when he speaks of his family. Younger and taller, both at the same time. Like he allows himself to be vulnerable and grows above himself through that. 

You wonder how he could ever think that his fake smile could work on women when his real smile is this attractive.

-

Days turn into weeks, into months.

Tooru is now the crowned king of the kitchen - after a few too many cooking battles that you’ve all sorely lost. It’s not that he doesn’t know how to cook, he just needs a reason to do so. He jokes it’s the smile on your face when you eat, but you don’t want to believe that.

It holds too many implications to believe it.

In turn, you’ve taken up all laundry duties. It’s a good system and you don’t have to nag him anymore. If he doesn’t put his dirty laundry out on Tuesdays, he will go without clean clothes for another week. Enforcing that rule has already gotten you plenty of pictures to use for blackmail, your favorite the one of him in a bright pink jumpsuit he was supposed to bring a friend. Pink suits his flustered face.

-

Iwa-chan is coming today. He’d told you about it weeks in advance when his friend booked the flight.Tooru has been like a headless chicken ever since and you’re happy for him, you really are, but there’s also a pang of jealousy. Why can’t your family take the time to visit you?

You know why, but it still hurts that you’re going to have to watch him be happy, pushed to the side in favor of his new friend.

“Hey.” He stops by your door, throws himself into a ridiculous pose like he always does and grins when you can’t help but roll your eyes. “I’m leaving in five minutes. Are you ready?”

You furrow your brows. “Ready for what? I told you you have to clean the apartment, he’s your guest.”

“No, to come with me, silly. I can’t go into the madness of an airport alone! What if someone recognizes me?”

“Well, they might do as a favor and kidnap you.” You joke and watch him pout. It’s ridiculous how cute that makes him look.

“Take that back.” Tooru whines and you laugh. “Never.

“Take that back!” He repeats, taking one step, then two, only to drop himself on you.

You shriek in surprise at the sudden weight, try to wiggle away but his face is so close, grinning from ear to ear, his eyes full of light.

You don’t really know who moved closer first. You, him, both of you? 

But your lips meet and your eyes close and it’s just him and you and your joined breath and the softness of his lips, his weight on you and your hands in his ridiculous fluffy hair.

You don’t speak for a while, don’t need too. Exploring this is more important.

Eventually he pulls away to press his temple against yours, to squint into his eyes.

“You like me?” He asks, voice uncharacterally shy. 

“I hate you.” You tease and move for his lips again. He pouts.

“Don’t tell anyone.” You whisper against his lips. “Okay? Don’t tell, Tooru.”

“Just Iwa-chan.” He whispers back, caught in the feeling of it. “He’ll be able to guess it anyway."

You giggle against his lips, kiss him again, once, twice, until you can feel yourself getting lost in it again. But there’s a thought nibbling at the edge of your brain now and it gets louder.

“Tooru?” You ask when you pull back again. “Shouldn’t we leave for the airport?”

His eyes widen comically as he whips his head around to look at your alarm clock.

“Shit! He’s going to be so mad!”

-

Iwa-chan is a monument of muscle, a building of a man. He’s not that tall, at least not taller than Tooru, but he’s impressive in his sturdiness, arms folded in front of his chest as he glowers at Tooru.

Tooru seems totally unimpressed by that, even as you drag your feet, a little scared of his friend. 

“Iwa-chaaaan!” He sings, drapes himself over his friend's shoulder. “I missed you!”

“Clearly you didn’t! You’re half an hour late!”

“It’s not my fault.” Tooru smiles coyly, pulling you close by the hand he’d been holding since you exited his car. “Can you blame me? I got distracted by beauty!”

“I…” You stumble. “I’m sorry. This time it really is my fault. But I kicked his ass on the way here.”

Iwa-chan’s lips quirk up into a hint of a smile.

“Good. I’ll leave the rest of the ass-kicking to you.”

You salute him, which has Tooru whining like a child and begging for mercy.

You pull at his ear, just enough to tease him. 

“Come on.” You tell him. “You need to show Iwa-chan how well you cleaned your apartment.”

-

Tagging anyone who helped me - it was much appreciated:

@alienaiver @misfit-megumi @missalienqueen @amecchii @notsochillnerd @ur-local-simp @krishnaabhistha @fuzztacular

Hope I didn't forget anyone. If I did, forgive me!

my Kofi if you want to tip me

[artemis32]

Transilience II

Yandere Todoroki family x reader

Eventually huh?? this took forever but are any of us actually surprised :))

I’m not really all that happy with this but oh well, enjoy

word count - 11.3k

****

tw: mentions of past child neglect, panic attacks, abuse, stalking, kidnapping, the whole family is literally their own tw (they’re horrible but i love them)

****

part I

bnha masterlist

****

****

A part of you, however miniscule, wished you’d remained unconscious - for another month at least.

That would be better than having to sit through what must have been the hundredth police interview you’d had since waking up. They were never-ending - as soon as the doctors had cleared you and allowed more than two visitors at a time, they’d been flowing through the door as if drawn to you.

You supposed that it was necessary, you just wished that they would stop asking you the same three questions.

Did you see anything strange before you were taken? Yes, a bright light.

Do you remember their faces? No, I was unconscious.

How did you develop a quirk? 

That last question annoyed you the most. How were you supposed to know how you magically developed a quirk? Honestly, it was ridiculous - they asked you a question, you answered truthfully, but they wouldn’t leave you alone.

Regardless, you were looking forward to being released. Not that you were overly eager to return home, especially since you were unsure of what awaited you. You just wanted to be back in a more familiar environment - one that didn’t have people flowing in and out as they pleased.

Though now that you had a quirk, there had been mentions of keeping you under surveillance for a while longer. While you understood their concerns, you were already irritable enough from having people in your space at all hours of the day. Any longer and you might well lose your mind.

Ironically enough, that was what everyone had been trying to avoid.

Having a quirk was incredible, but having developed it so late in your life, you had less control over it than a child would, especially since it wasn’t exactly natural - or at least that’s what the doctors had been telling you.

Besides mentioning that you should be kept under surveillance, there had been no mention of exactly who would be watching you. 

You didn’t want to know, but you were sure that they wouldn’t grant you the kindness of ignorance.

****

Returning home wasn’t as exciting as you’d thought it would be.

It wasn’t as if you were expecting a welcoming party. You weren’t even expecting anyone to be home. But you thought something might have changed. Any change, even a negative one, would have been better than everything remaining exactly the same.

You dumped your bag on the floor as soon as you stepped into your bedroom, nudging the door closed with your foot. 

Everything looked the same. Not one item was out of place.

Your bed was still neatly made, windows cracked open slightly, books stacked high on your desk. Even the jacket you’d tossed onto your bed before leaving was laying in the exact same place.

Shoulders slumped, you made your way to your bed and sat down heavily. 

While your family may not have treated you well, at least they hadn’t shoved you into some small cupboard. Even if he hadn’t treated you well, your bedroom and belongings were the only things you felt as though you owed your father for - a kindness he probably didn’t owe you.

Then again, it wasn’t as if he’d even notice if you purchased something. His overflowing mountain of money would be difficult to dent, even if you went on an unrestricted spree with his card.

You flopped down on your back, staring up at the ceiling. 

The walls were a neutral light grey, nothing overly colourful or special. 

Just like you.

You flinched at your own thoughts.

The only thing that gave your room any personality was the glow in the dark stars stuck to your ceiling.

Years prior, Fuyumi had offered to redecorate your room. You had a feeling that it wasn’t out of the kindness of her heart.

You’d felt panicked and hurriedly told her no. She’d given you a strange look, one that you had ignored at the time.

No matter what changed throughout the years, your room was one thing you’d fight to keep the same.

****

Touya had spent a lot of time with you before he died.

Personally, you’d always thought that you were his favourite sibling. Not that you ever had the chance to ask.

He would spend his entire evening with you, everyday like clockwork.

At dinner, he’d sit to your right, between you and your mother. Shoto would sit to your left, next to your father.

He would talk to you, ask about your day, about what you’d done at school.

The fact that you were four and your stories hardly varied day-to-day never bothered him. He’d listen to your rambling words with rapt attention, gaze never straying from your own.

Touya took over your nightly routine when Rei began slipping. He kept you away from her when he saw the subtle hatred she had for you.

After dinner, he’d make sure you bathed, dressed, and brushed your teeth. He would occasionally read to you too, but often he’d just sit with you until you fell asleep, softly petting your hair.

One day, he decided that your ceiling was far too boring, and he surprised you with a pack of glow in the dark stars, as well as some themed stickers and a large bag of candy.

They were cheap, and for anyone else they may not have meant much, but for you, especially in the years following those, it meant the world.

You had many of his personal items from before he died too, not willing to part with them.

After a few years had passed, they’d been shoved to the back of your closet. While you wanted to hold on to a piece of him, it became difficult. Thinking about the fact that you’d lost the only person in your life that could tolerate you wasn’t a pleasant thought.

Regardless, the stars stayed. The stickers peeled away as the paint flaked, and his belongings were stowed away, but the stars remained.

****

After staring up at the ceiling became more of a chore than a bored pastime, you sat up and looked around your room.

It had been nearly three hours since you’d gotten back, and still, no one was home. 

Usually, you’d stay in your room or leave the house, but after everything that had happened, you were apprehensive of straying too far away from the safety of your house. It may not have been the most welcoming, but it was better than whatever lay beyond the front door.

You didn’t want to test your luck anymore than you already had.

Staying in your room wasn’t high on your list of priorities either. 

Well, I am kind of hungry, and no one else is home... Might as well raid the kitchen while I have the chance.

The sound of your footsteps is muffled by your slippers, the dull thuds filling up the empty hallways as you make your way to the kitchen.

You take your time searching through the pantry and fridge, in no hurry to scamper back to the confines of your bedroom. Your parents may have been kind enough to give you a decent sized room, but they were sure to shove you into the furthest, loneliest area of the house.

Perhaps that hadn’t been their intention originally - your room was right next to what used to be Touya’s bedroom. Of course, after he passed, your small bubble of safety grew to become incredibly isolated. Your father had his own wing of the house, even more solitary than your own with only Shoto nearby for company - not that your brother wanted to spend more time with him than what was required - and Fuyumi and Natsuo had their own comfortable wing of the house.

So you took your time in the common area, sitting cross legged on the floor as you peered around the bottom shelves of the large pantry.

Twenty minutes later, you decided on a large bowl of fruit. Just as you were contemplating whether or not to eat it in the kitchen or return to your room, someone let out a noise behind you. You turned, shoulders tensed, and-

“Shoto.”

Your twin brother, older by no more than ten minutes, looks almost shocked to see you, his brows lifted slightly, covered by his dual coloured fringe.

He says nothing, still silently staring at you. 

His presence makes you uncomfortable. He was little more than a stranger to you at this point - you hadn’t held a conversation with him for longer than five minutes in years, especially when he seemed to stare you down silently for minutes every time you tried to talk to him.

“I was just looking for something to eat. The food in the hospital isn’t great and I’m hungry, so…”

You're not sure why you feel the need to justify your presence to him, but something about the way he’s staring at you compels you to speak even if you have nothing to say.

The silence between the two of you becomes almost unbearable, and you're about to say something, anything to fill the oppressive silence, but the two of you are interrupted.

Your father walks in, seemingly preoccupied with his thoughts. Though he seems distracted, he notices the two of you almost immediately. The atmosphere instantly shifts. It had been awkward before, but now, it was ten times worse.

“Ah, Shoto…” he trails off awkwardly, barely acknowledging you.

He seems uncomfortable, unwilling to meet your eyes, keeping his gaze trained on the floor.

A part of you wants to feel satisfied with his reaction, his seemingly ashamed attitude. But all you feel is an overwhelming sense of anger, of injustice.

After everything that’s happened, he still won’t even look me in the eye. Pathetic.

Just as Shoto opens his mouth to speak, just as you prepare to excuse yourself, the three of you are interrupted, Fuyumi walking in with her head down, going through her bag in search of something.

“Dad, have you seen my keys, I could have sworn they were just in my bag…”

She doesn’t take note of the uncomfortable tension until she looks up, her sentence dying out halfway through.

“Oh.”

Her arms drop down to her sides as the four of you stand silently, each person too lost in their own discomfort to say anything.

Fuyumi is the first to break the silence, and she shocks you by addressing you directly.

“I, um, I’m making dinner tonight, if you’re feeling up to it, I hope you’ll join us. Natsuo and Shoto are both home too, so everyone will be there.”

You aren't sure what to say, so you just nod, still staring at your father. 

He’s the first to leave, walking out without a word. You leave next, abandoning your snack on the counter in favour of returning to your room. Your hunger had long since disappeared, replaced instead by a sick feeling at the bottom of your stomach.

****

Your quirk wasn’t anything particularly exciting - not that you would ever complain. 

A mundane, somewhat common quirk was better than nothing, you knew that better than anyone.

Nevertheless, you knew that your quirk was relatively average, and genetically speaking, it made sense. Considering the fact that your father was a pyrokinetic and your mother was a cryokinetic, it felt as though you were the middle ground between the two. 

Your quirk was the most simplified version of theirs that could be found.

Telekinesis wasn’t an awful quirk by any stretch, and the doctors, after several rounds of tests, had reassured you of that. They had told you that currently, you were at the level of a child, a five-year-old who had just received their quirk.

With time, you would gain better control over your abilities, pushing the boundaries and perhaps you could even surpass your father in terms of control.

The doctor who had dealt with you the most often - Dr Takahashi, or Kosuke as he insisted - was someone who specialised in unusual quirk development. He seemed delighted when he first met you, his eyes sparkling with a childlike wonder you hadn’t seen in many years. If you didn’t know any better, you might have thought that he was more excited about your sudden quirk development than you were.

He conducted many tests and told you many things, each more anxiety inducing than the last. He made it clear that his goal consisted of two things. 

First, to make sure that you could properly handle your quirk. No one wanted you to accidentally injure someone else or yourself because your emotions ran wild and you lost control.

Secondly, he wanted to learn as much about your sudden and impossible development of a quirk as he could. He told you that he had high hopes for the development of your quirk, that he was eager to see exactly how versatile it could be. He hoped, with enough time and control, you’d be able to manipulate and influence things on a molecular level. 

You were just content to have a quirk, to be normal. You didn’t care much for becoming someone’s science experiment.

He’d been transparent about his motives from the very first day you’d met him, and that meant that you trusted him far more than you trusted any of the other doctors who claimed they wanted to help you. You knew they all held a morbid curiosity towards you and your abilities, but at least Kosuke was honest about it.

You knew better than to trust them.

****

The atmosphere was tense and oppressive. You shift in your seat slightly, eyes trained on the tabletop, as if it would crack open and suck you in at any moment. You wished it would.

Fuyumi clears her throat, leaning forward slightly. 

“How’s the food? Natsuo told me all of your favourites, I tried to make them as accurate as I could. I’m not sure how you usually like it...”

She trailed off. 

It didn’t seem possible, but somehow, her comment had made dinner even more awkward.

And you were about to make it worse. Much worse.

After a moment of silence, you spoke quietly, still staring down at the tabletop.

“The doctors said that it would be best if I remained under observation for a while, I’m sure you’re all aware of that.”

There’s a pause, almost questioning, but you don’t wait for anyone to speak.

“They recommended - or rather, they were advised - that I stay with... professionals.”

Your family seems to be holding their breath, even your father is completely focused on your words. You don’t want to disrupt the calm that has settled over your home. 

It may have been tense and awkward, but it was better than having to walk on eggshells around your own home. But regardless of what you wanted, this was something that had to be said - there was just no avoiding it.

“They advised that I be sent to UA. The principal, Mr Nezu, has asked for me to be placed under his watch for the next few months at least. Well, not under him specifically - rather, with All Might.”

The air became uncomfortably warm, not that it affected anyone but you.

Fuyumi and Natsuo both had ice quirks, and Shoto was perfectly capable of regulating his own body temperature. None of them felt the scorching heat emanating from where your father sat at the head of the table.

You lean back in your seat, try to escape the waves of scalding air now filling the room.

“Absolutely not.”

Remaining silent seems to backfire, fueling your father’s anger.

He slams his hand down onto the tabletop, cutlery and crockery rattling from the force. You’re sure the table is cracked.

“You will not be going. Not only are you unstable, unable to control your... quirk, you’re also my child, and I won’t have that spectacle of a hero watching over you.”

The word hero is spat with such venom that you’re sure it’ll burn through the tabletop, much like his hand, steaming and smouldering as it sinks into the expensive wood as if it’s nothing more than butter.

A small part of you thinks that you should be offended by his words, by the fact that he seems to view you more as property than a living, breathing human being. You are offended.

But you’re more concerned with his not-so-subtle jab at your quirk.

Maybe you should bite your tongue, accept his words and look for another solution. You should at least try and keep the peace. You should, you know you should.

But you don’t.

“I know my quirk is unstable, that’s why I need to be with people that actually know how to help me control it. I’m not going to this school to have fun, I’m going there because I don’t have a choice.” 

Your voice remains steady and even, but you can tell that it burns, much like Endeavour's flames. 

Ironically, that’s probably as close as you’d ever get to having any similarities to your father.

Your siblings still remain silent, watching as your father’s anger unfolds before them.

He stands, towering over you, trying to intimidate you. 

It works. No matter how much you may have changed, physically or mentally, you were still scared of your father. But this was something you couldn’t back down on.

“You will not be going. That is final.”

Years of being treated as a pariah in your home has taught you a lot, namely how to control your emotions in difficult times. But no matter how much control you display outwardly, your newfound quirk betrays your mental state.

“Like I’ve already said, neither of us really have a choice. I’m going, whether you like it or not.” 

Fuyumi finally speaks up, trying to diffuse the situation.

“Calm down, calm down, you’re making everything fly around.”

True to her words, the cutlery and crockery are floating around the room, spinning rapidly around your heads. 

You take a deep breath and everything falls, landing with a crash back on to the table. 

Without waiting for permission, you stand up from your seat and leave, escaping to your room.

You had a lot of packing to do.

****

You decided that packing would have to wait until things calmed down, not wanting to incite another argument with your father. Rather, you settled for laying in bed, arms straight by your sides as you lay on your back.

Sleep had eluded you for the past few hours, but you couldn’t bring yourself to sit up or leave your room. So you lay there in silence, trying not to think about anything specific, instead letting your mind stagnate.

What would mom say if she was here now?

No, not mom - Touya, what would he say?

Your mind is a mess, and you try in vain to sort through the jumbled pieces. 

Putting on a tough face was easy enough when the people around you didn’t care about making sure that you were okay, and usually you’d be able to sort through your problems and inner turmoil on your own.

Really, nothing has changed, so you should be able to think straight. But you can’t. 

For some reason, one you’re blind to, you feel overwhelmed, and your breathing turns laboured.

You lay there in the dark, the sound of your panicked gasps filling the room, hot tears rolling down your temples.

It had been a while since you’d last felt this way, felt so helpless and agitated. You roll onto your side, curling into a tight ball, arms and legs tucked tightly into your stomach.

Scrunching your eyes closed, you try to take a deep breath, and it shudders through you, shaking your crumpled frame.

The past few days had engulfed you, but you’d been too caught up in the moment to truly process anything. Evidently, this was the moment that everything hit you at once.

You realise now how scared you were, how out of depth you felt.

Touya’s hand was warm on your shoulder, his arm wrapped around you tightly. He always felt like a furnace, as if he had a constant fever. It felt nice; comforting and familiar.

“Don’t cry, shh, shh.”

His calloused palm smooths itself over your cheek, wiping away the tears staining your face.

“Come on, pretty girl, don’t cry now.”

You sniffled slightly, clutching his shirt in your fists, burying your face into his chest.

“They hate me.”

He sighs heavily, arms coming to wrap around your head. He’s silent for a moment, contemplating his words carefully.

“They don’t hate you, I promise you. Hey, look at me.” He demands.

You do. 

Of course you do. You do whatever Touya asks of you - he says jump, you say how high.

He gives you a soft smile, ruffling your hair lightly.

“I love you. Tell me.”

“You love me Touya.”

“Is that enough?”

You nod in the self-assured way that all children do, so sure that your big brother would never lie to you.

“They might not show it in the best way, but they love you too. Dad, Fuyumi, Natsuo, Shoto - they all love you so much, too much.”

You’re hesitant, unsure of his words. But he’s never lied to you, so you try your best to believe him.

He cracks a smile, the large grin splitting his face, eyes wrinkling on either side.

“But I love you more, you got that?”

He lightly digs his fingers into your sides, and you screech out loudly, giggling as he continues his assault.

“I didn’t hear a yes.” He says in a singsong voice.

“Y-Yes Touya-nii, I understand, I understand!”

You manage to get the words out through small shrieks and giggles, trying to slink out of his grasp. 

He pulls you close, smothering you in a hug. He sighs heavily when you hug him back, the puff of air he lets out mussing your hair. 

The memory calms you, breathing evened out, tears drying up.

You had many memories with Touya, but that one, one from mere months before he’d passed - it always stuck out more than the others. 

It was your happy place, something you thought of whenever you got too overwhelmed.

You still feel overwhelmed and anxious, but at least you’ve stopped shaking. 

The dried tears make your cheeks feel sticky, but you can’t bring yourself to move, let alone get up and wash your face.

You fall asleep still curled up in a tight ball, limbs tucked into your stomach.

****

It had been a week since you’d told your father what Dr Takahashi had advised, and you’d gone out of your way to avoid him and your siblings. 

You’d been cooped up in your room for the vast majority of that time, leaving only to use the bathroom or raid the kitchen for food. 

It felt cowardly to hide away and avoid your problems, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, not when dealing with it caused more problems than it solved. 

Distractions didn’t come easily. You’d spent more time than you’d care to admit staring at the ceiling or out the window. The view had lost its charm after the second day.

Now, a week later, you decided to stop hiding away like a hermit and instead act as if nothing had happened - or at least act more maturely than you had been.

Still, you left your room cautiously, peering down the long, dark hallways as if there was a terrible monster lurking within your house. 

You suppose that in a sense, there probably was.

The kitchen, thankfully, was deserted, quiet and clean as it usually was.

You distract yourself by filling a glass with water, the clear trickle of water the only sound in the empty space.

Leaning against the cool countertop, you slowly sip at your drink, eyeing the spotless kitchen with a disinterested eye. 

If nothing else, Fuyumi had filled your mother’s shoes well, having taken over as somewhat of a caretaker after she had been sent away. Your father employed various maids and chefs on occasion, but Fuyumi oversaw a lot of the household work when she was available.

Similarly to your mother, she never showed much interest in you beyond feeding you. 

The thought should have stung, but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel very strongly about it anymore.

You’re so deep in thought, you barely notice your father entering the kitchen, Fuyumi close behind him, both of them carrying grocery bags while holding a quiet conversation.

The sight of him, standing in the middle of the kitchen, arms filled with bags of produce; it throws you off.

He looks so normal, so domestic, it almost convinces you that he isn’t as bad as you’ve always believed - that none of them are so bad. He’s dressed casually, jeans and a black polo neck shirt. 

Sometimes, if you pretend hard enough, you can almost trick yourself into believing that you’re part of a normal, happy family. One that has dinner together every night, one that holds family trips and movie nights, a family that actually cares about one another beyond whatever twisted sense of duty your family seems to have.

Of course, that wasn’t possible, and the reality of your family was quite different.

Fuyumi is next to you now, eagerly attempting to converse with you, her hand resting gently against your forearm and she leans closer.

You flinch back, only slightly, but she notices nonetheless, retracting her hand a moment later. 

Now’s as good a time as any.

Whatever your sister had been saying falls on deaf ears as you interrupt her, addressing your father with a clipped tone.

“About the other day - have you changed your mind yet?”

It’s innocent enough, posed as a nonchalant inquiry, one brought up in passing. 

Only, you’re gripping the glass in a vice grip, knuckles turning white, and your eyebrows are slightly pinched together, wrinkling faintly. 

Truthfully, you feel as though you’ve been wound up tight, like a spring. It’s all you can do to stop your hands from shaking - even worse, you have a suffocating hold over your quirk, forcing it down even as you panic.

Enji hums lightly, not looking your way as he sets his bags down on the countertop opposite you, his broad shoulders relaxed, his demeanour passive.

He turns to you then, and looks you in the eye. He searches your face, looking for something for a moment, and he seems to find whatever it is he’s looking for because he huffs and shakes his head, slowly making his way towards you with heavy steps.

Your father approaches you as if you’re some frightened animal, stopping a few steps away as he crosses his arms over his broad chest, muscles bulging, straining against the fabric of his shirt.

“If you truly need to train as the doctors have said, then you may train with me.”

Protests begin falling from your lips before he’s even finished his sentence, and you see his eyebrows quirk with irritation.

He raises a massive palm, silencing you with one look while he shakes his head. 

If you didn’t know any better, you might have said he looked disappointed.

He speaks again once he’s sure you won’t interrupt.

"You'll train with me or not at all."

Something flashes inside of you then - anger or frustration or something similar. His selfishness truly knew no bounds, that much was clear.

"I'm not Shoto - I’m not Touya. You treat me like him - you treat me worse than you treated him, but no matter how much you force it, I am not him."

He steps forward, moving faster than your brain can register.

The entire left side of your face burns, stinging from the force of his calloused palm connecting with your cheek.

There’s a ringing in your left ear, and a gentle prod of your tongue reveals that your lip has been split open. You feel disorientated, and you’re surprised you didn’t fall down when he hit you.

You laugh then. Silently, humourlessly.

When your gaze meets his, he looks shocked, all the blood having left his face. A quick glance at Fuyumi shows that she’s just as shocked, one hand clenched in front of her stomach, the other covering her mouth which is twisted into a horrified expression. 

Your father opens his mouth to say something, but you cut him off before he gets the words out.

“You like to act like it, but you haven’t changed one bit.”

Pushing past him is easy, he doesn't try to stop you, not even calling out to you as you grab a jacket from the coat rack near the entrance and leave, slamming the front door behind you.

****

You walk around aimlessly, staring blankly into the storefronts of various shops.

After you’d left home, you got on to the first bus that had come by, getting off only once the walls had felt more suffocating than safe.

Where you were now, you had no idea.

Some or other business district, if you had to wager a guess. There were a few smaller stores and bars littered out amongst the highrise buildings, though the streets were mostly deserted. You hadn’t seen very many people, even after hours of meandering about.

You’d been walking around for a while, and the sun was close to setting now. The buildings around you were bathed in an eerie red-tinged glow, almost as if covered in blood. 

As much as you hated to admit it, you were lost.

You were lost, and you didn’t have a phone. Hell, you barely had enough money for the bus fare back home - however far that may be.

Despite the dire circumstances, your panic felt strangely muted. Perhaps you’d exhausted your quota for negative emotions in this lifetime. The thought amused you.

Your face ached, and if you have to guess, your cheek was probably swollen and red from where your father had struck you hours earlier.

Trying to ignore the pain had worked well at first, though that was probably because you were running high off of adrenaline. Now though, the pain had set in, knocking you in full force, and your jaw throbbed horribly.

After weighing your options carefully, you decided that the best use for the last of your money would be to buy an ice pack.

You’d manage to find a way home, one way or another. Or maybe you’d continue to wander around for a while longer. Either way, the insistent pounding in your face was more important than returning home.

Finding a convenience store was easy enough, and you slinked into the first one you came across, the bell above the door jingling loudly. The noise made your head hurt.

For a store in the centre of a business district, it was surprisingly unkempt. Lights flickered oddly, the windows were mostly blacked out, and there were piles of merchandise stacked precariously throughout the small store.

You ignored your sense of unease, instead slipping through the store silently, making a beeline towards the freezers shoved in the corner. 

The store may have been small and cramped, but at least it was clean. The sliding door moves smoothly, and a gush of cold air hits you as you reach into the freezer, grabbing the first ice pack you see.

As you make your way through the store, browsing to see if they had any snacks cheap enough to fit in your restricted budget, the bell above the door tinkled. You wince softly, ears still ringing loudly.

The old man really didn’t hold back. He hasn’t hit me like that in years.

Finally, you find a stack of cheap energy bars near the opposite end of the store. Grabbing a few, you make your way towards the counter.

The customer before you stands hunched over, a hood covering his head. He drops two cans and a packet of chips on the counter, tossing the money down afterwards. The cashier seems bored, his face flat and eyes dead.

After handing back his change, the cashier's eyes slide to you and you step forward, nearly colliding with the customer in front of you.

“Watch it.” He hisses at you.

You mumble out a few apologies, head tilted downwards, eyes trained on the floor.

He scoffs and makes his way to the door, meeting who you assume to be a friend. He throws you one last dirty look before the pair leaves, the door slamming shut behind them with a bang.

You don’t bother trying to hold a conversation with the man behind the counter, instead just pushing your items forward gently and handing him the money. You’re quick to leave after you’ve paid.

The cold of the ice pack seems to seep into your bones, numbing your cheek and jaw. It feels amazing, and you have to stop yourself from moaning out as it numbs the pain.

You curse yourself for not carrying more money - painkillers would have helped a lot at the moment, but you had to settle for a quickly melting ice pack and a cheap snack instead.

The few energy bars you’d managed to pay for were shoved into the pocket of your jacket, one hand clenching them, the other holding the pack to your face. 

You pull the door open and dart outside, careful not to trip on the slight step in front of the store. You stand still for a moment, deliberating on which direction you should take.

A glance to your right, towards the busier part of the neighbourhood, shows the two men from earlier, lingering near the entrance of the store. You quickly decide to go left, hopping down the step and hurrying along the sidewalk.

As reluctant as you were to go towards the less populated area of the city centre, you weren’t eager to walk past the man from earlier either. Something about him made your hair stand on end.

Checking left and then right, you quickly dart across the road, risking a glance behind you.

The two men are gone.

You huff out a light laugh.

I’m so paranoid. God, that’s so embarrassing.

Regardless of the now empty street, you continue on in the direction you were walking. Having a quirk, especially one like yours, it made you feel safe. Even though you didn’t have the best control over it, it was better than being quirkless and defenceless.

The sun had set by now, and though there were many street lights, very few of them actually worked. The street was bathed in darkness, though your eyes adjusted quickly.

You should be concerned, you know that you should be - you’re alone, lost and in pain. But you feel somewhat weightless, almost free. 

There’s a small skip in your step as you walk down the winding street, taking random turns and corners, not paying attention to your surroundings as much as you should. By now, the roads have become narrower, the buildings taller.

You’re in your own head, playing over the events of the day, when you hear the slight patter of footsteps behind you. 

Something in your gait falters, and you fight the urge to stop and look around. 

Perhaps you’re being paranoid, perhaps it’s nothing, but you’d rather be sure.

There are no corners or turns for a while, the street you’re on is long and narrow, so you decide to slip through the alleyway up ahead.

As you turn into the alleyway, you chance a glance behind you.

Nothing.

There’s no one there.

The street is empty, devoid of any life form other than you.

You clench the now limp ice pack in your hand, shaking your head slightly.

When did I become so paranoid?

You puff out your cheeks, holding your breath for a long moment before slowly releasing it. Under different circumstances, you might have laughed at yourself.

A short glance into the alleyway confirms that it leads to the next street over, so you decide to take it as a shortcut instead of walking around the cluster of buildings. It’s nearly pitch black, the dim light from the street lamps not reaching this far into the backstreets.

Stuffing the melted ice pack into your other pocket, you relax your shoulders and start making your way through the alleyway.

The sound of your footsteps echoes around you, bouncing from wall to wall.

You’re about a third of the way through the alley when your skin prickles painfully and you stop dead in your tracks.

There’s no noise, no movement, nothing to warrant the sudden fear you feel. But as much as you try to convince yourself, you can’t seem to move, rooted in place with terror.

Sucking up your pride, you turn to leave the alley and-

You’re face to face with a man.

At least, you assume it’s a man.

He’s tall, but that’s the extent of what you can see. His face is covered by a mask and he wears a brightly coloured coat and a ridiculous looking tophat. There isn’t even a sliver of skin visible, every inch of him covered by extravagant clothing.

His fashion choices are the least of your worries though. He stands casually, leaning against the wall of the alleyway.

It might have looked like he was outside for a break or some air, but the way his body is positioned, leaning towards you, ready and waiting, the way he covers the nearest exit from the alley - he has you trapped.

You don’t wait for him to speak or move. Instead, you take off running towards the far end of the alley.

His laugh is deep, the sound of it reverberating around you. 

It’s a mocking sound, and it seems to chase after you as you run.

Whether or not he was innocent didn’t matter, his presence set off alarm bells in your head, and you’d rather be wrong and hurt his feelings than end up dead, or worse.

Only, you don’t make it very far before you’re skidding to a halt, trying not to crash into the man before you.

He grins widely, the scaled skin of his face stretching. What alarms you more than his menacing smile on his face is what appears to be a sword strapped to his back.

For one terrifying moment, your mind goes blank. You can’t think or move, and you stand there like a deer in headlights.

Thankfully, your body doesn’t fail you, some deeply buried instinct rising up to protect you as the scaled man approaches you, still smiling widely.

The alleyway, littered with junk and cardboard boxes, still feels cramped. But you thank the mess surrounding you as your quirk sends pieces of metal and plastic flying towards the man as he nears you.

His arms rise to protect his face as he’s pelted with scraps.

The man behind you seems to be more agile, gracefully weaving through the onslaught of rubbish being thrown his way.

You try to run again, slipping past the man still being attacked by your quirk. He tries to reach for you but you scamper out of the way.

Only, your efforts aren’t enough, and you feel yourself slowing down.

Am I slowing down?

No…

Your surroundings seem to become bigger, the exit of the alley growing further away with every step.

Except nothing was moving - you were shrinking, being encased in some type of blue shell.

The masked man, now ten times larger than you, picks you up with a light laugh. He says something to his companion, who is no longer being pelted with litter, before slipping you into his pocket.

Panic clogs up your throat, so thick and slimy that you can barely breathe.

You feel weightless for a short moment, and then you’re being moved again, the man taking you out of his pocket and placing you on the floor.

Returning to your original size happens rapidly, and you sway in place as you try to shake off the dizziness in your head.

“Ah, please wait here for a moment, you’ll meet the others shortly.”

You’re disorientated, confused as the masked man from before slips out of the room. As soon as the door shuts behind him, you collapse. The floor is dusty and the room is small. The smell of mildew fills your lungs uncomfortably as you look around the room. 

It’s cramped, barely large enough for three people. You could probably touch the two opposite walls from your position on the floor.

Your mind runs rampant with what ifs and you wonder if you’re going to die soon. For all your bravado, having a quirk had done nothing to help you protect yourself. Shame flooded your mind and you had to bite back tears - both from terror and self pity.

Despite what the man had said earlier, he doesn’t return, and even with the situation as grim as it was, you find yourself falling asleep, still a crumpled heap on the floor.

****

There were times that you’d almost felt thankful that you’d been born without a quirk.

Like when you’d seen the way Touya and Shoto had to train with your father, the way he would hit and shove them, force them to push themselves to impossible limits just to meet his standards.

Sometimes being quirkless felt like a blessing in disguise.

There were also times, before Touya passed, before your mother’s break, that you’d felt as though your family might have actually cared for you. Well, everyone except your mother.

You weren’t sure whether it was a figment of your imagination or not, but it didn’t matter. It was little more than a hazy memory at this point.

Your father hitting Shoto harshly for making you cry, holding you close to his chest as he pet your hair. He smelt sharply of woodsmoke, sweat and soap.

Fuyumi petting your head softly after forcing treats down your throat. 

Natsuo propping you up in the basket of his bicycle, flying down the hill as you screeched and laughed.

Shoto grasping your hand tightly, pulling you close after he crawled into your bed with you, claiming he’d had a nightmare, his presence suffocating you while he held you as close as he could.

You’d chalked it all up to a daydream. Even if it was true, all that had happened nearly twelve years ago. Those small actions hardly excused their awful treatment of you in the years following.

Worse than their cold treatment and harsh punishments had to be their effect on others. Even after all these years, the way that you were shunned by other people still stung.

You realise now that it may have been because of your lack of a quirk, but it must have had something to do with your father’s refusal to acknowledge you.

I feel bad - imagine being a pro-hero with a pathetic, quirkless loser as a daughter. I’d be embarrassed too, having to be related to someone like you.

You thought that gaining a quirk would change something, but evidently your family had a problem with you, not your lack of a quirk.

It had been a difficult realisation to come to, one you’d lost a lot of sleep over.

Asking your father to let you go to UA had been a double-barrelled question.

While you were actually asking him to let you join the famous school for heroes, you were also asking him to let you go.

Having no family and no home had to be better than suffering in a household of people who despised you.

Evidently, he couldn’t let you go.

He couldn’t love you, but he refused to let you go.

You felt pathetic, vying for affection for years from the people who hated you most.

Over the past ten years since Touya had passed, you’d tried only once to leave.

You’d packed a bag and left in the middle of the day, making sure that no one saw you leave. You’d made it pretty far too, before you were caught by a pro-hero who dragged you back to your father’s agency.

He beat you after that, smacking you so hard you felt your brain rattle in your skull, leaving bruises that stained your skin for months. He made it clear that you weren’t allowed to leave. They hated you, barely tolerating the sight of you - but you couldn’t leave.

It felt like a fate more cruel than death, some type of inhumane punishment for something you’d done in a past life.

Your siblings had treated you coldly after that too. They didn’t bother pretending to care when your father slapped you around as punishment, turning a blind eye as he told you that if you tried to leave again, he’d send you to the hospital with injuries ten times worse than those he had inflicted.

You suppose that you got the short end of the stick in many ways - you didn’t have a quirk, but you were still treated like Shoto and Touya.

****

You wake up to someone shaking you, propping you up as they try to get you on to your feet.

Flinching back, you blink blearily at them.

It’s the man from earlier, his hat and coat discarded. 

“Come on, we shouldn’t keep them waiting.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to ask questions, instead yanking you up and pushing you towards the only door in the room.

Your initial panic returns, and you begin wriggling in his grasp, digging your heels into the ground as he tries to pull you out of the room.

His exasperated sigh is lost to you, too focused on breaking out of his grasp. He lets go of your arm for a moment before he has his hands wrapped around the back of your thighs, tossing you over his shoulder and walking out of the room.

The fists pounding on his back don’t seem to bother him, and your flailing legs are held down in a vice grip, his fingers digging into your thighs until you yelp.

“Stop moving.” He bites out in an irritated tone.

“Let me go!” 

It’s the first time you’ve spoken to him. You had hoped to sound stern and angry, but it comes out as a broken, terrified garble instead.

He ignores you, making his way through the winding corridors. 

Your search for objects to throw at the man proves to be futile - the corridors are barren.

Tears of frustration begin dotting at your waterline and you instead hang limply over his shoulder, trying not to think about all the horrible things that were about to happen.

He comes to a halt five minutes later, rapping on the door sharply before he’s let in.

You don’t have a chance to look around the room before you’re unceremoniously dropped into a chair. You’re sure it’ll leave a few bruises later on.

Just as you prepare to fling yourself to the side, to run away or attack the man with your quirk, your wrists are enclosed in thick cuffs.

Immediately, it feels as if a part of you has been shut off. A few seconds later and you’ve confirmed it.

Quirk cancelling cuffs.

The realisation that they were prepared enough to bring quirk cancelling cuffs scares you.

You don’t have time to linger on what that may mean.

“Little Todoroki.”

A symphony of laughter surrounds you. Mocking you, taunting you.

There are so many people. Even if you had access to your quirk, you were sure it wouldn’t be of much use.

The two men from before were standing off to the side, alongside two more and a woman. Before you stood a young looking girl, likely your age, and two other men. 

Eight people.

You try to curl into yourself as best you can.

They’re all staring at you, waiting for you to say something, do something.

When you remain still and silent, a few of them laugh again. 

“What, aren’t you going to thank us for your quirk? If I had known that you would be this ungrateful, I would have kept it to myself.”

Your blood chills and your breath catches in your throat.

There are so many questions flying through your mind, many of which you’re too terrified to ask.

“What?”

It’s whispered quietly under your breath, barely loud enough to be heard through the rush of blood in your ears.

“Oh don’t look so surprised, you knew your quirk wasn’t natural.”

Yes, you knew. But hearing it outloud, having it confirmed that your quirk wasn’t your own - it bruises your ego more than you’d care to admit.

The man before you, the blue haired one that seems to be the leader of the small group, continues talking, ignorant to your inner turmoil.

“I can almost see it now - Pro-hero Endeavour, beloved public figure, the famous flame hero - his own daughter affiliated with the same scum of the earth villains he’s sworn to fight. The irony, am I right?”

A few group members laugh cruelly as he continues on.

“Not only are you affiliated with us - you were so desperate for something that your father couldn’t give you that you joined a group of villains - in exchange for a quirk of all things. Oh how the mighty have fallen.”

He laughs then, different from before. It’s low and dry, and he approaches you, crouching down so that he can look you in the eyes through the mask on his face.

You’re horrified when you realise that it isn’t a mask - it’s a hand. A human hand.

Leaning back as far as you can in the uncomfortable wooden chair. It creaks loudly and the back of it digs into your shoulder painfully.

You hold his gaze for as long as you can, not saying a word, hardly daring to breathe. 

“Aren’t you going to ask how we gave you your quirk?”

His question throws you off, and you blink, slightly dumbfounded. You open your mouth, and then close it again, unsure of what to say, of what he wants to hear.

Instead, you nod mutely, still staring intently at his face.

He snorts, shaking his head. He places his hand on your shoulder, leaning forward so that his head is next to yours, so close that his lips graze your ear as he speaks.

“Use your words.”

His fingers tangle gently into the hairs at the nape of your neck.

“How did you give me my quirk.”

Your words lack the tonation of a question, but he doesn’t mention it. He doesn’t answer your question either, rather, he grips the back of your neck harshly, pulling you so close that your nose almost brushes up against the hand on his face.

“I could kill you, you know? All it would take is a touch, and you wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.”

You’re shaking now, though tears elude you. Your eyes are wide and your breathing shallow. 

“But I won’t. My father’s experiment - my experiment - you’re proof that it was a success. Really, you should be thanking me.”

He leans to the side, placing his palms flat on your shoulders and-

Your jacket is gone. Where the familiar material once lay against your shoulders, there was now a fine layer of dust.

“My name is Shigaraki, but you can call me Tomura. We’re going to get to know each other quite well, so you should get comfortable,” he says as he brushes the dust off of your arms.

He clasps your upper arms in his hands, staring at you for only a moment before straightening himself and turning away. He leaves the room without looking at you again, instead waving his companions off and telling them to lock you away.

Most of the remaining people in the room leave then, still laughing and talking amongst themselves. The only two that remain are the masked man from before and one of the strangers who lingered in the shadows.

“Come on, I’ll take you to your room-”

The masked man is cut off abruptly as the other man, one with spiky black hair and charred skin, grabs his arm and whispers something to him.

Though you can’t see his face, it seems as though the masked man throws him a suspicious look. He relents, patting him on the back, leaving the room with one last glance your way.

You’re left alone with the charred man, his back facing you as he watches his companion leave.

…

His shoulders slump and he whirls on his heel, swiftly approaching you.

The palm of his hand is warm on your now bare forearm, and he yanks you harshly from the chair.

“Fucking finally,” he mutters under his breath, pulling out of the room, through the winding corridors.

****

Ten minutes later, you’re being shoved into a room, one much more spacious and comfortable than the one you first woke up in.

There’s a bed in the corner, narrow but comfortable looking, and a chair next to it. There’s also a door off to the side, and the short glance you manage to steal shows that it’s a small bathroom.

You feel sick.

Fan-fucking-tastic. I’m being held hostage. This is just perfect.

Your thoughts are cut short when the door slams shut behind you.

The man is still here with you.

He glances at you over his shoulder, his back still facing you.

One small step backwards turns into two, which continues on until the back of your knees hit the edge of the mattress. 

You turn slightly, a few millimetres to see what you walked into.

The movement seems to stir the man from his stupor, and he swivels around to storm towards you. 

You think he’s about to hit you, or shove you, or kill you.

But none of those things happen.

Instead, he pauses once he’s in front of you. 

He stares at you, his gaze boring into your own. The silence is blaring. 

You don’t blink. You don’t breathe. You stand and wait, still staring at him.

His lips slip into a crooked, wicked smirk and he pushes himself closer to you, leering at you. You lean back as far as you can, trying to keep some distance between the two of you until your knees fold and you collapse onto the bed.

The warning glare he throws you is icy, and he leans down to grab at the cuffs still encircling your wrists. After a long moment, there’s a silent click and your wrists are free. You immediately rub at the tender skin, still eyeing him suspiciously.

He pockets the cuffs before dropping down next to you on the bed, leaning back against the wall while he eyes you with what can only be described as amusement.

“Well?”

He gestures vaguely with his hand, an air of expectancy surrounding him. He quirks an eyebrow at you, lightly nudging you with his foot.

You angle yourself away from him, turning your body towards the door. But as hard as you try to ignore him, he seems intent on getting you to talk.

“What, aren’t you going to greet your big brother?”

He lets out a dramatic, pained gasp, one hand clutched to his chest.

“And I thought you missed me.”

His words make you freeze. You’re still facing the wall, so he’s unable to see your wide eyes or clenched hands.

But he’s able to feel the way the air becomes dense, to see the way your hair raises up slightly as you lose the hold on your quirk. 

You feel suffocated, as if the walls are closing in.

Is this supposed to be some kind of joke? Is it a test - something meant to get a rise out of me?

“Hey, it was funny at first, but I want an answer.”

You don’t hear him, still rigid and distressed. 

He doesn’t take your silence well, grabbing at your shoulder with rough hands, yanking you so that you’re facing him.

Even then, you remain silent, fearful of the strange man no more than two feet away from you. 

His grip on your arm tightens, though you barely feel it. 

The room feels warm, hotter than it had when you’d first arrived. His eyes flash while he shifts closer, crowding into your space, searching your face for something.

“You don’t recognise me,” he says decisively. 

“Well, I guess I can excuse that - I have a more ruggedly handsome look now than I did ten years ago.”

His joking tone is lost on you. You’re sceptical of his words, of the situation you’ve found yourself in. 

Trying to pry your arm out of his grasp proves to be difficult, his grip tightening uncomfortably. 

“Say something,” he demands. He leans closer, too close. Close enough that you can smell him - metal and smoke and blood.

“It’s me - Touya. Come on, say something.”

His tone is pleading now, begging you to say something.

You lick your lips, eyes shifting around as you try to think of what to say.

“T-Touya?”

Your voice cracks, but it seems to be enough for him.

His eyes brighten a bit and he lurches forward without warning, pulling you into a suffocating you in a hug. You remain stiff, awkwardly patting his arm.

The grip he has on you tightens as a laugh rumbles in his chest.

“You don’t believe me. That’s fine, you will. Sooner or later.”

He moves back to his position by the wall, seemingly more comfortable than he had been earlier.

“W-Why should I believe you? You don’t have any evidence - this could be some ploy to get me to trust you and your friends.”

He shrugs, neck rolling side to side.

“I guess time is the only way to tell, and we have plenty of that. You’ll have to believe me eventually.”

There’s a pause, short and uncomfortable, before he’s speaking again, his eyes now bright and leering. The look he gives you scares you. You hold your breath. 

“Tell me though - how is dear old dad? Does he still beat you?”

You gape at him like a fish, eyes wide in shock. He leans forward, still talking as if he doesn’t notice how his words burn you.

“Or how about mom, huh? She always hated you, though you never really accepted that. Come to think of it, they all did, to a degree. Not me though, I loved you.”

He has a sick look of satisfaction on his face. 

No one but Touya could have known that, so it must be true that he’s your big brother.

The thought doesn’t comfort you as it should, you feel sick looking at the content look on his face. The Touya you remember would never have said something like that - something meant to cut you deep, to hurt you.

“Have you even seen her since she-”

“Stop it! I get it, you’re Touya, just- just stop.”

Your voice cracks pathetically.

“Aw, come on, don’t be like that. Hey,” he grasps your arm again. You wish he would stop touching you.

“Since you believe me now, and you haven’t tried anything, I’ll give you a reward. You’ve been good, how about it?”

His nails dig into your flesh as he grows impatient with you, silently demanding an answer. A mute nod is all you can muster up.

You should be overjoyed, you know that. Your brother, who you had assumed to be dead, was alive. He was alive and right in front of you. 

Except this wasn’t your brother. The man staring you down so intently was not Touya.

“You’re lucky, y’know that? You’re lucky I cared enough about you to volunteer you for this position. Hell, you’re lucky you got a quirk through this experiment and not the big boss like we usually do it. You’d be brain dead by now if that had happened.”

He talks over you even as you try to question him, his grip becoming bruising and painful around your arm.

“You’re lucky I’m not like dad,” he sneers at you. “If I were, I’d have smacked the shit out of you for how you spoke to me.”

Having heard enough, you yank your arm out of his grasp and stand up abruptly, staring down at him.

You’re confused and hurt, but most of all, you’re angry.

“You’re not Touya. Touya would never speak to me like this, he’d never allow me to be treated like this. And he definitely wouldn’t join a group of villains. I don’t know who you are, but you aren’t my brother. Maybe you were once, but now you’re nothing more than a corrupt piece of shit.”

He listens to you silently, waiting until you’re finished, chest heaving as you glare at him with all the hate you can muster, still gripping your bruised arm to your chest.

Then, he laughs.

It starts off softly. You barely hear it, the only indication that he’s actually laughing being the slight shake of his shoulders. As the seconds tick by though, it grows louder and louder, until he’s clutching his stomach, head thrown back as his bellowing laughs echo throughout the room.

He quiets down after a few minutes, wiping away a nonexistent tear, one last amused puff of air leaving his lips.

Before you can blink, he’s on you, smothering you.

His hands are on your throat, crushing your windpipe. The force of him jumping at you knocked you back, and you hit the wall with a loud oof, the air literally knocked out of you. 

While his actions are crazed, his eyes are anything but. He stares down at you, his gaze drilling into yours. His thumbs press down and you’re letting out an odd choking sound.

“I knew I spoiled you too much when you were younger. You’ve become such a goddamn brat,” he spat, eyes wide and angry.

“Is this how you want me to act? If I’m really such a piece of shit, then maybe I should go all out, treat you exactly how dad does? Would you prefer that?”

He smirks slightly, more of a quirk of his lips than a smile, eyes narrowing while he continues to speak over your spluttering.

“Maybe that’s what you need - maybe I should go further than dad would, that’d really get the message through.”

His right palm, massive and calloused, slides off of your throat and down to your left shoulder, where his fingers grip into the tender flesh.

“Why do you make me out to be the bad guy, huh?” he sighs heavily. 

“I try to help you and this is what I get in return - a bitch for a sister who doesn’t know when to keep her mouth shut. Well, that’s easy enough to remedy, I guess. I don’t like hurting you, but this is for your own good, I promise. Trust me, just like you used to - I’d never lie to you.”

His left hand leaves your throat, moving instead to cover your mouth.

You can breathe again, and you shudder as you try to suck in a breath with his rough palm covering your mouth. You wonder for a split second why he moved his hand, why he covers your lower face.

It becomes clear a moment later.

Touya’s quirk was always amazing. Blue flames that would dance beautifully, capturing your attention whenever he would show off to you. It was amazing, but it hurt him, in ways that you would never understand.

You never understood why he grimaced and whimpered and cried after using his quirk, but now you do.

His palm heats up quickly, blue flames searing the skin of your shoulder.

You scream then, eyes bulging, limbs thrashing.

The smell of your flesh sizzling makes you nauseous, and you start to feel light-headed.

After he decides you’ve had enough, he pulls his hand away, and an angry red welt remains, your skin still hot, sizzling and bleeding from the abuse. He slowly moves his hand away from your mouth, taking a step back.

His distance doesn’t last long - he’s back in your space in an instant as you stumble forward, his arms wrapping around you, carrying you back to the bed.

You feel feverish, and you briefly register that you’re about to pass out, though Touya’s words drown out your thoughts.

“See, now you went and made me feel bad. Just remember that this was your fault, you can’t blame me for your bad attitude. Hey, how about we start fresh after this, forget this whole thing happened?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, instead brushing the sweaty strands of hair off your forehead, softly petting your head with a loving look in his eyes.

“All of this aside, I did miss you, you know? I would check up on you when I could, though you never seemed to be too badly off. If there’s one thing I can’t fault dad and them on, it has to be the way they take care of you. It doesn’t hurt that they made sure you hated them just enough to make me look good.”

He stares at you fondly, and you don’t have the energy to bat him away, let alone to tell him how they’d made your life a living hell - how he was making your life a living hell. Your vision starts to swim, but he continues on.

“Yeah, I know, you probably don’t believe me, but they really do care for you. A bit too much if I’m honest, but whatever. You’re with me now, and that’s all that matters. It’s just the two of us again, just like it used to be.”

You wish he would stop talking, but his voice was surprisingly soothing and his touch was familiar. 

“Shigaraki seems to like you too, which is good - that means the others will have to mind their own business too. Plus I’m here, so you won’t have to worry about them bothering you. But hey, you can’t call me Touya in front of those guys - call me Dabi.”

What kind of a name is Dabi?

You think briefly about the fact that you should have stayed at home instead of running off.

But despite everything that had happened, a small, dark part of you was happy. Your brother was alive - a monster, a villain - but he was alive. And a twisted, broken part of you was happy that he still cared about you. 

Him hurting you wasn’t any different from how your father used to treat you. Perhaps you had traded in one evil for another.

You pass out still listening to him ramble on about how happy he was to have you back, how much he’d missed you, how lucky you were to have such a caring big brother.

****

Dabi - Touya - sighs heavily, still stroking your hair. He stares down at you with a remorseful look in his eyes.

“I know you can’t hear me, but I have to get it off of my chest. It’s probably for the best that you’re unconscious actually.”

He laughs, though it lacks humour or happiness.

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice cracking. “I’m sorry it had to be like this, and I’m sorry I had to leave you. I’ll understand if you hate me, but this is just the way things have to be now.”

His hand pauses as his attention wanes, eyes glazing over as he focuses on something unseen.

“I was never as great as you thought I was. But I’m still sorry,” he says, clenching his hands in fists, nails indenting the flesh of his palms.

“I don’t like hurting you, not that it helps at all.”

He stands, rearranging you more comfortably on the bed.

“I’m sorry for dragging you into this - but it’s for the best. I promise.”

I promise.

[chromations]

The one story that scares me the most away from substance use is Jimmy Page. It's not an easy topic to go by, yet I'm still hesitant to post this.

Finding out the pure severity of Jimmy's health between '75-'83, mainly talking about 1977. This whole topic makes me so sad, but I always keep looking.

More under cut, it's a long post unpacking that year. Feel free to add.

We all know he did heroin, starting in 1975, and that he's always been skinny and underweight. But it started amping up in '76, taking more with a noticeable weight loss.

That man was practically on the brink of death from 1977. Between constant shows, rarely eating save for a liquid diet, rarely sleeping, and his addictions... it's scary. He had a weight goal that'd been just about reached: between 125-130 Ibs at 5'11½". (And while an inaccurate measurement of health for those heavier, this falls into 17 on the BMI chart: severely underweight) He dropped a few waist sizes (men's 29 in '75, down to men's 26) and had refused to talk to Peter Clifton after he'd included wide shots of Jimmy in TSRTS and a single roll of his stomach, as it made his ass "too wide." The black dragon pants didn't fit anymore, and fell off during a show. You can see him in the black dragon suit plus a belt during the Oakland photos. Note that these pants had completely fit him without need of a belt two years prior. He ended up at around a men's 26 waist. He'd stopped eating completely for a few days in a row during some tours.

Safe to say, Jimmy was extremely weight conscious. I think he met the criteria for an eating disorder diagnosis, as well.

There's accounts of him having stage fright and anxiety. He'd show up to '77 tour shows completely exhausted, nodding off constantly. Peter Grant had ended up slapping him awake and giving him coke just so he wouldn't pass out.

Then, there's the Chicago '77 show. Jimmy, sick on stage. His eyes are bloodshot, he's had nothing but orange juice in the past 60 hours, along with no sleep in that time frame. Sick from smack and coke, along with all of the previous factors of being an anxious wreck. It's a wonder he got through the first 7 songs before having to sit down during Ten Years Gone, calling for a 5 minute break, and then canceling the show. He couldn't go on that night, just nearly crumpling to sit. This is the story that scared me the most.

Linked below, the show is recorded up until Robert announces the show is canceled.

https://youtu.be/YVCiBd1oodU?feature=shared

I remember reading this account from Dave Northover (Jones' personal assistant):

This is what shattered my heart, initially reading it. How harshly drugs shattered Jimmy's brain, I wouldn't wish it on anyone. There's also a quote from Jimmy in an interview from the year: "I'm not into solid foods very much. I can't remember when I last had a steak. A few tours ago. It's just that you don't want too much in your stomach when you're playing. And there are some places you can't eat after you come back from the gig." He then notes that the banana daiquiris that he'd been consuming all the time are the answer to any problems, "having that every day and nothing to eat at all."

Additionally, In that interview, Jimmy says that earlier on in Zeppelin, Jimmy "had really been eating" and that he'd tried on the clothes from when he was in school, only for it to be very loose. It worries me more to remember that Jimmy stopped school at the age of 16 and had always been underweight. High metabolism, illness prone, and bouts of glandular fever during his time with The Crusaders (still was a teenager), not improved one bit by his undereating.

It's hurtful to hear how, more often than not, the media will praise a celebrity for their skinny figure, even if they're extremely unhealthy with it. Jimmy Page is no exception, as people praised him for his figure during his age.

Heroin is no joke, and I wouldn't wish the addiction it so easily presents to anyone. Withdrawals and smack sickness is scary to even witness, completely altering the person it grips. People often note how jimmy was an asshole, especially in the late 70s, but when dealing with a heroin addiction, with what is basically an eating disorder, high anxiety, with the goal of living your music, the goal of pleasing the crowd, getting the job done, and most of all, surviving, the way you act isn't at the front of your mind. I'm sure Page was aware he was an asshole, but with what he was dealing with, it's not important. Instant gratification, reward, matters more. Not dying matters more. Getting the next hit matters more. His image mattered more.

No matter how much of an asshole he was, and some of the reprehensible things he'd committed earlier on, I wouldn't wish this upon anyone. You see the light leave his eyes as the years went on, you know that while he recovered, those were the darkest years of his life that we know, and there's a reason he'd rarely talk about it: Who would want to?

I've heard multiple people say that if we hadn't lost Bonham in '80, then within those few years, we would've lost Page. It's a wonder he was able to still go on in the early 80s.

Even comparing photos of him in 73, 75, and 77, you go from a "safer" underweight, to his ribs completely visible.

I'm glad we still have him around. This whole topic is not easy to go by, and while most anti drug campaigns don't sway me much, it's the slow / fast decent into all of this that gives me such a strong reaction.

I don't appreciate seeing the way it's so casually joked about amongst the online zeppelin areas. People do take it seriously, but there's always the insensitive ones.

(Adding on, since I accidentally posted this as a draft)

Many people blame page for the effects of his addiction: Sloppy guitar playing, distancing from the rest of the band, assholery behavior.

You can't fault an addict for falling addicted. You can fault them for starting it, maybe, and you can criticize them for all you want. Still, a heroin addiction isn't just as cigarettes. It's the easiest to fall addicted to, and one of the hardest to quit, especially when a physical dependency is grown. Withdrawal symptoms could start early, and extreme too. Most heroin addicts trying to quit will relapse within the first day or two, it's not easy as that.

Considering how unhelpful the help was at the time, quitting cold turkey at these points would probably worsen his condition for a while, considering how rail thin Jimmy had been. The people around him grew worried, grew mad, and I find myself wondering how he could still pick up the guitar and rail out the LA Forum 1977 show, producing banger shows through 77, yet the shoddiest shows as well.

There could be little done about treatment of eating disorders as well, due to medical knowledge and stigma around it. I'll sympathize with this part, having the experience of one: ED recovery on your own is rough. I don't know how jimmy got out of heroin and an ED, and I don't think the process of that should become business unless necessary.

If you find yourself falling into these vices, seek help. Nothing about this is normal: not the lifestyle, nor the pressures.

Jimmy's case will always haunt me. I'd wish this upon no one.

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Yandere Jack, Hercules, Rudra, Poseidon, Hades, Ares, Qin Shi Huang, Hermes, Buddha and Platonic Adam and Zerofuku with Fem!Loid Reader?

During her fight with (God/Human) she wins and for her wish, wants her Daughter to be accepted in the prestigious Valhalla Academy where Deity Children go (Daughter isn’t hers biologically, but she took her in as her kid because she’s an orphan, similar to Reader, and even took Zerofuku in as her kid too) she’s still is a spy, but she mainly keeps an eye on those that look like they’ll cause trouble in Valhalla (Zeus agrees, trusting her to be his eyes and ears for this kind of stuff)

However, the only problem is the School needs the children to have both parents come in, cue Reader screaming/panicking in front of (Human/God) how is she supposed to find a man that would marry her in 48 hours?! Which he tells her he’ll do it (He refuses to miss this opportunity of a lifetime to marry the woman that stole his heart) causing Reader to fall face first to the floor in shock (As they’re running away from some of Reader’s ‘Patients’) and she uses a Grenade‘s Safety Pin to give (Love) as an Engagement Ring (He can’t decide if he should be impressed by her creativity or amazed by Reader’s ‘boldness’ to do a role-reversal on asking him the marriage proposal) Girl Boss Reader

Cue Boss Music as Adam isn’t very happy with what (Love) just said (And proceeds to chase him around yelling how a relationship is supposed to go, with dates and getting to know each other, not immediate marriage)

-You did it, you had won your fight! Mission accomplished, and now you would get your wish from Zeus!

-You had become eyes and ears for Zeus, after he learned that you were a spy on earth, and a damn good one at that, and you had the job of keeping an eye on those who would cause problems around Valhalla.

-Your reports were always thorough and detailed, proving that you were very diligent at your job, but recently, you had an additional job, becoming a parent! You had recently adopted two children, one god and one human child, Zerofuku and Eri (I’m feeling lazy and she’s an easy character to write).

-Eri was an orphan, much like you were, and she was just a little girl, needing someone to protect her in this world, and as Zerofuku had been the one to first find Eri, he came along but was happy to join a family like yours, as you were warm feeling, being a good parent.

-You had heard both Zerofuku and Eri cheering for you in your fight, showing your combat skills, even Zeus was surprised by your skills, you could be quite dangerous if you really wanted to be!

-Ragnarok was now a yearly tournament, no longer a fight to the death, and the winner of each round would get one wish granted, which is the reason you joined.

-You wanted nothing more than for Eri to get a good education, as you didn’t get one, having grown up in a time of war, and your wish was for her to be able to go to the very prestigious Valhalla Academy, a school for both gods and humans, but it was notoriously difficult to get in.

-So that was your wish, for Eri to be able to go to school, something that made her beam, as she wanted to go to school, having not been allowed when she was alive on earth and Zerofuku was elated as well, seeing his little sister and mama so happy!

-You went to the school to get the application, but when you exited, you were surrounded by gloom, your whole body pure white in shock as you sunk into a park bench, burying your face in your hands.

-You knew this was a prestigious school, but you hadn’t realized all the requirements, all students had to have both parents come in for the interview, no single parents allowed!! How were you going to do this in less than 48 hours?!?!

-(Love) saw you lamenting on the bench, as the gloomy aura you were projecting wasn’t easily ignored. You had proven yourself a worthy opponent in this years Ragnarok, beating him of all people, and you had gotten your wish, so why did you look so gloomy now?

-He sat next to you, “Y/N?” you looked up and immediately your eyes went huge, and you grabbed his hands, “Marry me (Love)!!” he froze in shock at your sudden and very bold proposal.

-He could see the fire in your eyes, there was some reason behind it, and while elated at your proposal, as you had managed to steal his heart in your fight, kicking his ass while still looking so prim and beautiful, he spoke, “Before I say yes, I need to know why first.”

-You explained that your wish was for Eri to go to this school, but for the interview process that was in less than 48 hours, every child needed both parents, as single parents weren’t permitted, something that he grew angry at as there were lots of single parents out there.

-He fell for you even harder, seeing the lengths you were willing to go for your daughter, as he had seen you out and about with Eri and Zerofuku, the two of them holding your hands, you were a perfect mother!

-He instantly smiled and went to accept when you heard a voice shout out, “Oh no you don’t!!” you both turned, seeing your adopted father Adam there, surrounded by flames of rage, “That’s not how marriage works! You’re supposed to court each other and go on dates! Not jump right into marriage!!”

-You tried to explain your reasoning, and while honorable, Papa Adam wasn’t happy about it, chasing the two of you around.

-(Love) swept you up princess style and leapt down off a bridge onto another path, running away as he beamed at you, “I’ll marry you Y/N!” you beamed brightly up at him, showing your own joy, your arms around his neck, “I’m so happy!”

-You managed to lose Adam, but he called you later, still fuming and you told him that your plan was to do things the old-fashioned way, once Eri was accepted into the school, which placated him for the moment, but threatened (Love) to not hut or upset you, Eri, or Zerofuku.

-Eri and Zerofuku were elated to see that you now had a husband, and they had a father figure now. Zerofuku was instantly getting along with (Love) which made you happy, while Eri clung to you, a big shy with this new man.

-You watched him kneel down, getting down to her level, a gentle smile on his face, greeting her kindly. You explained to your children the reasoning behind the sudden marriage and Zerofuku grew upset, changing into his Envy mode, which caused you to pull him into your arms, trying to calm him down.

-Eri looked up at (Love), “So we’re playing pretend family so I can get into school?” He nodded softly, before giving you a small smile, “At first yes we are playing pretend, but I want us to become a real family, Eri, Zerofuku, Y/N- I want to be a part of this family.”

-Your bright red face was rather cute to see, holding your cheeks, which immediately brought Zerofuku back to normal, as both of your children cuddled you, thinking you were adorable!

-Eri got in with no issues, something you all cheered for, taking her out to her favorite bakery to celebrate, and you hugged (Love), overwhelmed with joy.

-When you tried to pull back, he embraced you back, hugging you close, a smile on his own face, making a silent vow that he was going to be a part of this family, no matter what.

-Became the best father possible to your children, he would read to them, help Eri with her homework, and always made time to take them out to parks to go and play. Your kids were easily won over by his devotion, making good on his promise that he was going to become a perfect father for them. He doted on your just as much, helping you around the house, cuddling you close like you were his real wife, and even taking you out on dates, proving to you that he was a good husband for you. It was hard not to fall for him, especially when he would accompany you and Eri to school, proving to everyone that he was indeed a good father and would defend you against others who didn’t believe you were a good mother. Both he and Zerofuku were very protective of you and Eri, and they wouldn’t hesitate to put anyone in their place to defend both of you.

-Jack, Poseidon, Hades, Hermes, and Qin Shi Huang.

-Took to being a father naturally, would cry when Eri would cry, would hug Zerofuku close when he would get upset and go into his Envy form, doting on him. You were impressed with his skills, and he showed you what a good father and husband he was for you, showering you with love while out and about, something other mothers grew a bit jealous of when you would drop Eri off at school, seeing how attentive your husband was to both you and Eri. If she would tear him, not wanting to leave, he would kneel and hug her close, giving her a pinkie promise that you both would be there to pick her up at the end of the day. Then he would peck your cheek, beaming brightly, “C’mon Y/N- let’s go on a date!” he loved seeing the envious glares on others, he was the one who had your heart, who had such a lovely family, not them, and he was going to keep it that way.

-Hercules, Ares, Rudra and Buddha

[sgiandubh]

Saint Cillian and the photoshoot

I haven't watched Peaky Blinders and I am not really planning to. By the same token, I am still pondering if losing three hours with Oppenheimer is a brilliant plan or a desperate patch for a long, rainy Sunday afternoon. Hell, I even have no idea if it's still shown anywhere in Athens and have plenty of other things to get myself busy with. So I can't tell you anything about Cillian Murphy's acting abilities - besides the obvious 'he's been around for quite some time now, and not too shabby', I have absolutely no idea.

Two days ago, the UK edition of the GQ magazine proclaimed Murphy 'The Man of the Moment' and celebrated it with a substantial photoshoot you can peruse here: https://www.instagram.com/p/C3S27bfgO1X/?igsh=aGYweGg5bWpkOWo4

Yes, it should totally ring a bell:

Phew...

Or... uhm, this uber cringey...

Now imagine I am the not-so-friendly diplomat in Mars Attacks and I know next to nothing about gender on Planet Earth. Remember (LOL)?

Ahem. As a Martian, I would surely think, based on that photoshoot and with no particular curiosity to double-check, that Cillian Murphy is projecting here, as a wonderfully sarcastic friend (thank you, dearie, always 🙌❤️😘😘) put it in a recent convo, 'a flamboyantly gay, fame whore vibe which is the opposite of everything Cillian is. '

I have no reason to question my wonderfully sarcastic friend's sanity. The man is married since forever to Yvonne McGuinness, a real visual artist with real credentials (uh-oh!), plus he is also a very dedicated father of two teenage boys. Intensely private Murphy never talks about his love life/marital bliss in the scarce interviews he grants. And I bet no cuckoo 'snark corner' exists in his fandom (he has to have one, right?) to question this absolutely legitimate PR strategy.

This also should make absolutely clear to the Disgruntled Tumblrettes and other cheap trolls out there that, once and for all, actors cannot choose their photoshoot outfits or poses. These are, of course, discussed by said actor and his/her PR with the magazine people, the photographer and his team. But ultimately, the overall concept and its implementation are left to the magazine (who ordered and paid for the shoot) and the creative team. Trying to fathom someone's sexual orientation based on an ephemeral image, tailored to fit a particular type of targeted content, is akin to the deepest, most worrying brand of delusional stupidity.

Video killed the radio star, double standard and parochialism killed OL's fandom more surely and effectively than *urv & Paul C's in(s)anity.

[yuzurujenn]

2024.05.11 Quardruple Axel May Issue: Exclusive interview with Yuzuru Hanyu

March 11th. When I walked into the hotel room in Sendai City, Yuzuru Hanyu greeted me with a gentle expression. The ice performance "Yuzuru Hanyu Notte Stellata 2024" held in the disaster-stricken area from March 8th to 10th, which he himself served as the chairman, has just ended. He should have been exhausted, but he didn't look like that. He just glanced at the tote bag in the reporter's hand and said, "That's a (souvenir) from the National Middle School Skating Competition, right? I miss it~", That was all it took to thoughtfully lighten the mood at the scene. He was interviewed by us for about an hour including filming time.

——Thank you very much for taking time out of your busy schedule to be interviewed today!

Hanyu: Thank you! Are you nervous? In fact, there is no need to be nervous at all. I haven't changed at all (from past to present)!

--Thanks. Then, I'm counting on you.

Hanyu: Please take care of me.

——It has been two and a half years since Yuzuru Hanyu started working as a professional skater. You have deeply thought and pursued both performance and figure skating itself, and you have even tried to work as an overall performance choreographer. In the process, you seemed to have increased the level of difficulty. Specifically, it means mental, technical, and physical endurance. In previous ice shows, besides the opening and finale, skaters mostly performed one program in the first half and another in the second half, a total of two programs. Under such circumstances, Yuzuru Hanyu had to complete an ice show alone. I think it is quite difficult for one person to perform nearly 10 programs. First of all, I would like to ask you to tell me why you decided to do a "solo performance" when you turned professional.

Hanyu: At "Yuzuru Hanyu notte stellata 2024" I skated three programs. In fact, just skating these three programs made me exhausted (laughs). As for me, even now, I have always treated figure skating as a sport. When it comes to why I chose solo skating over this, the first reason is that when I changed from competitive skater to professional skater, the voices from those who "still want to see Yuzuru Hanyu's figure skating" gave me a strong impact. Well, if that was the case, I started thinking, "For those who want to watch me skate, can I create an environment where they can watch me skate all the time?" This was the initial idea. And hence "Prologue" was born.

At the time of "Prologue", the MC session was very long, and the number of programs was obviously less than now. It wasn't easy physically at the time, but compared to now, I was able to skate through the whole show with plenty of room to spare. Through "Prologue", I also captured the feeling of "being able to perform continuously by myself." Of course, I don’t think I’ve fully presented myself yet. In fact, it cannot be said that all the programs were performed perfectly. In the previous "RE_PRAY" ice show, I was not able to perform all the programs perfectly. I thought that it would be really difficult to complete the entire performance alone, and it would definitely be physically demanding, but while I practiced for the solo ice performance, I gradually grasped the idea that "I can definitely do it alone."

——From the first "Prologue" to "GIFT" and "RE_PRAY", I feel that you are challenging more difficult programs every time you perform. Not just the physical strength, the fact that you can't just cancel a solo ice show because you're not feeling well, under such heavy pressure, your performances continue to exceed the audience's expectations. Isn't the daily practice quite a burden?

Hanyu: Maybe this is something that should be taken for granted after becoming a professional skater, but to be honest, the training I have accumulated now is incomparable to what I was able to do when I was a competitive skater. Looking back on the competitive days, it was enough to practice up to three programs (short program, free skate and performance skate) in a season. Because the number of programs is limited, it can improve concentration during practice. However, since I became a professional skater, if I hold a solo ice show, I would have to skate more than 10 programs. For a program to be comparable to traditional free skating, even without footwork and rotation, practicing seven jumps is undoubtedly necessary. In addition, if you want to skate many programs, not just jumping, you must also perform corresponding exercises for different programs.

On this basis, is it enough to just complete a certain amount of practice? Not really. Although as long as the amount is accumulated enough, the endurance will indeed keep up. However, these alone cannot maintain and improve physical fitness. Figure skating requires instantaneous movements. In order to consistently perform at my best, in addition to increasing the amount of physical training, training to improve my conditioning and fitness is also essential. Therefore, the current training can be said to be extremely hard (laughs).

——During the "RE_PRAY" performance in Yokohama on February 19th, you mentioned "about 6 hours of physical training a day." The amount of training is quite huge, right?

Hanyu: Yes, at that time, I felt quite upset because I was not able to perform well in the Saga performances. Since then, I have been studying better training methods and have been fighting with myself for more than a month. (Editor's note: As a result of hard training, in the final performance on February 19th, which was open to the media, "The Messenger of Destruction", which was as difficult as a free skate, was completed for the first time without any mistakes.)

After that, I immediately had to prepare for "notte stellata". Since there were three performances to be performed, it is necessary to practice accordingly. Especially this time, there are two new songs. Although the new program was arranged by someone in December last year, it was not possible to practice well (because he had to adjust for "RE_PRAY"). So, the first thing to do is to recollect the choreographic movements. Of these two new programs, the choreography for the second half of "Carmina Burana" started after the Yokohama performance of "RE_PRAY", but then it was decided to have additional stop for “RE_PRAY", so I have to keep practice for that too.

In this sense, although it is very hard, I am always thinking about how to continue to evolve during the process. For example, I mentioned about "learning" before. I can refer to the training methods and skills honed by top players in other competitive sports, or I can refer to paid course videos and study relevant papers. Although most of the contents are in English media, I can still learn and absorb various knowledge from them, and at the same time think about whether I can apply it to my own training, and thus formulate a training plan that suits my own situation.

——Performing more than a dozen programs in two and a half hours by yourself is something you have never experienced in the competitive era. In competitions, you just need to focus on the short program or free skate each day to bring your form to its peak. Now, in solo ice performances, the method of giving full attention to all programs must be carried out throughout the show. During the two-and-a-half-hour performance, in order to achieve the best condition in each program and repeatedly exert concentration and explosive power, has your "internal clock" changed compared to the competitive days?

Hanyu: Ah, right? (laughs) This is an interesting question. I don't have the impression of "just doing a long-distance race (a two-and-a-half-hour solo performance)" in my mind. Yeah, maybe it’s like the different feelings that a marathon and Ekiden (long-distance relay race) give to people. A marathon is run by one runner. During the 42.195km, there are ups and downs, and there are also times when the wind is going against the direction. We need to explore a strategy that can reasonably distribute the rhythm. In contrast, in Ekiden, multiple runners complete their respective sections, and all members relay the baton till the finish line. Among them, there are runners who are good at running long distances, and there are also runners who excel at running short distances at a fast pace. In this process, everyone devotes their effort to the parts that they are responsible for, and everyone's efforts are brought together as a team to complete the run.

Although my performances are like a marathon, I run alone all the time, but in fact, each program is like an Ekiden interval. Therefore, there are longer programs like free skating and shorter programs. Moreover, I always work hard to be able to perform all the repertoire at my best. So even though I ran the entire distance like a marathon, in fact, each part has its own Yuzuru Hanyu who is responsible for it. Each Yuzuru Hanyu is trying his best to skate each program. Only when they come together that a complete "solo performance" can be achieved. I imagine it would be similar to the feeling of running Ekiden alone. Because of this, each show’s approach to skating, the techniques used, and the pace are completely different. I had to practice them all one by one. In a formal performance, as long as the music starts playing, no matter how deprived of oxygen the body is and how hard it is, it must be completed. This is because it is not just about me, but the staff around me are also working hard to create with great care and dedication. So I have to persist in completing it. Although there were times when I couldn’t help shouting “I’m so exhausted” or “I really want to go back” (laughs).

To get back to the subject, I did not deliberately distribute (or preserve) the rhythm (physically), but trained in order to continue to exert my full strength for different programs.

—— Hanyu-san seems to be able to squeeze out his endurance from the limit, even when you feel physical pain and when you keep pushing yourself. Do you have the power to push the limits?

Hanyu: The support from the audience makes me very happy. I think there must be an invisible force, just like what everyone calls super energy in critical situations. However, I know firsthand that even this power has its limits. In my opinion, when the limiter is turned off, it is possible to awaken the extra 20% potential. However, since my competitive days, I have always been skating in a way that utilizes the extra 20% from the beginning. In this way, the remaining power has already been exhausted, if the energy is exhausted midway, the body will feel like it is stagnant. So it is important to recover when you're taking off your skates and changing clothes between programs, but it is actually very difficult to do that. The process of untying and re-tying skate laces also requires a lot of grip. In fact, the way you tie your skates can affect your condition and even bring the risk of injury, so concentration cannot be interrupted in this stage. Under such circumstances, my brain is still running at full speed, thinking about "Now, how can this body recover as soon as possible?" and "How to adjust the body's state and rhythm before performing the next program?". I was trying my best to overcome these difficulties. If there is nothing you can do physically, you can only rely on mental power to make your body move.

In this way, rehearsals become crucial. For "RE_PRAY", there is a free skate program ("Messenger of Destruction") at the end of the first half, but during rehearsals, I will skate "Messenger of Destruction" twice in a row after skating all other programs in the first half. Or sometimes I skate "Messenger of Destruction" three times in a row and then do the whole rehearsal. There are also cases where the original 30-minute break between the first and second half is reduced to 15 minutes and then the skating resumes immediately. Sometimes, after skating the Rondo step sequences three times, I will perform some additional performances. A formal show is definitely more physically demanding than a rehearsal, so I have to persevere until the end no matter what. In terms of research, I review scientific studies on the energy efficiency of muscles, the oxygen absorption of cells, and the oxygen transport of red blood cells, and train on this basis.

——Sounds like an impressive training session. In addition, in terms of performance content, after changing careers, you performed many jumping elements and programs that went beyond the rules of the game and broke the rules framework. Looking back at the competitive era, have you ever struggled with performances bound by rules?

Hanyu: I myself use the word "rules" in "RE_PRAY", but if you think about my experience in competitive sports, there is no doubt that I was bound by something like scoring. For example, in a certain melody, "Rather than jumping, I would like to do something that fits better for the performance", or "Although I actually want to perform like this, but in order to score, I can only do jumping here", psychological dilemma similar to this have indeed existed before. In this way, "If I want to complete this jump, I must ensure such a long skating assist", which means that I must have a corresponding distance. Or, to be honest, in order to get points, while thinking about matching the notes of the song, I have to think about "This step must be performed" or "This rotation must be included in the combination" situation. When considering the program, you’re always bound by the score.

Of course, arranging programs with the goal of obtaining scores is actually the fun of the competition. However, after I won the 2018 PyeongChang Olympics, I began to feel that it was a bit lonely to think about making programs just for scoring. GOE has been adjusted, and I gradually feel that there is a ceiling-like existence in PCS. During that time, I had to think, "Well, what should I do to get points?" However, no matter how much effort I put into performance, and no matter how deeply I thought about the music, I was still unable to improve the PCS. It could be said that it had reached a point where nothing could be done. In this way, I could only improve the basic score of jumping, because I have to work hard to master new techniques (having to reduce the practice time in other aspects) and it is impossible to pay attention to and study in depth in all aspects. The most difficult part of figure skating is how to coordinate jumping and performance. On top of this, because of the constraints of scores, to be honest, I have repeatedly hit the wall for this.

——About "RE_PRAY" just now. After turning into a professional skater, the constraints of scoring disappeared. But on the other hand, the disappearance of scoring can also be said to have remove evaluation-related restrictions in a sense. The price of obtaining "free expression" is the loss of " judgment standards". Do you also have to face such a difficulty?

Hanyu: Thank you very much for your thoughtful interpretation of "RE_PRAY". To be honest, I was so happy that I couldn’t help but chuckle. After all, without scores, the so-called results, we cannot determine the right answer and the wrong answer. I am deeply aware of this difficulty. However, as a performer, it seems to me that the process of trying to find the right answer is actually similar to philosophy.

"RE_PRAY" slightly uses the Trolley Dilemma as a theme, but the answer to this question cannot be deduced by anyone. It can only be considered by each person as a pragmatism (practical, pragmatic concept) and find the answer that is suitable for them, the so-called correct answer. So I think this is similar to philosophy. In my mind, "I want to express it this way", "I want to add sounds for this kind of expression, and I want to convey this kind of world" are the correct answers. But for other people, they may feel that "It's not like that." When this remains in the world one day in the future, some people may think, "So this is how Hanyu Yuzuru (his performance, the world) feels." There may also be people who are deeply shocked. When I think about this, although it is difficult (performing without evaluation standards), maybe it is just out of the feelings of the athlete, but I still feel that pursuing it is meaningful. This is because I sincerely feel that if we always keep thinking and learning and deepening, we will definitely have the joy of continuous evolution. In fact, we can’t just talk about “fun” and “enjoyment”, after all, this is a job full of hardship. However, I feel that there must be correct answers and ways of thinking that I cannot discover on my own.

——How did the game-based concept for "RE_PRAY" come about?

Hanyu: Speaking of "RE_PRAY", when I was thinking about my future plans for skating, I thought that I had finally laid the foundation of "GIFT", the ICE STORY, at the Tokyo Dome, so I wilfully told the staff (lead by MIKIKO, the chief editor) "I want to continue ICE STORY", and that's where the creation started. I have been worrying about how to make ICE STORY 2nd, and I kept thinking "What is the most interesting part if it is presented as figure skating?" In terms of expression techniques, I thought, would it be more fresh and more interesting if I could start with things that I have the most contact with and that no one else has personally experienced? After thinking about it this way, I thought that I could use games and the like as the basis for the ice performance.

——The effects projected on the screen, the YES or NO option and the date of archive selection would change in each show, which has also become a topic of conversation among fans and everyone has made various comments and interpretations about them. Is there any special purpose behind it?

Hanyu: For these aspects, we just want to maximize the point of "creating stories as professionals". For figure skating, every moment of performance can become a work in itself. In addition, the reaction of the audience and the atmosphere at the event also create a sense of "live" at a certain moment. Therefore, as professionals, we are producing this ice show with the aim of striving for excellence to the end.

——In the video of "RE_PRAY", there is a scene where Yuzuru Hanyu uses a game controller to control the characters on the screen. That game character is also Yuzuru Hanyu. This design in which you control the game character Yuzuru Hanyu and move forward by choosing between YES and NO can also be said to be a unique worldview of yourself from an objective perspective. Hanyu also made many choices during his competitive days, such as deciding to go to Toronto, deciding to challenge 4A, and deciding to become a professional skater. When you are making these decisions, do you feel as if you are controlling the game character Yuzuru Hanyu?

Hanyu: That’s great, if you explain it this way. Thank you. Indeed, I also feel that I am the kind of person who is better at looking at things objectively. Whether in the process of skating or in the process of being interviewed like this, I seem to always be able to view myself objectively and observe myself from an overhead perspective, or I can say that I have good self-control. This personality may have penetrated unconsciously (during the creation of "RE_PRAY"). In fact, I also think that my own life experience has been injected into "RE_PRAY".

When I talk to you like this, I will also say "very interesting" and "not bad". When I organize the language, I do use unique wording in many places. Even so, I still feel that the expansion of the range of thinking and the richness of the set of options are very important. The story of "RE_PRAY" can be interpreted in various ways. In a sense, for the fans who have fought along with me, this is "Yuzuru Hanyu's story", but for viewers who are watching it for the first time, they may just watch it as an ICE STORY, right? For media people who conduct interviews and reports, they may think, "Because Yuzuru Hanyu used such language, that's probably what he thought?" Various programs also exist on the basis of many different interpretations. Integrating these into a complete work is what ICE STORY wants to pursue. Therefore, there is nothing happier for me than being able to take questions from people like you who understand this ice show.

——Having talked about this, I can also understand that for you, whether you are training and practicing as an athlete, or participating in the overall performance choreography, you need to consider themes and concepts, including polishing the details, all of which have a great impact on the body, brain, and spirit. All levels will bring a huge burden. Despite this, I can't help but look forward to Hanyu Yuzuru moving towards higher goals. When you held a press conference on turning professional in July 2022, you once said frankly, "The existence of Yuzuru Hanyu has always been a heavy burden for me." This sentence impressed me deeply. Has the burden that this existence placed on you changed since you became a professional skater?

Hanyu: (Laughs) It’s still very heavy. As expected, the fact that it feels like a heavy burden has not changed since the competitive days. For me, the fear of "Whether I can meet everyone's expectations?" and the uneasiness of "Whether what I am doing is actually responding to everyone's expectations?”, I have never stopped thinking like this to this day. But in my opinion, when such thoughts disappear and I no longer regard these as a burden, it probably means that I have reached my limit. I can still see the ideal image that can live up to everyone's expectations, and I want to make it my goal. In other words, in my opinion, my potential (moving his hand upwards) can probably reach this level. Because of this, I feel uneasy or have the feeling "This is the best I can do”. I may live up to everyone’s expectations only to this extent. It is very difficult to continue to evolve and finally realize your ideal, but I accept the state of mind of constant pursuit of this as the driving force.

——How do you spend every day keeping in mind the distance between you and your ideal?

Hanyu: To be honest, I do feel that I have always insisted on pursuing my ideal goal. But specifically speaking, the distance (to the ideal) is not a definite interval. Sometimes it is closer and sometimes it becomes further. It seems to me that this kind of thing happens all the time. At this point, this is true regardless in professional or competitive era.

For example, the "SEIMEI" I skated at the 2015 NHK Cup (which set a world record at the time) was almost close to the ideal, and I scored 322 points (total with the short program score). Regarding this, I thought, "It's close to the ideal, what should I do next?” In a sense, I have reached a state where I can be satisfied. At that time, facing the upcoming GPF, I kept thinking, "Can I score more than 320 points in the next competition?" and "What should I pursue next?" However, at the same time, my physical condition became not good, and I have a bit of a cold and at this time my ideal is far away from me again. But in the end, I scored 330 points in the GPF (Editor's note: Both the short and free broke the world record at the time, and scored an otherworldly 330.43 points, achieving three consecutive GPF championship titles). It can be said that I have fully realized my ideal, but that time I was completely burned out, and it was difficult for my body (state) to recover and my feet started to hurt. In this way, I have to put the ideal back in its place…

It is precisely because of that during the seasons around 2019 and 2020, although I had the ideal I had been chasing, there were times when I felt that another ideal was good and changed direction. I think the situation of being closer and further away from my ideal, or simply starting to pursue other ideals, has not changed even now.

——In the press interview after the "RE_PRAY" Yokohama, you said that you were “completely blank” when talking about future ideas. In fact, what are your next plans?

Hanyu: At the moment I really don't have any idea about the future. In fact, it is through this that I realize once again that I am in a creative field. Precisely because I have nothing, I have to create it, and it is precisely because I have to create, even though I will surely encounter difficulties, I still find pleasure and enjoy it. When it comes to what I am pursuing now, roughly speaking, I think it is "good work”. Although I can't be specific yet, what is the "good work" that I am pursuing? I think it should be something that I create from ‘nothing’, which is probably what everyone expects. However, I do benefit from the support of people around me, as in the case of "RE_PRAY", there are a lot of people who are really working on it. In this sense, I have had a lot of difficulties in the process of creation, whether it is the extensive training I have conducted in order to present a better performance, or the many difficulties I experienced during the actual performance, but I feel that the ice show created by the "Professional Group" is indeed the highest-level work. At the same time, I always adhere to the sense of responsibility that "I must perform at my peak" while creating ICE STORY.

——Thank you very much for taking up your precious time for an interview today!

Hanyu: You are so kind. I should be the one to say thank you!

[Postscript to the interview]

Wearing a black sportswear, Hanyu welcomed me into the hotel room. Within the allocated one hour, Hanyu spent 40 minutes carefully answering my questions one by one. Occasionally, there were times where he responded to my questions and said, "That's good," or "I'm happy you asked." The power of Hanyu’s words, the passionate tone of his voice when talking, and the words he weaves which are completely different from Hanyu on ice, are also full of charm.

At the end of the interview, we asked him to write down his future resolutions on colour paper. "Um…what should I write?" Yuzuru Hanyu looked at the paper with a serious expression and fell into silence for a long time. After a while, "I can say what I want to say, but what about writing it in words?" He said this while writing the words "Change the world!" When I asked him about the meaning of "world" here, he replied, "I want to change not only the field that I am currently fighting in, but also the world itself in everyone's eyes”, reveals such a grand theme to us.

During the filming process, he kept changing his poses at the photographer's request. While chatting with us from time to time, he has a smile on his face, but as long as he faces the camera, he can put on the required expression in a split second. This made us realize the strengths of Hanyu-san as an expressive person, who has been in the spotlight of the camera tens of thousands of times.

While waiting for the camera to be set, I asked him: "In your competitive days, you once said, "What I like most is when there is a barrier in front of me." Now that you are a professional skater, do you still like to encounter barriers?" Hanyu listened, compared himself to an "ant" and gave this answer.

"In the competitive era, there were scores and results, so when I looked back, I would find that the walls were right there in front of me. Now it seems more like I have to find the walls on my own. It's because I think, "I want to be more like this. "Or "I want to become stronger", so I have to build a wall for myself, and then overcome this wall. For example, there is a huge staircase here, and I am a tiny ant. After all, stairs are just stairs, not walls. However, if I think "I want to move to another level", like an ant, I have to perceive the stairs as a wall and climb over it myself. I look for obstacles and climb over them in order to evolve, but what I want to say has not changed (I like it when there is a wall to overcome).

The interview was conducted on March 11th. It ended just after 14:30. When we put away the filming equipment and moved the tables and chairs back to their original positions, the same 14:46 as on "that day" arrived. Hanyu looked at the sea through the window and silently prayed. Although he himself was a victim of the disaster, he did his best in the ice show held to deliver the "light of hope" to the disaster-stricken areas. The back view of Yuzuru Hanyu at this time is that of an ordinary 29-year-old young man without the armour of the "Absolute Champion". For a while, Yuzuru Hanyu remained facing the window. After, you can see him raising his hand to wipe the corners of his eyes from time to time.

Source: https://weibo.com/1746783312/OdMLMnmye?pagetype=profilefeed Info: https://x.com/AxelQuadruple/status/1785923918215446592

[alaskan-wallflower]

(tw for suicide mention and alcohol)

super silly goofy fun time headcanon under the cut 😃

when the curtis parents died, the day after the funeral darry was at a job interview pretending like nothing happened. because in his mind nothing did happen. he planned the interview a week prior. his parents are still alive and well. he’s not single parenting his brothers. he’s not more of a father than a brother. he didn’t just watch his parents be buried. he didn’t. he tells himself as such. and he immediately gets the job and starts working his tail off. but he’s providing for his brothers and his parents. they’re not dead. they’re not dead. months go by and around three months later darry is in his room alone. he just heard pony say he would rather have soda stay with him at night over darry. and it stung. he felt a limp in his throat as he simply nodded. that night he sleeps with his door cracked open with the small sliver of hope that pony would choose him again. that they could go back to old times. that pony was still able to get out of bed. that soda would genuinely smile instead of putting on a forced facade because he was essentially gluing them together. he spends a few hours just staring at the ceiling before something catches his eye. his football trophy. he swears he hears his dads voice telling him “it’s gonna be okay, Junior.” and darry loses it.

he closes the door and just absolutely breaks down. he shoves away all his football trophies. he doesn’t bother being careful. it’s all gone. his old life is all gone and this is going with it. he doesn’t bother being careful. his parents are gone and there’s nothing he can do. after he shoves the box of now half broken football trophies away he sneaks downstairs to the liquor cabinet. he hasn’t done it much. he had gotten a bit tipsy with two bit on more than one occasion but he knew that was going to be nothing like what he was about to do. he wanted closure. he wanted to feel numb. and so he grabbed the bottle of his father’s favorite that he’d let darry have a few sips from as a late teen and sneaks back upstairs and closes the door. he looks at his old football uniform. he stares at it. he remembers the nights he spent quietly crying because he didn’t think he would make it on the team, or he didn’t think they had enough money to buy a uniform. but he also remembers on his thirteenth birthday where his dad had worked double shifts the entire month and scraped together the money for a uniform. He looked on the back. “Curtis 23.” it read. he took it off the wall and held it. Then he approaches his helmet. His father had written on the inside of it. “I’m always proud of you, champ. Even when you can’t hear me say it.” and he looks into his reflection on the dark surface of the helmet. There he sees his dad. But it isn’t his dad…it’s him. It’s his reflection. He blinks once and it fades away and all that’s left is his broken facial expression as he cups a hand over his mouth to muffle his sobs as he pops the top off the liquor bottle and drinks it. it burns. but he knows in twenty minutes the pain will dull. it always did. He spots his switchblade. The one his mother had protested against him having but his father insisted he would need it. Hell, was social status so dangerous that his own father thought he had to carry one?

The drunken haze came quicker than he thought. It hit especially hard in his empty stomach, which gurgled and churned with alcohol and dispair. He stared into the knife before thinking. They’d be better off without him. He couldn’t even hold it to together. he was the oldest. he had to be the strongest. and he wasn’t doing as much. He had been sneaking alcohol like a drunkard on more than one occasion. He imagined Soda and Pony sleeping in the next room. He imagined them and how they seemed to get along so well and he wished he could go back and not take his younger brothers’s clingy love for granted. He didn’t even realize what he was doing until he saw red on his hands. Even in his drunken state he knew what he was trying to do. He couldn’t take living anymore. Not like this. Not without his dad. But he had to keep going. For his brothers. He was conflicted. but he pulled himself together. he bandaged his wrists sloppily and honestly didn’t even register anything until he woke up the next morning with a pounding headache, crusted blood surrounding where his throbbing wrists were and the stench of alcohol and vomit filling his room.

should i write fanfics 🤩

[still-breathing-au-p3r]

Despite the lengthy furlough since their last expedition into Tartarus, tonight’s undertaking had gone spectacularly well.

Morale was high, and everyone on the team had fought with newfound vigor. Akihiko, Amada, and Yamagishi seemed especially energized with their new Personas, this being the first time all three were able to fight with them. They had made excellent upward progress, defeated a Gatekeeper as handily as they ever had despite its considerable power, and found more than one piece of valuable equipment. 

When Arisato had made the call to return to the dorms for the night, the general mood on the journey back had been one of exhausted but satisfied good cheer. The Dark Hour ends almost as soon as they get back, and everyone trundles upstairs, following the siren call of their beds. 

Everyone, that is, except for Mitsuru. She knows she should retire as well, but her mind just won’t quiet. There’s so much to think about, so much to consider, especially now that their final battle is so close at hand. Going to bed and attempting to brute force her way to sleep would be a wasted effort, so instead she heads to the kitchen and pulls out the kettle and a tin of loose leaves. Hopefully some chamomile tea will help her relax enough that she can get some rest. 

The process of brewing tea is so familiar that she can surrender it to muscle memory and allow her thoughts to race freely. There’s an awful lot of ground to cover. 

Akihiko, Amada, and Yamagishi’s new Personas brought with them the additional boon of new Theurgies as well. And what marvels those Theurgies are! Yamagishi’s offers a level of recovery and amplification of their abilities that is entirely unprecedented. Akihiko’s new attack is incredibly powerful, almost to the point of absurdity. Tonight he had ended a battle with a formidable shadow within a matter of moments, practically vaporizing the thing under his flurry of blows. It had been a sight to behold.

As for Amada’s… Mitsuru can hardly find the words. The strength of his resolve shines as bright as the sun in his new Theurgy. Granting a full recovery to the entire team at once, even those who have been incapacitated– that’s the sort of power one would call miraculous. And to provide reflective shields? It would seem outright unfair, and perhaps it is, but she’s hardly inclined to complain about something being unfair in their favor for once.

This new development carries some fascinating implications for Koromaru’s Persona as well. He’s had two Theurgies from the start, after all. Had Cerberus been the result of a second awakening all along, from some point before he had even met them? That certainly seems to be what the evidence would suggest, at least. What had his initial Persona been? When and how had he awakened, and had he even been able to properly summon it before the attack on the shrine?

Perhaps Aigis might be able to assist her in interviewing Koromaru about it…

It’s almost a shame that she won’t get the chance to witness what new power might have been born of Aragaki’s second awakening. Given what he was capable of with his original Theurgy, she can’t imagine it would be anything less than incredible.

Dwelling on the topic of Aragaki’s abilities also reminds her of a question that she’s yet to learn the answer to–

She’s so lost in thought that the feeling of a hand alighting on her shoulder nearly has her jumping out of her skin. Mitsuru whirls as Akihiko snatches his hand back, looking startled and contrite.

Akihiko doesn’t respond, merely tilts his head and shifts his weight to lean slightly on the counter, settling in for the explanation that he now clearly expects.

She prepares their cups with practiced ease and they retreat from the kitchen, settling side by side on one of the couches.

They sip their tea in somber, contemplative silence for a moment before Akihiko speaks again, looking into his cup instead of at her. His voice is soft and uncharacteristically hesitant.

Akihiko shakes his head. It’s not the first time she’s lamented about that, and it’s also not the first time both Akihiko and Aragaki have brushed off her apology.

They lapse into silence again as they finish their tea, this one far more comfortable. Akihiko accompanies her back to the kitchen and helps her wash and put away the tea service. He hums thoughtfully as he dries his hands on a dishtowel, seeming to think of something.

Mitsuru makes a noncommittal sound and fails utterly to suppress a smile. Akihiko sighs, put-upon, but he has no more success fighting the grin that tugs at the corners of his own mouth than she had.

[warabidakihime]

A Glimpse Beyond Grief: Prologue

Characters: Toji Fushiguro x Reader | Office AU | Both characters are in their early 30s | toji is good daddy in this uwu Synopsis: galactically intertwined journey of two souls: one navigating the depths of loss, the other offering a beacon of healing. through witty banter and unspoken connections, they find solace in unexpected places, uncovering the resilience of the human spirit and the power of love to mend even the most shattered hearts. Content warning: profanity, (eventual) smut, highkey adult themed, can be psychologically and emotionally triggering for some so read with caution.

-

Toji's voice echoed through the house, a sense of urgency coloring each word. "Megumi! Tsumiki! Hurry up!" His eyes darted to the clock, ticking away the precious minutes before his crucial job interview.

From the upper floor, Megumi's small, hurried voice floated down. "Wait! I'm still tying my shoes!"

"Hurry up! I can't be late for my interview!" Toji called back, the weight of the day pressing on him.

"Be there in a second, Dad!" Tsumiki's reassuring response reached him, a small comfort in the chaos.

Toji sighed, standing in the foyer, anxiety gnawing at him. Today was no ordinary day; it was his final interview for a job he desperately needed. The past year had been a relentless struggle since his wife's tragic death, a wound that refused to heal. But today, he needed to be more than just a grieving widower; he needed to be a father, a provider.

Exactly a year had passed since the accident that shattered his world. His wife's life was cut short by a drunk driver, leaving Toji to navigate the overwhelming responsibilities of single parenthood. The pain lingered, an ever-present companion in his daily life.

Months of grief and depression had followed, a period where Toji lost himself in a haze of despair. He isolated himself, succumbing to the numbing embrace of alcohol and neglecting his basic needs. The memories of that time were a blur, a testament to the severity of his trauma.

Megumi, at seven years old, and Tsumiki, at eight, sought refuge with their grandparents during those dark days, visiting their father cautiously, ensuring he was in a state to be seen. It seemed as though everyone had given up on Toji, convinced he was a lost cause.

But one night, in the midst of his self-destructive routine, Toji's gaze landed on a family photo. His wife's smile and the innocent joy radiating from his children's faces pierced through his numbness. In that moment, a spark of clarity emerged, an epiphany that whispered of a responsibility he could not ignore.

Today, as he waited for his young children to join him in the rushed chaos of their morning routine, Toji carried the weight of the past year on his shoulders. The interview was not just about a job; it was a chance for redemption, a step towards reclaiming his role as a father and provider.

Toji needed to wake up from his stupor and get his life together. If not for himself, at least for Megumi and Tsumiki, who relied on him to be there for them. If their mother were still alive, she would have given him a good smack for neglecting their well-being. And so, fast forward to the present, and here he is, doing his darndest for them. Though despite his eagerness to start anew, job hunting hasn't been a very pleasant journey for Toji.

He has been going from interview to interview for five months, but luck hasn't been on his side until a week ago, when a company reached out to him, offering a possible job position. Of course, Toji immediately accepted and went through the application process almost right away, and so far, it's been going well. He passed the initial interview and panel interview, and even though the company is an hour away from his home address, they were more than willing to grant his preferred salary, and their company benefits weren't too shabby either.

It'll do for now.

Toji slows down the car as the kids’ school finally comes into view; he then turns to them for a second before focusing on the road again, “I won’t be able to pick you up later, okay? The interview I’ll be going to is fairly far from here so I might take a while considering the distance and traffic later. Grandma will come and fetch you. You can spend the night with them if you want too.”

Megumi nodded while his face was perpetually glued to his phone, “Okay.”

Tsumiki, on the other hand, flashes his dad an encouraging smile, “Best of luck, Dad!”

Toji softened at his daughter’s words of affirmation, “If I score this job, I will take you both out for dinner. You can choose whatever you want to eat.”

Upon hearing this, Megumi finally looked away from his phone and turned to his father with an expectant look on his face, “Really?”

Toji couldn’t help but snicker at his son’s reaction; he then reached out to him to gently tap his fist on his son’s chest, “A man never goes back on his words.”

After bidding his kids farewell, he set out for the neighboring city to attend his final interview. As he journeyed there, Toji couldn't help but feel a surge of nervousness. Uncharacteristically agitated, he found himself being snappy on the road, even verbally shouting at a car that changed lanes abruptly. The profanities he spewed might have left anyone who heard them scared for life, as Toji appeared scarier than he had ever been before.

However, another part of him was also angry at drivers in general, given what happened to his wife. If only they had been a little more responsible, she would still be by his side, reproaching him for losing his temper on the road.

To prevent any further thoughts of his late wife from plaguing his mind, Toji shook his head and directed all his attention and concentration towards the upcoming interview. He knew he couldn't erase memories of her forever, but for now, if he wanted to move forward and flourish, he needed to push any distracting thoughts to the back of his mind. For the sake of Megumi and Tsumiki, he was more than willing to compartmentalize the memories of their mother and focus solely on his new path ahead.

After an hour of driving, he finally arrived at his destination. Toji stood before the imposing building, his heart pounding wildly in his chest from nervousness. The rejections from his previous job applications had taken a toll on his self-esteem, despite having an impressive degree and a colorful, praiseworthy career.

Taking a deep, heavy sigh, Toji gathered his courage and pushed himself to enter the building, determined to give his best shot at acing the final interview.

"Mr. Toji Fushiguro? Ms. L/N, Y/N is ready to see you now. You may proceed to her office."

Toji acknowledged the secretary with a nod and a brisk "Got it," then rose from his seat to attend the final interview. The position at stake was Executive Assistant, a role that would place him directly under your supervision, offering a perfect opportunity to gauge compatibility.

"Good morning, Mr. Fushiguro," you greeted with a warm handshake, guiding him towards the chair near your desk. As you observed him, you detected a momentary blankness in his gaze, swiftly replaced by an intense focus as your eyes met. It was as if he had shifted gears, honing in on the upcoming interaction. His greeting, delivered in a husky tone, was accompanied by a faint smile, creating an intriguing dynamic in the room.

-

"Good morning to you too, Ms. L/N, Y/N. Nice to meet you," he responded.

You reciprocated with a polite smile. "Likewise. Please, make yourself comfortable. Let me know when you're ready, and we can begin."

Toji settled into the chair with ease, projecting an air of confidence that hinted at a dominant personality.

'Clearly the type who commands attention when entering a room,' you thought.

"Let's get started. I'm all set," Toji declared, prompting you to open his resume and delve into his credentials. As you scanned through his work history, your amazement grew evident. "It says here that you were the CEO of your own business. Can you shed some light on what happened there?"

His response was accompanied by an enigmatic expression, a blend of dread and detachment. Yet, as he began to speak, his voice resonated with confidence. "My wife passed away last year, and I wasn't in a position to sustain my business. I'd rather not delve into the details, if that's alright."

"Absolutely. We can keep it professional. My sincerest condolences," you replied, offering a genuine note of sympathy.

Toji met your gaze, a faint, crooked smile on his lips. "Thank you."

"Moving on, you have an impressive background in banking. What led you to shift to the HR sector?"

Toji leaned back, his eloquence shining through. "I wanted to explore new opportunities. Despite my extensive experience in banking, I'm no stranger to HR. I worked for a consulting firm, catering to financial clients. Later, I ran my own business. The shift seemed natural."

Your smile widened. "Your insights are invaluable, Mr. Fushiguro."

Toji responded with a charming smile. "The pleasure's mine, Y/N."

'Already on a first-name basis, huh?' you mused, managing to suppress a smirk.

As the final interview with Mr. Toji Fushiguro unfolded, you posed standard questions, delving into topics such as his availability and adaptability to a hybrid work setup, considering his role as a single father. Reassured by his commitment, he affirmed his ability to be onsite twice a week. Discussions extended to compensation and company benefits, both monetary and non-monetary, and concluded with a firm handshake, officially welcoming him to the company.

"Truthfully, you were practically a shoo-in for the job. Our final interviews are more of a formality, a gauge for compatibility with the supervisor and company culture. As you've proven, you passed with flying colors. Congratulations and welcome to JJK Holdings. Looking forward to working with you, Mr. Fushiguro."

Toji reciprocated the handshake with confidence, his smile widening. "Likewise. Thank you, Y/N."

With a final exchange of handshakes, you bid each other farewell. As Toji exited your office and disappeared from view, you glanced at your hand that had just shaken his. A faint blush crept across your cheeks, quickly dismissed as you refocused on the captivating city view outside your window.

"Looks like we've got a new face in the company," you joked aloud, addressing no one in particular. A chuckle escaped your lips at the lighthearted thought, keeping the atmosphere light.

'Focus, Y/N,' you reminded yourself, shaking off the momentary distraction.

Taking a deep breath, you let the welcomed intrigue of having Mr. Toji Hotshot Fushiguro on board settle in. He promised to be a valuable addition to the team, and optimism filled you as you considered the fresh perspective he would bring.

Throughout the day, as you managed various tasks and attended meetings, Toji's name kept surfacing in your thoughts. Beyond his impressive background and confidence during the interview, there was an underlying curiosity about the man behind the resume. At times, you felt a twinge of guilt, knowing he was still navigating grief and had other pressing priorities.

'Keep it professional,' you reminded yourself sternly, pushing aside personal musings. Nevertheless, a subtle anticipation lingered as you looked forward to working with Toji, eager to discover the dynamic he would introduce to the company.

-

After the successful interview, Toji headed home with a newfound sense of accomplishment that had eluded him for quite some time. Driving, he couldn't help but replay the conversation with you, his new boss. Your initial surprise at his former CEO position, the genuine condolences you offered, and the subtle interest you displayed in his career choices had all left him curious about the future interactions he might have with you.

From the moment Toji stepped into your office, he couldn't help but take notice. A commanding figure, you radiated a presence that demanded attention—confident, capable, and unyielding. It was a subtlety that impressed him, and as your eyes met, he caught a glint of curiosity that sparked something within him, a sensation he struggled to articulate.

During the interview, your insightful questions caught him off guard. Anticipating formality, he found himself letting his guard down as you delved into his past experiences. The subtle nods and genuine interest in your expressions were a rare quality, making him feel at ease and prompting him to open up in ways he hadn't in a long time.

Playful banter found its way into the conversation—an unexpected cheeky remark here and a witty response there. You weren't the typical stiff and formal interviewer, and Toji couldn't help but match your energy. The interview, meant to be serious business, transformed into something far more enjoyable. The interaction felt refreshing, like a breath of fresh air that swept away the heaviness he had carried for too long.

As the final handshake concluded and you bid each other farewell, Toji found himself lingering for a moment longer. There was a spark, a connection that transcended the professional setting. Whether it was the shared sense of humor or the way you seemed to understand him with gentle insight, he felt a thrill in the air—a glimmer of hope that had been dormant for too long.

'Well, well, Ms. Y/N, you've certainly piqued my interest,' Toji thought mischievously, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. 'Looks like this new job is going to be a whole lot more interesting than I thought.'

At home, Toji decided to channel his energy into some productive spring cleaning. It proved to be therapeutic, providing a welcome distraction to tidy up the house and clear his mind of the lingering stress from the whirlwind of emotions that accompanied the interview process. Polishing furniture, dusting shelves, and meticulously organizing the kids' rooms allowed him a sense of control he sorely needed.

Once the house felt fresh and inviting, Toji picked up Megumi and Tsumiki from their grandparents' house. The kids animatedly chatted about their day, but Toji's thoughts lingered on his new job and the memory of their late mother. Despite this, he made a conscious effort to engage in their conversation, injecting humor to elicit their laughter.

True to his promise, Toji treated them to a well-deserved pizza night at their favorite family restaurant. Settling into a cozy booth, he watched with softened eyes as his children eagerly selected their favorite toppings. Their happiness was infectious, bringing a genuine smile to his face.

Throughout dinner, playful banter flowed between Toji and the kids. He teased them, allowing them to reciprocate, creating a light-hearted atmosphere. As the pizza night concluded, they drove back home with contented hearts. Toji tucked his kids into bed, kissing their foreheads—a ritual he had embraced more religiously since his wife's passing. Though he might not express it verbally, his actions spoke volumes of his deep affection for them.

Stepping out of their room, he reflected on the new chapter awaiting him at JJK Holdings. His heart swelled with hope for a fresh start and an even brighter future, not just for himself but for Megumi and Tsumiki as well.

'Challenge accepted,' he thought with determination.

Tomorrow marked the beginning of his new journey, and he embraced it with open arms as he settled into his own bed. Thoughts buzzed with possibilities, eagerly anticipating what the future held for him and his children.

In the haze of drowsiness, his thoughts drifted to you.

"Will you haunt my dreams and slap me if I say my new boss is a feast for the eyes?" he blurted out, half-hoping the ghost of his late wife would hear him.

A soft chuckle escaped his lips, and moments later, sleep finally claimed him.

[morsesnotes]

I found this interview from when Shaun Evans was promoting S3 of Endeavour in 2016 and thought it was one of the more interesting ones as he gets asked some different questions. I particularly liked seeing him talk a bit about his peers and how he views his career.

Shaun Evans talks Endeavour series three, Hollywood and whether he'd star in Doctor Who

As Morse returns, the star of the hit ITV drama reveals what's next for his career By David Brown - Radio Times

Falsely accused Endeavour Morse was last seen languishing in a prison cell after being framed for murder. But fans of the hit ITV drama needn't despair - Shaun Evans is back on the case for a third series beginning this evening. Here, the actor talks about life as the Oxford detective, why Morse has endured for four decades and what the future holds...

So what has brought you back to Endeavour for a third series? I didn't feel like we should have left it where we did last time. It would have been odd. As a viewer, I would have been dissatisfied to have left it there because you'd have only been telling half the story. Luckily enough, we had the opportunity to come back to do some more and I think the stories are really good - particularly the final one. It goes along at a lick. It's a bank heist but it's also a love story. And it's heartbreaking. I think it's great and it ends in a really satisfying way.

The character of Morse has now been around for 40 years - why has he endured? A good story well told will stand the test of time. And if you throw in an unusual character - someone who is in a world but not of that world - then that's intriguing.

The original series of Inspector Morse did episodes in Australia and Italy - would you like to do an overseas Endeavour? Well, they keep telling me that the character is going to Spain. But I can take myself to Malaga. I'm joking, but I'm being honest too. There is a Spanish idea, but I'd want it to be right. I don't want this job to be a jolly or something that we take for granted and phone in. There are so many variables to that kind of thing: would the locations be as good? Or the actors? Granted, it would be a laugh to go away with Roger Allam, but would it serve the show?

Does Endeavour Morse become more like you as the series goes on? I think that’s a danger, definitely. The more comfortable and confident you get with something, the easier it could be to be less diligent about creating a character. But then you’d be taking shortcuts that you might not have done three years ago. So I try not to be complacent about it. I want to be even more diligent than I was when I started. But I admit that it's a tricky one.

Having a two-hour slot for a drama seems like a privilege these days - do you worry that viewers' attention spans could be too short to cope? I don’t worry about it at all. I feel like the work we’ve done so far has been very good. Some have been better than others - as would be the case. But I feel pleased with it. Now if audiences change and they feel that the episodes are too long, boring or complicated, then we’ll just stop. That’s OK. But I've seen some crime dramas that try to tell the story in an hour and, for me, it just doesn't work.You’re tyring to set up a killer, set up a world, solve it in an interesting or dynamic way and put in some character stuff as well. It’s nigh on impossible to do in an hour. I don’t think you can do it in a satisfying way. That’s my impression as an audience member.

Fans would be up in arms if you decided to stop Endeavour! No. I don't think that'd happen. It's just work. And they'd just fill it with something else. There'll be another brilliant show.

I think you'd make an ideal Doctor Who - would you like to play that role one day? I’ve never seen it! I think Matt Smith is a brilliant actor. And David Tennant also. But it just wasn’t my thing growing up and I feel like I’ve missed it now. I was in Moscow a few months ago and someone asked me about Doctor Who. And she thought I'd make a good Master. So if you’re offering me a part, then I’ll play the Master.

What about playing James Bond? Well, everyone wants to play James Bond, right? He always gets the girl at the end. And in the middle. And at the beginning, come to think of it. But I think that Daniel Craig would be a tough act to follow. He brings something really interesting to it.

Do you ever look at contemporaries like Benedict Cumberbatch and Eddie Redmayne and think, 'I'd like top billing in a Hollywood movie'? I know both those lads and I like them. But I never really think of my career like that. Of course, you want people to see your work, but I'm not interested in being the next so-and-so. It doesn't attract me. Mainly because it's short lived. It's better to keep working and do interesting stuff.

So being a big Hollywood star isn't all it's cracked up to be? I don't know. I suppose if you had enough clout to guarantee finance for a story you wanted to tell, then that would be a good thing. From a business point of view. But I don't spend my time being envious. There are so many variables in all that bollocks! When you desire fame or fortune - which are ephemeral things - you're building your house on sand, aren't you?

Do you have a dream project that you'd like to do? I'd love to do something about poets or photographers who have done interesting things and left an impression on their portion of the world. Someone like the American photographer Walker Evans. Or the French poet Arthur Rimbaud. 

So what's next for you? I'm purposefully having some time off. I've been busy and I'd like a bit of time to read some books and just study. I want to educate myself on writers, photography, filmmaking and poetry. I'm very lucky that I've now got enough money to have a bit of time to myself and study. I'm very lucky to be in that position.

[meamiiikiii]

Hello. I haven't spoken much on the Reverse Entry AU (Modern Office + Reverse Isekai Loop AU). That changes today!!! Have some scattered (relatively long) tidbits on this AU. Mainly background to actually get to the office part of it but, yea!

If anyone wants elaboration on anything on this list, and I do mean anything, I encourage asking!! Or any random questions on the AU general!! Or just things in general!! Make me think about things I have not considered!!

Spoilers for all of ISAT + 2Hats and the like:

Mainly Concrete

The Country -> The Company.

Well, more of a family storefront, but the similarity in those two words next to each other was too good to pass up LOL.

Said storefront was run by Siffrin’s parents, and was their life's work.

Specialized in niche craft related stuff, in both teaching people how to do them & selling materials for the crafts. 

It was a very warm & homely store, and was adored by locals and visitors alike. 

A store that felt comforting to just vibe in for a bit, if that makes sense.

Loop ends up being Siffrin’s roommate after being reverse isekai’ed :)

They do not help with rent

They are a solid night light, which they try to justify as helping with the electricity bill

They also find a mirror shortly after arrival. 

Important Points

Mirabelle & Isabeau have known each other since University and are besties!!!!!!!!!

Not 100% sure of the logistics yet, but this was too important of a point to not include

Additionally, please know at some point, Isa custom stitched the scarf-shawl Mira wears to work all the time now, and gifted it to her!

He is also responsible for the fun pattern on the vest he wears all the time too!

Bonnie, whenever they are hanging around, makes sure to sneak onto Nille’s computer, and block out time between meetings for time to breathe / snacks for the others

And they also make sure to block out like an hour of time for proper lunches as well

Back to back to back to back meetings are not fun!!!

Breaks are important!!!

I have mentioned this in a different post, but this too, is a very important point to not include here as well

Location of Living

Mirabelle & Siffrin live in the same apartment complex, but on opposite sides of it

They have briefly interacted a few times prior to being coworkers? 

But Siffrin had his hair dyed for interviews for a long time

So Mirabelle didn’t realize it was him for a while, since he started growing out the dye before formally meeting in a work environment

Siffrin simply forgor

Isabeau lives relatively close-by to where Mira & Sif live, he visits Mira sometimes!!

He may or may not have also interacted with Siffrin two (2) times prior to working together due to the above point

Nille & Bonnie live around the area Siffrin used to live before he had to move, and have resided in that area for a long time

They technically were neighbors, at one point!

Odile lives closer to the office than everyone else 

Shorter commute for in-office days 

But still in the general vicinity of everyone else's abodes ofc

Hiring Order

Mirabelle has been working in the office the longest (interned two years in a row, and was formally hired right out of University)

Isabeau is next after since he got a referral off of Mira (interned for one year before graduation, then was hired at the same time Mirabelle was)

Odile was hired to replace Euphrasie (previous senior manager to their team who got a promotion, she’s now director of the regional office)

Siffrin was hired a bit after Odile when they got more capacity, since what they were originally doing was way too much for just three people LOL

Apparently, he got a referral from someone internally, but has no idea about it!

Nille was hired a little bit after Siffrin was

She only agreed upon the role if she was granted the flexibility to pick up Bonnie from school whenever

Random RPG Equivalence Hour

Turn Based Combat = Emails 

Whether it be waiting for data to start processes, answering inquiries, so on and so forth

Sometimes those turns take literal days

It happens!

Being Frozen / Damaged = Program Freezing 

This goes for any program being used

If it freezes it inflicts small damage

It inflicts more damage if it crashes

It makes you cry on the floor if the program crashes and you can’t recover any of what you did for the past hour

It makes you regret all of your life decisions up to this moment in time if it crashes, you can’t recover anything, and you have a presentation on the stuff you were working on in 15 minutes

Misc Meetings

Mirabelle writes fanfic

Isabeau knows about this and supports her in her endeavors

Odile has read some of her works, but does not know she wrote them irl

At some point prior to working together, Mirabelle & Odile became mutuals and started trading book / fanfic recommendations to one another

Odile had a brief stint as a bartender prior to working for the office

Mainly to earn some form of income while applying for jobs / waiting for prior certifications to process and transfer properly after moving from another country

In one or another, she met Isabeau and Siffrin at separate intervals while working there

Additionally, the bar is located close to the office. A lot of happy hours happen there. It ended up serving as a networking opportunity for her LMAO

Both Nille and Bonnie moved around a lot when they were younger

At different intervals, Nille went to the same high schools as both Mirabelle & Isabeau

Nille has probably worked a lot of jobs throughout high school / university

This includes working at the same place Odile worked at for a bit, they were probably coworkers there at some point.

Maybe not necessarily a bartender but, general staff

Again, this served as a networking opportunity similar to the Odile segment ASFASDASDA

Um????

Loop somehow ends up becoming a vtuber.

Loop somehow ends up being a vtuber for the company the team works under, akin to Tony the Tiger.

Loop does this vtuber gig for approximately one (1) stream and quits right after.

((loop decided their first stream was a nuzlocke for some reason. the crafts company literally didnt ask them to. they decided this on their own volition for no apparent reason. the company literally asked for a stream where they do crafts?? anyway they named their pokemon after the party. and. well.))

As I am Indecisive, this still has a chance for change! But for now this list is slightly ordered from “concrete in my mind” to “need to let simmer more probably, but the vibes are there” to “probably not but it is a bit of a funny to consider” (this only applies to the last loop segment ASDAFA)

But yea!! Thanks for reading the ramblings :)

[breezybangtanbebe]

Heaven: Changkyun❤️‍🔥

Tags: Monsta X's IM x Reader, long-distance relationship, lazy morning sex, kinda fluffy then kinda nasty, pussy eating..something short and sweet. :)

2.7k words

24 hours.

That was all the time you had with him and he had already wasted a third of it in bed.

The Miami humidity was less offensive from inside the luxury suite. Oceanview balconies welcomed in the breeze that morning as you lay tangled in sheets as white as the sands with your long-distance lover.

Changkyun was..busy, to say the least.

Promotions. Rehearsals. Fittings. Video shoots. Interviews. Fan meets. Group studio sessions. Solo studio sessions. Performances.

With all he and his group members had scheduled, it was out of sheer luck his managers granted the guys one full day of rest before they got to work on promoting their two new albums internationally.

Though being back in the states after such a long time seemed like a vacation, the young rapper had his fill of obligations and you couldn't bring yourself to be upset with him for choosing the first several hours of his rest day with you to be spent sleeping.

Ok, maybe you were a little mad.

Slightly pouty at best. But not at him, only at time and the lack thereof.

He deserved the rest after all.

It was barely noon and the room service you'd ordered for breakfast was surely cold when your boyfriend opened his eyes. You're seated upright in the large bed with the TV remote in hand, channel surfing in silence.

You were freshly showered, smelling like warm sugar and decadently scented body butter, shaved and exfoliated, and primed for a day of making up for the lost time. Considering how tired Changkyun was last night when he and his group members touched down in Florida, you didn't expect him to be actively intimate with you when you went to bed.

When you awoke that next morning, inhaling his warm masculine scent with your face nuzzled in his neck, you didn't mind the stillness or silence. After being separated for so long, it felt like heaven to finally be in his arms.

You were happy to be pressed against him with his leg slotted between yours, causing a teasing friction every time one of you stirred.

He felt so good. His skin was smooth and soft, contrasting his muscles that were firm and toned beneath it.

"G'mornin" Changkyun croaks from beside you, not even lifting his head as he pulled himself from his slumber.

You glance over to find him still smushed against the fluffed pillow with his jet black hair fanning over half of his face. All you can see are his dark pink sleep swollen lips as they moved.

"I smell peaches..." were his next words and you chuckle breathily as you shook your head.

"Good morning." You smirk, resuming your attention to the television only to turn it off. You weren't watching it anyway and you preferred to take advantage of the opportunity to talk. Changkyun groans tiredly as he rolls over on his back, running the palms of his large hands over his face.

"Fuck......how long have I been out?" he grimaced tiredly, leaving only one eye open to adjust to the daylight. You looked over at him fondly for a beat before responding.

"A while." is all you say, sounding much more resentful than you intended. Changkyun tenses at your tone and turns his head towards you with a lazy frown.

"Uh oh...You're mad," he states and you mirror his frown, shaking your head adamantly.

You watched Changkyun rise up from the pillows, shaking his bed head out until his long mane of black silk was falling over his perfect head in the sexiest way. His spine was curved as he sat up, making the lumps of his abs and chest protrude attractively.

Damn...

"No. Why would I be mad?" you respond distractedly.

"Because.......I fell asleep." Changkyun pauses to stretch his arms over his head midsentence.

"You came here straight from the airport babe...after an 18-hour flight." you point out, now leaning against the headboard and shamelessly admiring his body as he woke himself up fully.

After rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck, Changkyun lets out a strained sigh before plopping back against his pillow again. You smirk at how he did all of that for nothing.

"And you're obviously still tired so..." you trail off, not even wanting to finish your sentence since it would add insult to injury.

"Nope! I'm up...I'm up... Tired or not, we only have half a day left together.." Changkyun groans tiredly, his words muffled slightly as he rubbed his hands over his face again in an attempt to wipe the sleepiness away. 

"Not really. I mean I'll be here for as long as you all are in Miami." you shrug and Changkyun wrinkles his nose in disagreement.

"Yeah but then I'll be too busy or too tired to spend time with you. It'll be more nights like last night. Coming in late and going to bed soon after." he almost whines. The guilt and regret in his tone are enough to make you feel like a turd for showing any signs of disappointment.

He really was working hard and the distance wasn't just hard on you. He missed you too and when this opportunity for you to be together came about, he was more excited than you to board that flight.

"Hey.....I knew what I signed up for. I'll be here for as long as you are. If that means the bulk of our alone time is to be spent in bed, laying together, I'm ok with that." you shrug, actually believing what you were saying for once.

Changkyun squints at you incredulously.

"You sure?"

You nod at him with a soft smirk.

"It can deal with it. One of the few of cons being with you."

At that, Changkyun's eyes widen in offense and amusement.

"Cons??? ....with an 's'? As in plural? More than one?" he asks, his tone climbing with each question. You laughed at his expression and roll your eyes as you moved to get up from the bed.

"Oooh, yea. You think being IM's secret lil girlfriend is a walk in the park?" you toss over your shoulder on your way across the suite. Changkyun sits up just enough to watch your thickly toned legs move as you walked, keying in on the way the shirt you wore barely concealed your ass cheeks beneath it.

"I mean. Not really but..." he murmurs, trailing off and tilting his head to get a different view of your curvaceous body.  From up close and under the covers, Changkyun hadn't realized you were basically naked underneath that loosely fit shirt. Well, his loosely fit shirt. One of the many you'd sifted through from his luggage. It was always comforting to have his scent on your skin, even when he was laying next to you.

Knowing now that you were naked made any trace of jet lag or fatigue fade, waking up other parts of him as he watched you venture across the room in the direction of the outlet where your phone was charging.

Your nudity is further confirmed when you bend over thoughtlessly to pick it up, exposing your naked ass and the slit of your lips to him for only a second. As you stand and turn to the side, the shape of your full breasts and nipples poke through the thin fabric, and Changkyun stares shamelessly as you checked for any missed notifications.

God, he loved your body.

Dreamt of it almost every moment he wasn't with you in Korea.

Spent countless nights envisioning it as he stroked himself repeatedly, calling your name as he came in his hand, and doing his best to ignore the heartache he felt once the haze faded.

But now, you weren't just a beautiful part of his imagination.

You were here.

A few seconds pass and you were making your way back to join Changkyun in bed, mindlessly texting away in response to your friends that had been checking in with you since landing in Miami. As you resumed your spot beside him, Changkyun watched you settle back against the pillows with your phone still in hand. He drags his bottom lip between his teeth while you sent your final text, setting the phone aside on the nearby dresser.

You felt his eyes on you immediately and glance over with a smirk.

"What?" you perk your brow. For a moment Changkyun doesn't respond, only dragging his heated gaze over your body appreciatively. His mouth shrugs innocently before laying his head back down against his pillow.

"Oh, nothing...Hey, why is it that every time you move...I suddenly have the strongest craving for peaches....." he asks randomly.  You grunt softly in amusement at his question and shake your head.

"You probably just smell me. I took a long shower before you woke up..." you shrug nonchalantly, not expecting Changkyun's interest to be peaked by the small fact.

"Foreal?..come here?"

Without warning, Changkyun reaches out to pull you towards him by the neck. He nuzzles you playfully while inhaling the sweet scent of your clean skin, making you giggle and push back against him.

"Now you know I'm ticklish..." you complain lightly while trying to escape his hold, only encouraging Changkyun to pull you into him tighter and chuckle mischievously against your skin.

His lips were pillow soft on your neck, the tip of his nose brushing just beneath your jawline as he inhaled the soft peaches and cream scent. His new favorite smell on you next to his. His hands held the fabric of his shirt firmly, trapping you against his body as he kissed up and over your jaw until his lips were on yours.

He tasted surprisingly fresh despite having woken up a few minutes ago and you allowed yourself to melt into him with every luscious peck. He sucks at your bottom lip before taking it between his teeth, making you moan at the sting.

He releases it to resume the languid dance between your tongues, sighing in contentment as his hands snuck beneath the shirt covering your body. The moment he touches your bare skin, you flinch in reaction to the chills they inspired as if electricity flowed through his fingers.

He squeezes your hip and allows his grip to travel lower to cup your ass cheek, pushing the shirt higher from your body.

"Take it off.." he whispers against your lips and you immediately comply, pulling away so that you could pull the loose shirt over your head. The moment it's gone, Changkyun's mouth is on you again. Starting at your lips, he pecks them softly before returning to your neck. His hands glided up your waist as he moved to guide you back against the mattress.

You allow him to dominate you gently, sinking into the pillows and opening your legs as he settled between them. The weight of his body is comforting and your hands stroke the skin of his back as his lips traveled downward.

The middle of your throat.

The center of your chest.

Over your left nipple briefly. Then to the right.

As he sucked the pebbled flesh into his mouth, you grind your body against that stiffness in his underwear. He was hard and thicker than you remembered if that were even possible.

You angled your hips in a way that makes the fabric between your bodies seem thinner than air and Changkyun groans with your nipple still caught between his lips. He pulls away to flick his tongue over it a few more times before abandoning it to attend to the annoying shred of clothing blocking him.

He settles between your legs and takes a moment to admire you beneath him. You blush under his gaze, feeling it hover over the swelling pink flesh between your legs.

He wastes no time in scooting down to push them back and smother the heat thar gathered with his mouth and tongue. You gasp on contact, eyes already rolling back at the feeling of Changkyun's tongue sliding sinuous flat licks over your folds.

The warmth of his opened mouth kisses on your clit has you moaning softly to the ceiling and Changkyun digs his fingers into the meat of your thighs as he ate.

His deft tongue plunges inside of you while his thumb rubs rhythmically over your clit, just the way he remembered you loved it. His eyes are on you, watching you bite your lip and screw your eyes shut with the struggle of holding on.

Suddenly, your fuse is blown and in an explosion of colorful language, you came all over Changkyun's waiting tongue. He presses his thumb against the hood of your clit while your walls twitched and pulsed around him, savoring the taste of your climax with a satisfied groan.

You were still panting when he pulled his mouth away from your pussy and the mattress bounces slightly as he sat up on his knees.

The print beneath his shorts was prominent as fuck and Changkyun hurriedly frees himself from its captivity. Your eyes immediately fall on his dick as he pushed his black Balenciaga boxer briefs down his toned thighs.

He's already got you wet and wanting him, legs still spread wide to accommodate his body.

There's an unspoken plea between the two of you and Changkyun responds to it by grasping your thighs and pulling you towards him over the sheets. In the same movement, the tip of his dick slides past your entrance and stretches you well until you're pressed firmly against his pelvis.

From here, he goes in. Mindlessly fucking you like there's no tomorrow. As if all of his frustrations from being away from you, having to love you from a distance, wishing he could be inside of you every night, were all being channeled through him.

Boosting his stamina.

Feeding his need to make you call his name.

Which you did. Over and over as he drove your body back up to the head of the bed.

You felt so good. Warm and wet. Tight and welcoming. It was like you were made for him and the distance hadn't affected a thing. Muscle memory molded you around his thick shaft and you took every inch of him like you were designed to do. His forehead was pressed against yours, noses touching and mouths agape as his rhythm hastened. Your walls were clenching at his pressure hungrily and your voice was reduced to barely audible yelps.

Your body trembled endlessly as you reached your climax and Changkyun smiled wolfishly against your parted lips.

"Yep, that's it. Gimme that shit, baby. Let it go.." he coaxed and praised you through the mind-numbing orgasm he rewarded you with. He continues pounding into you until tears pooled from your eyes and you weren't sure if you'd cum again from the sheer overstimulation.

All you knew was that everything he did, every move and rasped word he spoke, he was pushing you higher than you ever thought you could go.

Holding you close, Changkyun rolled his hips into you feverishly until he was stalling out. An unbearably sexy groan escapes his lips when he came deep inside of you and you took every drop of him with pleasure, squeezing him as he stroked you to his completion.

"Fuuuuck, I missed you...I missed you so much.." his husky deep voice whispers lovingly in your ear and you moan softly in response as he pressed himself deep inside of you for emphasis.

"I love you...fuck, I love you..." he continued, his voice almost breaking with the known profession. As he comes down with his face buried in your neck, Changkyun plants a series of lazy wet kisses over your sweat-coated skin.

When his teeth graze that same ticklish spot, you giggle and shy away from him. He grumbles in protest but promptly ceases his tease to rest his head on the pillow you shared.

He remains inside of you, his body weight nearly smothering you. But you didn't care.

Because being with him in any way felt like heaven.

And you were happy to die...

*sigh* hes so FFFFFFFFFOYNE