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causewhywouldnti · 1 year ago

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My thoughts as I’m watching 24 seasons of law & order svu:

Season 8

Starting the season off strong with Dana Star. Poor Elliot at the end of the episode, when Olivia is just gone. And I love how much he is insisting that he will only get a temporary new partner.

Becks french in 8x03 is actually really good. Most times when French is spoken in an American TV show, the accent is really strong, not the case here. After looking up the actress, it makes sense that her French would be good.

On 8x05, I miss Benson and Benson/Stabler. That dynamic is a huge part of my interest in this series. So it will be interesting to see how it’ll go from season 13-22…

8x06 Benson is back, finally!

8x07, well, that mother is a lot of things, but mother is not a word i‘d use. Her no reaction to one of her kids almost being run over and picking the boyfriend over her daughter is just wow. I do like Stablers more informal clothes. Benson, seeing Beck and Stabler together and deciding to not come back yet, is just sad. And that kiss came way out of left field. Not a fan.

8x08 Dang. Stabler is ruthless. Starts something with Beck, and then introduces Kathy to her as his wife. Like, I have no idea if Beck even knows he’s getting a divorce or not. I would have liked him to answer why he has to keep doing this job though. And the relationship ended as fast as it began…

8x09, yeah, that coffee shop scene with Benson and Stabler was not awkward at alllll… showing their reflection whilst the couple was talking about love vs controlling someone was … a choice? The two of them passive aggressively pointing out each other's flaws during the whole episode, but when Casey attacks them, they immediately have each other's back, seems to describe their friendship quite well. And then of course there is the kidney scene.

8x10 was just sad, really well done, but still sad.

8x11, well, I’m glad that Kathy didn’t go the “sexual assault” route that one divorce lawyer suggested. Interesting how they show Fin and Stabler supporting the husband and Benson supporting the wife. Not sure how I feel about the talk between Kathy and Olivia, but I do like that Stabler signed the divorce papers on his own. Loved the talk between Benson and Stabler on the steps. Him actually voicing what he is afraid of especially. The whole episode showed that 8x10 was shot earlier, because they had tension in 8x09, none whatsoever in 8x10, and then it’s there again in 8x11.

8x13 made me realize just how often Stabler gets injured. Also, Cragen giving the EMT’s the order to restrain Benson if she doesn’t go to the hospital. Why do we get so many Benson at Stabler’s bedside, yet none of him at hers? And is she wearing his hoodie after her hospital stay? Stabler encouraging Benson to do something illegal is just great. As well as Benson being annoyed that the hacking has to be done in the men’s bathroom.

Am a bit annoyed that Warner decided the perp died cause of a lacerated spleen in 8x14 and therefore bled out. That would have meant the dude bled out in a matter of a minute or less (which I do not believe is possible, but I could be wrong). Add to that, she would have found a significant amount of blood in his abdominal cavity, blood that would not be there (at least not in the quantities) if, as said, he died of an arrhythmia and the spleen ruptured postmortem. The like 10 chest compressions Stabler did would not account for a blood loss of 30% that would be required to kill someone. Also, let’s not talk about the fact that Stabler got like 5 chest compressions in, before Benson declared him dead. I’m not even sure if cops can call a death, or if they are required to keep doing CPR until an EMT arrives at the scene. But definitely try longer, especially if the victim was up and running/fighting not 2 minutes before (maybe I’m more than just a bit annoyed…). I did like Benson standing up for Stabler in the IAB investigation though. And though I am aware that what Tucker does is right and called for, it does not make me like him, not even a little bit.

Well, I have been wondering when this episode would come up. 8x16, already starting great with Stabler going along with Benson, getting arrested and all. Seriously, Stabler was great this whole episode, had her back the whole time. And poor Cragen having to deal with them. I would have liked to see more of the evaluation, cause it tends to give you an in-depth look into the characters, but I’ll gladly take what we got.

8x17, I’m surprised they went with the episode that way. I mean, I figured out that the reverend was covering for someone pretty early on. But what surprised me, was that they showed an evangelist, changing his mind about Gay people and also forgiving his wife that fast. Really appreciate it though.

8x19 Olivia absolutely losing it in interrogation was something. Not sure why it took Cragen and Stabler so long to intervene. Stabler has been very supportive the last few episodes.

The kid in 8x20 is the best. Aaaand that took a dark turn real fast! Kathleen is probably my favorite Stabler kid. Might be because she got the most airtime at this point… we have Benson beating and kicking a perp last episode and now Stabler nearly killing one in this…

The Stabler divorce saga makes no sense to me. Did Kathy file the divorce papers that she desperately wanted Elliot to sign? He gave them to her. An episode later, he wants to try again. In a later episode, they talk about him moving back in. We hear nothing of it, until he has a one-night stand with her and Kathleen calls him out on it. Then we see him playing poker with all the kids in his apartment. Next episode, Kathy tells him she is pregnant and that he wanted to try, and she believed him, but he didn’t? I get that they only showed some aspects, but a little more context would have been nice. No wonder fans read whatever they want into it…

Well, the finale was depressing, it was fair (no matter how much I dislike it), they were held accountable. It is a little funny that Munch is the only one who did not face any repercussions out of all of them. All in all, a solid season. Personally, I think I prefer the first half of season 6, but this is a close second.

Familiar faces: Stephen McKinley Henderson (The Newsroom), Connie Nielsen (Gladiator), Charles Shaughnessy (The Nanny), Lily Rabe (Shrinking), Debra Jo Rupp (That ‚70s Show), Elle Fanning (House), Margo Martindale (Hannah Montana: The Movie), Bob Saget (Full House), Catherine Bell (Good Witch), Bernadette Peters (Grey‘s), Michael Michele (House), Kelli Giddish AKA Rollins (SVU), Kal Penn (House), Pablo Schreiber AKA Lewis (SVU), Ashley Williams (HIMYM), Kali Rocha (Sydney from Grey‘s), Michael Weston (Lucas from House), Tim Daly (with the worst haircut), Sarah Drew (Grey‘s), Leven Rambin (The Hunger Games), Chance Kelly (Fringe), Dylan Walsh (Whiskey Cavalier), Kelly Deadmon (Manifest), Clark Middleton (Fringe), Michael Welch (Twilight) and Jack McGee (NCIS).

Favorite episodes: 8x01, 8x09, 8x11, 8x13 and 8x16

Favorite lines:

“Elliot told me to tell you, you’re nuts.” “That’s just the concussion talking.” - Benson and Star 8x01

(On where Benson is) “Word in the conspiracy mill is she’s having my love child.” - Munch 8x06

“The van tried to take a shortcut to Brooklyn. The river got in the way.” - Munch 8x08

“I’d give you a kidney.” “Not if I gave you mine first.” - Stabler and Benson 8x09

“It’s just nice to see someone else with an anger issue.” - Stabler 8x11

“When love warps into hate, there’s nothing you won’t do.” - Stabler 8x11

(On who called the press) “It could have been anyone. This place had more leaks than a 100-year-old water main.” - Munch 8x13

#for prosperity #law and order special victims unit #svu #season 8 #these are getting kinda long.

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the1northlanderprincess · 2 years ago

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armony 2x5 analysis

Holy crap, I can’t believe I actually got most of my predictions right this time. That rarely happens. I can’t wait to dig in. Oh, and the pacing of this show is insane.

Thony meets with Arman and Nadia

Okay, so, initially, I just want to point out that things have really evolved between Thony and Arman, and I just love it. Now, getting on...Their first scenes sees Thony meeting with Arman and Nadia, as they’re talking yet again about how the “ethical” way of selling drugs isn’t making enough. When she drops off the money, she’s really happy with the amount and hopes Arman will be, too. Nadia scoffs at it, saying that’s not much for a 1.6 mil deficit. Thony says it will, but it’ll take time. Arman says it needs to be faster. Thony tries to explain that the profit is there. He tries to reason calmly with her, tries to get her to see their side. Thony argues that she is a doctor, and only wants to give meds to those who really need them. Nadia is like, spare me from this conversation again. Thony says she can’t go to jail. Arman gets really stern, and says that “we can’t keep working for Kamdar”. Thony isn’t having it, and she pointedly looks at Nadia first as she says that what “we’re doing here” is what they agreed to. She tells them that she only came to drop off their cut, and walks out. Nadia’s just done with it all, and Arman paces, clearly frustrated. Nadia is like, who gave her the right. He thinks long and hard, and agrees that Thony can no longer call the shots; they know business where she doesn’t. This pleases Nadia.

I really liked how Arman was being the sensible one and countering Nadia’s passive-aggressiveness. Like, that soft “Thony” he uttered while he was attempting to reason with her was rather lovely. It was both assuring and pleading. He knows it’s tough for her to even consider, but he wanted to appeal to her on his viewpoint. after Thony leaves, and he’s mulling things over, his mood changes as he decides that Thony’s way is not the answer. I think he wanted to win his wife over, but she was also casting a spell on him with her manipulation.

Thony finds out about the drugs.

Later on, Arman and Thony meet with Bosco. When he opens up the back of the truck, she's confused by the extra amount, saying she didn't order that many boxes. Bosco tells her Arman did. Suspicious, she opens one and finds narcotics. Angry, she questions him, and tells her flat out that trying her way didn't work, so they're going his route. She just shakes her head in frustration, and as they unload the shipment, she continues on her soap box, declaring this goes against the sacred Hippocratic oath she took as a doctor. He counters that they can easily make 200k. She says that dealers only care about the money, and not the customers who could be harmed. Arman turns it around on her, asking about the hotel manager. She says that he was threatening her family. He fires back that Kamdar is threatening his. He then goes on his own furious monolog, telling her he has done so much for her, protected her, even killed for her. He has the audacity to ask if she appreciated that, all the while knowing she does. She shakes her head, disregarding that as the issue. Thony finally proclaims that if he does that, she's out. He doesn't even take a second to consider, and says fiercely that "they're done here". Before he leaves, he tells her he'll be back to get the drugs. Alone, and very upset, she kicks a box across the room.

There was a LOT of gaslighting going on in this scene...from Arman and Thony both. It was bound to happen. They’re both passionate, stubborn people, and tensions are on the rise, especially for Arman. Thony tries to guilt him with her morals, and he guilts her with everything he’s done for her, asked or otherwise. Though he’s going about the wrong way, he’s speaking the truth. Their partnership has been a little one-sided. a healthy relationship is built on compromise and balance; you give a little, they give a little. You take, they take. and, honestly, it’s probably a good thing they’ve got their boxing gloves out. It shows them, and us, that they care deeply for one another (according to the interwebs, anyway😝). They don’t argue all the time like him and Nadia, so I think it’s okay. If they are meant to be together, they will find they way back to one another, forgive, and work out their differences.

Nadia calls Arman out, and Kamdar forces him to call Thony

So, Arman is working in Kamdar’s bar and is keeping watch on things. Nadia is, too. They start talking about how he’s working hard to be free of Kamdar, and she wants to be free of pandering to low lives, where he tells her he doesn’t want to see her dealing with one in particular. This angers her, pointing out that he has no right, because of all the stuff he put Nadia through with “her”. He tells her to leave Thony out of it. However, she takes it up a notch, explains she was just trying to make him feel better, but she’s just done with it, because the only person who can make him feel like a hero is “his cleaning lady”. She walks away, leaving him to ponder.

Kamdar is watching this exchange from the shadows, and I have to wonder how much of that he heard, and if he caught on to the subtext. He comes up to Arman and orders him to send a message to the businessman Arman knows. Arman is definitely NOT happy about this, but he goes through with it. He stops beating on the guy for a moment, until Stuart makes a smart-allicky remark on his perception of Arman as just a “thug”. Something in him snaps, and arman goes to town on Stuart, until Kamdar walks in. He doesn’t want him to stop, but Arman has had enough, telling Kamdar that if he wants Stuart dead, he’ll have to do it himself, and storms out. Kamdar is not satisfied with this, and goes after Arman, who is ready to ride out of the alley. Kamdar notes that his office is very bloody, and it needs to be cleaned. He suggests Arman should call his cleaning lady. He refuses. Kamdar inquires as to why, then adds smugly that isn’t that what he hired her for? Arman inclines his head at his tone. Kamdar has a sly little smile as he walks away. Arman is looking very troubled.

I think Arman has an inkling that Kamdar knows that Thony is more than a cleaning lady to Arman, and that worries him. I don’t believe that he denied the initial request to call her because they had a fight, but because he doesn’t want her to see what he’s done, which I’ll get into more next.

Arman calls Thony

Thony gets a call from Arman, and she answers it, grudgingly. He tells her that he needs her to come and clean at the bar. She explains that she has a job, and follows that up with throwing his words at him, saying she thought they were done. His reaction is one of obvious regret and he says the order is from Kamdar, and he is not one to say no to. She knows something wrong, but he tells her to just get there, and he adds a soft “please”. When she arrives, and is led into the office, Arman's back is to her, but we know he’s heard her, as he shifts his body toward the door but does not turn. after they’re left alone, she immediately goes to his side and gently asks what happened. He still doesn’t look at her, his expression looking pained. He says it doesn’t matter, it’s what he’s become. She takes his bruised hand, looks at it, and proclaims this is not who he is. He peers down at his hand with hers on it, frowning, ashamed. Thony then tenderly tells him that she will help him. His eyes are on her, now, and he looks like he’s about to cry. She asks him what time they have to meet the contact. He tells her, and she replies that if he helps her clean, they can make the appointment. She gives him a little nod, and goes to begin the cleaning. He finally turns his body, and looks at her.

Okay, I’m in love with this scene. I want to talk about Arman's posture and demeanor first. We see him initially with his shoulders slouched, head down. He is reminiscent of a young person who has been reprimanded and helpless until the consequence has been handed down; he’s like a servant. It’s very much the most defeated we’ve ever seen him. While Thony’s talking to him, he can’t bear to look at her. Reading between the lines of his words, he feels he’s turned into the monster he was worried of Thony seeing. But she surprises him when she takes his hurt hand in hers. She speaks in soothing tones. When he looks down, he still has this expression of shame, doubting her reassuring words. She shocks him by saying she’ll help him. Arman can’t believe it. He’s done something so terrible, yet this woman in front of him is sacrificing her vows for him, which he never wanted for her, no matter the fact he wanted her to go along with the drug selling. He feels he does not deserve her compassion, but it is said compassion that overwhelms him to the verge of breaking down. His expression as she steps away from him is one of awe, and he straightens up, as if her belief in him has given him new strength and resolve. I can’t forget to mention the fact their theme is playing in the background.

Thony and Arman go to meet the contact, then are caught.

While Thony is finishing up in the office, she is witness to a couple of things. First, she sees Arman and Nadia arguing in a rather animated fashion. He's likely told her that Thony will assist him with meeting his contact, and she does not like it. Secondly, Cortes` and Kamdar enter, talking business. Thony discreetly excuses herself, pausing outside the door when she hears Cortes' name, putting the pieces together. Arman comes around the corner and grabs her hand, as they need to hurry. Outside, we get a nice little voiceless scene between them as Arman assists Thony in getting ready to ride on the motorcycle, then Nadia walks out to see them drive away.

Arman is more at ease in this scene. He’s away from Kamdar, going to make a deal to help his situation, and Thony is with him. He makes sure she is comfortable. as she settles in behind him, we see a hint of a smile. Oh yeah, he’s feeling it. She sets her hands on his side, but he takes them and wraps them around his waist. He could have just told her, but, nope, he just had to do it himself. I see you, dude. Her fingers flex on his abdomen, perhaps nervous, or to feel safe and to know he’s really there. We have to talk about Nadia’s expression, too. She actually looks really hurt. I think she is realizing Arman will never truly put her first.

In their final scene, Thony and Arman have been forced to stop because of Garrett, who is shocked to see the personnel of the truck, though he is tickled pink to have caught Arman in a compromising position. Thony and Arman come out with hands raised, with Arman telling her not to say anything, yet she does anyway. Upon opening some cargo, Garrett asks if Thony is selling drugs with Arman now, all the while the latter is telling Garrett to leave Thony alone. She spins the tale of these being meds for Luca, but Garrett knows better. He demands to know if she’s working for Cortes’, and she denies it. Thinking on her feet, she tells Garrett that she and Arman can give him Kamdar. He doesn’t know who he is. When she explains what she saw in the office, Garrett puts the pieces together. Thony tells him that if he lets them go, and they all work together, it will help everybody, including Maya. Thony pleads her case on Luca’s behalf. Garrett gets a call from his colleague, and tells him to stand down, seemingly taking Thony’s offer.

This scene is utterly terrific, and it really highlights how strong Thony and Arman's connection is, no matter what has happened between them. Ten minutes ago, they were flinging stones at one another. Now they are trying to one up the other in protecting each other, and it’s hilarious. The moment they step out of the truck, Arman barely keeps his eyes off of Thony. So much so, Garrett snaps at him to not look at her. When she tells Garrett she’ll inform for him again, Arman bows his head, because he knows what Garrett put her through, and doesn’t want that for her again. We also see Arman proud of her for the second week in a row as she tries to sell Garrett on getting two bad guys.

Love vs. caring

The question was informally broached last season on whether or not what Thony and Arman share is love. Let’s talk about it. Loving and caring are two different things, though they often go hand in hand. Caring for someone is going out of your way to do something nice for them; it’s being kind to your fellow man. For example, Thony and Fiona’s new client listened to their pitch and everything, relating to her, and she hired them because she knew where they were coming from. Then, later, when she saw Fiona’s family’s assisting in cleaning the club, and decided to hire The Cleaning Ladies outright instead of firing them.

Love, on the other hand, goes much deeper. Love is putting someone’s needs above your own. It’s sacrificing your livelihood for them, taking the blame. It’s putting your life on the line for the other. Thony and Arman have been doing all of this constantly, more so in the final scene of the episode. She told Garrett that selling the drugs was her idea (which it was, just not the narcotics), and to leave Arman be. Arman was totally okay telling Garrett that he “got” him, and to let Thony go. This is love, people, and even though it hasn’t been officially declared, it’s clearly what is there.

Whew. Done. Major points to you if you read this all the way through. My prediction post for next week is coming up shortly.

#the cleaning lady #armony

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angsty-omi · 4 years ago

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was she just a friend?

hajime iwaizumi x Reader

tw: very slight domestic abuse, insecurity, no happy ending, swearing, suggestive themes, and no editing prior.

when you first started dating hajime, you had accepted the fact that he had a really close girl friend. how could you not? before you guys made it official he made sure his concerns were met with. this should’ve been the first red flag, however, you were blinded by love.

at first, it was subtle. she’d tag along with you guys on your walk home, which you didn’t mind at all. most of the trips, she’d make fun of iwaizumi and reminisce when they were kids. which, in turn, made you laugh. a lot. and usually after she got home, you and iwaizumi could spend the sunset together. his large calloused hand would wrap around yours, and he’d bring your hand up to peck it. your heart grew bigger by the minute.

then, one day after she left, both of his hands gripped your jaw, and soft lips were pressed against yours. you smiled into the kiss and added more pressure. as he pulled away, you instinctively moved forward for more. that made him chuckle, and grabbed your chin once more. however, this kiss was more passionate. you could never forget that night. it was purely blissful.

for the next six months, life felt like paradise. there was a consistency of “i love you-s,” cuddles, and even sex. but, as they say, happiness is only temporary. on your sixth month anniversary, you and hajime had planned a fancy dinner date on the bay. you showed up early, with excitement written on your face. you were currently wearing a satin maroon dress with a black trench coat on top. as you sat at your table, you pulled out a box out of your pocket. it was a promise ring. you rubbed the circumference of it, trying to ease your nerves. was this moving too fast? you were certain that you couldn’t love another the way you love hajime.

as the hour strikes, he still hadn’t showed up. you repeatedly checked your watch, and even asked other people’s in case your time was wrong. you texted hajime multiple times with no response. anxiety started bubbling in your stomach. what if hajime’s hurt? what if he got into a car accident? what if a UFO came down and kidnapped him? you prayed to yourself that none of those things were true.

before you even realized it, another hour went by. and at this point the waiters were passively suggesting you to leave, due to their full house. at first, you were weary, what if hajime shows up? you thought. although, you complied with the waiters and left. you called him so many times with no pick up. before jumping to conclusions, you decided to text her.

y/n: hey, have you talked to hajime recently?

her: nope! but i can text him if you’d like!

y/n: sure

you rolled your eyes at her message, she acted like he’d answer her and not you. you were his girlfriend for god sakes. obviously if he could text someone it’d be you... atleast that’s what you thought before you got a notification.

her: oh he just said he’s at home, was there something you needed?

that text broke your heart. he’s at home? worst of all he texted her back and not you? you just left her on read and headed home.

as you slammed your phone on the bed, you got ready to sleep. slipping into one of hajime’s shirts and a pair of underwear you tuck yourself in. while drifting, you inhaled his shirt and it smelled like him. his cologne had a wood musk scent to it which you adored. and before you realized it, you were crying. crying yourself to sleep.

the next morning during school, you did everything in your power to ignore hajime. you skipped the lockers, lunch, and even prevented going to bathroom in case he was there. who could blame you? you were still upset after being stood up.

“miss y/n, could you grab these papers and send it to the office please?” your teacher asked.

you picked up the hefty amount of sheets and went on your merry way. with your guard down roaming the hallways, you failed to notice her and hajime at the end of it. as you both looked up from a long distance with eye contact, you simply turned around and took a detour. you could hear sneakers quickly catching up to you. it was hajime.

“hey baby i haven’t seen you all day,” he wrapped his arm around you.

you ignored him and continued looking straight ahead.

“hey are you okay?”

silence.

“y/n if you’re going to act like this and not tell me what’s going on, i’m going to go.” hajime said with a stern voice. you bit your lip, trying to hold tears back. you nudged yourself off of him and replied “fine.”

how could he be mad at you? and why’s he acting like nothing happened?

at the end of the school day, hajime was waiting at the gates for you. you caught sight of him and sighed. you couldn’t hold it off any longer. as you approached him, you saw her peeking out next to him. of course. with annoyance, you started walking home, with them behind you. the walk home was silent, excluding the loud footsteps trailing behind you. as soon as she turned for her house and a couple more steps, hajime grabbed your wrists and gently pinned you on the wall.

“tell me what’s wrong.”

immediately, tears start falling down your face.

“how could you forget about our sixth months?”

at this point, iwaizumi’s face turned pale. paler than a sheet of printer paper. he quickly kissed your tears, and rambled apologies.

“i can explain, that day hachi had some major family issues. her dad had just left the house to get drunk, and her mom was out of town. she needed me to come over, so i rushed.”

“so then, why didn’t you text me back?”

“what?”

“you heard me”

“i gave my phone to hachi because her dad broke hers.”

you gave a confused look. her phone wasn’t broken, she literally texted you and to think about it you never said her name aloud or in your thoughts.

“what? i literally texted her the night of and she said you texted her back saying you were home”

“hachi wouldn’t do that.”

did he just assume that you would lie? what reason would you even have to lie? you pulled up your phone and showed him the messages.

“this was probably a misunderstanding, are you sure your connection was good? some of them probably didn’t send so it looks bad” he casually said.

you were just in so much shock when he said that. how could he? why did he? your head started to feel stressed so you just walked away. not wanting to hear his idiotic excuses anymore. he trailed behind you and wrapped his arms around you.

“please don’t leave us on bad terms, i’m sorry i won’t do it again” you felt tears on the back of your school uniform.

“i guess it wouldn’t hurt to forget this one instance” you thought to yourself. so what did you do? you forgave him.

poor little naive girl.

after you guys made up, he decided to have a make up anniversary. you guys cuddled up on your bed and watched many sappy romance movies while ordering your favorite place. this was way better than an expensive dinner. you were just glad he was in your arms again and whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

you got up from the bed with his arms dragging behind to go into your dresser, where you hid the box. as you were about to turn around and suprise him, his phone rang. who could be calling at this hour? you know who. hachi.

“don’t pick it up” you frowned.

“please babe just give me one second?” he pouted.

you nod in a agony. as he answered it, you could hear dramatic tears on the other end with a concerned hajime on the line.

“are you okay?! he did what?! i’m coming right now”

as he ended the call, he buckled his pants back on.

“you’re kidding right?”

you hid the tiny box behind your back.

“what are you talking about y/n?” he frustrated, clearly stressed out.

“this is our anniversary and you’re going over to see another girl?”

“y/n, she’s my best friend and you know that. plus she’s home alone and her dad just broke a window.”

“then can i come with you?”

he shook his head, “i don’t think she wants anyone to see her in that state right now”

“except for you, hm makes sense okay”

“can you please not be insecure for like one day?” his fingers ran through his hair.

your eyes widened, “are you fucking serious? you’re the one that made me insecure! first i dropped the whole dinner phone text thing even though there was obvious evidence hachi was trying to sabotage us, why can’t you see it?!”

“y/n, at the beginning of our relationship you acknowledged that i had a close girl friend. and with that, the dinner thing was just a misunderstanding. stop bringing that up or else.” he aggressed.

“are you seriously threatening me right now?”

“if you leave right now.. t-then we’re over!” the words just slipped out of your mouth. both of you guys were in shock. you were just so relentlessly depleted from this argument that you decided this was your solution.

he furiously opened the door, “hajime wai-” you were cut off by the door slamming shut. tears were flowing like a waterfall at this point. you gave yourself some time to breathe and reevaluate. you couldn’t lose hajime, he was your person. your light. your yellow. you put on your sneakers and ran to hachi’s house, knowing he’d be there. you grabbed the promise ring alongside so you could beg for forgiveness.

your breath was ragged, damn were you out of shape. but at the end, you got to your destination. as you analyzed the house, there seem to be no windows broken, but the front door was opened slightly. you knew she was lying from the start about her dad smashing things. you slowly walked in as quiet as possible and could hear sobs in the other room. as you pressed your ear to the door, it was hajime’s sobs. your heart felt so much guilt, sayings like “i love her so much” and “how could she just say that?” were the only phrases you could comprehend. then there was silence. as you opened the door, prepared to make up, you couldn’t believe your eyes. hachi and hajime’s face were about a half an inch away from each other. they both looked up at you.

“nice intact windows, take this stupid fucking ring, you’re dead to me iwaizumi” you chucked the box at him. as he looked at the box, it had been embroidered ‘promise’ on it and he knew what that meant. you quickly made your exit through the door with hajime closely behind you.

you stopped in your tracks, “please just leave me alone” your voice now dainty.

“y/n, plea-”

“please what? please forget about what i saw? i knew it i fucking knew it. you know what, this whole time you made me like the bad guy when it was YOU. you made me like this, and the worst part is I STILL LOVE YOU.” you punched jabs into his chest. obviously it didn’t hurt him physically, but emotionally it felt like a million swords were stabbing him repeatedly.

“please stop this, is there anyway you can forgive me? please?” he sobbed.

“i’ll do anything”

“would you leave hachi for me?” you asked sharply.

his hesitation was all you needed. in his head he answered yes, but it was like his vocal chords stopped working. deep in his heart, he knew you deserved better. so he stayed quiet.

“go to hell, go fuck hachi or something see if i care.” but you did care. you just wished that he fought just a little bit for you. but he never did and you had to accept it like a champ.

before this all happened, you had dreamed about iwaizumi hajime and yours’s future. but now it’s all ruined.

you’re left heartbroken and lost $350 on a ring that had no meaning.

#haikyuu angst #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #hq iwaizumi #haikyuu iwaizumi #iwaizume x reader #haikyuu fluff

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rukia-simp · 3 years ago

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Rukia’s Feelings

Let's discuss feelings in Bleach because there's a lot of double standards here and it hurts me to watch people think they've "debunked" arguments but they only told a vague fairy tale. That's why I'm saying that Rukia had fallen in love earlier than you think. In fact I would even say that she fell in love before Orihime. Orihime may have had a crush on Ichigo first, but she never said “love” until the arrancar saga.

Rukia fell in love first. In fact there's textual evidence for this. We all know this iconic scene. Kubo was never into romantic tales, however he wouldn't pull this BS out of his ass for shits and giggles. He's not that kind of writer. Every scene has purpose! Stop the disrespect!

This scene isn't meant for fanservice. It's meant for setting up motive. Why does Rukia want to leave?

Before I answer that. Ladies and Gentlemen, this is what literary analysis calls DRAMATIC IRONY. In which the audience knows something that characters might not know. For example like when we know Isshin is a Shinigami, but Ichigo doesn't know. We know Rukia's true feelings but Ichigo and other people don't because they obviously can't read her inner monologue. Ichigo can't read her motives until her tears tell him the truth. Now to answer the original question above. She left because she was afraid that if she stayed any longer in the living world, her already developing feelings would make it harder to leave later on. She needed to get out of Ichigo's proximity so that her attachment can't be used as leverage or puts him in danger. After all it was her emotional attachment to Kaien that allows her to identify every emotion that she's feeling at this moment in the story. She doesn't want to bring Ichigo the same demise as Kaien. It's because of her emotions that Kaien's death hit her so hard. Without emotions and that attachment to Kaien, it would have been just another death in the Soul Society. Why is this important? Because Rukia's trying to learn from her past. Ichigo's stubbornness messes up her plan, but it's also what ends up saving them in the long term. She runs away with the hope of forgetting all of her experiences with Ichigo. Ichigo did the same thing Kaien did with Rukia in the 13th division. Ichigo didn't make her feel alone or like an outcast. They both treated her the way she always hoped people would treat her. With respect, and as an equal. She never wanted to be put down nor be put on a pedestal because of her last name. Or because of her rank. But everyone did, even her future husband. The only two people who canonically didn’t was Ichigo and his cousin. Rukia just has a weak side for men like that. Rukia has a type unlike Orihime. We know why she loves Ichigo, but there's no clear reason as to why Orihime does. It's very broad, and not narrowed down to a specific reason. Which makes her crush easy to attack with no actual solid defense. I can tell you EXACTLY where Ichigo and Rukia's relationship changed from salty coworkers to immediately more than friends. I've reread Bleach multiple time, and have yet to see the exact moment where Ichigo and Orihime's feelings change. Most of it looks like it's offscreen.

Just so no one gets confused. I'm referring to this scene. This was where Ichigo and Rukia's relationship could never go back to being coworkers and friends.

Anyways, people like to argue that Orihime is the one that likes him so she is guaranteed that "happy" ending. I call BS because Nel and Riruka had just as much infatuation with our protagonist, but all I see is them getting the short end of the stick. Orihime IS NOT SPECIAL. But Rukia IS special. This woman "COINCIDENTALLY" has a paralleled past to our protagonist. She "COINCIDENTALLY" spent Ichigo's entire past arc as his only form of foundation and support. And she "COINCIDENTALLY" is the one to be asked about HER feelings because she's not as open about her emotions, since she's a SHINIGAMI. Shinigami have LITERALLY been taught to not be emotional. Duty before love. Rukia's characterization and occupation don’t allow her to confess straight up. Orihime has the privilege of no limitations. Rukia isn't as lucky! Why the hell would Kubo emphasize this so much for it be a fecking dead end?!

But that's why Rukia's confession is in the form of denial. Because in order to keep her IN CHARACTER, Kubo needs to write a confession that sounds like Rukia. He must emphasize how strong her feelings are. They are so strong that they overcome her usual stoicism, sternness.

Byakuya himself knew that Rukia only showed this much emotion towards Kaien. That's why he concluded that there's something special about Ichigo. He has identified the pattern.

All of this had purpose. I refuse to believe it was all for nothing. This scene was a confession, and just a sad reminder that unfortunately Ichigo and Rukia's ending was always on a tight rope. He put too much effort into their relationship. He put a freakish amount of effort into their relationship. And honestly this makes the story make more sense, in my opinion. Think about it like this. If Rukia was not in love in this scene then it wouldn’t be as memorable in the Ichiruki fandom. And Rukia would be a completely different character. By Rukia already having feelings they stimulate Ichigo into finding out his own feelings (which is in the Lost Agent Arc). And it makes sense because Rukia might fall easier, but she’s more passive when it comes to answering to her desires. Just look back at her past with Kaien, and her reaction towards his wife. She’s not the type to pursue feelings. But Ichigo is more aggressive than her. But he’s more dense as well. Ichigo is the type to initiate the relationship, but he has to be aware of it. How can you be aware of it if your dense? I mean the fact that Ichigo is dense about Orihime’s blatant feelings can’t be a coincidence. For me, it almost seems like Ichigo is dense, not because he’s not meant to see Orihime’s feelings, but because it makes it harder for him to identify his own feelings for a certain person (personally I thought and still think that it’s supposed to be Rukia). It delays endgames, and allows for more satisfying development. However, this could just be my optimism speaking, but I don't think Kubo is stupid. But that time frame for TYBW was ridiculous and I truly believe it was a factor in their final decisions. But I might be blinded by my optimism. Well anyway, this was another piece of analysis. Just want to call out some hypocrites. I'm right now putting on the table that Rukia arguably has just as much feelings for Ichigo. So the argument that Orihime is "obligated" to Ichigo's love is too vague. It's a horrible argument, but I'm always open to discussion. Respectfully of course. But then again this is social media so...

My next analysis is probably going to be on this gorgeous scene. I'm just going to explain its significance and what makes it an irrefutable Ichigo and Rukia moment. Please look forward to that! Thank you to everyone that read this far. Have a wonderful day!

Also no hate on Renji and Orihime. I know Renji thought he had good intentions, but if he's so special then he should have been able to fix it before 40 years of no interactions. And Orihime is a sweetie, but her unrealistic look on life is just too polar to my look on life. I'm a realist. I can't get behind that especially when she basically gets everything handed to her without much consequence. Reality would have hit normal women in the face if they were in Orihime's position. To me that's not a good message to teach to anyone.

Anyway thanks for reading! Love y’all!

#bleach #ichiruki #pro ichiruki #analysis #literary analysis #tite kubo #ichigo kurosaki #rukia kuchiki #I love doing this so much #i love their dynamic #pro bleach

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wizkiddx · 4 years ago

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a father and daughter

I don't normally hop on the whole dad!tom thing, but this idea kinda popped up and wouldn't leave me alone. Hope everyone is having a lovely festive period and wish you all well in the new year x x x

Summary: Tom really struggles to get into the parenting thing, and finds it tricky balancing work and his relationship with baby daughter

Tom loved being a Dad. It had only been a couple of months, meaning your baby girl was still very much a baby - yet still he had no doubt, this was the best job one could ever ever do. To be honest he was quite regretting agree to the few work commitments he had started to ease back into too. It wasn’t like he couldn’t afford to go these months without work, which not many had the luxury of saying - but in this industry work agreements were lined up years before and he was never one to disappoint.

Of course, as soon as you both had found out you were expecting, he’d withdrawn from the big filming project across the world but that didn’t mean he avoided the odd week of press, or a couple days flying abroad for fittings and meetings. By absolutely no means would you ever class him as a slightly ‘absent’ dad, you completely understood and when he was home did way more than his fair share with Amelie.

But Tom felt guilty and he felt like he was inferior to you in parenting ability. And you knew that was for one reason and one reason only. He did not have boobs.

You were well aware that as much as you loved Amelie needing you so much and so often - sometimes being the only person able to soother her - was because all she wanted was to drain you of milk. She was clearly going to be a Daddy’s girl, and who could blame her when her Dad was Tom. But for right now, a mere 5 months old - she loved you because she loved your tit.

The first time you had noticed Tom’s growing frustration was right after his first evening work commitment since her arrivel, he’d been on a UK chat show earlier in the evening and as encouraged by you, had taken the opportunity to have a few drinks after with his brothers and friends. By no means did he return late, barely midnight, but he did return just a little tipsy. You were still up choosing to have a little movie night to yourself, whilst Amelie slept in the Moses basket next to the couch. Just before Tom got back though, she had woken up and for no reason was the smiliest little girl. So when Tom let himself into the front door, he was greeted with the sound of Amelie’s little bubbles of laughter, while you spoke in baby language - pulling ridiculous faces and laughing with her.

“Someones smiley” Tom laughed as he plopped down on the sofa next to you, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head and wrapping his arm round your shoulder as he smiled at Amelie.

“Aren’t you Meelie? How was the show love?” You asked, as you held Amelie in a sitting position on your thighs so she was staring at you both.

“Hmm it was nice, couldn’t make myself stay for too long though… just missed my girls.” His voice was a little rough, something that happens after talk show and then almost shouting over the obnoxiously loud music in the pub after. Amelie, laughed again at his words, almost taunting her Dad’s attachment to her, making both of you burst out laughing. She already had you both wrapped round her very little finger.

Shaking your head, you passed her over to Tom muttering needing a wee and made a quick escape. Ever since you had her, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave her unattended - meaning you had almost made your kidneys explode holding in a wee waiting for Tom to get back. Yet as soon as you made it out the door, the bubbling innocent laughter turned into screams - but at that point you’d already made it out the doorframe - marking that as Tom’s issue to handle. Unfortunately the wails continued, very very loud and proud, and when you returned Tom was pacing slowly around the lounge with a grimace on his face as Amelie screamed into his shoulder.

“I’ll stay up with her if you want.” You offered, knowing Tom without sleep and having to listen to her racket all night would have an impressively worse hangover tomorrow.

“No I got it, think she needs a change.” Tom countered, even though you were pretty sure she wanted a feed, since it had been a good couple of hours from the last. He noticed your hesitance and shooed you out the room “I got it love, you’ve had her all evening.”

“You know where I’ll be” You smiled lightly, leaving them downstairs as you got ready for bed.

It was after about 10 minutes of thrashing about guiltily in your otherwise empty bed, you gave in to the still continuous screaming. Amelie clearly was just hungry, even if Tom refused to admit it and bring her to you. So with a deep sigh you gave in, swinging your legs over the side of the bed and trudged downstairs. Tom was still stood up, taking gentle bouncing steps as Amelie apparently tried to deafen him. Once he saw you, with a defeated look, Tom offered her to you. Instantly, as if you just had the ability to turn the crying switch on her off- Amelie stopped crying and blinked away the tears in her eyes, whilst waiting patiently for you to offer her your nipple. While you were busy trying to get her to latch on, you just caught Tom muttering something as he trudged up to bed without so much as a good night.

Then a couple months later a similar thing occurred. Tom had been away in New York for 5 days, a little press stint that he had under no circumstances been able to get off. At first all had been well but two days since he returned, Tom insisted you finally had an evening out with the girls - to be honest, after spending the best part of a week alone with Meelie you graciously took it. Oh, and also of importance for context, Amelie spoke her first word while he was away… Mama.

You’d left that morning, your best friend taking you on a spa day before - so by the time Tom called you at 11 in the evening, he’d spent a good portion of the day with Amelie vehemently denying to do anything at all apart from yell- yelling “NO MAMA.” So fair to say he was pissed. You answered the phone with a soft smile, honestly finding spending this much time apart from Amelie really hard and guilt-inducing.

“Hey Tom everything okay?”

“Um when do you think you’ll be back?” He spoke straight and to the point, clearly not in the mood for small talk.

“I don’t think too long, is everything alright?” His tone made you so much more concerned, now worrying that something had happened.

“No no everything’s fine. Just… just been a long day.”

“Okay well I’ll be back soon I promise. I love you.”

“Yeh yeh um you too” He didn’t mean to be short. Nor to make you worried. He didn’t hate you - far the opposite, he hated how much Amelie loved you.

If he was being honest, he just felt like a bit of a failure of a father. As a child himself, Tom had always been incredibly close to his mum and thought the typical rule was mummy’s boys and daddy’s girls stood. So why then, did his child appear to absolutely detest him with every look. Especially because, given the nature of his job, once Tom went back to actually shooting films again he’d be around much less - and that the relationship between him and Amelie would at least be geographically strained. Unrequited love is always the worst and ultimately most painful, especially when it involves your own child.

This underlying and unspoken tension fizzled away for a decent amount of months and Tom went on his first job. At this point you were no longer breastfeeding, but still you knew that purely instinctively if Amelie was ever scared, upset or unhappy she would seek you first. It was bloody obvious to you that she did love Tom, she chuckled away like no tommorrow when he played with her and spun her round the room. And yet, you could still tell Tom wasn’t completely convinced and still seemed , just a bit aware and hesitant.

In there ever needed to be any proof though, it must’ve been how stroppy Amelie got once Tom left. In short, for you, it was hell. You ended up constantly wearing Tom’s t-shirts, not for you but because the mild but lingering scent of him seemed to soothe Amelie when she was fussing. She would never giggle like she did when her silly Daddy was here to be her personal comedian. She had, however, finally learnt how to say Dada - which now she was shouting impressively at every point apart from when you tried to film it. She was a little devil, its like she knew exactly what to do to make you life as hard as possible - keeping you dealing with an unhappy Tom. You tried to tell him, when you were on FaceTime each evening - but no matter how many times you promised, it seemed that Tom had a hard time believing you.

He was filming in Germany, which meant it wasn’t actually ‘that’ far from your London home and after two weeks he flew back for a weekend. You were incredibly excited- not just to seeing Tom, which of course you where; but also ,hopefully, for him to feel some sort of assurance in his ability as a parent. He needed to see her, Amelie needed her Daddy and you… you needed a rest.

That evening, you had had her balanced on your hip as you rushed to make the house look somewhat presentable (because single parenting was not easy) but Amelie had thrown a fit so with a slightly immature passive aggressive comment to your 11 month old daughter you put her on her play mat and carried on. It was a bit of a risk if you were quite honest, she was more than just a crawler - she perfected the art of bum shuffling and was starting to on occasion try to stand up. But you were in the same room so surely little harm could come to her in the ‘over-the-top-ly’ baby proofed living room - Tom’s doing of course.

So keeping one eye on Amelie and the other on the almost terrifyingly big stack of discarded toys you set about tidying up. It was all going swimmingly until your thoughts about how on earth you were going to hide all the crap were abruptly interrupted with a garbled screech of “DADA!”

You instantly whipped your head round to watch Amelie stumble and basically throw herself the couple of steps to the doorway where Tom stood. You had absolutely no clue how long he’d been standing there but that was all insignificant watching him sweep you little girl into his arms, before she could career to the floor (headfirst of course). His eyes were bugging out of his head, as she giggled and laughed in his strong grasp before astutely throwing her head into the crook of his neck, demanding to be cuddled by him.

It was almost hilarious, how utterly shocked Tom looked at the real life proof that his baby girl had missed him. Once he met your eyes he used the hand supporting Amelies back to point at her in a questioning manner, making you roll your eyes at just how oblivious and stubborn he is.

“She’s missed her Dad!” You smiled, as you walked toward him and pecked his lips. “You got this down here if I finally get some peace upstairs?”

Because yes, you’d missed your husband and wanted to spend all night wrapped in his arms. But really? There was a more important way the evening should pass, finally Tom getting his moment with Amelie. So without so much as even a ‘how was your flight’ you left the two in the living room - you making a beeline to the bath, for just a moment to yourself.

It was perhaps even a little shocking to yourself that you were so confident you could leave them alone for the evening. Because really, if Amelie started acting up suddenly again, this could be where Tom’s confidence as a dad goes from ‘ropey at best’ to ‘non-existent’. Except you were so certain in the fact that just wouldn’t happen. If she was hungry she’d take the bottle from Tom (which she never did from you without arguement ).

And so you had possible the most relaxing time in the bath - actually alone for the first time in two weeks.

It wasn’t until you quietly walked down the stairs two hours later that you got a bit suspicious of the silence downstairs. Cautiously you peered your head round the doorframe and you didn’t even try to stifle the beaming smile spread across your face. Because there was your husband, lying semi-reclined on the arm of the sofa, his arms wrapped protectively round Amelie who looked incredibly content snuggled up to her dad at last. They were both fast asleep and the sight was just so sweet it actually hurt your heart, meaning only naturally you had sneak a picture of them both. It was infuriating how you knew you had to wake him up - it is a little irresponsible to leave her lying on top of him on the couch and you kinda wanted to cuddle up to Tom this evening too.

So with a gentle touch rubbing and down his right arm it only took a moment or two till he suddenly blinked his eyes open, eyes looking quickly between your eyes and Amelie - his grasp on her had instinctively tightened a little.

“Hey” You whispered softly, watching him notice how calm Amelie looked on his chest.

“Mhmm hey.” His voice was slightly croaky, probably from the exhaustion of two weeks of hard work.

“You guys friends then?” You whispered while combing your ginger nails though Amelies little curls at the base of her neck - she was most deifnetly a Holland.

“She did really miss me?” Tom asked, still half not believing as he shuffled up on the sofa so he was sitting more upright.

“To the point she had me wrapping the pillows in your unwashed t-shirts.” You giggled as his bottom lip pouted into a visible ‘awh’.

“Come on lets get you both to bed.”

Without much complaint, but keeping her in his arms, Tom nodded and followed you up to bed. But that night instead of getting your way and having Tom cuddling you, he pouted until you let him lie Amelie down in the middle of the bed between you two .

But seeing the way he grinned at her in the dark, almost fighting to stay awake as he looked at her, the prospect seemed a lot more attractive.

And that was more than fine by you.

#tomholland #tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #dad!tom #happynewyear

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house-of-cakes · 4 years ago

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Jamais Vu

Masterlist || Series Masterlist

Prev || Next Chapter 22: And I Oop! 🤭 Jungkook x Reader: enemy to lovers AU

Word count: 1739

Warnings: Swearing, an over confident douchebag and Y/N and JK are major teases Premise: “There’s an opposite to déjà vu. They call it jamais vu. It’s when you meet the same people or visit places, again and again, but each time is the first. Everybody is always a stranger… Nothing is ever familiar” – Chuck Palahniuk, Choke

AKA Jungkook goes in search of the girl who got him expelled.

It’s embarrassing how long this chapter took me to write 🤦‍♀️ If you would like to give feedback or be tagged in this story please send me an ask/message 😊 Tagged list: @inspinkyring @betysotelo18 @kardia-apo-marmelada @casspirit0705 @preciouschimine @therealsugababe @lucedelsole97 @deolly @lexy9716 @thesweetest-peas @sannsia

STORY CONTINUED BELOW THE CUT

A large group of excitable females crowded one end of the bar as the man behind it took two bottles and spun it around with dramatic flare before pouring a generous amount of alcohol into a shaker. Squeals of delight erupted from the crowd as he threw a handful of ice cubes into the air and successfully caught them all behind his back. He finished off the flashy routine by placing the shaker top back on the canister and entertain his audience one final time by dancing in body rolls while he shook up his concoction.

“Who’s thirsty?” He yelled out and in an instant the females grew feral with enthusiasm as they pushed and shoved each other, trying to be the first person to gain his attention.

Y/N observed the scene from the other side of the bar as she waited for her turn to be served. A girl with fire engine red hair managed to wrestle her competitors off and secured the position at the front of the bar. She patiently stood before him, hoping her pleading eyes was enough for him to convince him to invite her for a drink.

Y/N’s nose crinkled in distaste. While she didn’t know the red head by name (she went by the name Red), she had seen the girl around the Basement and knew enough to know she deserved better than him.

“I’m absolutely parched.” Her tone was slow and drawn out in attempts to sound sultry.

Y/N couldn’t contain the fake gagging noise she made. In her eyes the scenario was completely cringeworthy…maybe Red did deserve him.

‘I wouldn’t be caught dead chasing a guy like BeatBox Jae.’ She thought to herself.

Unfortunately, the sound she had made was loud enough to catch Jae’s attention.

An overwhelming amount of excitement welled in his chest when he realised he had the Kim Y/N in his sights. He turned his attention back to Red and gave her the most charming smile as he could muster as he made another big show of slowly pouring out two drinks.

“Sorry, bar’s closed.” He said with no hint of remorse then picked up the drinks and made his way over to Y/N, leaving the humiliation to sink in with poor Red.

“Here.” Jae said as he set the frosty martini glass in front of Y/N “I made you a drink, Beautiful.”

Y/N scoffed in his face and pushed the drink to the side, her blatant act of rejection did not even damper his mood.

“You’re an asshole you know, right? I can’t believe you did that to her!”

Jae nonchalantly shrugged off the comment as he took a sip from his drink. He didn’t care about the feelings or problems of others…if he wanted something, he knew that as the Maknae of The Basement Boys there wasn’t much that was unattainable by him. With a face that looked like it was carved by angels and an ego that was extensively fed his adoring fans of guys and girls…Jae was a lethal combination of charisma and arrogance.

It was exactly this attitude that repelled Y/N from him. “Don’t be like, Beautiful…let me take you out on a date and show you how much I like you.” “Oh really?” Y/N leant forward so that elbows were resting on the bar and cupped her face in her hands, making sure to looked up at him from under her long lashes with a cute pout. “Tell me three things you like.”

Y/N was never discreet about her dislike towards Jae which only made him want her more. The fact that she was now showing genuine interest, made Jae feel like he was finally getting a head in a race he was lagging in.

“That’s easy… You’re hot as hell.” He said with enthusiasm and raised his hand so he could count the reasons as he listed them off “…cute too and the most gorgeous thing in the world.” He grinned proudly to himself, feeling satisfied that he answered the question well.

“Is that all?” “You only asked for three…did you want me to say super sexy too?” His response was smug

Y/N had to force a smile to hide her grimace. Of course the only traits he favoured were those of her appearance. She knew better than to ask those kinds of questions, especially to someone like Jae but once in a while she had the unstoppable urge to remind herself that men were trash.

“Sorry I don’t date guys who fuck around while they have girlfriends.” Y/N pulled herself of the bar and broke the illusion of interest she had Jae under. Though her abrupt change of attuite was enough to give him whiplash he was able to recover quickly.

“I don’t have a girlfriend, Beautiful.” “That’s not how I see it.” The tension grew thick in the air as they stared each other down.

For regulars of The Basement, it was common knowledge that Jae was one to sleep around. However, with her sharp observation skills as The Shopkeeper, Y/N was able to piece together his hidden shame. From what she could piece together it seemed that only the members of The Basement Boys were aware of this convoluted secret and the matter was kept within the crew.

“Don’t be silly Beautiful.” Jae was the first to speak, breaking the tension by playfully ruffling her hair and returning back to his same jovial self “Besides if anyone has to worry about significant others it should be me…your boyfriend has been giving us death glares.” “What?” Y/N asked trying to figure out who in the world he was talking about. Nods his head in the direction behind her before revealing who he is talking about. “SeokJin’s big buff cousin over there.” she turned around spotted a Jungkook looking disgruntled standing a few people back in the line for the bar. Their eyes met briefly before he turned the other way, pretending he wasn’t watching Y/N. “That’s not my boyfriend.” she said rolling her eyes “He’s just angry because he’s a sore loser.” “Thank God.” Jae exclaims as he clutches his chest overdramatically “I thought I had competition for a second.” “You don’t have to worry about that.” Y/N reassures him with a smirk “You actually act to be in the race to have competition.” She cheekily blows him a kiss and leaves him, no longer interested in getting a drink.

Y/N was well aware of the type of person Jae was, so never in a million years would she fall victim to his charms. If anything, she found it enjoyable to shut him down.

‘That should take him down a notch.’ She thought to herself

Jungkook was still facing away from Y/N as she drew closer to passing him on her way back to the balcony, she had every intention to walk by and ignore his existence and yet she had the unstoppable desire to mess with him too. Still high off her interaction with Jae, her body moved on its own accord and before she knew it her body was crashing into his as she purposely tripped herself. As if on instinct Jungkook was quick to wrap his arms around her to prevent her from falling.

“If you wanted me in your arms, all you had to do was ask…there’s not need to trip me over” Jungkook’s eyes widen at her accusation which caused her to chuckle. His arms dropped from around her and he stepped back to create space between them “I don’t blame you though…I am pretty irresistible in my new shirt.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” He spat out in disgust “I don’t want anything to do with you, especially after I saw you help humiliate that red headed girl.” “Um…Sorry what?” Y/N’s mouth hung open in disbelief, he didn’t really believe she had anything to do with that? “Don’t act like you weren’t involved in that. I bet you couldn’t handle not being the center of attention for once, that’s why you called that bartender over to you.” “Excuse you? I’m not sure what you saw there but you must really have your head up your ass if you think that I had anything to do with that.” “Oh pah-lease!” Jungkook’s arms were crossed defensively “You might have everyone fooled but I see you for who you are… you’re nothing more than a spoilt princess!”

‘A spoilt princess?’

That comment really struck a nerve with Y/N. She had been called many unfavourable things in her lifetime and she had never been offended because to some degree the things they said were true so it never bothered her…she felt there was no point in getting upset with the truth, she accepted every aspect of herself - whether it be good or bad. However to be called a princess and a spoilt princess at that really pushed all the wrong buttons within her.

Y/N refused to conform to her mother’s notions of the importance of beauty and the concept of using her physical attributes to have things handed to her. Y/N valued independence, intelligence and hard work…to have this stranger discredit her like that was deeply insulting to her.

“Look here you jerkfaced asshole.” Y/N’s eyes narrowed as she scowled up at the tall male towering above her. “Maybe if you were a better competitor, you’d be able to win once in a while and then you wouldn’t have to take your passive aggression out on me.”

Jungkook couldn’t hide the grin that had taken over his face, even when Y/N was losing against him she had always managed to keep her emotions in check. This is the first time he had seen her flustered and openly frustrated…He enjoyed seeing her lose her composure.

“Whatever you say…” Jungkook closed the distance between them so that he could lean closer to her “…Princess”

Y/N stiffened when she heard his smooth husky voice whisper in her ear, stirring an unfamiliar feeling of anticipation and delight within her. Those feelings quickly turned to repulsion when her brain had finally caught up to her and realised who she had been talking to. She let out a sound of disgust and pushed him away from her.

“Go fuck yourself, Asshole!” she spat before turning to leave him.

Jungkook watched Y/N storm off as he buzzing with satisfaction of knowing he had be the one to get under her skin for once.

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reidscanehand · 4 years ago

Note

Really loved your fic Golden. My question is what was everyone’s reaction to their marriage? Especially Diana and JJ? Thx.

Hello, I'm so glad you enjoyed it. Someone else asked about this too and I'm considering writing a quick blurb/drabble/headcanon about everyone's responses, but I had to genuinely think about what their reactions would be. The blurb used to be about a thousand words longer and had this afterward part that was just really cheesy. I kept deleting it and adding it back until I finally deleted it because I just really hated it.

To quickly answer your question:

Diana - EXCITED AS HELL. Shocked it took as long as it did.

Emily - genuinely surprised that Spencer was able to do something so spontaneous, especially because she knows he's had the ring for months (he hasn't told her, she's a profiler). had a bet running with Tara that she lost.

David - absolutely thrilled; insists on hosting a reception at his house for the newlyweds. was rooting for it from the beginning. also secretly buys the borrowed diamond barrette to give as a wedding gift - does a geographical profile to find the pawnshop they got it from. also pays for their honeymoon and works with Emily to make sure they get a good amount of time off.

Matt - he's a fan of marriage anyway and loves to see his friends so happy. he also subscribes to the 'when you know you know' vibe, so he's been supportive from the get go.

Luke - genuine shock. he's not unsupportive because he's an adorable puppy dog of a human and loves his friends and is happy they're happy. I think he's honestly proud of Spencer for just doing something without overthinking it.

Tara - called it six months ago; Emily owes her $20. in her words, "Spencer's been in love with Y/N since the day she started. I bet you that the first case we have in Vegas, they'll get hitched." she also gives them the CLASSIEST wedding present.

Penelope - PISSED that she wasn't invited, but thrilled her friends are happy. the reception at Rossi's gives her more than enough opportunity to celebrate her friends, though. she's also the first to ask when they'll start having Baby Geniuses.

JJ - this is complicated. at first, she's incredibly hesistant about it. it's only been a month since her confession, things are already awkward between everybody because of it. she'd be the only one to ask if Spencer did it just because she confessed her feelings, a conversation that hurts Spencer a lot. eventually she comes round, but she's the last to do so. she isn't outwardly mean about it, just sort of passive aggressive. eventually, she apologizes to them again for making things so awkward and for her behavior about their sudden wedding.

I hope this answered your question and I'm so glad you liked "golden"!

#rchanswers #rcheadcanons

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roll-da-credits · 4 years ago

Text

Lycoris Radiata Pt. 3 - Deku x Reader -

Inspired by the piano piece, "Lycoris Radiata," Written by Spikes, played by MusicalBasics.

Highly recommend listening to it whilst reading.

[1] [2] [3]

Word Count: 1.7k

When a childhood love shows up after being lost to time, it's unnerving to be presented by something so familiar yet different. Deku, lost to his own love and presented with the stresses of life and unrequited love, it isn't easy to see the world with an unbiased gaze.

!WARNING!

(This is for the entire series and not just this part)

BIG TW for death, suicide, abuse,

Minor TW for death imagery, toxic relationship, toxic friendship, toxic shit all around

A/n: First off, this last part, please read with caution. There are a lot of serious topics in this one that can be triggering to some people. This feels really weird to post ngl, I was actually planning on posting the entire thing in 1 part but it was ridiculously long and the pacing was so incredibly slow. After editing it down and proofreading, I'm extremely proud and glad I made it a 3 parter. So, again, read with caution, enjoy the story, and I hope you cried.

Imagery used:

Snapdragon seed pods, red snapdragons, red spider lilies

He came to your café a little bit more often now, there was a fear inside of him that he wouldn’t be able to save you either.

He didn’t know from what, where, or when. But after the two innocent girl’s life was taken away from them just because they were in the wrong situation. He felt a little bit paranoid at your own safety.

But almost every time he inquired you to get extra precautions, your boyfriend would always assure Deku that you were safe with him. And Deku trusted him.

Deku would constantly talk to you about whatever topic came into his mind, he wanted to talk to you more and love you even more even if it hurt him. Call him a masochist he didn’t care, love to him was a drug he couldn’t get enough of, even if that very thing giving him so much love can’t receive it from him, because you were receiving it from someone else.

His pink tinted eyes now growing red from the sheer amount of love he had for you. It grew cloudy and red, to the point where he found everything you do close to perfect.

He saw you as a beautiful goddess.

As the days slowly change from Summer to Fall, he saw more of the red flowers he found in the cemetery growing near your café.

When he asked you if you wanted to get rid of them, you laughed and brushed it off with what he thinks was a sly smile.

He wanted to believe that you actually started blooming them around the café since you knew he found them fascinating. Of course, there was no proof to this theory of his, but something Deku liked to do was a dream, and right now he dreamt of you giving hints of your love.

Then one day, he walked by the café just as it was closing on his way home and found your boyfriend yelling at you. You yelled back at him in retaliation and brought your hand up, only to get it caught by your boyfriend. For the first time, Deku finally saw how tight his grip was when he was mad.

He was sure it was going to leave a bruise on your skin. But he didn’t want to interfere.

When your boyfriend left, he finally revealed himself and comforted you. He told himself he was doing this not because he liked you but because you were his friend. He asked you what the argument was about but you looked up at him and smiled.

There was something weird about your smile, something he couldn’t quite place.

“It’s fine. He broke up with me.” Your smile didn’t match the tone of your cracking voice, and he had to stop himself from tightening his grip on you when you pushed him slightly away and begun walking back home.

He saw the red flowers around you bloom brighter than they ever had before, and he thought if it was a sign from her subconscious asking him to prod further. But he won’t, he can’t.

His rose gaze along with the sweet image he has of your boyfriend prevented him from going further.

After all, he was a hero, he knows best when to prod further. Even if he was biased in the situation.

Deku looked at his phone and found his text messages unanswered and ignored. He had just gotten accepted to UA, he wants to share the news with you.

But you had moved out from your parents’ house to go live alone in a different city with the school of your dreams. He confirmed this by asking your parents, though they did seem slightly worried over you he expected that of such caring parents. He thinks it was just because you were finally living alone.

But he wasn’t sure why there were so many unanswered texts, why you had completely left his life.

He felt his heart crashing into a million pieces.

It took him a rather long time to get over you. An even longer time to forget about the lasting memories of you.

On his daily run in UA just after getting into his 2nd year, on the road, he found a red snapdragon flower. It was radiant and beautiful. For a split second he got reminded of you, and your strange love for red flowers, though he thought it was just due to your unique quirk.

Not wanting to feel any more pain towards the coming memories, he dropped the flower and continued on his jog.

For some reason, he chose the exact same route the next day, this time he found the snapdragon dried and dead. The seed pods in the fallen stem were terrifying. They looked like miniature skulls and he shivered at the thought of something so beautiful being able to die so quickly.

Finally reaching his third year, he readied himself to become a fully-fledged hero as it was just a year away.

He found himself re-living some of his old memories though, Bakugou had asked him to go back to the forest they used to play as a child. It was his way of apologizing to Deku after all the years of torment.

In their path, they found a red camelia tree. The flowers were beautiful and Deku again thought of you.

Just in cue, Bakugou laughed, “Remember when I made Y/n cry because I smashed one?” Deku laughed at the thought but Bakugou grew quiet, “You know, they never respond to my texts ever again. I never told you that, but we stayed close even after I began bullying you. At the time I didn’t see them as a worthless quirkless person like you.”

Deku rolled his eyes, “Thank you Kaachan.” He said rather passive-aggressively.

“No that wasn’t my point, my point is when you told me they disappeared from your life they disappeared from mine as well.”

Deku shook his eyes, forcing the memories back down, “I don’t want to remember it Kaachan, you know I had the biggest crush on them. They must’ve found better people now.”

Deku pushed the memories down and didn’t let them resurface.

After all, if he was to become a hero, he couldn’t have old memories dragging him down. Even if it meant denying he still had feelings for you.

Deku checked his phone repeatedly.

20 unanswered texts, 10 unanswered calls since last week.

Fear bubbled up in his stomach.

What if you decided to leave him behind once again???

What does Deku do when he was stressed?

Drown himself in work.

He opened his laptop and begun reading and replying to hundreds of emails, even reading a lot of spam emails from his admirers. One did catch his eye though.

It was filled with videos. He opened it and from the thumbnails of the videos immediately grew even more panicked.

He clicked on one and watched through it. His eyes widened and fear washed over him like a tide in the sea.

He clicked on another one hoping his hunch wasn’t through.

He clicked on another and another.

He finally accepted it.

All of the videos you sent to him were your recordings of weekly diary entries in the form of video. Each of them you were covered in bruises, tear-stained cheeks, and ragged breathing. Your desperate pleas of not being able to break up with your boyfriend.

He quickly realized your boyfriend was not who he said he was, and that all his actions were just acted. He was a manipulative son of a bitch who trapped you in his spider web. He was the spider stringing a beautiful butterfly in his web. Slowly but surely wrapping you in silk, trapping you, suffocating you.

When he finally finished the last one he quickly ran towards your place. Begging to whatever god there was that you were safe.

“Did you know Izuku?”

Your words in the video echoed in his mind as he ran and ran.

“The flower you gave me were actually Red Spider Lilies.”

He lived rather far away but he couldn’t stop, he won’t.

“I’m surprised you didn’t know what they were nor what they symbolized”

His legs ached and burned but he continued on running.

“They’re symbols of death and moving on, sometimes even reincarnations.”

He finally got to your city and ran to your café, hoping you were there.

“They symbolize the change of seasons from Summer to Fall, truly beautiful flowers.”

When he saw the café closed with neither you nor your boyfriend in sight he continues running to your apartment.

“I never told you this about my quirk, but you know they predict my emotions? I think they can predict my future too.”

He felt like a rabid dog with tears flowing down like waterfalls.

“The spider lilies growing through my subconscious around the café were proof of that theory.”

No, no NO, he won’t let this happen. He won’t let you leave him once again.

He won’t let his rose-tinted gaze show him only your best parts, making him deny all your bad sides all your woes and tears.

He immediately barged into your apartment only to be greeted by the sickeningly sweet smell of flowers.

The room was dark, despite it being 1pm.

He walked slowly through the entrance and found a scatter of red flowers blooming everywhere.

He called your name, no answer.

He screamed for your name, no answer.

But he did get his answer when he arrived at your living room.

The entire room was almost covered from ceiling to the floor with red spider lilies, and the lushest areas where they grew the densest were in the middle of the room.

Deku screamed in agony as he held your hanging body close to his chest.

It wasn’t blood that now stained his fingers nor his clothes. It was the red petals falling down from the ceiling to his hair that taunted him.

It mocked him.

It told him that you gave all the signs, you showed him everything, and yet he was too drugged in the most addictive drug of them all, love, to even notice your hints.

And now he was paying the price.

After all, he was a hero, he needed to be responsible for his actions. Even if it meant finally accepting that you were gone… forever.

#deku angst #izuku midoriya #deku x reader #izuku x reader #midoriya angst #deku fluff #my hero academia #mha #bnha #boku no hero academia #mha x reader #deku x you #izuku midoriya x you #bnha x reader #izuku fanfic #deku fanfiction

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enigmainvestigations · 4 years ago

Text

ENI Season 1 Finale (episodes 8 - 14)

AO3 post: ??? Series link: ???

Episode 8 - A New Client

The man on the ground before him was out cold. Edward knelt and checked the hitman’s jacket pockets and found a pack of Lucky’s, which he pocketed. Next, he checked the man’s pants pockets, but those turned up empty. He pivoted on his feet to check the condition of the hitman behind him, hovering his hand near the man’s nostrils. This one’s breath was faster than the first, and Edward figured he must be coming to. But he didn’t need to worry too much about that; they all looked too beaten up to be much of a threat. Edward rolled the man over to get to his jacket pockets, and, as he did, the man groaned under his breath. Stuffing a hand into the man’s jacket, he found a small piece of paper. His eyes scanned it -- it looked like a phone number -- and he pocketed it to keep it out of the rain. Checking the other pocket in his jacket, Edward heard the man groan again. He looked down and saw the young man’s eyes staring up at him.

Edward grinned as he continued to search him. “First time, huh?”

The man moaned in pain, and rolled over, his motions stiff and weak. Edward patted him down, checking for a firearm. The man attempted to push his arm away, but Edward swatted at his hand to stop him. “Oh, stop complaining. Let me let you in on a little secret, it hurts much more the second day. I’d take it slow if I were you.”

Moving up on his feet, Edward made his way down the alley to the third hitman, who was also beginning to stir on the ground. Checking him, he pulled out a photograph from the man’s jacket. It was a photo of Edward himself -- it looked like it was taken on his night out at the local bars. A small smile crossed his lips, and he pocketed the photo; the man didn’t seem to care, instead focusing all his attention on an attempt to stop the blood gushing from his nose. As he stood, Edward looked down at the men who were writhing in pain, one rigidly attempting to sit up.

“Well boys, you’re on his bad side now. I wish you luck,” he tilted his hat to them, a wide grin on his face as he turned to head out of the alley.

He traveled away from the area, taking a few side routes just in case they’d gotten to their feet and made the idiotic decision to try to kill him a second time. He knew better than to assume the Bat had moved on. He was sure the dark figure was watching him, following him from above like a stalking predator. Edward assumed the Bat had left to see what he would do in his absence. It was a test, something he did frequently to observe people’s behavior. He hated to admit it, it was an intelligent move. But Edward hadn’t touched any of the men’s money, even though the thought had crossed his mind. He could consider it payment for trying to take his life. However, that wouldn’t have been a smart thing to do. If he’d done it, then the Bat would come after him once he was at a safe distance from the alley. That was still a possibility even now though, and his eyes scanned the rooftops around him as he walked and listened to his surroundings for any motion.

Edward hoped Batman wouldn’t reappear -- that whole encounter had been quite jarring and confusing. It hadn’t even crossed his mind that Batman would show up, let alone assist him. His mind kept trying to figure out why the vigilante had entered the fray. The logical answer was that it was because Edward was a civilian now, a citizen that had a hit out on him, and the Bat did what he always does in that situation. But that concept felt too simple, too foreign for him to accept. So, his mind continued to speculate what Batman’s play could’ve been.

He had to admit, it was quite frightening to see the man in action from a different perspective. The spine-chilling tales that surrounded Batman made more sense now. He could only imagine what that encounter must’ve been like from the perspective of a regular citizen. Edward had always seen Batman as a foe -- not quite an equal, but close. The fear he instilled in others had always been something he’d considered the woes of lesser men. But now, the chess pieces had moved, and they were both playing on a different board. Perhaps that was it: he was one of the lesser men now, a regular citizen that needed a phantom to swoop in to save him. Edward felt a wave of emotion hit him abruptly; the sensation of not belonging once again invaded his mind. He tried to keep himself focused on his route rather than waste the time letting it control his thoughts.

Edward couldn’t use the underground shortcut to return -- it was too risky with Batman tailing him. Instead, he opted to make the trip as boring as possible, especially now that he was too far for the men to follow. It made his walk longer, but he needed the time to think over the stark amount of new information he’d acquired.

Two of the hitmen had been young and inexperienced. The man he’d crossed paths with in the loading alley appeared just as surprised to see Edward as Edward was to see him. The thing about young and inexperienced hitmen is they’re cheap, and easy to find in Gotham. Ignorant boys trying to make some quick cash, though any real criminal in the city wouldn’t waste their time on them. Those two facts boded well for him. He was dealing with someone who didn’t know what they were doing, and surely this wouldn’t be the only mistake they made. Whoever they were, the need to hire hitmen showed they were afraid, and fear makes people do stupid things. Stupid things like tilting their hands too much, letting information slip, or jumping out into the open in an illogical attempt to hide. It was a human trait Edward had preyed on frequently during his criminal career, an easy emotion to exploit under the right circumstances.

However, what he hadn’t expected was that whoever this culprit was would take the drastic action of trying to kill him. Nothing in the evidence pointed to such behavior being a predictable reaction. To the culprit it was only a bunch of empty buildings, and he couldn’t fathom what payoff could be involved that would be worth murder. Then again, they were playing a dangerous game and were clearly out of their league. Edward poking his nose around might have been just enough to scare them into making such a silly mistake. Though, he doubted they knew very much about him, or they wouldn’t have been so foolish. Nor would they have made the classic mistake criminals did regularly in this city.

They didn’t hire one hitman, they’d hired three -- the logical fallacy that greater numbers mean a greater possible outcome of success. It was a mistake many in the underground made with the Bat. One guy with a gun couldn’t stop him, so get twenty guys with more guns and the plan will be successful. No one ever considered the obvious: the guns didn’t work, no matter how many you added to the scenario. The more men you used simply meant you wasted more money. It was a mistake he’d never made when dealing with Batman, and it was one of the first riddles about the man he’d solved.

Though, Edward wasn’t very happy about having a hit out on him. He was sick and tired of people trying to kill him, and the fact that he’d have to spend even more time looking over his shoulder just made him feel drained. As he crossed the bridge to the south island he checked his watch; it was three in the morning. Much later than he’d intended to be out, but it didn’t appear that anyone had seen him out and about -- anyone other than the Bat, that is. He could only hope Batman wouldn’t pull some passive-aggressive move and tip off some officer to his activities this evening. By the time he’d unlocked his office door, he was beginning to feel very exhausted. So exhausted, in fact, that he might not even have to drink tonight to get his mind to quiet down.

He was correct in that belief, and he didn’t have to lay on the couch for very long before sleep took him. His rest was deep, and by the time he was awoken by the ringing of the phone the next morning, he had impressions on his skin from the cushions on the couch. In a haze, he pulled the phone down beside him, picked up the handset, and rubbed his face, trying to wake up.

“Isn’t this late for your check-in call, officer?” he muttered into the phone.

There was a short pause on the line, “Excuse me?” Edward could hear quite a lot of noise through the phone, and the voice wasn’t officer Blue 334. “I’m sorry, is this Edward Nigma’s residence?”

Edward yawned, fumbling with his glasses on the floor beside him, “Yeah? Who is this?”

“This is officer Wilkes, I’m --”

“Ahh, Wilkes the snitch. How’re you this fine morning, Wilkes?” Edward propped his glasses on and ran a hand through his hair as he continued to wake.

“I-I’m fine?” He seemed confused by the question, but he cleared his throat in an attempt to regain his professional demeanor. “Mr. Nigma, I’m calling you on behalf of the Commissioner --”

“Is that right?” Edward interrupted.

“...Yes, he would like to speak with you, it concerns a case he’s investigating --”

Edward let out a groan of annoyance.

“-- he would like for you to come to his office this evening.” Wilkes finished, a slight twinge of irritation in his tone.

“This evening?” Edward asked through another yawn.

“Yes, he’s very busy, but he can work you in at eleven tonight.”

Edward rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure, whatever. Tell him I’ll be there,” and he dropped the handset back onto the receiver on the floor.

Immediately, he drifted back to sleep. When he woke again, he adjusted his glasses -- as they’d started digging into the bridge of his nose -- and checked his watch. It was one in the afternoon, and he struggled to pull himself off the couch, his muscles sore from the exertion of the night before. He went through his normal morning routine: he grabbed one of the apples from the kitchen and picked through the new pieces of evidence he’d acquired on his desk. The photo was still a source of amusement for him, and the paper with the phone number didn’t have any other useful information on it. Tossing the apple core into the trash bin, he picked the receiver up off the floor and dialed the number on his rotary phone. He was surprised when the operator picked up the line and asked him to check which number he was calling. Reciting the digits to her, he waited as she checked it again, but, unfortunately, the line was a dead end. He thanked the operator, and, as he set down the phone, he began to fidget. Perhaps they weren’t as foolish as he’d thought, or the number wasn’t a phone number at all.

He flopped into his desk chair, took out one of his notepads, and began working the number through any variation he could think of. He tried to see if there was any alphabetic translation, or if it was some kind of cipher, but everything ended up being nonsense. He flipped the paper over and over in his hand, trying to figure out what else it could be, before tossing it back to the desktop. He was applying too much intelligence to this, there was no way it could be this complicated. The events of last night had proven that, and every time he tried to look at it through a more skilled lens he ended up at a dead end. He was starting to get the feeling that the answer was easy, and it was right under his nose. But right now his mind was foggy -- he was sure he’d gotten too much sleep. He slid the paper and the notepad into his desk drawer and shut it with a flick of his hand. He needed more coffee.

The rest of the day was uneventful. He’d taken a trip down to the diner closer to Old Gotham, thinking a change in environment might help his brain get in gear. A morning paper had been left in one of the booths, and so he’d spent most of his time drinking coffee and scanning the classifieds for any potential work. There hadn’t been any fires yesterday, though that might be because whoever was responsible for the others was now focused on him. After he left the diner, he was feeling more alert and much more energized. He started to make a mental list of places he needed to visit to further the fire investigation, or at least to see if he could get his hands on some records to find a connection between the buildings. He swung back by the office in the evening and grabbed his coat and hat. Then, he headed down to the underground train station.

Once he got onto the platform, he checked his watch; he was early. Just how he liked it. When you weren’t sure what a meeting was for it was best to show up much earlier than the agreed time. It gave the other side less time for preparation and made it more likely that you would enter the discussion at an advantage. He was lucky today -- the trains were on time -- but as he got into the car, his leg muscles tensed. He’d certainly exerted too much energy last night in his malnutritioned state. Edward watched as the lights on the tunnel walls flashed by the windows as it continued on its track, the ambient rustle of the train car almost relaxing. The woman in the car with him kept sneaking glances in his direction. He was sure she recognized him. At one point he caught her staring and stared back, but it was immediately obvious she wasn’t another hitman. He saw nothing but fear in her eyes. Eventually, she got up and moved to the back of the car to put more distance between them and to place herself closer to an exit.

As the train finally approached his stop, Edward stood up and headed to the door, grabbing hold of the railing above to keep his balance. He noticed the woman in the back of the car watching him as he exited the train; at least now she could be at ease. The station was much busier here, and he watched the crowds of people migrating to and from the train around him. He found himself gathered in with the night workers as they traveled up the stairs to the street level. Some of them looked in his direction, but most were too preoccupied with their morning routines to worry. Getting up to the sidewalk, Edward looked around. The traffic was much busier here, even at this late hour. He remembered that this part of the city was very chaotic during the territory wars, but it looked as if it hadn’t suffered too much of the destruction. The streets looked much the same, and to a tourist it would look like it had been nothing but business as usual here. It felt like a photograph, almost like a time capsule.

He looked across the street to his destination, the GCPD headquarters -- the new one, he reminded himself. They had a bad track record of letting these buildings get destroyed, or at least become unusable. He hurried through a break in the traffic and made his way up the wide stone steps to the entrance. He’d only walked through the front doors of this particular building twice, and he was barely conscious at the time. Once inside, he stopped and looked around the small entryway, spotting a plaque on the wall with office numbers. He barely looked at it, just skimmed, knowing the name would catch his eye. And it did. Commissioner and 3rd were all he needed, and he hurried up the steps on his right.

He wasn’t sure what this meeting was for, but he did find it odd that Gordon hadn’t made the invite call himself. Having Wilkes do it could be interpreted in different ways, some insulting and some logical. He assumed Gordon was going to try another tactic to question him about the events inside the Narrows, and he was more than willing to show up for that game. He’d grown tired of his frequent phone calls, and the idea of Gordon trapped in his office with an unrelenting Edward sounded like a good way to spend the evening hours. He wondered how long it was going to take Gordon to figure out that most of the people affected weren’t going to speak. It was Jim’s job, yes; Edward knew that, but it was too ugly of a thing to look back at.

As he climbed the stairs, he noticed many nasty looks from the officers he passed. Some of them looked angry, but others just looked disappointed. Probably that you’re still breathing, Edward thought. Good, I hope it ruins their day. Finally getting to the third floor, Edward began a slow stride down the long hall. The open area to his left was filled with mostly empty desks, and only a few detectives spotted the area, hunched over paperwork or clicking away at their typewriters. He noticed one staring and felt a burst of excitement in his chest. Bullock was sitting at this desk, staring him down, their last encounter clearly not forgotten. Edward noticed he had a new haircut, and that, like last time, he didn't look as rough for wear as Edward was used to. Maybe he finally quit drinking, probably not the best decision in the current climate. With a tilt of his hat he gave Bullock a smile, but Harvey only let out a groan Edward could barely hear and turned back to his work in a huff. Thanks, Bullock, he thought. That at least told Edward he wasn’t here for some empty threat of arrest; Harvey wouldn’t be able to contain his joy if that was the case. That was good, he was tired of that boast.

Getting to Gordon’s office door, he knocked in a rhythmic pattern and entered after hearing an invitation from within. The room was dark other than the lamp on Gordon’s desk, and as Edward entered he noted the slight look of surprise on Jim’s face. Edward closed the door behind him and watched Jim sit up in his chair, and the annoyance on his face made Edward’s mood fly into jubilation.

Jim looked at his watch. “I guess eleven o’clock is ten-thirty in Arkham time.”

“Early bird gets the worm, Jim. I’m a working man now, being overly punctual looks good on all my paperwork.” Edward responded, happily nestling his hands into his coat pockets.

Jim let out an exhausted breath. Taking the work folder off his desk, he shoved it into one of the drawers, but not before Edward could catch a few words off the pages. Jim lit a cigarette as he stood, making his way over to the filing cabinet by the window.

“You want a coffee or anything?” Jim mumbled as he pulled a few files out.

“Got anything stronger?” Edward prodded.

“Yes, but I’m not wasting it on you,” Jim said as he moved back toward his desk with a stack of files in hand. As Jim moved past the window, Edward spotted a tall dark figure there, blocking the moonlight shimmering through the panes. In an instant, his jubilation was gone. Edward glared at the white eyes staring at him from the darkness, and he felt his chest tightened at the realization he hadn’t noticed earlier that the Bat was there.

“Have a seat, Edward,” Jim said as he sat back down at his desk.

“I’ll stand.” Edward blurted out, his eyes still fixated on the dark corner.

Jim’s eyes shifted between the two men, but he decided to ignore the clear animosity Edward held, “Whatever makes you more comfortable, I guess.” He took a deep drag from his snipe and looked Edward square in the eyes, “Alright, Ed. We know --”

“Edward. We’ve been through this, you don’t get to call me that.” Edward interrupted.

“...Edward, I know that you’re investigating the fires.” Jim finished.

Edward stuffed his hands deeper into his coat pockets, giving Jim a stern look. “Is that what this meeting is about? I’m not telling you a damn thing, Jim.” He gave the commissioner a smug grin. “If that’s all, can I go now?”

Jim narrowed his eyes, leaning forward over his desk a bit and piercing Edward with a stern look that only fathers could muster. “How about you let me finish? You think you can keep that smart mouth of yours shut long enough for me to explain?”

Edward gritted his teeth, “Fine.”

Jim puffed on his cigarette, and Edward could tell he’d already gotten on the man’s nerves, which would’ve been enjoyable if it wasn’t for their third wheel. Letting out a deep sigh, the smoke flew around Jim in the bright light from the lamp.

“Edward, I know you’re investigating the fires. You’ve been spotted at a couple of the scenes, and --”

“They weren’t locked down.” Edward interrupted again, but a swift look from Jim made him shut his mouth.

“And, I don’t know how much you’ve figured out on your own. I know this is going to sound strange, but I’m not asking you to divulge all your intel to us. I asked you here to tell you what we know.” Jim finished.

Edward frowned in confusion, then laughed under his breath. “You can’t be serious. You want to tell me what you know?”

“To be honest, this case is pretty complicated,” Jim mumbled around the cigarette in his mouth, “We both decided that the more eyes we have looking at it is a good thing. And then, you’ll have a better idea of what to look for should any new evidence crop up.” Edward could tell he was trying his best to remain professional, to ease any suspicions that Edward had. But the detective knew this was a trick, it had to be. There was no way on Earth either of these men would confide information to him. Edward opened his mouth to speak, but Jim cut him off.

“And, before you say it, no, this isn’t some scheme to get you to tell us what you know. And, again, before you ask, yes, there’s a catch. There’s something we’d like to ask for in return.” Jim huffed out a puff of smoke. “C’mon, Nigma, you’re used to this. We help you with your investigation, and in turn, you help us with a problem we’ve been running up against. It's been causing us some trouble and slowing down progress in the investigation.”

Edward looked between the two men, running through possible options in his mind. He felt out of sorts again, unsure what guise would be the best strategy for this situation. He couldn't play his tried-and-true Riddler shtick, that could ruin everything. But he was too flustered to act out the know-it-all attitude, too put-out for the calm and collected better-than-you routine. The offer was intriguing, but it was sending off every alarm bell in his mind. Then the Bat stepped out of the shadows, and as he got closer to the desk the lamplight made more of him visible. It was much different seeing him in the light than in the dark alley the night before. Edward felt his pulse quicken, and then that grating deep voice finally filled the room.

“Nigma.”

“Don’t,” Edward interrupted, yet again.

“Nigma --”

“I’m here to talk to Jim! I don’t want to hear anything you have to say. If I knew you were going to be here, I wouldn't have come at all.” Edward’s breath hastened, and he cursed himself mentally. That came across less direct and more childish than he’d intended, but the Bat remained silent.

He hated that, he’d always hated it. That expressionless, silent stare always grated on his nerves. Edward hated it even more now that he knew what it was, and that, before, he’d fallen for it so easily. It was an interrogation tactic: remain silent to entice the other to continue speaking. He wasn’t going to fall for it this time, he’d learned this tactic as well, so he simply stared back. Which seemed like a good idea at first, but the longer he looked, the more uncomfortable he became. The light showed him how different the cowl was now, and the cape had changed as well. It always annoyed Edward when the Bat would show up with a whole new suit -- keeping up with all the variations was tedious work. He saw a small nick in the cowl on one side, Hit with something no doubt. Edward’s first thought was that he hoped it hurt, but that thought brought on a strange melancholy sensation. He remembered that the Bat had been hurt a lot recently, and he had no idea how badly since he wasn’t there to see it. He had been... preoccupied at the time.

He’d heard some of the stories, but when it came to the Dark Knight those were mostly untrue. He wasn’t as extravagant as the tales made him out to be. Then, all of a sudden, one of those stories flashed in his memory. They said he’d stayed outside the barricades for a whole week, trying to find a way to break in to save people. But, all his attempts were unsuccessful. Edward hated that one in particular; it sounded exactly like the sort of thing the stubborn idiot would do, and the thought of it made him uneasy. He broke the long stare, his eyes wandering around the room as he tried to look unbothered.

Jim’s gruff voice broke the uncomfortable silence. “Edward, we need your help. That’s what he’s trying to say, that’s why we called you here.”

Edward froze and attempted to hide his shock at that statement, but his gaze darted to Jim’s. He saw genuine pleading in the commissioner’s eyes, and he let out a howl of frustration. Jim arched a brow at the sudden outburst but only watched as Edward reached up and removed his glasses, rubbing his eyes in annoyance. Placing them back on, he stomped over to the chair in front of Jim’s desk and sat down with a completely defeated look on his face. Jim seemed to relax at this development, his eyes rested on Edward for a few moments before standing up, “I’ll get you that stiffer drink.”

“Yeah, you better.” he replied, ignoring Jim as he walked past him toward the front of the office. Edward took his coat and hat off, tossing them in the vacant chair beside him. He flinched; suddenly, there was a large file being slid in front of him by a gloved hand. It opened the folder and flipped through some of the pages before stopping on a pile of photographs. As the hand retreated, Edward began to sift through them. There were a lot more fires than he’d known of. But it was what he’d come to expect: the fires all started on different floors, there were different levels of damage, and they were in all different areas of the slums. He heard Gordon pouring some liquid into a glass, which he placed next to him. Flipping through the investigation notes, Edward noticed that they’d already answered one of his questions. The building’s owners had no connection -- at least that was one lead he wouldn’t have to waste his time on.

“You’re sure they’re all connected?” Edward’s question was directed at Jim, and he hoped he’d take the hint.

He heard Jim’s voice move across from him as he sat back down. “That’s what he says. There are some connections, but not many, on paper at least.”

Edward kept that in mind as he continued to read through all the statements from those involved, noting the lack of actual witnesses. He took a sip from his glass without thinking, scotch, he noted. Of course, he’d have scotch. A familiar address jumped out on one of the pages: Mrs. Hattie’s previous residence. He noted the lack of a witness report from her as well as he took another sip from his drink and removed his cigarette pack from his jacket pocket.

“You think it's arson?” Edward asked, though this question was directed at Batman.

There was a pause before that grating voice spoke. “It's possible.”

“It’d have to be someone who had direct access to every building.” Edward stated plainly.

“Not necessarily. A lot of the buildings have been vacant for an extended time.”

“So there isn’t a lot of foot traffic. I get it, but you’d think that it’d be in just one area. It's up north, south, all over.” Edward slid a snipe into the side of his mouth and lit it with a match.

“That’s one of the issues with that theory,” the Bat said. “It's possible, but someone blending in in that many neighborhoods would be difficult.”

“Unless they’re some public servant or something. No one ever suspects the mailman.”

“It's possible, but there are other theories as well. I’m sure you’ll figure them all out.” said Batman. The tone of his voice sounded rather final, as if he was putting an end to the questioning.

Edward put the file back on the desk, taking a drag on his snipe. “Have somewhere to be, do you?”

“Is that satisfactory, Edward?” Jim cut in, Edward shifted his gaze back up to the commissioner and gave him a tired nod.

“Good. Feel free to take it with you, and give it a good look over. Not sure how many of those folks are your clients, but hopefully it helps.” Gordon leaned back in his chair, and Edward could tell he was about to be put in an uncomfortable situation. Jim rubbed his mustache, giving Edward a stern yet pleading look. “We’re having trouble getting people to cooperate with us on this. The owners of the buildings are the only ones speaking to us, the people who lived there or even nearby don’t want to talk. It puts us in a tough spot, and we’re really strapped on any potential witnesses. That leaves us with just paper trails, and stakeouts to see who shows up at the scene. As you can see, it's not much to go on.”

Edward saw the opportunity for a dig right away, and his eyes narrowed, as he took another drag on his snipe. “Did you expect any other reaction than that? Only a fool would think the people in those areas would cooperate with you two.” Edward noted Jim’s quick glare and held up a questioning hand. “What does that have to do with me?”

Jim took a deep breath, snuffing out his cigarette in the tiny ashtray on his desk. “You didn’t seem to have too many issues getting them to talk to you.”

Edward’s eyebrows raised, a knowing smile crossing his face. “Ah, I see. Were you all tailing me on my bar crawl the other night?”

“Maybe. And you didn’t appear to have too many issues. People were willing to talk to you --”

Edward waved his hand in a flippant gesture. “Jim, they’re a bunch of working people. They get off their shifts, and head to the local watering hole. They only talked to me because they were intoxicated, and, well, because they live in the damn slums. They’re not used to us flashy people who are all over the news showing up in their area.”

Jim raised a brow. “You think they talked to you because you were a super-criminal?”

Edward shrugged, draping his arm over the back of the chair. “Is it that hard to fathom, Jim? They’ve only read about me in the papers, seen me on the television. Or they’ve seen my mugshot on wanted posters plastered around the city. I’m sure they never thought I’d show up in a tiny dive bar in the slums wanting to talk to them.” Edward looked between the two of them, a smug grin crossing his face. “I know you two think I’m terribly dangerous, but you need to understand that to some people, dangerous is exciting.”

Jim contemplated his reasoning and briefly looked to Batman, who nodded in response to his questioning look. Edward’s eyes shifted between them again, and he took one final drag on his cigarette before snuffing it out in the ashtray. “So that’s it, huh? You want me to go bar hopping for you two?”

Jim rested his elbows on his desk, his fingers brushing his mustache. “Do you think they’d speak to you again? Would more people talk to you if you tried?”

Edward shrugged, crossing his arms across his ribs and his ankles under Jim’s desk as he slumped in the chair. “It's an idea. I could canvas the areas, but it will require some door-to-door visits. That’s not exactly the safest situation to put myself in.”

Jim nodded and looked to Batman again. “We should do some thorough background checks on these people, make sure none of them are sympathizers or supporters.” Batman nodded in agreement, and Jim looked back to Edward. “We'll send along a list of people to avoid. I guess we’ll try to take another crack at them while you’re gathering intel.”

Edward pressed his lips together, fixing Jim with a serious look. As long as they were agreeing to do that for him, it wouldn’t hurt to see what else he could get them to agree to. “So, how much am I getting paid for this job? And who is buying my drinks? I’m not spending my own money buying booze for people all night long.”

Jim huffed as he leaned back in his chair, gesturing towards Edward as he looked to Batman. “See? I told you.”

Edward smirked, but Batman shifted his gaze down to him. “You’ll be compensated, Nigma.”

“Oh, you’re paying for it? How do I know this isn’t some scam to get a bug into my office?” Edward’s eyes narrowed, but the Bat didn’t react, still giving Edward that silent, annoying stare.

“You’ll be compensated.” he said again, and Edward let out the breath he was holding. That had been too easy, and he decided to see how far he could go until he encountered some push-back.

“Fine, but there’s one more thing. I’m going to need some help.” Edward uncrossed his arms, draping them over the armrests of his chair.

“What kinda help?” Jim asked, giving Edward a suspicious look over the rim of his glasses.

“Well, some people do find chatting with me to be exciting, but others might need a little push to be more upfront with their information. Sometimes it can take people a while to start opening up to me --” Edward decided to ignore Jim’s eye roll of agreement to that, “and since time seems to be a factor in this, it would be smart to have some backup. Some... persuasive backup.”

Jim frowned. He could tell this wasn’t going anywhere good, and Edward was attempting to manipulate the situation. “Alright then, who are you suggesting be your persuasive backup?”

Edward grinned, his fingers tapping out a rhythm on the armrests. “Robin.”

Jim’s eyes widened. “Really, Nigma? You’re gonna pull that kinda shit?” Edward could feel the Bat’s intimidating presence grow as the mood in the room drastically shifted.

He quickly held up his hands. “Calm down, gentlemen! I have my reasons.” Both of the men were glaring at him with anger so tangible he felt like he could cut it with a knife, and his mood improved in an instant. “Okay, number one. He’s,” Edward flicked a finger toward Batman, ��too intimidating. He’d just scare the shit out of them and they’d clam up. Number two, I’m unwilling to work with him under any circumstances.” Jim rested an elbow on his desk and rubbed his eyes under his glasses. “Number three, the kid can actually take direction. He has ears and he knows how to use them. He doesn’t interrupt me every couple of seconds. Number -- whatever, look, no matter how much I hate to admit it, the kid isn’t a complete imbecile. He can keep up with me, at least, he seems like he can. He’s not going to slow me down, and I’m sure he can take a clue if things get too sketchy.”

Jim’s expression was still very untrusting, but now he appeared to be listening to Edward’s explanation. The Bat, on the other hand, wasn’t buying it, though Edward didn’t blame him. The more obvious solution to this problem would’ve been one of Gordon’s detectives, and Edward was sure Batman could see right through his weak reasoning. “Robin carries the impression of Batman being involved, without all the messy consequences of Batman being involved. I’m sure he can be persuasive enough with people that might need it, and I’m more than confident he can handle himself when I inevitably piss off the wrong person. It’d only be minimal involvement, I want to be around him about as much as he wants to be around me. Another perk is, I don’t have to talk to him during this whole investigation.” Edward concluded, flicking a thumb in the Bat’s direction.

Jim was mulling over what Edward had said, looking at Batman with an exhausted look. “I’m sure it’s just bullshit, but it does make sense. You two would just be at each other’s throats the whole time.”

Batman gave Edward a piercing glare, “No.”

Edward scoffed. “Why? What do I look like to you? I’m not the Joker --” he quickly held up his hands as Batman’s fists clenched at his sides, a light growl leaving his lips. “Okay fine, that was too far. All I’m saying is, you let the kid follow me around, break into my house, but actually putting him to work is too much for you?”

“Him tailing you and monitoring your movements is completely different than having him be in a situation where you are expected to watch his back. You know that, and you’re pushing my patience.”

Edward rolled his eyes. “Stop being so dramatic. They’re just a bunch of people who lay down tar, or dig ditches for a living. It's not like they’re hardened criminals. All I need him for is to be a second pair of eyes, and to be there in case someone thinks it's more exciting to talk to a vigilante than an ex-super-criminal.”

Batman continued his intense glare, but he went back to being a silent presence in the room. Jim let out an exhausted sigh, rubbing his temples with his hand. “Sweet lord, you two are tiresome.”

The Bat leaned closer to Edward. “Fine. Minimal involvement.” With that he turned and climbed out of the open window, gliding off into the night without a sound.

Edward leaned over the side of his chair to stare at the vacant window, surprised. Jim just waved a hand, “He does that, don’t take it personally.”

Edward looked back at Jim as he grabbed his belongings off the chair next to him. “Good to know he’s just as rude to you as he is the rest of us.” Putting his hat on, he downed the rest of his drink with an uncomfortable hiss and stood up to put on his coat. “So, do we schedule our next team meeting now? Next time, do we meet at the bat-signal?”

Jim let out another tired sigh, handing the large evidence file up to Edward. “Nigma, just leave. I’ve dealt with you enough tonight. We’ll be in touch.”

Edward snatched up the folder and tucked it under his arm. He gave Jim a slight tip of his hat as he exited the office, a proud smile crossing his lips the moment the door clicked shut. He headed toward the stairs to leave, a happy air to step as he went. But his good spirits were short-lived. By the time he’d gotten to the ground floor, a sense of anxiety had started in his chest. As he stepped out of the front doors, he could feel the thoughts trying to pry into his consciousness. He tried to push them down, to ignore them, but that only made them press even harder.

After all these months you finally get to see him, and you messed it all up, as usual.

Continue reading:

Ep 9 * Ep 10 * Ep 11 * Ep 12 * Ep 13 * Ep 14

#writing post #Season 1 episodes #Season 1 Finale #Edward Nigma #batvillains #Batman #S1 eps 8 - 14 #zorasublime #fic

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strawberrylemonz · 3 years ago

Text

Disc(o) Boy

Part 4

Part 5 [CURRENT]

Part 6

DT: @bargledblocks @snapdragonfirefly @artistconk

“Chat, I’ve been thinking-”

“That’s not good.”

“Fuck you! You know what? I’m not telling you what I was going to tell you-! Oh, look at the sunset.”

Chat clucked and chuckled as Tommy pulled out his camera, snapping a photo. Humming as he waited for it to develop, he nodded to his voices.

“Can’t wait until I can get a new camera, one that can record, too! Don’t get me wrong, the camcorder dad left behind works well, but it’s becoming a hassle, innit?”

The sound of disembodied voices harmonizing agreed with the child, watching as he put away the photo, swapping it with his water bucket. Jumping off the side of his cliff, he hummed as he landed perfectly, avoiding damage.

“Poggers.”

Phil couldn’t help but smile at his youngest son, watching as he conversed with his voices in a friendly manner. He was certainly skilled at mediating his voices, not letting them annoy him and corrupt his thoughts with their sometimes questionable suggestions. He watched as his boy collected seeds, changing course to collect skeleton bones. Before anyone knew it, tiny Tommy began obsessed with trying to use a creeper to get a disc.

Tubbo almost laughed as he watched his best friend scurry around, worry-free as he tried so hard to get a disc, determined to succeed. It was nearly sunrise when Tommy finally loosened his grip on his quest.

“I’ll read your “subs” in a minute, I need to try and kill a creeper with a skeleton. You know what? No. I’ve got my bones, that’s all I needed.”

The group was almost baffled with how tiny Tommy and his voices easily decided to drop the disc quest. Tommy’s precious discs were so close to never being discovered.

“Quick! Before you die!”

Tommy navigated through the plains, avoiding arrows and zombies as he did so. His bright blue eyes, shining with adventure and joy, widened the moment he saw the arrow kill the creeper. Cheering alongside his chat, he scurried over to put the disc, examining it. Quickly stuffing it in his inventory, he happily ran away from the mobs as he made his way back to his house, full of excitement.

“And so it begins, the beginning of the end.”

“The kid was excited to get his very own disc. I don’t understand how a kid enjoying something he worked hard to get led to all of this.”

“Because he decided that those stupid things are worth more than people! Do you know how many things we’ve lost because of them? How many canon lives were wasted because he can’t let go of them?”

“He’s a kid, Jack. He shouldn’t even have to make such a stupid decision at such an age! No one should make that decision, so stop putting this all on my son!”

Jack huffed as he crossed his arms, biting back a comeback at the sight of both Philza and Kristin’s expressions. Sharing a look with Niki, he shook his head as he turned to face the small child he despised.

Ponk smiled at the memory, amused to see the young Tommy he had met so long ago. He watched as the child grumbled to the regular chickens and his Chat, leading the regular chickens back into their pen. He remembered the simple times he had with Tommy when the boy first joined. He remembered the quarrels they had as they bordered each other. He also remembered the moments of peace the two had in their own little corner, how he’d sit against the base of his tree, listening to the discs that Tommy would put on from his side of the fence. He didn’t care much for kids, but Tommy was some form of a companion in their little corner. Letting out a snort, he shook his head as Tommy half-heartedly dissed him to his Chat, a passive-aggressive tone when Chat mentioned that they enjoyed Ponk’s voice. He didn’t even realize that missed the kid’s company until now.

“What is that growling?”

The group watched as Tommy dug into the hill, searching for the source of the undead groans. Amusement filled Sam as he watched Tommy shrugged it off, deciding to head back to his home. It wasn’t until the vast amount of clucking and moans that Tommy realized what he had come across.

“A spawner? Do you reckon?”

The boy dug into the cobblestone, excitement and pride filling him as he saw the zombie spawner. Running about in joy, he finally composed himself long enough to secure it. After he was done, he happily made his way to the chest.

“Oh, what’s in the chest? What’s in the chest-”

Tommy froze for a moment, but only a moment, before breaking out in cheers. Doing laps around the small room, he paid no mind to his cheering Chat. Laughing, he pulled out his latest find, a disc. Running his hands over its surface, he smiled as he recognized it in an instant.

“Cat! Oh, I definitely need that diamond now!”

“Where do you want to listen to the music? Here?”

Tubbo smiled as he watched his younger self walk around with Tommy, joyful. Both boys were content, not yet in the hands of unfit responsibilities. No trauma, no wars, no exile, just Tommy and Tubbo.

“I’ll make us some chairs, one sec.”

The group watched as the younger boy scurried to craft chairs, his best friend waiting as they spoke.

“Why are you following me?”

“I’m not following, I’m just watching. You’ve made us some chairs, this is nice.”

“Do you want our chairs next to each other or one block apart?”

“Uh-”

“I’ll just make us a bench.”

“Yeah, a bench.”

Tubbo and Tommy both sat down on either side of the bench, leaving room for each other to feel comfortable. Humming, Tommy set down the music box, opening up his inventory to grab a disc.

“You ready?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, we’re gonna start with-”

“I like the sound of this one!”

Wilbur froze at the voice, eyes widening. He ignored Ghostbur’s squeals of joy, spewing ‘awws’ and ‘how adorable!’ every chance he got. Clenching his fists, he glared at his father and brother as they perked up, eager to see a memory not familiar to them.

“You like the sound of all of them, you cheeky little gremlin.”

“Wilby! Take that back! I’m a big man!”

Wilbur smiled as sat on the couch, peering over to watch as his six-year old brother watched the disc rotate. Tommy had always loved music, always eager to listen to Wilbur play his guitar. He used to watch Technoblade play his violin, that was, until Techno dropped the hobby. Humming along to the tune, he nodded to his older brother.

“Yeah, this one. Hey, Wilbah?”

“What’s up, Toms?”

“Is it okay if I learn how to play music?”

Philza perked up at this. Music? Did Tommy learn to play music?

Wilbur feigned being in deep thought, before smiling as he tickled the boy seated next to him. Tommy giggled and squealed as he squirmed out of his brother’s grasp. Smiling, Tommy playfully stuck his tongue out at his brother, making the older boy roll his eyes. Standing up from the couch, Wilbur stopped the disc and put it back in its sleeve, much to Tommy’s disappointment. Biting his lip, he made up his mind when he held the packaged disc to Tommy. Tommy gently accepted it, eyes sparkling as he followed his brother to the front of the music shop. He watched as Wilbur paid for the disc, thanking the employee before leading Tommy out. Tommy was practically radiating with joy at this point.

“Thank you! Thank you, thank you!”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s not a problem, Tommy.”

“Oh, I can’t wait until Dad and Techie come home tomorrow so that I can show them my new disc!”

Wilbur froze, furrowing his eyebrows as Tommy bumped into his legs. Sighing, he bent down to face his brother.

Quackity let out a nervous laugh as he pulled Karl and Sapnap close, enjoying being between the two.

“I know that look, it’s the bad news express.”

“Listen, Toms, I know you were looking forward to having those two spend the day with us tomorrow, but that’s not happening. I just got a letter from them that said that they’ll be gone longer this time.”

“Wha- but that’s not fair! It’s my birthday tomorrow! You only turn seven once, you know. They promised me!”

“I know, Tommy, I know. Oh, come here.”

Tommy bit back tears as he accepted his older brother’s embrace. Sniffing, wiped some tears away as he tried not to sob.

“They promised me, Wilbah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why? ‘S not your fault. I love you, Wilby”

“I love you more, Toms.”

Wilbur smiled as he ruffled his brother’s hair. Giving a small smile, he nodded as he motioned for him to follow.

“Come on, now. We still have your birthday party to look forward to! Besides, don’t you wanna show our new neighbors your disc?”

“Yeah! Tubbo’s gonna love it!”

Letting Wilbur carry him back to their little home on the outskirts of town, Tommy smiled as he traced his fingers along the pattern of the packaged disc. Nodding, he laid his head against his brother as he spoke up once more.

“Wilbah? What’s the name of this song?”

“Hm? Oh, that song is called-”

“-Cat.”

Silence filled the group as they turned to face the Minecraft family. Phil refused to face his sons or his wife, opting to stare at his hands. Techno kept his eyes closed, refusing to open them. Whether it was to put up a front or to be alone with his thoughts, no one knew. Wilbur and Ghostbur just stared ahead, the image of their younger brother being so small stuck in their heads. Kristin just wished that one of them would look at her. She opened her mouth to address her family, but she was beaten to it.

“You just...left them. Why?”

Phil pressed his lips together as he turned to make eye contact with Puffy, taking note of the anger in her eyes.

“I did what I thought was best at the time. It was for their own good.”

A scoff escaped from her throat as she shook her head. Puffy stood up, prepared to scold the man, only to be cut off by Tubbo.

“He waited every day for you two. He’d collect items and write down his fun moments so that he could share with you two. Tell me, Philza, Techno, when was the last time you spent a birthday with Tommy?”

They couldn’t answer him. They genuinely couldn’t remember, and that was something Tubbo already knew. They could only stay silent, could only think.

Tubbo smiled as he leaned back in his seat, humming as he watched the sky. Peering over at Tommy, he was pleased to see the relaxed and content expression that painted his friend’s face. Tommy hummed as he faced Tubbo, a genuine smile dancing on his lips. The volume of Chat themselves died down, mumbles and whispers exchanged as the voices enjoyed the tune. Turning back to face the sky, Tubbo nodded as he spoke up.

“This is nice.”

It was peaceful, beautiful even. Pure bliss and peace filled everyone as Tommy’s content feeling flooded into them, reminding them of their connection. This time was different, however. This time, they didn’t mind sharing such lovely feelings with the young boy. Everything was quiet and peaceful, and it was all thanks to the bond that was shared between two best friends. In that very moment, everything was perfect.

“All jokes aside, what actually is a fetish?”

#The Reluctant Hero's Tale #The Reluctant Hero's Tale AU #I'M BACK BITCHES WOOOOOO

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angxlyxn · 4 years ago

Text

understand - levi x f. reader

summary: After finding that you disobeyed his rules, Levi realizes that he might have to help you understand a bit more of who actually has control.

warnings: light smut, yandere themes, PHYSICAL ABUSE, violence, dubcon, obsessive behavior, abusive language/swearing, some ooc content

word count: ~4k

You hurriedly walked through the musty hallway, heavy boots clinking against the stony floors of the base. You continued rushing to your room, head whipping furiously from side to side as you tried to gauge your surroundings. You knew he was coming for you- in fact, you could feel him. You could feel his burning determination from a few rooms away, not to mention the pure fury he must be feeling for you. You were no stranger to Levi’s punishments, and you certainly were not looking forward to the inevitable discipline that awaited you today. Discipline. The term was really laughable at this point, as it seemed that his perception of the very concept was skewed, to say the least. You hastily tightened the leather straps on your legs, readjusting your jacket as you skidded through the dimly lit corridors. You heard a few calls echoing through the hallways, and you could faintly make out your name amongst the string of words that the person was saying. You panicked as you realized who was yelling out, using every inch of strength left in your body as you broke into a full sprint. However, you soon realized that this was a mistake, as your heavy footfalls had just revealed your location to the very man you were trying to evade.

“L/n, get the FUCK back here!” He was getting closer. You willed your already sore body to move faster, your legs aching with every step that you took.

‘Just.. a bit...further....the dorms are up ahead, just keep running, just a bi-‘ Your thoughts came to an abrupt halt as you felt a large force slamming into your back, sending you tumbling to the cold floors of the corridor. Your chin hit the stones with a great force, causing your entire skull to shake a bit. You felt a drop of blood make its way down your neck, presumably from your chin. Still, despite the sheer futility of the situation, you tried to push yourself up from your sprawled out position of the ground, only to be pushed back down again by a heavy boot slamming down against the back of your rib cage.

“No, Levi, pl-“

“That’s Captain to you L/n,” he said, spitting out your name as though it were a slur of sorts. He kicked you roughly in the side with his steel-toed shoe, urging you to turn over onto your back. You did as he wished, the pain searing through your exhausted body as you did so. You looked up, immediately regretting your decision to do so, as the pure rage hidden behind his usually passive eyes was enough to make you fear for your life. You quickly averted your e/c irises from Levi’s own grey hues, biting your bottom lip out of nervousness.

“Hey!” You heard an aggressive, yet still somehow monotonous shout, as well as the feeling of his foot clamping down on your chest yet again, this time accompanied by a whimper from you as your body convulsed at the amount of force he put into his step. “You look at me when I’m talking to you, do you hear me?” He said, receiving nothing more than a small tremble from you. Visibly dissatisfied with your lack of a response, he pressed down harder on your chest, eliciting yet another whimper from you.

“Y-yes, Captain,” you managed to stutter out, your voice meek and frightened. His eyes narrowed as he removed his foot from your chest.

“Get up,” he said, his tone intense and impatient. You nodded hesitantly, pushing yourself off of the ground, or, at least, attempting to. After a few seconds of trying to force yourself off of the stony tile, you felt a rough hand grasp your hair, pulling you up from the ground. Your steps faltered, only resulting in another sharp tug on your hair from Levi. “Hurry up,” he said under his breath. “Fucking slut.”

He continued like this for a while, tugging you along towards his chambers, much to your terror. You began to struggle against him as he took his keys out from his pocket, slotting the rusted key into his door handle. You mumbled a bit under your breath, but your frantic ramblings fell on deaf ears. Soon enough, his door was opened, and you were unceremoniously thrown inside of his room. You heard your only means of escape slamming behind you, a resounding thud echoing through the young captain’s quarters.

“I gave you one task,” he growled. “One..simple..FUCKING JOB.” You could tell that he was desperately trying not to lose his cool, if only for his own personal satisfaction. From the years of time that you had spent with the man, you had grown accustomed to his odd, sadistic way of drawing things out for way, way longer than they needed to be, well, drawn out for. It was sick.

“I give you one thing to do. I tell you to stay inside. Within the confines of the base. All you had to do was just sit pretty in your room, the room that I so lovingly cleared and made nice for you.” The way he spat out the word “cleared” made you more nervous than you could tell, but you supposed that wasn’t anything to be concerned about right now. After all, when Levi is mad, it's a much larger problem than anything else that you might have an issue with. In times where he was upset, or really at all times, you found it easier to just not question him. He continued to shout at you, his words growing incoherent as you brushed your fingers against your face, digits catching on the crimson liquid that had dribbled down from your nose and onto your chin. As you tried to clear your foggy mind his voice rang back through your head, his tone now hostile, even bordering on animalistic as he yelled down at you. “Little whore, are you deaf? SAY SOMETHING! When I talk to you, you respond, got it?” He said, kicking you in the thigh to punctuate his sentence. You turned around, hesitantly tilting your tear-stained face at the man above you. Gulping down your pride, you decided to tell him what you thought he would like to hear.

“I-I’m sorry, I just wasn’t thinking, and everything just felt like so much, I had to get away, I had to go outside, I-I’m sorry, I couldn’t take it anymor-“

“You couldn’t take it anymore?” Levi mocked, bending down slightly. “You couldn’t fucking take it anymore? Oh L/n, you can take so, so much more than anything I’ve already done to you. You work for me, remember? You belong to me. You will do as I say, and L/n, you know what happens when you disobey me.”

Your eyes widened at his words as you began to back away from him, hands grating against the splintering hardwood beneath you. “No, Levi, please, no no no please I’ll do anything, please,” He just chuckled lightly in response to your pleading, simply grabbing onto your wrist and pulling you up from your spot on the floor. He brought you close to him, so close that your hips were flush against his.

“You need to learn that when I say it’s too much, it’s too much. You don’t have the privilege of deciding things like this. You haven’t earned the right,” he whispered, his hot breath brushing up against your ear.

Suddenly, he gripped onto your shoulders, shoving you onto the cot that sat in the corner of his room. At this, you let out a yelp, barely having enough time to brace your fall before you collapsed down on the rough comforter that was tucked neatly into the corners of the bed. As you did so, you came to a terrifying realization. To anyone else it may have been a source of comfort, but to you, well, to put it simply, you were afraid. Levi was acting....calm. Unsettlingly calm. Well, at least compared to his usual persona when angry. Usually at this point, he would’ve stabbed you at least twice in the leg, and would most likely be screaming bloody murder. That was one thing that was different about Levi whenever he was around you. With others, he often put on a cold front, one that was virtually undisturbed, even when he would see his comrades die right before him, or even during battle, an attitude which you at first considered to be nothing short of appalling. However, nothing could compare to the way he acted when he was alone with you. He was always loose with his emotions around you, never holding back on things such as, well, anger. You supposed keeping your emotions bottled up all the time would take some sort of toll on a person, as you were sure it did on Levi, but his anger was horrendous. It was like he was some sort of sadist.

That’s why it was so strange that his anger was not on full display, at least not yet. Hell, you barely had any bruises yet. Instead of his normal unhinged hostility, he was standing over what appeared to be a desk drawer, clutching a slender object. Perfectly calm, even..docile. Against your better judgement, you spoke up.

“L-Levi, are you not upset wi-th me?” You said, cursing yourself for stuttering.

The man in question chuckled a bit before answering. “Upset? Hardly. Angry, however….” He trailed off as he turned to face you, his features as expressionless as always. Your gaze travelled down from his face, and immediately you wished it hadn’t, for you had noticed the small switchblade that Levi was now brandishing, the hilt of the knife illuminated by the dim lighting that was spread throughout the small room. You began to hastily back up, ruffling the cot’s blankets in the process and eventually colliding with the wall behind you. Levi stalked over to the bed, placing the blade on a bedside table before turning to face you.

“Now, what shall I do with you,” he thought aloud, causing your face to further contort into an expression of fear. “You did try to run away, did you not? There ought to be some...repercussions for your behavior.”

“Run away- I- Captain, I’m not your captive or somethi-”

You were caught off by a foreign sound, one that grated against your ears in a way that was definitely not entirely unintentional. It was laughing. Levi.. was laughing. Bouts of hysterics sprung from his mouth, the sound anything but pleasant. He sounded almost..manic. You had never heard him laugh, let alone smile. You honestly don’t think that anyone had. This was not normal, and you had never been so afraid.

“You really don’t understand, do you!” He said as he combed his fingers through his raven locks. “I guess if you can’t figure it out for yourself, I’ll have to help you understand, hm?” He said, his laughter dying down as he came upon the last phrase, his stormy eyes shifting over to the small switchblade that he had taken from the drawer moments before, your own e/c irises following suit. They widened as you realized what he was gazing at, and you were thrown right back into your state of panic as you watched his murderous gaze linger on the blade.

“Levi, please, I’ll do anything,” your eyes flickered back up to his face, pleading with him as the image of the knife flashed through your mind. “Anything, just please don’t hurt me, I promise, I wasn’t in the right state of mind, it was a mistake, if I could go back I woul-“ You were cut off yet again, but this time by a sudden pressure on your arms. Before you could even comprehend what was happening, you were shoved on your back with your wrists pinned beside your head while Levi, who was now straddling your waist, had the upper ground.

“Didn’t I tell you to only speak when prompted?” He said, voice trembling with fury. He leaned down over you, until his lips were within an inch of your ear. “Didn’t I tell you to obey me?” He said. By now, you were shaking. Not out of fear, no, but out of pure, unadulterated anger. You knew that he would count your silence as submission, so you took a deep breath in, preparing to scream.

“Get the FUCK OFF OF ME YOU LITTLE FUCKER!” You yelled out, your voice hoarse and venomous. You struggled against his hold, managing to land a solid kick in his gut and push yourself out from underneath him. You rolled off of the bed, hoping you had enough time to reach the door before he recovered from your blow. However, your fight was in vain, as you soon found yourself once again suffering a kick to the back of your rib cage. You collapsed on the ground, but still you were determined to not give up, and thus you began to claw your way towards the hopefully unlocked door of his dorm.

You heard him tut behind you before grabbing your ankle and dragging you away from your only hope of escape.

“You know, if you keep pulling shit like this things are only going to get worse for you,” he said as he threw you back onto the bed. His voice made you sick. You hated how he was treating you as though you were nothing more than an unruly child, a brat that just needed to be tamed. “Now, stay down like a good girl, hmm?” You let out a shaky breath and began to think about your situation. In the years that you had trained alongside your colleagues outside of the walls, you had always noticed how...different Levi seemed to be, at least compared to everyone else. Despite keeping to himself a good amount, he was driven, more so than anyone else you had ever known. He was determined to rise through the ranks, and oftentimes did whatever he could in order to do so, even if this meant putting himself way before others. Nevertheless, you had looked up to Levi for a good chunk of your career. A part of you still did. Maybe that’s why you took such an interest in the young captain, and why he did the same for you. You had, at one point, allowed yourself to be vulnerable around him. At the time you felt like a burden, but he assured you that you were okay. For a while there, you even felt something a little...deeper.. for the man, but now it seems those feelings have dissipated, just like all of the previous respect he held for you. At least, that’s what you would have thought based on the way he treated you. But the way he was occasionally gentle with you after he had his little tantrums, or how he would look out for you while out on the battlefield kept you coming back for more. That was, until he had forced you to literally keep yourself captive. That was when you had finally snapped and decided to put an end to the maddening thoughts that swarmed your head whenever you so much as saw Levi. You needed to get away, you couldn’t bear to even see his face anymore. It was horrible, yet..rousing. Yes, that’s what it was. Levi’s presence was maddening, Intoxicating. Addictive. He was sadistic, yet careful. Ruthless, but calm. How could he act so vile yet be so alluring?

“Are you even listening to me?” He yelled out, pulling you out of your thoughts. “Little slut, you never listen!” Grabbing a fistful of your hair, he forced you onto your back, staring down at you, face full of contempt. “Now, you’re going to stay put, alright?” He said as he untangled his hand from his locks, instead moving to unbutton your shirt. In what felt like less than a second he had removed your blouse and jacket, revealing your simple white bra. Soon he had taken off your bottoms as well, leaving you fully exposed to the man in front of you. In turn, he pulled off his own shirt, making sure to show off his well toned stomach to you. He looked at you expectantly, eyebrows furrowing after a few seconds of staring at your cowering form. “On your knees,” he spat out in a gruff voice. You swallowed, lip trembling ever so slightly as you lowered yourself onto the cold hardwood beneath you, already bruised knees slamming onto the floor as you fell. Before you knew it, he had taken his throbbing member out of his pants. He already appeared to be aroused, which only made you grimace ever so slightly. The sick bastard was getting off on beating you, a realization which you wished you didn’t have to come to terms with. He really was just a fucking psychopath.

As he drew closer to your face, angling himself so his dick was level with your mouth you began to lean away, turning your jaw slightly to the side as your disgust took over and you could no longer hide your feelings of abhorrance. However, he only kept inching closer, pressing his cock up against your cheek. That was the last straw, and you began to push as hard as you could against his thighs, attempting to free yourself from the disgusting man.

“Stop it, get away from me, I hate you, and you’re dirty and fuc-”

Your protests were cut off by the feeling of a boot colliding with your face, causing you to fall over onto your back. You clutched your nose, whimpering a bit as you pulled your hand away, seeing blood splattered across your fingers.

“You think you can just talk back to me? Huh, little brat?” He grabbed your wrist, once again forcing you onto your knees in front of him. Before you could even think about a possible retort, you felt his shaft against the walls of your mouth. You began to choke as he shoved it further into your mouth, coughing erratically around his cock. You tried to pull away, but before you could he had entangled a palm in your hair, pulling you towards him, resulting in you trying to stabilize yourself against the floor beneath your shaking body. Levi thrust your head back and forth, forcing you to suck his now hard cock. You tried to speak, to tell him to stop or to make him feel some sort of pity for you, but this proved to be impossible, as he was currently balls deep into your mouth. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he let go of your hair, allowing you to fall backwards onto your ass. You groaned out in pain as you hit the floor, but, nevertheless, you were glad that your little session was over. That is, until you saw him reach for the switchblade that had, up until now, been sitting on a small side table by his bed.

“No, no, no Levi please!” You pleaded with him once again, scrambling away from the man before you. You brought your knees into your chest and your arms up, effectively shielding your face. However, your defenses were quickly broken by Levi, and you were soon torn up yet again from your spot on the floor. You were back on the bed in a second, your face squishing into the sheets as Levi kneeled on your back, completely eradicating any hope you had of escaping the ravenette. He unclipped your bra, leaving your back completely bare, which only served to worry you more. Suddenly, you felt a cool, tingly sensation brushing across your back. It almost felt like…

Before you could even register what was happening, a searing pain spread across your form, one that you knew all too well.

“LEV-“ You screamed out, part of you trying to plead with him while the rest of you just wanted a way to alleviate the horrible feeling of a blade carving deep into your back. But, before you could even hope to finish your sentence, you were silenced by a rough hand wrapping around your chin, forcing your mouth closed.

“No, since you can’t seem to get it through your head that you belong to ME, and that you must obey ME, I guess I’ll just have to help you along a bit, perhaps with something more permanent.”

You quivered at his words, a muffled scream escaping your mouth as you felt him stick the knife back into your delicate flesh.

He continued on like this for a while, each of his stabs long, drawn out, and excessively precise. After he was finally certain that the wounds were deep enough, that they would scar over nicely and not ever fade, he shifted himself back to survey his work. Inscribed across your back was the word ‘Levi’, each of the characters in his name leaking blood across your frame. He smiled, wider than he ever had, at the symbol of ownership, the brand which he had placed upon your body. Now you were his, truly his. Future lovers, family members, friends, anyone and everyone could see that you belonged to him, that he owned you.

Your no longer muffled sobs echoed through the room, a pitiful display of weakness that he would usually frown upon. However, he was feeling a little...strange as he heard your choked out whimpers. Almost remorseful. A person such as Levi should not feel pity for anyone, especially not someone who was lower than himself. At least that was what he was taught when he was but a child. Of course this was not the kindest approach to living, nor was it in any way empathetic, but look how far it got him! He was an esteemed captain, someone who started out with nothing and rose through the ranks faster than anyone before him. He shouldn’t change the very thing that made him successful over a little bit of moral turmoil, right? But, somehow, seeing you sprawled out of the bed, blood splattered across your shoulders and tears staining your cheeks, he felt wrong. Everything felt wrong. Levi looked down at your weak form, inhaling sharply before turning towards the bathroom door that sat in the corner of his room. He ruffled through his cabinets before his hand landed on some gauze, which he grasped onto and brought back into the room with him. You were still lying on the bed, form completely vulnerable as he sat down next to you, causing the mattress to sink a bit. He unwrapped some of the gauze, furrowing his brows and eyeing your injuries as he did so. Taking another breath, he began to wrap the bandages gingerly around your frame, watching as you flinched at his touch. After he was satisfied with the way in which he had dressed your wounds, he carefully flipped you onto your back once more, staring into your dilated pupils with such an intensity that you feared he was going to hurt you more than he already had. However, after a few seconds of searching your face, he only leaned down over you, planting a tender kiss against your plush lips.

“Thank you,” He murmured, the movement sending vibrations through your lips. You closed your eyes, melting into the kiss just a little bit more. You knew that you should probably resist, that you should push him away and get as far away from the man as you could, but you just- you couldn’t. He was broken, it was obvious. What kind of person would you be if you left someone who needed help behind? Although he was a bit selfish, and even sadistic at times, Levi had always looked after those who were ranked lower than him, even going so far as to shield them from serious harm when fighting. And the way he would let his touches linger on you a bit, making sure to make some sort of contact with you whenever possible was...sweet, to you at least. These little reaffirmations, his little spouts of care were enough to make you stay. That combined with the fact that you really weren’t sure what he would do if you ever tried to leave. But that’s the way some relationships were, right? You’ve got the good, and the bad, and the ugly. Some people were just more prone to the last two things, right? You two were fine. It was normal for couples to fight, if one could even consider you and the short man to be a couple. Sure your relationship could be seen as a little more...unconventional to other people, but he was satisfied, and you were fine.

After all, love was supposed to be different for everyone, right?

#levi #levi ackerman #levi x reader #yandere levi x reader #yandere x reader #yandere x you #attack on titan #levi ackerman x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere #aot #x reader #attack on titan x reader #yandere levi #yandere levi ackerman

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dwellordream · 3 years ago

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“In the mid-1910s, when the modern fashions were first introduced on the Danish scene, they provoked relatively little controversy. Even though the vast majority of fashion commentators found the new styles unfortunate, and fashion pioneers—such as the woman at the new year's party—met with gossip and disapproval within their own social circles, short dresses did not trigger much public opposition. After all, wealthy women were known to be given to extravagances, making them the easy victims of any designer whim. That a few working-class daughters adopted similar styles was not surprising either, given their notoriously "poor" taste and unfortunate propensity for flashy outfits.

It was only when broader groups of young women began to adopt the new styles that public concern grew. Certainly, there were contemporaries who found any debate over this matter superfluous. As they saw it, the new styles were merely a temporary folly, doomed to vanish as quickly as it seemed to have appeared. But this was the view of a minority. Most people took the styles much more seriously, believing them to be a sign of more profound changes. In their eyes, young women who adopted shorter skirts, lower necklines, simpler cuts, and higher heels were doing more than simply altering the specific details of fashionable female apparel. In a more fundamental way, they seemed to be departing from older styles of proper and attractive femininity.

Although some observers welcomed the new fashions as charming diversions from the older, more formal styles of dress, most older adults therefore watched the emergence of the "modern look" with considerable unease. At a time when the values and virtues associated with nineteenth-century womanhood were already under attack and longstanding gender arrangements seemed to be crumbling, these changes in women's dress were interpreted as yet another sign of rebellion against the status quo. Still, it remained rather unclear to most observers what these new styles might mean and what consequences they might have; as more and more women adopted the new styles, their efforts to determine the answers to these questions intensified.

As a result, debates over women's fashions soared in the second half of the 1910s, and while some voices were risen in their defense, the vast majority of those who expressed their views publicly were deeply troubled and critical of the new styles. Although critics disagreed about which particular aspect of the new styles was more objectionable, they were unanimous in the complaint that modern fashions seemed to violate both gender norms and class hierarchies. The latter was not the least of their concerns. According to one observer, the new fashions obliterated "all differences among people. You can no longer tell who is the daughter of a common laborer and who belongs to the better circles."

Some observers blamed this on upper-class women's surprising preference for simplicity over adornment. Others faulted young working-class women and their inappropriate enthusiasm for "new fashionable finery." Less judgmentally, others argued that the erasure of visible class distinction was the inevitable outcome of readymade clothes. But no matter where they placed the blame, contemporary observers generally agreed that visual class differences were becoming increasingly blurred. The dangers of this were clear enough: Without the obvious visual clues of class status, an unsuspecting soul might inadvertently mistake a working-class girl for a young lady, or—worse yet—a young lady for a working-class girl.

In general, though, observers were more concerned about the new styles because they seemed to refute older codes of female virtue and modesty. What particularly troubled many critics of the new styles was the increased display of the female body. Even though hemlines would remain below the knee throughout the 1910s and 1920s, shorter dresses still revealed significant parts of women's legs, and sheer silk stockings displayed ankles and calves in more suggestive ways than did traditional wool stockings. Simultaneously, lower necklines and sleeveless tops also made women's upper bodies more visible, leading one Copenhagen city council member to conclude that the new styles of dress "obviously" did not "have the purpose of warming and protecting the body, but rather the opposite: to reveal as much as possible."

Besides, the fashions also seemed to call attention to the body beneath the clothing in new and disturbing ways. Even those parts of women's bodies that were in fact clothed seemed more exposed and accessible than ever before. As the amount of fashionable female underwear was reduced to brassieres, underpants, and light corsets, the fact that merely a few layers of delicate fabric shrouded the female body only furthered this sense. For other critics, the increased display of the female body seemed less disturbing than the sexually provocative nature of the new styles. While admitting that modern dresses carried the advantage of allowing a woman to dress herself without assistance, the fact that they also made it possible for her to undress "in the twinkling of an eye" was not lost on contemporaries.

According to some alarmists, this might well lead to unchecked promiscuity and even prostitution among young women. Other social conservatives expressed concern that the new styles eliminated the visible differences between respectable and disreputable women, or—in the parlance of the early twentieth century—between "ladies" and "women of the streets." In a public lecture, Copenhagen mayor Ernst Kaper, for example, decried that "the ideals that define the appearance of almost all women have completely blurred the distinction between professional prostitutes and respectable citizens."

"The look," he explained on another occasion, "short hair, lipstick, powder and make-up, the few pieces of clothing, is often the same." Adding to this argument, one newspaper editor noted that it would be most difficult for men to respect a woman when "she faces us in the attire of a whore." These criticisms notwithstanding, the more frequently voiced objections to women's new fashionable styles were of a quite different nature. While some (female) fashion columnists complained that they new styles were plain and unattractive, most men reacted quite differently.

Although historians, cultural studies scholars, and fashion specialists have often focused on the fact that the new fashions deemphasized womanly curves and removed visual attention from breasts, waists, and hips, arguing that this gave women an androgynous or even boyish look, it was certainly not an impression of juvenile asexuality that struck most Danish men at the time. In their eyes, the modern fashions seemed to endow young women with a new sexual attractiveness, which they flaunted in public and private. As one newspaper reporter noted, "They are everywhere— in the street, at the cafe, on the beach—presenting themselves in their new attire, unabashedly showing off their feminine charms."

Under other circumstances such displays of female beauty and style might have prompted appreciation, but in the second half of the 1910s it was the cause of much male resentment. The new styles, they complained, made women too attractive and too sexy, giving them an unfair edge in the ongoing battle between the sexes. As one journalist grudgingly noted, "Women are becoming more and more beautiful, and still more seductive under the devilish rule of his majesty King Fashion, and the rest of us are undeniably—only men." The underlying concern about the sexual balance of power helps explain the visceral response to female fashions that dominated much of the popular press in the late 1910s.

Because many men perceived the modern fashions as posing a more fundamental threat to a sexual order based on male control and initiative and female modesty and passivity, they responded with vehement anger. Some commentators warned that scantily clad women created a dangerously erotic atmosphere, where men aroused by the sight of female bodies would not be able to control themselves. Others claimed that they "did not mind that the ladies are dressed like that, but in return all sections of criminal law pertaining to rape ought to be abolished."

Surely, they argued, women's "undressed [appearances] entail a diminution of male responsibility—they appeal so openly and aggressively to the baser elements in man's nature that it becomes a directly extenuating circumstance if temptation becomes too strong for him." As more and more young women began to adopt the new styles, such criticisms became more and more intense. By the end of the 1910s, a host of journalists and literati, academics and politicians, and ministers and moral reformers publicly denounced the new styles and the women who wore them.

Yet, exactly at this moment when public opposition was reaching its crescendo, a counter discourse in defense of women's fashions began to emerge. After years of relative silence, fashion advocates threw themselves into the battle over women's dress, and surprisingly quickly they managed to quell much of the opposition. Ironically, it was the efforts of a group of older, reform-minded women to have the infamous garments removed from department store windows that first began to sway many critics from their otherwise adamant stance against the new styles.

These efforts first came to the attention of the public on November 25, 1919, when Carla Meyer, the charismatic and controversial president of the newly formed Housewives' Organization, published on open letter to department store owners in which she urged them to "halt the window display of half-naked women's costumes." Behind this initiative stood not only Carla Meyer but also members of moral reform groups and many feminists who feared that the new styles would throw into question young women's ability to make sound judgments and thereby potentially damage all women's claims to sexual equality. Jointly, these women had formed the Committee Against the Dissemination of Modem Apparel, which on November 27 published yet another official protest endorsed by twenty-six of its most prominent members.

Given the "irresponsibility .. . of our big, respected firms," they wrote, they felt compelled to express their objection, since "we cannot tolerate that such harlot's garb be introduced into our country and thus help destroy the sense of decency shared by men and women from all strata of society." Whether the members of the committee had actually expected business owners to comply with their request remains unclear, but they had certainly not anticipated the kind of backlash they would encounter in the wake of their action. Rather than support their efforts, many of the very same reporters and newspaper editors who previously had railed against the new fashions used these older women's action as an opportunity to denigrate and ridicule them.

Obviously preferring fashionable young girls as the embodiment of "liberated" twentieth-century womanhood over more serious-minded—and potentially more threatening—female reformers, Folkets Avis, for example, called their criticism a "comical act" and mockingly suggested that "some people may be entirely relieved to know that the leaders of the Housewives' Organization will not wear any of [the dresses]." The Social Democratic daily, Klokken 5, characterized the incident as "a protest of the old and the ugly, the holy and much too prudish ladies."

Even the otherwise sober Copenhagen newspaper Politiken joined the chorus. Lashing out at the grammar, intelligence, and appearance of female activists, the paper felt compelled to "call to the attention of the 'cultivated' hyenas that a costume cannot be half-naked; a woman, rather, is capable of that, even without being stupid, as long as she is attractive. On the other hand, it does not require attractiveness to be a competent housewife. It was, however, unknown to us, until the publication [of the protest] that stupidity was a prerequisite." Such tirades placed women struggling to protect and defend older styles of femininity on the defensive.

By reducing their concerns to issues of sexual jealousy and female competition over men, male journalists managed to challenge both their sincerity and the moral authority to which they, and other older women, laid claim. Faced with ridicule and accusations of dowdy unattractiveness, most of these women quite understandably preferred to withdraw from public controversy, and after their initial bold offensive, few of them ever commented publicly on the issue of fashion again. The 1919 incident had other consequences as well.

For supporters of the new fashions, the unprecedented attack on older, reform-minded women provided at least an indication of how they might construe an effective argument in favor of the modern styles. By latching on to the critique of female activists as frumpy, prudish, and self-righteous, they might be able to position fashionable young women as their positive contrast and thereby curb the harshest criticisms of their appearances. The media invariably portrayed the women who protested against the display of modern fashions, as dowdy and unattractive old maids. For that reason, fashion advocates quickly embraced the media's portrayal of older female activists as unattractive and unfeminine.

In the following months and years, they eagerly promoted the increasingly popular stereotype that feminists, female reformers, and educated women in general failed to take interest in their appearances and actually prided themselves in this negligence. "I was once honored with an invitation to spend an evening in the company of .. . brilliant and influential women," one young female journalist thus wrote in the early 1920s. "It would have been an delightful affair," she continued, "if all the ladies had been represented through the radio and had not been present themselves, as they were all to an extreme degree lacking in beauty. And it quickly dawned on me that they were proud of their careless appearance."

In comparison, young women who embraced the new fashions were obviously more feminine in their pursuit of beauty and style, and unlike older female activists who dared to be in the public eye without necessarily striving to be pleasing to look at, they would offer no such challenge to social conventions. To bolster the credibility of this argument and further distance fashionable young women from an older generation bent on women's emancipation, proponents of the new styles supported sharp distinctions between men's and women's clothing.

They assured critics that equality between the sexes, established with women's suffrage in 1915, rendered the masculine attire—such as jackets and neckties—worn by some older feminists both inappropriate and unnecessary. Sexual difference, they promised, would remain highly encoded in modern fashions. If young women wore clothes that could in any way be deemed inappropriate for their gender, fashion advocates continued, it was for reasons of comfort or practicality only.

Thus, when an American fashion designer in 1920 introduced a combined housecoat/pajamas, Vore Darner ensured that "it is exceedingly feminine, not the least bit mannish, and it does not appeal to any kind of desire for independence in the young lady who wears it. Rather, the pants . . . are reminiscences from the delicate Oriental women's costumes." From the end of the 1910s, fashion reporting thus concentrated on affirming the gender-appropriate nature of the modern styles.

Over and over again, in a seemingly endless litany to femininity, every single item of women's clothing from summer hats to walking shoes was characterized as elegant, graceful, charming, delicate, or refined, and the overall fashionable style as womanly and ladylike. Contrasting the appealing femininity of fashionable young women with the allegedly frumpy, unattractive, and occasionally mannish appearance of an older generation proved an effective strategy for advocates of the new styles.

While placing female critics on the defensive, it simultaneously provided a platform from which fashion enthusiasts were able to respond to male critics who interpreted women's changing appearance as a sign of the erosion of proper womanhood and a challenge to the established gender and sexual order, and within a few years they managed to convince most skeptics that the new styles were not a sign of rebellion or women's efforts to gain control over men. On the contrary, the new styles were, according to fashion advocates, the sign of a renewed and reinforced femininity that admittedly incorporated heightened attractiveness and erotic appeal, but did not endanger female respectability or conventional gender arrangements.

As a result, the controversies over modern fashions all but disappeared within a couple of years of the 1919 incident. Most contemporaries either lost their determination to battle the new styles, or they became convinced that they posed no real threat. And those who remained concerned about the implications of the new fashions soon had their attention drawn to another change in women's appearance even more disturbing than the modern dresses. In the mid-1920s, growing numbers of women began to discard one of the most cherished icons of femininity—namely, their long hair. After a slight lull in the early 1920s, controversies over women's appearances therefore reached a new peak.”

- Birgitte Soland, “The Emergence of the Modern Look.” in Becoming Modern: Young Women and the Reconstruction of Womanhood in the 1920s

#birgitte soland #becoming modern #1920s #fashion #history #gender #class

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nejiraez · 5 years ago

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n.o.y.b | bakugou katsuki

pairing: tattoo artist!bakugou x reader

summary: bakugou doesn’t like being constantly asked about his tattoos, but (Y/N) comes along to change that.

tags: @succulent-momma @suckersuki (just becuz~) @k-atsukidayo @katsukijason @mrsreina @voidcenturies

783 words

Bakugou hates when people touch him, especially when it was without his permission.

The way most would run their clammy fingers against his tattooed skin as if they had been friends for years, left him peeved with a sense of violation.

Bakugou was tired of the consistent questions that he was approached with. The overuse of the "you're 18, but have so many tattoos" was no longer innovative to him. And the annoying shrill in their tone when they ask for the story behind each tattoo-- hoping to coax an answer out of him-- got tiresome.

"None of your business." A passive-aggressive response he had trained himself to respond with if he found that people were overstepping their boundaries.

Such questions and actions that had him riddled with irritation slowly became a custom he yearned for. Something that his heart would skip a beat at if it was coming from you.

How your careful fingertips would glide across his skin, tracing each tattoo's lining with precision would leave goosebumps in its wake.

The logic was backwards. How Katsuki would grow pissed if it were somebody else, yet melt under your touch. But, it was starting to make sense to him now.

Katsuki admired watching you while you handled his arms with care. The entranced expression on your features as you studied his inked forearms, trying to depict what each tattoo meant. It was enough to tug at the corner of his lips each and every time you did so.

And as if he were an open book, he would tell you. Katsuki would spill his heart out to you and tell you their significance. He'd show you his first and latest tattoos. The one's he regretted because he got it on a whim and others that he was proud of.

Nothing went overlooked, for he wanted you to see.

It has been months since he has met you, but Katsuki still couldn't seem to shake the bundle of jitters that would rouse him from his state of composure whenever you wanted to be close to him and admire, well, him.

Today you'd go for a fucked up combo attack that would shake him to his core. Leaning your head against his chest while you would draw slow, lazy circles against his arm.

He'd always pray that you wouldn't hear how pathetically loud his heart was beating just from the mere act of affection.

"Katsuki?" You'd voice, pulling him out from his thoughts.

"Hm?"

You've got this sheepish look on your face. One that Bakugou knows all too well when you're about to ask something you're apprehensive about. He found your habit to be quite endearing.

"You can ask," he encourages, nudging your shoulder. "It's fine."

"Well... Do you think there would be a day where you stop getting tattoos?" You ask. But the depth of your words hit you, to which you immediately go to rephrase what you meant. "Not that they're bad or anything!"

Katsuki doesn't answer right away, instead, he opts to watch you for a moment longer before he replies. "Maybe," he says, considering your question. "There's just a few things I'd want to get done before I do though."

"Like?"

Katsuki shifts his position and lifts you off of his lap so that he could see your face better. He reaches out for your hand and grasps it. "If I told you that I wanted you to design my next tattoo, would you?" He asks.

His scarlet eyes bore into yours which held an immense amount of sincerity to them.

"Are you sure about this, Katsuki?"

This choice for some may be risky or straight up an unheeding decision on his part. But Katsuki knew what he was doing.

If there was one person in the world that he would put his trust in wholeheartedly, to guarantee that they were looking out for his best interests other than his guardians, it would be without a doubt you.

From all those nights you both have shared, whispering secrets to each other that were meant for your ears alone. The countless times you've come to visit him at his house with his idiotic group of friends to watch him work. And to how every time you two went out, was like the first. Leaving him an absolute mess. Adrenaline pumping through his bloodstream, to which he'd have to remind himself to calm the fuck down.

Katsuki wanted you to do this for him.

"I'm more than sure."

Because this would be the one tattoo that he wouldn't mind people asking him about. Where he wouldn't be so quick to shut people down or given them short ended replies. Rather, every time that he'd look down at it, his chest would swell with adoration and pride as he would recall its significance.

All because you had chosen it and it was yours.

#bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha imagine #bnha scenario #bnha x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #tattoo artist! bakugou #did a line from itzy's wannabe influence this? … perHAPS.#original

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toshisslut · 4 years ago

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Having a Black/AfricanAmerican GF

➤ HC, 1.4k words

➤ pairing: akaashi keiji x female reader, bokuto kotaro x female reader

➤ genre: fluff with a lil bit of angst

➤ warnings: lil bit of angst and implied racism

This was actually inspired by an account who did a hc about dating a latina.(i can’t remember who so if you know please let me know!) i thought it was super cute and also? idk, i’m just a black fan and i’d like to think about what it would be like dating them. sue me :P

Akaashi Keiji

So like, Keiji is already super down to earth and laid back so he takes everything in stride.

When you’re not with him he spends his time looking up cultural things so that he can understand you better

AAVE trips him up tho but that, too, he studies and researches bc he just wants to understand you better

Tbh he didn’t quite get your ThingTM about your hair but he’s not rude about it. Instead he just sits and listens to you when you talk about the teasing/trauma you went through about it

For a whole day he’s just silently mad bc “wtf, who teases someone about their hair like that? Why the hell would someone do that?”

“Babe, it’s okay.”

“It is absolutely not okay”

Cue soft yet angry keiji who hugs you tight and gives you kisses throughout the day, but when he’s not doing that he’s muttering to himself, cussing up a storm.

You’re nervous to meet his friends but like, he’s already beat it over their heads that if they say anything rude/offensive then he’s breaking their wrists and ankles

By accident he starts using your hair care stuff (he gets scolded bc that shit is expensive but once he starts pitching in to help you buy some he gets a pass)

Now y’all’s hair smells like cantu and coconut oil lmao

And THEN, of course, he starts using your skin cares stuff

“Your skin is just always so soft.” but what he doesn’t tell you is that he just loves the way you smell and him using your products is just a way for him to always be able to smell you

“Keiji,”You whine, “You’ve used up almost all of my conditioner again.”

“Not my fault it makes my hair feel nice.”

You roll your eyes but you aren’t mad. Not when he pitches in an equal, if not an even greater amount of money into your haircare and skincare budget. At first you assumed it was to be nice, but then you realized that he was most certainly using the products as well.

You reach over and run your fingers through his hair. It’s much straighter than yours, so he has to use a lot less of the product to avoid the risk of making his hair oily. But now, you assume, he must have found the right ratio between his own products and yours because his hair feels amazing.

Soft. Fluffy.

“No fair,”You say as you pout, flopping down beside him onto the couch. “You already have pretty lashes and smooth skin, now you’re using my products and getting better results than me.”

He wraps his arms around your waist and brings onto his lap, his work long since forgotten. “Sorry, baby.”

“Something tells me that you’re not really sorry.”

He’s not, but he doesn’t say that. Instead he buries his face into the place where your shoulder meets your neck. He takes in your scent and smiles, though his expression his hidden by the position the two of you are in.

“Keiji.”You whine, pouting still.

His smile grows wider. Yes, say his name more. He loves the way you say his name. The way it rolls off of your tongue. Your Japanese is getting better, but there’s still a cute little twang to your voice; specifically, when you say his name. (he hopes that never changes)

“Fine. How about I run us a bubble bath together, hm? Then we can do your skincare regimen together.”

You know that this is his way of getting to use your skincare stuff too, but he’s rubbing your back in soothing circles and the way his lips brush against your neck is distracting.

“Aren’t you...aren’t you worried that your friends will tease you for smelling like your girlfriend?”

He turns his head and kisses your jawline. “Not at all.”

Because really, he’s not. He’s never really cared when they teased him anyway, but he especially doesn’t care about them teasing him about this. He loves the way you smell. The way you feel. Your smile. Your laughter—everything about you really. Using your products helps him to carry your scent around with him, giving him a nice reminder throughout the day of you and everything about you that he adores.

Bokuto Kotaro

THIS boy

Oh my goodness

So like, Bokuto is just a people person. Super sociable and friendly

Y’all probably meet while he’s in the states for a game and he’s chilling, talking to Hinata and then boom, spits out his drink bc pretty lady

He’s not super shy when it comes to introducing himself but he doesn’t get your number right away and then gets into a slump

Was it the language barrier? Was it just that she doesn’t think I’m good looking?

Calls up Akaashi like “bro oh my goodness i met the love of my life but what if she just doesn’t want me :((“

And ofc Akaashi was asleep (bc time difference) and he’s irritated bc WHY ARE YOU SHOUTING AS SOON AS I ANSWER THE PHONE??? But he tries to be a good friend regardless and is just like “then study some english, dummy”

So Bokuto does

And like, he wasn’t the super best at studying in school but you bet your ass that he’s trying his damndest now

When y’all finally start dating he’s on cloud nine. Cutest boyfriend. Always showering you in compliments and affection

He doesn’t notice the stares that you two get from people (both Americans and Japanese folk alike) bc he’s just super heart eyes until one day and you’re just so uncomfortable. And he’s like “baby?? You okay??”

You try to explain to him that it’s because people are staring and he’s just like “well yeah, bc you’re hot? And so am I????”

Oh poor baby, he gets so upset when he finally gets what you mean. He’s so mad too bc like, who cares that y’all aren’t the same race? As long as you love each other because that’s what is supposed to be most important, right??

He gets super miffed about it but rather than going off on strangers every time it happens, he instead just turns to you to assure you that he loves you from the absolute bottom of his heart to the tippy top

“Bokuto-san, is that girl really your new girlfriend?”Asks one of the team’s athletic trainers.

Bokuto smiles with pride because why yes, y/n is his girlfriend and he is absolutely proud of it. You’re like sunshine to him. You make him so happy.

“Yeah,”He replies, “She is.”

The smile on his face fades when the trainer’s face scrunches up into a grimace. “Ahh, but Bokuto-san, you’re so popular in Japan. Do you really need a girl like her?”

You and Bokuto had been through this before. Some family members and some friends (could you two even call them friends at that point?) had made similar comments to the both of you. Some of them tried to be passive aggressive about it while others just straight up voiced their displeasure at your coupling.

It was none of their business though.

Not at all.

“And what is that supposed to mean?”He asks the trainer, standing to his full height of 6’2. He towers over the short man and stares him down. Waiting. He’s waiting for an answer but all the trainer can do is stutter and shake. “Oh come on, don’t go silent on me now. You had so much to say only a couple of seconds ago. Speak. Up.”

“I just meant...well, are you sure she’s a good look for you?”

That sets him off.

The conversation between the two of them had gone widely unnoticed by those in the room. That is, of course, until Bokuto was about to swing on him. Then chaos broke out. It took Atsumu and Oikawa to hold him back.

(Hinata tried but failed. He grabbed onto Bokuto’s arm but basically just had to hold on for dear life as Bokuto flung his arm about)

The athletic trainer gets fired because there’s no way Bokuto would ever even think about working with him again and, once he told his teammates about what happened, they stood behind him. (They like you a lot and they’ll be damned if you get talked about like that)

No one tells you anything but when Bokuto meets up with you that night for dinner, he hugs you a bit tighter and kisses you for just a bit longer.

Because, yeah, he may not care what other people say or think when it comes to your relationship, but you’re his #1. He’ll be damned if he lets anyone speak about you in his presence.

perhaps i’ll continue this as a series with other characters (or maybe even more oneshots? idk,,,lemme know!)

#akaashi keji x reader #akaashi x you #haikyuu akaashi #akaashi headcanons #bokuto kotaro x reader #bokuto x you #haikyuu bokuto #bokuto headcannons #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu x female reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #mine

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