#he's hurting

[heterochromatica]

Anonymous asked: How do you feel about your mom now, Todoroki?

Well... what did he feel about his mother?

"Nothing..." was the short answer and maybe there is more to it, but he doesn't know how to put it into words anymore. The truth is much more complicated, it's uncomfortable and ugly. His fingertips feel numb, his throat feels sore, his head feels heavy and his chest feels tight but...

She had been his everything, the light in the dark, his lighthouse, his safe haven in a stormy sea. All he ever wanted was to see her smile again, laugh again....

And then--

He thought reconnecting with her would resolve it. He thought it would redeem the fear in his heart, mend the wounds in his soul - of course he enjoyed spending time with her, he wrote her letters because he wanted to, but it was never the same again. She wasn't the same again, never had been. The memories and dreams of a warm smile, of a loving embrace, of gentle hands had been nothing but an illusion.

Now that Touya returned things changed even more... he didn't really know why or how or what exactly changed but the way they spoke about him was differernt, the way they looked at him was different, the way they behaved was different and suddenly Shoto felt like he didn't belong with them anymore. He felt like he moved further and further away from them - all alone.

It was his duty to safe them and he would do it. He would save them. He was there to be strong, to be a voice of reason, to be a hero and save them like heroes are supposed to do but never at any point in time they would do the same for him.

Up an foremost his mother.

[loveroped]

I open this doc once every few weeks and everytime scar goes through emotional pain

[st-dorothy-minority]

Know Your Enemy - next chapter sneak peek

I can't believe I did it. I actually wrote on the next chapter for "Know Your Enemy" last night. I don't know when it'll be done, but at least it's something!

Here's a taste if you want a sneak peek! Serious angst ahead.

****

Two could detect the faintest hint of agitation in his brother’s voice that would go unnoticed to anyone else. “Everything okay?”

One intentionally set his glass down, knowing full well if he continued holding it, he’d crush it in his hand. He knew it wasn’t really Two that he was angry at. And he knew he shouldn’t answer honestly. But Two unwittingly opened the floodgates, and he was ready to unleash.

“No,” One began quietly. “Nothing is okay. You aren’t okay. No one is okay. Not since you were taken.” One shook his head, shrugged, and emitted a small sigh. “I don’t get it. I offer to comfort you, you don’t want it. I try to support you, you push me away. I say I’ll listen, you won’t talk to me. But somehow, Cell randomly comes along tonight, and you’d rather have him at your side than me.”

“One, I-”

“Don’t,” One interrupted and held up a hand. “No matter what I do, it’s not enough. If you’d rather confide and be close with Cell, then so be it. Don’t expect me to offer anything anymore. I’m done.”

Two felt his stomach drop and his heartbeat thudded in his ears. “One, please-” he begged.

“I can’t deal with this anymore,” One continued, defeated. “Even if I knew how to help you, I don’t know if you’d take it. I’m sorry for what happened to you. But if you think Cell can support you better than I can, then so be it. I don’t know when you both got so close, but it appears I can’t compete with him.”

“You don’t understand. Just let me explain-”

“I’m going back to bed.”

One averted his gaze from Two’s frantic and anguished face, dodged the hand that reached out for his arm as he walked past his twin.

[kaoticdelulu]

hey like!! posting is optional!!! (i love this. im so fucking sick. keep it coming holy fucking shit)

hey hold on a sec. we talk about what baltimore was like for kevin, neil, andrew, but can we talk about wymack for a second. Can we just.

the year before the twins and nicky signed at psu, two of wymack's foxes, ian and kirk, died in a car crash.

the next year, kevin day broke his hand and went to wymack, the only person he thought would keep him safe.

the year after that, seth gordon, the only surving member of wymack's original lineup, overdosed after he was so nearly clean, and it almost destroyed allison.

months later, andrew was attacked in columbia and committed to easthaven. aaron killed someone. andrew was gone and the others came back shattered.

then neil claims to go home for the holidays, they don't hear from him all of christmas break, and on new years, neil calls him and asks wymack to pick him up from the airport. he's there instantly and god, he looks half-dead. neil sees the 4 tattoo and tries to cut it off his face. all he can say is that he didn't sign to the ravens.

then there's the blood in the locker room. wymack can't push away the feeling that something's getting closer, something is coming to hurt his foxes and there's nothing he can do to stop it.

then. the game at binghamton. neil looks on edge but wymack doesn't ask what's wrong. neil and andrew are above his paygrade. then the riot. he can't see any of his kids in the crush. he finally pulls them all out, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight–

neil's gone. neil's gone and they can't find him. andrew can't find him. neil got taken by someone. what was that like for david wymack? did it feel too familiar? did he look at his kids and think not again, i didn't lose another one again. does it ever scare him. does it terrify him. when aaron came back from the police station in columbia, twenty four hours in holding and he couldn't look wymack in the eye, did he think what if i can't save these kids? when andrew was lying in a hospital bed, too drugged to react, did he think what if i can't give them their second chance? when neil grabbed that knife, when he fell to pieces on wymack's kitchen floor, when he came back to them in baltimore, bloody and broken, did wymack think why am i always too late?

[wellensittich01]

Dick 9 times out of 10 failing to hide a severe injury from the rest of the batfam because without fail when he’s tired or drugged or generally not firing on all cylinders his native accent comes out as thick as the day he met Bruce.

- - -

Bruce: Dick come down for a check up I saw you take that hit for Tim.

Dick, halfway towards the cave exit and still going, in the quietest voice possible: im fine

Bruce: Say squirrel and you can leave.

Dick:

Bruce:

Jason:

Tim:

Damien:

Dick: …skweeerrehl.

Jason: Get him boys.

[hinamie]

to moving forward

[chubby-bun-bun]

Thirty minutes into the auction, and he’s already tapping a vexed finger against the velvet armrest.

A vibration in the pocket of his dress slacks draws an irritated sigh. Without so much as glancing at the screen, he raises the phone to his ear. “Speak.”

“Sy?”

He pauses, a brow arching slightly at the familiar voice. “Miss Hunter,” he says, pleased, teasing. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

You don’t respond. He leans forward slightly, brows knitting together.

“Sweetheart?” he tries again.

“Can you pick me up?”

There’s no edge to your voice, no trace of the mischief that usually kicks off your calls. With him, you’re never the polished hunter they all know—always a little brash, a little demanding. But now, your words come quiet, empty.

He doesn’t miss a beat.

Rising to his feet, he shrugs on his coat. The wide-eyed stares of the auction organizers go unnoticed as he strides toward the exit, each step steady and deliberate.

“I’m on my way.”

other works

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

shattered glass B-127

[pangur-and-grim]

I think he likes me

[chloesimaginationthings]

Abby and Into the pit Oswald have similar “friends”..

[inkskinned]

you know, you know. no gods, no masters, no kings on pedestals. everyone is fallible. death of the author. you know! you are balanced about your intake of media - you allow the wiggle room, the grace, the gratitude, the skepticism. nobody above criticism.

but still. a weird gut-punch feeling, something akin to betrayal. you read the article. surprise! an author you love is actually: a serial fucking predator.

well, shit. what now. no, you knew he was a person (all people are), but now you're wondering - what have i overlooked by accident? what messages have i internalized that are strange and cruel? and also, like, what the fuck?

his actions lay a thick glaze on top of everything. like each place is now ruined, opaque in a new way. but okay, fine, you've done this before. you knew better, right? you've been betrayed by many a cherished childhood author.

still, this stickiness. fuck. can you pick up that book again. will you read it to your children. you've recommended it to others - will you ever do that again? and of course, of course, no parasocial relationships. you were theoretically above this kind of sentiment. but the artist informs the art, right.

so it's not something as clear-cut as feeling he owed you, specifically (a stranger) better behavior - just that you kind of, in a distant and odd way... sort of trusted him to do better. it's not like a real trust or something speakable, just the faint hope that the product (good books) was a thin representation of the soul. now it feels like the product (good? books?) was a mask. in some small or insignificant way, your previous support of this person lent them power. your money and your time and your laughter.

and the thing is - you have this terrible, echoing sensation. how many times will this happen? over and over. you find out that the singer you love is actually a predator. you learn over drinks that your favorite high school english teacher is in jail for what he did to her. you listen to the news idly and suddenly discover that a woman you used to idolize has been abusing her kids for an actual eon.

what can you touch without the static melting off. you can't even really complain about it too much (you were supposed to know better, and besides, you don't want the same re-split "it's not your fault, love what you love" basic advice), but now it's here. somehow, it feels like - you let him into your life.

it's not that things need to be pure or an artist has to be like, endlessly perfect, mindful. demure. it's more just this terrible truth that has been replayed through your veins so often it feels criminally vain. power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely. did you want any one person to be worth that power?

it's just that he wrote books where he seemed to understand that. he seemed to know about hierarchies and unfair systems and bigotry and privilege. you thought they were books about what it means to struggle. you thought they were about having power and still using it for good rather than for control. he spooned you a narrative of being a good guy, a kind soul. you fucking bought what that fucking monster sold.

maybe that's why they were fantasies, after all.

[k3n-dyll]

I know I'm being joke-y about it but I am actually very sad and hurt rn because this ban is just the start of the US government stripping us of our rights! It was never about security risks, it's always been about the rich dickheads in the government not wanting us to be able to speak to one another and spread information about the causes we care about without censorship.

[essayofthoughts]

Genuinely, I think one of the most fun and crunchy things about any character is

How far they will go for things they want

What they will do to get things they want

Things they won't do, no matter how much they want what they'd get in exchange

Because these things tell you some very important things about the character, namely their limits, their price, and their absolute No's. (And it lets you create some really REALLY crunchy conflict)

[caffstrink]

Comic about something that happened in 2019

[acetier]

i'm So Normal about him

((close ups under cut bc idk he's pretty asdsfksdf))

[xinnamonbun]

Stupid.