#i gave him the benefit of the doubt when he was a literal child. hey. what happened to caring about affected parties over entertainment

[qcellbit]

mcyt fans when you express that you don’t want to make room for bigotry in the entertainment you consume and wish to hold creators accountable for their actions instead of being unable to face the discomfort of confrontation to selfishly keep consuming the creator’s content without having to acknowledge the hurt of minorities

[eva-cybele]

emotion word barf under the cut

sometimes I think about the very messy friend falling out I had last year and it still makes me so angry. april-october of last year were so hard -- my son got diagnosed with autism, his behavior continued to escalate to the point he was getting suspended all the time (in FIRST GRADE), so I was spending every single day on edge on whether I'd have to go get him and if he'd hurt someone else's child. my mother-in-law got fucking cancer. and then right in the middle of that, my brother-in-law came out as trans to his exceedingly religious family, and all of that placed my already stressed out (because of, you know, his son being autistic and his mom having cancer) husband directly in the middle of mediating everything. all of my energy was going towards all of that -- I didn't have anything left for anyone else.

and when I have a friend who needs CONSTANT reassurance, CONSTANT advice that she NEVER fucking takes -- yes, I am going to pull back when I don't have the goddamn spoons to deal with it. but instead of being like "hey are we good?" or better yet, assuming that I'm NOT an asshole, she spends literally six months compiling a google document of all the ways I hurt her, talking to every single one of my other friends about how she feels like I'm excluding her, and being completely passive-aggressive to me everytime I talk to her. so yes, I pulled back more.

and if once, ONCE, in that entire span of time, she had ever bothered to ask me how I was, or talk to me about her problems with me, I could have said "hey it's not you, I've just got a lot of shit going on right now" and the whole thing could have been avoided. but she didn't. she accused me of not caring about her, but she sure as fuck didn't care about me enough. she got so angry that I didn't include her enough in lore/story stuff in xiv when she didn't invite me to be part of her OC's lore, either. all the onus was on me, to comfort, to inquire about her problems, to be emotionally available when she was a depressed sad sack about things she refused to change about her life. and I gave her that, for months, for as long as I could. but she couldn't give me the benefit of the doubt that I wasn't intentionally abandoning her, or the decency to tell me she had a problem instead of sulking. even at the end, she was trying to upset me to make me bring it up, because she was too scared to. aka STILL making me do her goddamn emotional labor.

she put the shitty capstone on some of the hardest months of my life, and I don't know if I'll ever get over that.

[memoiich]

Hey, it's little old me again 😞

I'm here to push you out of your comfort zone and because I feed off your ideas

But how to you interpret the relationship between Obi and Ani. Especially after Anakin takes on Ahsoka as his apprentice. Because Obi Wan basically gets a literally Anakin copy and paste to deal with as well as the original.

Awnser if you dare 😈

Obi wan was so excited about anakin getting an apprentice. For weeks on end , he would talk about how great it is to raise the next generation and how cute anakin was as a child. How much he misses the little ani that would listen to him ( anakin never listened to him) and how much it flattered him when ani would look up to him ( anakin never stopped looking up at him) .

But then Ahsoka happened .

Obi wan gave her the benefit of the doubt. She was just overwhelmed and didn't know how to act yet . That was normal, being a padawan could be quite confusing.

Anakin never grew out of that kind of behavior, maker he once bit mace windu, but that was just because of his age obi wan told himself . Anakin was pretty old for a Force sensitive child . This caused him to be avoided in the jedi temple by the other children, which in return caused Obi-wan to coddle anakin .

He had tried to raise him the same way as he was by Qui gon, but that hadn't worked. Anakin quickly used the will of the force as an excuse. " I told you to stay right there,"obi wan would say. " The will of the force moved me over here," anakin would reply smugly. After that, obi wan taught him more loosely .

Which caused him to have no advice when 4 weeks into anakin and Ahsoka training, anakin asked for help . " Maybe you could meditate together, it strengthen the bond between padawan and maester." Anakin had scoffed at that as acpeccted .

The problem was that by yoda's order, obi Wan was not to raise this child. In an attempt to make anakin grow up a bit , obi wan himself hoped that it would soften the war commander anakin had become. Deep down, obi wan missed the child from tattooine dearly.

Anakin was completely lost with ahoka. So once again, obi Wan rescued his padawan by stepping in for a few days . Ahsoka was a surprisingly bright and smart child this came ofcourse with the downfall of arrogance. Ahsoka and anakin were oddly alike.

So that is what Obi-wan told his student. " Raise her as you would have liked to be raised." Sadly, he had forgotten that instead of learning, Anakin would have liked to fool around more. So he ended up with 2 padawans .

He isn't complaining. He will cherish every moment with the two . He can't wait for anakin to truly stand on his 2 legs, but he can't deny that he loves his stumbling padawan just as much .

{masterlist}

[scuttling]

Head Over Feet - Chapter 4

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Spencer Reid/Female Reader (Unrequited) Word Count: 5,180 Chapters: 4/4 Complete Tags: 18+, NSFW, Unrequited love, Protected sex, Oral sex, Vaginal fingering, Rough sex, Friends with benefits, Praise kink, Daddy kink, TW Fire, TW Burns Summary: Falling in love with one of your two closest friends was never something you planned; it only makes sense that falling in love with the other would also come as a complete surprise. *Inspired by/in collaboration with @ssamorganhotchner. Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Link to AO3 or read chapter 4 below! You pat Spencer on the back, rub your hand soothingly over his shoulders. He’s not crying, but he’s clinging to you like a child, and your heart aches for him a little.

“I’m sorry, Spence. I know it’s hard when you care about someone and things don’t work out, especially because of what we do. It’s complicated; sometimes people just don’t understand.”

He shifts out of your embrace, stands up, runs a hand over his face.

“I’ve spent most of my life not being understood. I thought maybe I found someone who finally got me.”

You get him, you muse; you’ve always been the one to translate his info dumps into useful commentary, to sense when he’s overwhelmed, anxious, to pull him back before his emotions get the better of him. You may only be his friend, but dismissing that fact hurts more than it should.

You sigh, step into the kitchen, fill your electric kettle with water and turn it on, pull a box of chamomile tea out of the cupboard.

“I’ll be right back. Watch the kettle,” you say, patting his arm, and you head for the bedroom.

Aaron has his undershirt on, and he sits on the edge of the bed staring at the tv—he’s not so much watching it as just looking at it, and when he catches sight of you in the doorway, he turns it off.

“What’s going on?”

“Chelsea broke up with him,” you explain, wrapping your robe tighter around your body. “He missed a function because of work, and she wasn’t able to see past that. It’s been a point of contention.” You know it’s a bit of a sore subject, even after all this time, because of his divorce; you try to tread lightly.

“I should go,” he says, standing, and instantly your heartbeat races. You step toward him, put your hands on his arms.

“No, don’t go. Aaron,” you say when he pulls back, looking around the room as if forgetting that all of the rest of his clothes are piled by your front door. “Please, I don’t want you to go.”

“He needs you.” His voice doesn’t sound particularly kind or unkind, just flat, and you sigh, reach up and take his face in your hands.

“Hey. I’m making him a cup of tea—to go.” He wets his lips, and you pull him down for a slow, soft kiss, drag it out, breathe against his mouth. “Please stay with me.”

“You want me to stay, and you want him to go,” he murmurs, clarifying, and you nod, kiss him again.

“Yes. Give me ten minutes?” He agrees, and you turn to head back to the kitchen, but he stops you, pulls you close for a kiss so full of hunger it makes your head spin. You wouldn’t have thought you’d have another round in you after all that, but it may not be completely out of the question.

Back in the kitchen, Spencer leans against the counter, waiting for the water to boil. His eyes roam over you, and then the mess on the floor—clothes, shoes… condom wrapper.

“I didn’t realize he was here,” he rasps. “I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have come.”

“It’s alright. I understand.” You walk around him, pull a travel mug down from the cupboard, an unspoken sign that a warmer welcome is not being extended tonight. “You’ll go home and get some sleep. In the morning, call her and apologize for the things you said. The situation may not be as hopeless in the light of day.”

“It feels pretty hopeless,” he counters, and you stand next to him, look up at him.

“There have been times I’ve felt pretty hopeless. You’ll get through it, with or without her.” He rests his elbows on the counter, his head in his hands, frowns exaggeratedly.

“I wouldn’t blame her if she doesn’t take me back. I was a jerk.”

“Love makes us brave and dumb; it’s an unfortunate combination—and you, Doctor, are not used to feeling dumb.” You tap him lightly on the arm, smile softly. “If she gets you as well as you think, she just might understand your reasons for saying what you said.”

“How did you get through it? When we… When I…” He trails off, but you don’t need him to finish; you both know what he means to say. “Because it feels like my heart is literally breaking, even though I know that’s biologically impossible.”

“It wasn’t without effort, or… help.” You think of Aaron in your bedroom, who has been nothing but patient and kind and caring, who has been there through sleepless nights and self-doubt and you being, honestly, a little insufferable; the thought makes you smile. You loop an arm around his, lean against his shoulder. “Or the knowledge that what is meant to be will be. I was meant to love you, Spencer Reid—but only like this: friends, partners, bad movie buddies.”

“I like this,” he agrees, and you stand close until the kettle beeps. You prepare his tea, snap the lid on the cup, hand it over, and he leans down to press a kiss to your cheek. “Okay, I’m taking your advice. Wish me luck?”

“All the luck,” you say with a smile, and then you see him out, close and lock the door behind him. You make a second cup of tea—in an FBI mug, this time—and head back to your bedroom, press the cup into Aaron’s hand where he sits propped up against the pillows.

“Is everything alright?” he asks as you climb onto the bed, curl up against his side.

“I think so; I gave him some advice, he left in better spirits. Whether or not they can work it out is another story. He can take it from here, though.” Aaron takes a sip of tea, hands you the mug, and you take a sip and then set it on your bedside table. “I’m glad you didn’t leave,” you say softly when you turn back to him; you just look up at him for a moment, then wrap your fingers in his t-shirt, pull him close for a slow kiss. “I don’t ever want you to leave, you know?” You brush your nose along his, and he brings a hand to your cheek, kisses you back—it starts as something tender, but becomes steamier as it goes on, until you’re panting, breathless against each other’s lips.

“I don’t want to leave you,” he whispers, and you kiss again, a bit rougher, more desperate, pull his shirt over his head. You sweep your hands over his shoulders, his arms, brush one through his hair.

“Good. Don’t leave me.” You rise to your knees, untie your robe, and he gets his hands inside it, runs them over your body, pushes the robe off and onto the bed. He presses up to pull his boxers off, and you swing a leg over his, straddle his thighs, curl in to kiss him deeply, wet and messy. “Don’t leave me, Aaron,” you breathe, beg against his lips, and you lean forward to slip him inside.

You grip his shoulders, moan as you sink down, and work your hips, pressing kisses to his face and hair. His hands caress you, running up your back, gripping your hair where it falls over the back of your neck. “Oh, baby. Fuck,” he groans as you move up and down, and the hand on your back slides down to press against your ass, to encourage your quick, eager movements. “You’re so good; you feel so good. I’m here, I won’t leave you.”

“Hmm. And I’m yours, right daddy?” You look up at him, chest heaving, grip his hair at the back of his head, and he nods, moves his other hand to your ass as well and squeezes hard; you whimper, tip your head back, slam down roughly.

“You’re mine, kitten, all mine; you belong to daddy.”

“Oh, fuck yes. Yes.” You moan, lean back in his lap, press your hands against his legs, and ride him hard; nothing has ever sounded better than his groans, looked better than his face while you fuck like you haven’t already gotten off twice by his perfect body tonight.

You let your hair fall back, bring a hand up to rest on his flexing stomach, and he surprises you by running his hands over your thighs, then your legs, pushing you up so you have to plant your feet against the bed. He wraps his big hands around your hips, takes control and moves your body up and down on his cock, your ass meeting his thighs with each of his thrusts. The new position means you’re leaned back further than before, and that he can see everything—your blissed out face, bouncing breasts, your pussy as it hugs him, enveloping him in tight, wet heat.

“Daddy’s good girl, fucking so pretty,” he grinds out, and you just hold onto his legs, moan while he works to bring you both off. “Come on my cock, baby, all over it. Give it to me.”

“Oh, god. Yes, daddy. I will, I will.” Your head drops back, exposing your throat, and you swallow hard, whine your impatience. You want to please him and find release, and it’s frustrating but so fucking sexy, the position he’s put you in. “Harder, please, please.”

“Harder? Are you sure you can take it?” He slams you down roughly, thrusts up faster, and you tremble both with effort and pleasure, press your nails against his thighs.

“I can take it, I can take you. Feels so good.” You’re breaking a sweat, can feel it prickling at the nape of your neck, behind your knees, and you bounce in his hands, clamp tight, nearly sigh in relief when your orgasm is just out of reach. “I’m gonna come, daddy, gonna come on your cock—oh, fuck. Fuck.”

“Yes, baby, just like that.”

Your climax is powerful, lengthy, and Aaron is loving it if the tightened grip on your hips, the low groans of pleasure are any indication. You don’t have it in you to help anymore, too worn out, but he continues to move your body until he comes, and you stare down at him, satisfied and out of breath and ridiculously—surprisingly—in love.

Oh, fuck. Three weeks go by, and you don’t talk about it—with anyone. It eats at you, and you simultaneously want to scream it from the rooftops and hide it in the dark and hope that the feelings pass.

You love Aaron. You’re in love with Aaron. Your best friend, friend with benefits, the man you suddenly on a whim decided to call daddy because you just can’t get enough of him: of his strong hands, soft hair, lips and voice and just… everything.

You’re not sure when exactly your feelings for Spencer went away, but it’s like they drifted off silently into the night, only to be gradually replaced by sharing big breakfasts and a hot coffee on your desk and wearing his flannel pajama pants just because they’re comfy and lazy morning sex on the weekends—

—are you dating Aaron? Because friends with benefits doesn’t feel like coming home to just the right person at the end of the day, like you missed him even though you work together. It doesn’t feel like desperation, like a need to know you belong in his arms, like a confirmation that he’s here because he wants to be, not just because you asked him to be.

Things haven’t really changed since that night—you still go to one of your apartments after work, have dinner, have sex some evenings or just relax others, sleep together every night—but you’re so nervous you’re going to slip up and say or do something to clue him in that you’re almost always on edge now. He notices, because he notices things, and because he notices you.

“What’s got you acting so odd lately?” he asks softly in your ear while you cuddle on the couch, reading, your back against his arm, legs stretched out in front of you. You’d like to crawl into his lap, wrap his arms around you, breathe against his neck, but you settle for this because it’s a little more manageable.

“Odd? Me?” He curls his arm around your chest, rests a hand gently on your throat. There’s no pressure, it’s just a soft claim, but it makes your heart beat fast.

“Yes, baby. You’ve been quiet. You haven’t flipped a page in a while. Is something on your mind?”

“Not really,” you murmur, and he taps a few fingers against the side of your neck.

“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?” It’s soft, not a line your daddy expects parroted back to him, but a question Aaron feels the need to ask. You bring a hand up to rest on his arm, something of a hug.

“I’m just thinking. Enjoying sitting here with you.” You tip your head back to look at him, and he leans down to kiss your mouth, slowly, deeply, squeezing your throat just a little. It makes you feel warm and fuzzy, cared for, and a little turned on. “Are you enjoying me?”

“I always enjoy you,” he says quietly, brings his other hand to your cheek to cradle your face. “Just making sure you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” you whisper, looking up at him, into his deep, curious eyes—he seems to know there’s something more, but he also seems to know now’s not the time. “Do you want to go to bed?”

He nods, and you both get up, tidy up the living room, turn off the lights. When you climb into bed, you just kiss, for what feels like hours, curled up around him, skin on skin. Your next case takes you to Portland, where you are tasked with building a profile for a serial arsonist. It’s not going well.

“We’ve been over this,” Derek says, running a hand over his head. “The motives for arson are simple: vandalism, crime concealment, political statement, profit, and revenge.” You stand in front of a whiteboard with your arms crossed; the words he just said are already scrawled across it in your handwriting, in green dry erase marker.

“Well we’re missing something, so let’s go over it again. There have been no signatures, no hits on social media, nothing sent to the news outlets, so we’re not thinking ‘political statement.’” You draw a line through the words.

“No connection between the buildings, so we’ve all but removed ‘revenge’ from the list,” Emily adds, and you draw a line through that one too.

“Second building had no insurance, was taken over by the city—no one profited from that,” Penelope adds from the speakerphone. You strike it out, sigh.

“That leaves vandalism and crime concealment.”

“Nothing was found at any of the scenes to indicate crime concealment, but it is possible,” Derek reminds you; that one stays on the board. Emily taps her pen against her notepad, looks up at you with a cocked brow and points to the board.

“We’re forgetting one. Hero syndrome: when a firefighter or other first responder sets the fires with the intent of returning to help put them out.” You quickly scribble it on the board.

“So we know that in most instances, those who engage in acts of arson due to hero syndrome have had some type of failed attempt at heroism in the past, be it a botched detective exam, dishonorable military discharge��”

“What about someone who failed out of the arson investigator program?” Penelope asks, keys clacking in the background. “I have an Alexander Carter who works for the Portland Fire Department who has failed out of the program—wow, a whopping six times.”

“Could be he’s trying to prove what an asset he’d be,” Emily proposes, and you turn to jot it down, then freeze.

“Did you say Carter? Alex Carter,” you repeat, and she hums.

“Yes, Alexander Carter, age 30, 5’11”, 200 lbs, brown hair, brown eyes.” You cross the room in a hurry, search your jacket pockets for your cell phone, and Derek stands almost immediately.

“What is it?” he asks, and Emily and Penelope echo his question.

“Hotch and Spencer are with Alex Carter right now. They’re checking out the last scene, the one where the fire went out on its own and didn’t spread. The one that failed.” You look up at him, hold your phone up to your ear, dialing Aaron. It rings and then goes to voicemail three times before going straight to voicemail the fourth. Derek tries Spencer, but his goes to voicemail right away. “We have to go there. Fuck. Garcia, what’s the address again?”

The three of you rush out of the conference room, passing JJ, who gets a brief rundown from Emily and offers to stay back to keep an ear out in case they call. You, Emily, and Derek strap on your vests, and Derek drives—Speed Racer may be useful right now, but your hands are trembling. You sit on them so no one sees.

The building is up in flames when you arrive, and there are firefighters on scene as well as police, EMS… and the coroner.

“Where are they?” you all but scream at the detective. He stands, hands on his hips, shakes his head, and your throat goes dry. “God damn it. Say something. Where are our men?”

“Where do you think they are?” He gestures to the smoldering storefront, and you take a calm, measured breath and step away from him; nothing you say will do you any good, only serve to get you in trouble, and it’s not his fault anyway, not really. You try the fire chief, hope you don’t sound like you’re pleading when you ask him for news.

“My people are working hard to put the fire out; we don’t know the extent of it. We can’t say for sure,” he says, and it’s kind, but firm. Not a guarantee. Derek finds you, puts a hand on your arm, and you look up at him like he’s going to have the answers to this. Someone has to, right?

“We just have to wait,” he says, soothing, and even though you know he’s just trying to help, you could punch him in the face; it’s an unfamiliar feeling, not something you’ve ever felt when faced with Derek Morgan. You shake your head.

“Wait? Wait for what, for—for them to be pulled out in body bags? I can’t wait, I won’t wait. I’ve waited long enough as it is,” you mutter under your breath, turning away. You stare at the flaming storefront, trying to formulate a plan that doesn’t end with Derek tackling you before you can get close enough to call for them, but you can’t come up with anything, and it’s not necessary anyway: less than ninety seconds later, Aaron and Spencer come around from the back of the building, looking a little worse for wear, but not as bad as Alex Carter, who is badly burned on the left side of his face.

You are so relieved you could pass out, and it’s an honest to goodness miracle that you don’t. They get Carter to the ambulance, where the EMTs begin to treat him, and then they walk toward you.

You can’t help it, your feet move without you, bridging the distance, and you crash into Aaron, nearly knocking him over; you cling to his shirt and inhale the scent of smoke and cologne, listen to his heartbeat, think the words you’ve been so afraid to say out loud.

He holds you tightly, one hand on the back of your neck, murmurs words in your ear that you can’t make out; when Derek and Emily come over, you snap out of it, grab Spencer by the shoulder and pull him in too, and the five of you form a group hug and you are not the only one to cry.

You go back to the hotel so everyone can shower, wash away the soot; you would have preferred being able to shower with Aaron, to move your hands over his body and see for yourself that he is unharmed, to wash the stale scent of smoke from his hair, but that’s just not possible. You settle for a text that tells you he’s okay, he’s just tired and ready to go home with you—home, which is apparently wherever you are, whichever apartment you are making noise in, taking up space in, wherever you are leaving half empty cups of tea.

You’ve never wanted to kiss him so badly in your life, but the flight from Portland to Virginia is five hours long and almost torture. He sits next to you on the plane, which doesn’t usually happen, and he does paperwork, brushes his free hand against yours occasionally. You drift in and out of consciousness, so tired from the emotions of the day, and before you know it Aaron is smoothing his hand over your head to wake you up.

He drives you to his apartment, stopping only to pick up takeout from your favorite Indian place—the bags are abandoned on the kitchen counter, though, because the moment you are behind closed doors, everything changes.

You kiss him like it will be the last time—and maybe it will be, considering what you plan to say—your hands in his hair, breath on his lips, the taste of him on your tongue. This could be like Spencer all over again; you hadn’t realized then just how not on the same page the two of you had been, not even on the same chapter, maybe in a whole different book, so what makes this any different? What you have come to realize is love could just be comfortable, guaranteed sex to Aaron, and if he turns you down too, you’ll probably give up on all of it.

You move to the bedroom with the practiced motions of a couple who has walked this walk many times before, but this time it feels different. It feels like matching energies, like emotions that have been tamped down and are now allowed to be fully expressed, fully exposed.

Aaron gets you out of your clothes first, with sure, gentle hands, and then you strip him slowly, look him over the way you wish you could have earlier. You touch his arms, his chest, his stomach, then bend to run your hands over his legs, his feet.

“You’re whole. You’re here,” you murmur when you stand, and he takes your face in his hands, presses his lips to yours again and again.

“I told you I wouldn’t leave you; I meant it.” You wet your lips, look up at him, exhale softly. After a sentence like that, what the hell are you waiting for?

“I love you.” His eyes search your face, and you release one soft sob before he pushes you back onto the bed, covers you with his body, kisses you deeply, wet and passionate.

“I love you—fuck, I love you,” he breathes, his hands in your hair, on your face, and then he reaches down to grab your wrists and hold them above your head. You gasp, shudder, spread your legs for him, and he weaves a hand between your bodies, roughly rubs your clit. “Going to fuck you so good. So good.”

He stares down at you, wrists clasped in one hand, the other working to bring you close, or off, you’re not sure; you ache to touch him, but since you can’t you just breathe a little harder, hitch your knees up higher, give yourself to him.

“Please, daddy,” you sigh, and he knows what you want, guides his cock inside you and then slams it all the way in, so deep that you’re overcome by the feeling of fullness and your eyes water. It’s not pain, or even really pleasure, though it does feel good, but more like… completeness. Like you were made for each other in all the ways that count.

He thrusts into you hard, his knees digging into the bed, and you take kisses when he offers them, moan when he doesn’t, struggle against his grip on your wrists just to feel him tighten it. He pounds his hips roughly against you, uses his free hand to squeeze your ass, then your breast, and then finally, eventually, your throat.

He hovers over you, panting, staring down like he’s viewing a masterpiece and not looking at your sweaty, overheated face. “Can I have you? All of you?” He glides the hand from your throat down to your chest, rests it just over your heart, and you nod, surge up to meet him for a kiss.

“All of me—all of me.” He releases your arms, plants his hands against the bed and fucks you hard, and you slide your hands up his back, pull him down so he’s fully on top of you, heavy and solid and strong. “Take me, Aaron, I’m yours. Take me.” You lift your legs, knees almost up to his armpits, and he holds your hips, kisses you deeply, messy, pumps inside and then comes murmuring your name into your hair. You clutch him, buck desperately against him, mouth at his shoulder, and he shushes you softly, brushes his palm over your hot cheek.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he says with a kiss, and then he slides an arm around your lower back, tilts your hips up, grinds inside until you come digging your fingertips into his sides.

He rests your body against the bed, drapes himself over you, moves his mouth slowly up and down the side of your throat; you wrap your arms around his shoulders, and he presses a hand to the back of your neck, holds you close to him. After a few minutes, he speaks, low, into your ear.

“So this is why you’ve been so…”

“Odd?” you say with a smile, and he tilts his head so he can see you, smiles too, kisses you on the lips.

“Yes. Odd. Because you love me?” You shift slightly, pull back so you can see him better, card your fingers through his hair.

“Not because I love you, because I was afraid to tell you I love you.” He makes a face like that’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard, and you brush your thumb over the ridge of his ear. “I’m not sure if you remember this,” you begin, softly sarcastic, “but I recently told Spencer that I loved him, and it didn’t go over very well. I was scared that could happen with you, too. It was easier to just enjoy what we had.”

He looks over your features, sighs lightly.

“Do you remember the night you stayed late at the office to help me with the records retention? We ordered pizza and you raided Rossi’s office for liquor.”

“Yes, and it was very expensive Scotch and it went very well with my veggie pizza. You smiled more that night than I’d ever seen,” you say, almost dreamily; you’re such a goner for him, now—it’s like letting yourself tell him was the last straw, and now the floodgates are open and your affection pours out of you, thick and sweet and sappy. You press a palm to his cheek, and he covers it with his hand.

“That was the night I realized I was in love with you.” You look up, think back, try to place that night on the calendar.

“That was six months ago. Right?” He nods, slow and steady.

“Yes, six months ago. Two months after that, I… miscalculated. I got it in my head that you and Reid were in a relationship. I tried to pull back, give you space, but you never seemed to want that, so I selfishly continued to spend time with you.” You curl around him, press close for several soft, slow kisses, lightly tug at his hair.

“Well, that explains why you were so confused when I told you what happened with Spencer. Why you thought you couldn’t talk to me. Silly.”

“I just wanted to do the right thing. You were happy, and I thought it was because of him.” That makes you frown, and you think of what happened that night after Spencer’s, how you came here, broken down about being rejected by another man, and Aaron, who was in love with you, was so kind and gracious and sweet, put your pieces back together. You don’t deserve him, or any of it.

“I was happy. I’m happier now,” you whisper, because any louder and you wouldn’t be able to get the words out over the lump in your throat. “And I am so in love with you.”

“I’m happier now, too,” he says, hovering over your lips, “and so in love with you.” Saturday morning is for sleeping in as long as your bodies will allow—that only ends up being 8:30, but it still feels indulgent—and puttering around Aaron’s apartment, stealing kisses because you can’t so much as brush past him without his arms winding around your waist, without wanting to push your hands up the back of his shirt and hug him.

You both get a text at noon, from Penelope, stating under no uncertain terms that the team will be meeting at a bar you frequent, at 9 PM, and that everyone is expected to attend—significant others are not only welcomed, but encouraged.

“So. If you’re alright with it,” Aaron says when he’s driving to your place—he’s dressed and ready, looks handsome in a navy shirt with his sleeves rolled up, top button undone, but you didn’t have anything appropriate to wear, so you’re heading home to change your clothes. “This could be an easy way to tell the team we’re in a relationship.”

You don’t think it will be particularly easy, especially not for you, because you’ll be hounded for information all night, but the timing is convenient, and you just love to hear him say that you’re in a relationship, so you agree. You change, head to the bar, and when you meet up, Penelope and Emily are already there.

“Hey, guys,” you say as you hug Emily, and then Penelope. “Just the two of you so far?”

“Just us single ladies,” Emily says with a sip of her drink. “You didn’t bring the boyfriend? I thought we were finally going to meet the man who’s been putting a smile on your face,” she says with a grin of her own, and you shrug your shoulders, wrap your arm around Aaron’s.

“Actually, I did.” They both look at you, at Aaron, between you, then at each other, and then they aww in unison. You turn to him, smile, and he offers to go for drinks, excuses himself with a soft look and a brush of his hand.

“Holy shit,” Penelope says, and you can’t help the smile that takes over your face.

“Yeah, I know.” Well, that was a wild ride! Thanks again @ssamorganhotchner for the prompt—I know I changed a lot of it, omitted some things, but this is what happened when my fingers hit the keys! 🤣 Taglist 🤍: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed @averyhotchner @hotforhotchner11 @itsmytimetoodream @unicornprancing @uchihasteph @mugi-chwan95 @madamsnape921

[postmodernmulticoloredcloak]

So I watched 10.09 recently, and it has that part where Dean tells a story about him basically being almost roofied as a teen, but somehow it ends up framed as the funny joke and yet another proof that John "did what he could", and I kind of hate this? And it's the same episode in which MoC!Dean killed guys that kidnapped and tried to rape Claire, and you'd think writers would've addressed the parallels and acknowledge that Dean could've been triggered by this situation. 1/2

2/2 But in the end, it's never addressed, and the whole situation is framed as the proof that Dean is evil now. And I'm not even sure what I am trying to say, but with that being the show's approach back in s10, I'm not surprised about the finale anymore. Guess we should've known?

That’s an excellent angle to look at the issue because the Mark of Cain arc is a clear example of how people with different experiences will see the same thing in wildly different ways. There’s this phase of season 10 where everyone is like “oh no Dean is Getting Worse” and when you look at what Dean is doing... you actually go “...good for him”.

Let’s give Caesar what belongs to Caesar. It’s not “the writers” in this case, it’s Dabb. Plenty of other writers don’t fall into this John apologism thing. Just look at how the episode before Lebanon, written by Buckner and Ross Leming, says that sometimes John would temporarily kick Dean out because he was “pissed at him” despite Dean always taking his side to mantain the peace. It almost seems like a statement to sprinkle some salt given what Dabb does in Lebanon, you know? Maybe not, but there is a tension between “John was shitty” writers and “John did his best” writers.

In hindsight, we gave Dabb too much of the benefit of the doubt. We were like, weeell, that’s supposed to be way the characters perceive the truth, which is distorted by the trauma... But now it’s obvious that he truly believed in the John-did-his-best version. He brought him back and got Mary back with him. No matter what happened to the finale, the network didn’t print those pictures of John and Mary to hang on Sam’s wall. He never took Dean’s abuse seriously and it shows.

The “anedocte” of Dean getting drugged and “saved” by John from being raped is obviously there to parallel him with Claire. Which works! It’s so weird because it’s like. You are soooo close to getting the point. Younger Dean was assaulted just like this teenage girl is assaulted and Dean saves her... but apparently John yelling at those people is a good way of dealing with the issue, while murdering child traffickers is an overraction thus bad.

That’s the problem, isn’t it? That Dean’s murder spree is framed as an overreaction. Sam is like “tell me you had to do this! tell me it was you or them!” - the answer to which (by the narrative) is obviously no, it wasn’t self defense, he just killed them because he could. He just murdered those men for no reason except he felt like being murdery. And the audience is supposed to be like “oh no! Dean is murdery for no reason except for murderiness! That’s bad!”.

But it’s a power fantasy, isn’t it? Going on a murder spree on rapists and traffickers. I bet any people who’s been violated like that has fantasized of doing the exact thing Dean does here. Killing them all.

Dean had the physical strength and skill to kill them all, why shouldn’t he kill them? (I mean, in real life I’m against private justice because I’m a fan of the state of law, but the Supernatural universe obviously works on different principles than the state of law. Again, it’s a fictional narrative that plays out as a fantasy for the audience, so.)

So what was Dabb’s intention? I’m afraid it’s the worst one. “John Winchester’s not going to win any Number One Dad awards, you know? But, you know, damn if he wasn’t there when we needed him”. What the fuck, Dabb? It’s been established since season 1 that John WASN’T there when they needed him. Which... I’m afraid... leads us to the Cas-Claire plot in the episode. Cas has fucked off with Jimmy’s body leaving Claire on her own. Parallels how John wasn’t going to win wny Number One Dad awards. But! Cas is there when Claire Really Needs Him i.e. when she’s about to be raped by older men. Parallels how John was there when Dean Really Needed Him i.e. when he was about to be raped by older men.

I think the point is to say, Cas kinda sucked because he took Claire’s dad away but hey! He’s actually a good figure for Claire because he gets there in time to prevent her from being raped. Just like (ew) John kinda sucked as a father because hunting and stuff, but hey! He’s actually a good figure for Dean because he got there in time to prevent him from being raped.

It’s pretty yucky. Literally NOBODY wanted a parallel between Cas and John. But he made one. And he made one to absolve Cas from the guilt he carried for what he did to Claire (Claire’s mother is a mother so who fucking cares about her. She’s basically a Blurry Wife(TM), she’s only a tool for Claire’s arc, Cas apparently only cares about the harm he did the child, not the wife, for some reason.) and to absolve Cas from his guilt it absolves John too. Don’t worry, being a parent is hard. You often screw up. But you can *looks at smudged writing on hand* prevent the kid from being raped by predatory adults and everything’s fine now.

It’s not really important if the child suffered hunger or whatever, the only important thing is that they don’t get raped, because that’s bad, everything else is just a little detail.

All Dabb got with that scene was to paint Sam as extremely unsympathetic because he’s no longer a child, he’s a full adult now and still thinks of that episode at the CBGB as a funny story. That’s not a good look. It almost makes you think that the writer himself saw it as a funny story. Lol teenage boy biting more than he can chew. But then why the Claire parallel? The Claire scene onviously is not supposed to be anything but horrific. I'll give Dabb the benefit of the doubt on this specific thing.

It’s weird, yes, because Dabb wrote Dark Side of the Moon where he establishes that John was a bad husband/father even before tragedy hit the family. But apparently that’s the “not going to win any Number One Dad awards” part, I suppose? I guess he intended to write John as this flawed, ~complex~ figure who was imperfect but still brave and whatever blah blah did his best blah blah. I’m all for flawed complicated characters but a horrible father is a horrible father. A rose by any other name... parental abuse is still parental abuse even if the poor guy was complicated and traumatized and did what he thought he had to do to prepare his sons for a violent world.

Also, the story frames Dean’s escapade as a teenager being stupid. “You know what he got for that? Me whining about how much he embarrassed me. Me telling him that I hated him. But then he stopped and turned around looked at me and said, Son, you don’t like me? That’s fine. It’s not my job to be liked.” “It’s my job to raise you right.” This seems straight from a novel about teenagers doing something stupid that they’re too young to realize that their parents are right to be against them doing. But this isn’t just... a parent walking into a bar to stop their child to drink alcohol. Dean literally describes feeling sick from something that was inside the alcohol.

Sure, it makes sense that he’d lash out to John because of the shame and shock. But the scene is... off. Are we supposed to see this as a typical teenage mistake? Are we supposed to read it as something as horrific as what happened to Claire, literally sold into rape? Or, worse, are we supposed to see what happened to Claire as a teenage mistake, ah silly teenager, blindly trusting shady people, no wonder you end up in a situation where you’d get raped if a father figure didn’t sweep in and save you. I hope that wasn’t the intent.

To get back to Dean’s Mark-of-Cain violence, the writers clearly didn’t intend it to come from the Darkness up to a certain point. It was supposed to an arc about your own inner darkness (consider the Charlie episode, a couple episodes later). Then they came up with the idea of The(TM) Darkness, the suppressed cosmic feminine. While it caused a bit of dissonance in the subtext, it doesn’t really change Dean’s narrative, because his inner darkness is the trauma, and his trauma is inherebtly tied to the “feminine” i.e. the parts of him that don’t fit seamlessly into the scheme of toxic masculinity values. That the violence that comes from the Mark of Cain comes from Dean himself and that’s it, or is connected to the Darkness, it doesn’t change what it means for Dean. Dean and Amara have parallel histories, the feminine principle locked away, the trauma the anger stems from.

In 10x09 we’re still in the Before The (TM) Darkness era, before the suppressed cosmic feminine. The Mark of Cain arc is still about... well, Cain. But the shift is the signal that someone looked at Dean’s arc and said... you know what? “Lucifer gave me this curse so now I’m demonic and murdery” is meh. “Toxic masculinity suppresses the feminine and it creates trauma which rage and violence comes from” is more interesting. I don’t know whose idea it was, but it was a good idea, and surely the idea came from seeing how Dean’s MoC narrative was unfolding.

Dean’s MoC narrative was unfolding in a certain way, in fact, because of a pretty simple reason. There’s a fundamental tension in Dean’s MoC arc. We want him to go murdery, but it’s also our main character, so we don’t want him to do really horrible things because he still needs to be relatable. The audience cannot hate him, so he must NOT do something entirely unforgivable. He still needs to be somewhat relatable, even when demonic or demonic-adjacent.

So he goes on a murder spree... but it’s rapists and child traffickers. He’s demon, but he kills a misogynistic dude that wanted his wife dead for cheating on him. He’s a demon, but beats up dudes that harass women. He does a slaughter, but they’re nazi. He’s off the deep end, but works a case of kidnapped and abused young women...

Speaking of which. 10x23, written by Jeremy Carver. Dean works a case where a girl was killed while dressed scantily and Dean makes some slut-shaming remarks, and we’re supposed to think “whoa Dean, that’s bad”. But later he confronts the girl’s father and what does he say?

I’m just doing my job, Mr. McKinley.

By suggesting my daughter was a slut?

I’ll admit that thought crossed my mind. Then I came here, and I smelled the deceit and the beatings and the shame that pervade this home.

You shut your face right now.

And you know what? I don’t blame Rose anymore. No wonder she put on that skank outfit and went out there looking for validation, right into the arms of the monster that killed her.

Back then the episode was super controversial and everyone hated the case because of the apparent slut-shaming but I loved it! Because it’s not about the girl. It’s about Dean. Dean doesn’t think that a girl gets killed because she dresses in a miniskirt so it’s her fault. Dean is projecting on himself and he’s not actually victim blaming the girl, he’s victim blaming himself. And when he absolves the girl by putting the blame on the father... well, subtextually he’s absolving himself by putting the blame on his father. On the deceit and the beatings and the shame that pervaded his own home. He’s textually not ready to absolve himself, of course, he summons Death to ask him to kill him later, but subtextually he’s on the right path.

Rose McKinley basically did the same mistake Dean did at the CBGB when he trusted some older people who offered him drinks and the same mistake Claire did when she trusted a man who sold her for money because he offered him a place and stability. She trusted the wrong people (in this case, vampires, which adds the whole subtext of vampires and sexuality) who took advantage of her. Except Rose had no one to save her. (Her friend, Crystal, gets rescued by Dean, even if he causes the other hunter Rudy to die in the process.)

Carver’s writing is pretty brutal. The girl made that mistake because was abused at home, so she was desperate for validation and that desperation drove her into the wrong hands. (Rose even has a brother who blames himself for bringing her sister to her future murderers, destructive sibling relationship check.) It doesn’t actually even matter if Dean guessed right about Rose’s family situation, because what matters is what it tells us about Dean. He basically relates to a dead abused girl. Actually all through the season Dean is paralleled to “skanks” “sluts” and sex workers. Obviously this happens kinda all through the show, the whole “the business is based on absent fathers” thing happened much earlier in the story, so it’s not new. But s10 draws a picture of female suffering - abuse, manipulation and death. Season 10 was difficult to go through. In hindsight, it was probably on purpose because it was supposed to be darkest hour of the feminine. Summed with some good old fashioned misogyny, but hey.

The Carver era was wonky but Carver wanted to free the feminine. (I believe that Mary’s comeback, while written by Dabb because of the showrunner shift, was planned before the showrunner shift.) We thought the Dabb era wanted the same, with Mary choosing life and Amara being independent and so on, but it evidently wasn’t the case. Not a single woman arrives at end of the story. It’s hardly ~Bucklemming or ~the network or ~covid because it starts before the very end.

I’m not saying that dead sluts are more feminist than living women, but if the women die or disappear anyway (and they did) I’d rather have an exploration of trauma than nothing. And I definitely prefer a dead slut narrative that calls out parental abuse than a narrative where women live but abuse gets the you-did-your-best treatment.

Whoops! I digressed! But feel free to ask for any clarification or send me any observation or thought.

[flowerflamestars]

Are we ever gonna talk about how Rhysand can intervene when it comes to female Illyrians training but not when it comes to their literal systemic mutilation? Cuz it really just sounds like he wants an army, not the people

‘Like he wants an army, not the people’ is the ABSOLUTE heart of the Illyrian presence in the Night Court.

I’ve implied it in fic and talked about it in asks, but I think that Rhys’ whole inexplicable disdain of a people he belongs to, goes back to his childhood.

Let’s go back to baby Rhys for a bit: precious son of a distant father, beloved son of a mother he cannot allow himself to understand even as he becomes an adult. He’s the heir. He’s (presumably) utterly spoilt, ensconced in care, if not loved in a way he always intuits. 

And then his mom takes him away from all that splendor, and throws him into the freezing mud with Illyrian children his age. 

Rhys tells Feyre about being appalled, that his mother did it as some sort horrific failsafe, to give him the skills to survive no matter what.

And while I’m sure Rhysand’s unnamed mother wanted her child to survive (of course she did!!), I think that’s just....a wildly misunderstood take? Rhys, in contrast with his father, gentles his mother in memory. 

And they were true mates. Equals. This gentle lady steeling herself at the ‘savagery’ bears no relation to the actions we know she took: a woman who valued above all else her own freedom, the sky.  Who never stopped flying, who fought those who’d take it from her. 

Who loved a powerful, dangerous High Fae Lord and was loved in return so much he built her a palace that could only be flown to. That not even he himself could winnow into, presumably. The kind of hardass who would walk down ten thousand steps into his city.

Who gave her wedding ring to one of Prythians worst and oldest monsters as a test to see if her future daughter-in-law was strong enough, or alternatively, to force her son to prove himself for love. 

She made all those dresses, and it’s lovely- but you know what else it is? the actions of a woman who has no reason to doubt her child’s future. She’s incredible and loving, but it seems very unlikely she was soft and powerless as Rhys remembers her.

Because why would she doubt? Rhysand is the only son of a High Lord. His oldest child. His mate’s child. He’s safe.

Which brings us to Illyria.

Rhys could have learned to fight in complete safety. At home, from any sort of teacher. No one, Illyrian or otherwise, was going to say no to that High Lord.

This is my theory: Rhys got old enough that it started to become clear (as we’re told it does, in High Fae bloodlines) that irrefutably, he would grow to be the next High Lord. He’d rule their whole land, like his High Fae father from the sea to the mountains.

And his mother looked at this safe, protected world, and made a choice.

The point was absolutely yes, for him to learn the traditions of her people. But the real lesson was: look. Look, Rhysand, at who you will command. Look at how they live, feel how they suffer. You can be different. It’s all yours, but this is  a part of you too. To make better, someday.

And instead, Rhys never gets past the pain of it all. Of thinking they’re barbarians. He learns too well Illyrian strength as a value of violence, but not with empathy.

It gets further tangled up in his mother and sister’s brutal deaths, the rampage his father goes on afterward. 

So we get an adult Rhys who flies, who uses Illyrian methods not with pride, but because he’d learned that strength is the only thing that matters. It’s how he would have kept his mother safe, if he’d been there. It’s how he keeps Feyre safe. 

It’s how his father saved his mother, from her own people.

He learns the wrong lessons. WHICH BRINGS ME BACK TO THE ACTUAL TOPIC-

I think it’s really clear, from Cassian’s abject, utter frustration and Rhysand’s flippancy, that even the girls they are training are not receiving what the Illyrians would consider real training.

Let’s remember Rhysand’s explanation of wing clipping. It was common practice- but it’s outlawed. But it happened under Amarantha again. But maybe it never stopped happening at all, in the deep mountains.

We never meet or see a single Illyrian woman- child, warrior, teen in training- not a single one who has the ability to fly.

Rhysand’s mother and sister could, but that’s it. No one alive. 

That’s not a maybe- that’s, it seems like there aren’t any women left flying. Not a single woman in all the legions is pointed out like hey, look, a lady with the tattoos. A lady with a sword!

Because there aren’t any.

And the girls Cassian is literally fighting to get time in the ring? They have to spend half their time cleaning, do all the chores, and then they can do a little hand to hand, while Cassian is physically there to force it to happen. 

Cassian, who like the other bastards of his generation, has been fighting since he could walk. Who didn’t have the benefit of whatever undoubtedly just as early, if not with more safeguards, training higher born boys receive.

The fight isn’t for female warriors. For their birthright. It’s for some basic self defense.

And why the hell is that?

Because it doesn’t too terribly adjust the status quo. There’s not going to be lady warriors at the end of those girls training, if they ever get it. The army isn’t going to change- and so Rhysand’s relationship to the Illyrian military elite isn’t in danger. It destroys Cassian’s authority, but as a bastard already, what’s more on the pile?

Everything, it seems, from acofas, when Cassian can’t do his own job without Rhys there to back him.

And why’s that yall? BECAUSE RHYS WANTS AN ARMY

I’ve implied in Daylight that the Illyrian Legions serve as a sort of inter-court counterbalance to the Darkbringers. And I think it’s possibly true in canon: the army Rhys controls is bigger and more dangerous than the one Keir (and thus the rival bloodline) has under command. It’s a permanent shore-up against rebellion.

One Rhys won’t have if the Illyrians rebel.

If those conservative, vile, Camp Lords stop listening to him, as they seem to be on the road to not listening to Cassian.

He’s not going to risk his entire kingdom for those Illyrian women. Because what did he learn from his childhood? From his parents?

That the North is savage. That it’s his job to be strong- and in that strength and only that strength, can he protect whoever he loves, like his harsh father rescuing his gentle, loving mother. 

Years and trauma have taken all the nuance from Rhysand’s decision making, in particular, I think, where canon stands now: he’ll do anything to remain as powerful as possible, cross all sorts of lines that he knows are wrong, because in his mind his power and his families safety are on in the same. 

[chidoroki]

Norman - 22194

March 21st is here and it’s time for yet another birthday post. I already rambled on about Emma and Ray on their special days, so now it’s finally time to complete this full-score tradition with Norman. It might not be as detailed or long as the other two, since he was absent for a good chunk of the story, but it doesn’t make him any less important! I’ll be honest now, the boy isn’t my favorite character (he doesn’t place anywhere in my top ten for this series either) so I probably missed some moments worth mentioning but I did my best to praise this child anyway!

(spoilers for the entirety of The Promised Neverland, so if you haven’t read/completed the manga yet, consider this your first warning, because I’m once again going from start to finish with this.)

Since I want to stay consistent with the other two posts, this will focus on the manga timeline, as season 2 is, well.. it’s own thing. I’ll mention some things but don’t count on much. With that, let’s go.

- He achieves a perfect score on Grace Field’s daily tests, alongside Emma and Ray.

- He is, without a doubt, the smartest kid the house has ever seen, as he passes each test flawlessly and has maintained a 300 average.

- He’s a complete strategist who is capable of achieving victory (even in something simple as tag) by observing his opponents moves and analyzing their weaknesses in order to counter.

- Knows how to pick locks. The scene from ch1 was left out but we see him doing so later on in ep02.

- Stays relatively positive and calm after learning about the truth of the farm.

- Even going as far as giving Emma a reassuring smile, which I think is impressive given the literal nightmare fuel they’ve just witnessed. 

- I’m giving him half credit for suggesting the idea of there being tracking devices, since anime has him reveal this possibility while in manga it’s Emma.

- Both of them realize what determines the shipping order and that the demons favor their brains.

- This silly panel that I love dearly.

- Made sure to do a sweep of the entire house beforehand to make sure their escape planning doesn’t get pick up on.

- Figures out that Isabella only knows the children’s locations when she checks the tracker and that it can’t identify who is who.

- Has the nerve to lie right to Isabella’s face.. not that she believes it, but still gutsy nonetheless.

- Knowing the house probably wouldn’t have any rope, it was his idea to use the spare tablecloths.

- Had a feeling that Ray would reveal the harsh reality of how dangerous it would be to escape with all the children, which turns out to be correct.

- His laugh in ep02 is so precious.

- This statement being 100% accurate.

- Manages to convince the logical Ray, who we know now has spent many years coming up with a solid, safer escape plan, to join in and assist with their crazy and reckless plan instead. Having Ray on their side also grants them many advantages.

- Absolutely hates to lose, which is a good mentality to have in a world where your life is a stake and your time is limited, which eventually leads him to consider every possible opportunity to stay ahead of his enemies throughout the remainder of the story.

- Realizes that the trackers must only send out a signal upon being broken, which we found out to be true in Ray’s one-shot chapter.

- - Him looking completely terrified in this panel.

- He managed to catch all the Grace Field kids in a game of tag even after they received advice from Ray about how to survive longer.

- The goddamn intimidating energy he gives off here is fantastic.

- Despite his body being physically weak, he manages to survive and win against Krone during their game of tag.

- Just like Ray some couple chapters ago, Norman is completely serious about this idea.

- Suspects there’s a traitor among the kids and swiftly comes up with a plan to lure them out.

- This panel of him “dead” from the first side story.

- He has a feeling the spy is Ray, so he moves up the day of the escape to catch him off guard and send him into a panic.

- Even though the anime didn’t include it, he managed to throw off Krone as well with some fake footprints to keep her off their backs.

- Was honestly considering on leaving the spy behind while the rest of them escaped, though he doesn’t seem real happy about the idea, considering the traitor is Ray.

- His plan on fishing out the spy was flawless as he finally calls Ray out by revealing that the information he gave about the ropes and where he hid them were fake locations.

- Not only was Ray the first one Norman suspected, but he caught onto him way back when Krone first came to the house. All the information Ray was feeding them helped Norman come to this conclusion as well.

- Along with Emma’s words about believing that no one in their family is truly bad, Norman refrains from cutting Ray off to allow him to become their trump card. This was a risky move itself, knowing Ray could sell both him & Emma out at any time. Norman tends to prioritize victory, so while staying alive is absolutely necessary and that could’ve been achieved without Ray (as he could’ve just used Ray then ditch him later), he still decides to make the offer as realizes that in order defeat Isabella, Ray’s full cooperation is essential.

- Realizes that it was Ray who hid Little Bunny in the first place and lead Norman and Emma to investigate the gate that night, which leads him to believe that Ray isn’t really an enemy.

- He’s also left handed. Yes, that’s important. Not only for later in the story but because we’re superior. I’m sorry y’all had to find out this way. 

- This stupid, little face he makes.

- Suspects that Ray doesn’t actually plan on escaping at all and intends to kill himself.

- Just like Emma and Ray, Norman also recognizes and understands morse code.

- Look at this precious child, not even angry after getting punched and knocked over. (because i certainly would be)

- Finds Ray’s hidden supply of oil which confirms the method for his future suicide. This also helps Norman later on when he comes up with a refined escape plan by using the fire Ray plans to start.

- Figures out Krone’s true intention about why she wants to join forces with the kids in the first place. 

- He ends up accepting Krone’s offer anyway, because despite the large risk, any information that can snag out of her would benefit them.

- You mad lad, look at you, taunting the bringer of death yet again while a smile on your face.

- And he still manages to find some strength to smile while upon death’s door.

- Not for long though, as once he’s given the chance to be alone, he finally breaks down. Having the cup overflow with water really helps demonstrate how impactful the thought of dying hit him as Norman was overcome with so many emotions that he didn’t even have the strength to hold onto the cup or his facade. It’s then he starts to feel scared and sorry for himself but away from Emma and Ray’s eyes as to not worry them.

- His entire internal monologue as he comes to terms with his unfortunate situation and flips back to his determined “I can’t lose” attitude to help everyone else escape. Also, his theme ‘22194’ hits especially hard.

- For someone with weak, physical abilities, he manages to climb the wall on his own.

- Though the cliff stopped his escape, he used that opportunity to survey the surrounding area of the entire farm to rely his findings to the duo and provide them a safer escape route.

- Completely adamant about his decision to accept his shipment in order to give the rest of his family a chance to escape. (hell, id’ be terrified right now)

- This hug that is sure to break everyone’s hearts.

- Quick to react to Emma’s last ditch effort and prevented her from slamming her already busted up leg into the ground.

- Not only did he predict that Ray would start a fire to distract Isabella and on which day, he also left behind the pen and key he received from Krone along with a new, detailed plan (which he managed to come up with in only a few hours by the way) that would allow the kids to cross over the cliff.

(post season one spoilers below. again, focusing on the manga timeline, so any new season 2 events will be mentioned sparingly.)

- Like Ray, Norman was able to figure out how the pen worked well enough to see Minerva’s message regarding B06-32.

- Since he doesn’t show up again for quite some time post-escape, there isn’t much to talk about.. but at least I can make fun of him thanks to extra pages, like how he wouldn’t have enough strength to use a bow.

- But hey, props to s2ep10 for actually giving us Norman shooting an arrow. He was pretty decent with it too, as he hit his target on the first try behind a darn smokescreen. The manga did show him holding a bow in ch161, but that’s it.

- Not relevant to the actual story at all, but his smarts certainly make anything possible.

- I’m sorry but these tiny failures of his bring me great joy.

- Though the tests at Lambda are harder than those at Grace Field, Norman still managed to get every question correct. Every single day he was there. Even when the facility manages to increase the difficulty of the tests, he continues to pass each one with flying colors.

- Since he noticed someone who’s right handed also takes the same tests he does, he makes an attempt to communicate with them via a Rubik’s cube. He waits patiently for five months until he finally gets a response from Vincent around Christmas 2046. 

- Dealt with the experiments/drugs that were forced onto him and the seizures that resulted from them.

- Even with the tight security and surveillance, he somehow acquired explosives and successfully blow up Lambda and escapes with the survivors.

- Again, not significant to the story, but seriously dude? You just fainted and yet you still get this crazy question right effortlessly?

(post time-skip)

- Contacts Lucas moments before the B06-32 shelter gets blown up and gives him the numeric code that eventually leads Emma’s group to the “Jaw of Lion.”

- Destroyed numerous mass production farms since his escape from Lambda.

- As well as save countless children from other farms and used the Paradise shelter found by Smee’s network to give them a sense of safety and taste of a normal life.

- The darn glow-up he receives, like sweet lord child, are you sure you’re still 13??

- - His cute, squishy cheeks though!

- He may look like he’s in his thirties, but still has the strength of a child. (see anime? this is how strong ray’s slap should have been!)

- Learned a great deal of demon history and gave that lengthy lesson about the demon’s genetics and how they inherit the characteristics of whatever they eat and evolve accordingly. 

- With Emma’s wish about saving everyone and lively happily still on his mind, he thought of a safe and certain method in order to create such a future for all the children raised as food.. which ends up being complete extermination of all the demons caused by a civil war. His plan also includes ending the Ratri clan as well. How cheerful.

- Are you surprised to learn that Norman getting tackled by the younger kids is my favorite panel of him?

- You weak, little bean, I’m sorry I enjoy making fun of you so much.

- Successfully forms an alliance with Lord Geelan and his clan by offering revenge on the royal family, the five regent houses, as well as the Ratri clan, thus putting Geelan in full control. In return, it would grant Norman the full release of farm children, permission to self-govern and some much needed power in terms of demon strength.

- He knows full well that the entire alliance is a lie and both parties are only using each other, though in works in his favor, as it will send the demons to destroy each other without the lose of any human lives.

- This absolute powerful panel that the anime decided “nah, we’re gonna change this too” because they’re cowards.

- Narrowed down possible locations on where to find Sonju and Mujika. Sure it was with the intention of killing our demon friends but his map was accurate.

- Survived who knows long with his seizures at level 4, and because of his severe condition, he’s completely set on following through his plan and succeeding before his time runs out.

- Seems to enjoy blowing stuff up, such as the imperial city’s bridges to send the place into a panic and trap all the citizens.

- Advised the Lambda crew on how to effectively fight against the queen by attacking relentlessly.

- Let loose a poison that causes not only normal demons to degenerate, but the royal family as well, such as the five regent heads and the queen who’s name is too long and complicated for me to ever remember, who all have the cursed blood. (at least that’s how effective it was in manga, in anime it did absolutely nothing to vylk)

- He somehow managed to learn, speak and understand the demon language, which, according to Shirai (vol16 author notes), is actually an uncommon language nowadays. (and we’ll unfortunately never know how this language actually sounds, thank anime..)

- Do I even praise him for killing a demon and well.. all this? Sure in the anime he tried killing Vylk, but old demon was fair more innocent compared to the royal family, so I have no idea.

- I will give season 2 some credit and say I prefer their take on the “right now you look like a small child, shaking with fear” panel.

- But not too much credit, as they didn’t give us the full trio hug as the manga did!

- Then again the anime did have him about to apologize to Vylk and Demon Emma for his actions, which is something, I suppose? since in ch154 he says he didn’t regret killing the queen and royals, which I guess is justified because they were the bigger problem, but oh well.

- Might have apologized to Ayshe for killing her father? Can’t be sure but that’s the unanimous consensus in the fandom right?

- Instantly comes up with counter moves and directions for the entire group upon hearing the enemies locations from Vincent during the GF raid.

- I honestly can’t look at this panel anymore and not laugh about it.. because reasons.

- He just keeps on winning. (also he looks real good here, i’ll give him that.)

- He and everyone else are skeptical about there being no “reward,” and for rightfully so.

- Upon learning that Emma is missing after everyone crossed over to the human world, they all adopt her optimistic attitude and swear to find her no matter where she might be.

- After a stressful two year search, the kids finally find Emma and Norman is so overcome with emotion that he busts out into tears of joy, despite finding out that she lost her memories due to the reward. All that matters to him is that Emma was safe and happy and he accepts her just the way she is.

And I guess.. that’s it. I’m sorry again, I know this is truly the weakest post out of the trio and I have no doubt I glanced over a whole bunch of great moments but it still had to be done! Making fun of him probably wasn’t the best thing to do on his special day either, but I assure you this child is very powerful. Who else do you know that is capable of sending an entire fandom into a panic and rage furiously by just simply showing up?

Ah ha okay, now I’m done. In all seriousness though, this lad is great and through everything he has endured, he definitely deserves to be celebrated today, so happy birthday to our boy Norman!

[donttouchmeimwriting]

Argo ch. 2

Friday the 13th - Friendship/Romance - Jason Voorhees/OC M/M ship

2084 words, 3rd person POV

I love to hear feedback on my fics so please don't be shy! You can also tell me your thoughts on anon if you don't want your name on your comments!

Cross-posting on FFN under PyroTheWereCat

...

Meeting Lijah face to face threw off Jason's rhythm for the rest of the day, and for the entire day after. He had no idea what to do with himself. He could go home, but his mother would want progress by now and he did not want to try to explain how he let Lijah go when even he didn't know exactly why he did it. He could start planning the killings of the other counselors, but he couldn't focus long enough to think about that. His mind was stuck on Lijah, and he determined the only way to get unstuck was to see him again. He had to know why he wasn't afraid and treated him so kindly. There had to be some sort of motive.

Darkness fell over the camp that Friday night, and Jason patrolled the outskirts until every last fire went out and all noise had subsided. His blood was on fire, and he could not rest until his curiosity was sated. He quietly crept to the counselor cabins, searching for number five. Would Lijah be alone? Was this a good idea to come here at all? Jason berated himself internally for his interest in this person. This was stupid. Why was he here? He could easily just kill them all and return to his mother as usual. What was different this time?

There, a little distance from the other cabins, Jason saw a large number 5 painted on the side of the building. The lights were off, save for one room where the soft yellow glow spilled out into the woods where Jason stood. He steeled himself, prepared to fight if an ambush awaited him. Not quite ready, but ready enough, he approached the window and peered inside.

Lijah's bedroom was relatively tidy, minus the small heap of dirty clothes in one corner, and some posters with ragged edges and some tears that were taped to the walls. A dresser stood on the right side of the room next to the door, a small radio and some books resting atop it. Above the dresser hung a simple mirror, and it reflected Lijah's slim legs as he lay on the bed on the opposite end of the room. Jason turned his gaze to the left, seeing Lijah in a thin t-shirt and boxer briefs, reading a book on his bed. Was there ever a time he did not look so at peace?

Jason contemplated simply letting himself in, but he felt compelled to avoid scaring Lijah as long as he could. He sighed heavily and knocked on the window, hoping this wasn't the worst decision he could possibly make. Lijah gave a small start at the sound and turned to see who had made it. To Jason's surprise, Lijah's eyes lit up and he smiled as he set the book down and hopped off of the mattress. He lifted the window open and stepped aside for Jason to climb through.

"Hey!" Lijah greeted cheerfully, "I was hoping I'd get to see you again!"

Jason awkwardly clambered into the room, his size proving troublesome for the space provided by the window. He grunted as he heaved himself through, but he managed without Lijah's offered assistance. He closed the window behind him and turned back to Lijah, the closeness of the walls and ceiling emphasizing just how much of a height and width difference there was between them.

"Have a seat!" Lijah insisted, patting the bed, "Make yourself at home. I was just reading a few chapters to make myself tired enough to sleep, but I can stay up to hang out with you."

Jason sank into the mattress, watching Lijah the entire time. Was something wrong with him that he didn't perceive a threat from Jason? Or maybe he was just leading him on and tricking him into trusting him, and then he would turn against him later. Lijah stepped over to his dresser to retrieve one of the books. Jason saw that it was a spiral bound notebook with a pencil jammed in the binding. Lijah brought the notebook to the bed and climbed up to sit next to him, folding his legs underneath himself.

"I figured since you don't talk, this might help if you want to tell me something about yourself or ask me questions," Lijah explained, "Are you comfortable with writing?"

Jason shrugged. It had been a long time since he had written anything, not counting his own name in the dirt yesterday. He was able to read, but he wasn't confident in his spelling or handwriting. He accepted the notebook anyway, having some questions for Lijah that he could not express through body language.

"cant rite good. ELijah college?" he wrote, needing to spell the full name and crossing out the 'E' to get it right.

"Do I go to college?" Lijah checked, and upon Jason's nod, he elaborated, "Yup, I'm on break right now, but I'm going back in the fall for my senior year. I'm studying psychology and sociology. I'm hoping I can get into social work or therapy or something and help a lot of people."

Jason's frustration increased at this declaration. There was no way he was this good. There had to be some dark side to him somewhere.

"What about you?" Lijah asked, "Do you live around here? And, I don't mean to be rude, but how old are you?"

Jason nodded and returned to the notebook.

"live with Mother by camp. im 23."

"Oh, nice, you're only two years older than me!" Lijah commented, "Do you get along well with your mom?"

Jason nodded and pointed to Lijah as a means to ask him the same question.

"I don't live with my parents anymore," Lijah answered, his tone changing very slightly to hint at some discomfort, "They're good people, but I couldn't live in that environment anymore once I started college. I've pretty much been living either at school or at summer camps for the past few years, but I'm looking into apartments for myself so I can have a place to live after I graduate."

There was the lead. Something must have been wrong with Lijah's family life to force him out on his own, and the implication that he didn't have friends to stay with made the mystery all the more enticing. He remembered the female counselor from the day before who had asked to go with Lijah before he and Jason had met.

"frends?" Jason wrote, "girl frend?"

Lijah laughed, and Jason felt a shiver at the sound for some reason.

"I get along with everybody, but I don't really have any close friends," he said, "I haven't dated anyone for a while now either. I've been focusing on myself and getting through school, though also the people I tend to date are...not the best for me."

From what Jason had seen of Lijah from afar, he seemed like he had lots of friends and was close with many people, but now it seemed he was just as alone as Jason himself. He stared at Lijah for a moment, trying to figure him out. It was then that he noticed some tiny details about Lijah's face that he hadn't seen in the woods yesterday.

Lijah had freckles on his nose, and his eyelashes were long. His eyes were a greenish hazel, and crinkled at the corners when he smiled. His usually fluffy brown hair was somewhat damp looking, possibly from a recent shower. Jason couldn't explain it, but Lijah was rather pleasant to look at.

"So you don't have to answer this if you don't want to, but I'm a little curious," Lijah prompted, snapping Jason back to reality, "Why do you wear a hockey mask? Is it good for keeping bugs out of your face?"

Jason tensed. He didn't want Lijah to see his face under the mask. That would surely scare him and make him hate him like everyone else. Jason shook his head and tried to think of an excuse to write down, but all he could think of was,

"i like it."

Lijah nodded upon reading this.

"That's a good, solid reason for anything," he agreed, "I should start living by that a little more, honestly."

Jason relaxed at this, relieved that Lijah accepted that answer. He wasn't sure why, but he was beginning to want Lijah to like him. It was almost like when he was a child and wanted to be friends with the other kids at camp, but this felt different somehow. Lijah didn't have friends of his own either, so they would only have each other if this worked.

Jason did not even think about possibly killing Lijah at this point. He was far too invested in who he was as a person, as well as excited at the possibility of having a real friend, to remember what his mission was. Mother wasn't expecting him back until August. It should be fine.

"Alright, Jason, I'm gonna tell you something and I don't want you to get upset," Lijah began, scratching the back of his head, "But I figure if you wanted to, you could have easily killed me a few times by now, so I think I'm safe. I honestly thought you were gonna kill me yesterday in the woods - we've all heard the stories of the Killer of Crystal Lake or whatever; they warned me of the history of this place when I was hired - but I like to give everyone the benefit of the doubt and treat everyone the way I'd want to be treated. I figured if I died, I would die putting my best foot forward, and, wouldn't you know it, I did that literally."

Jason blinked. Was that really all he'd needed to not kill people? Someone being nice to him?

"For the record, and I'm sure you know this already, but I'm not scared of you now. People don't have to look a certain way to be good or bad. And, hey, if you helped me out and came to visit me like this, you can't be all bad, can you?"

Either Lijah was too naive for his own good or he was very good in the field he was studying. Perhaps both? Jason wasn't sure. He picked up the pencil again to write,

"can i see u more?"

Lijah read this and nodded.

"I'd love that!" he enthused, "Please, come see me this time of night any night you want. I've got lots of books to read, I've got food in the fridge, you can shower here if you want to...I'm the only one who uses this cabin, so really, I don't mind you being here and making yourself comfortable."

Jason wasn't an expert at body language or understanding people in general, but it was clear to him that Lijah desperately wanted a friend. He felt a twitch at the corners of his mouth, a small smile breaking through. Whatever this was between them, they both wanted it, needed it, and Jason looked forward to exploring an actual friendship with someone his own age. Maybe he could bring Lijah back to Mother and show her that there was someone special in the outside world, someone who cared about everyone.

It was a nice thought, but nice thoughts never lasted long.

-------------------------------------------------

Jason and Lijah spent several hours that night getting to know each other. Jason could not believe how easy it was to communicate with him and even more so how easy it was to let his guard down. He found himself having fun, something he couldn't remember the last time it happened. Lijah did grow quite tired after midnight, however, so Jason excused himself through the window to allow Lijah to sleep.

He returned to his temporary campsite in the woods to get some rest as well, wanting to have plenty of energy tomorrow to spend more time with Lijah. He wondered if he had tried to approach the counselors he'd killed differently, if he had a more approachable mask and cleaned up the rest of his appearance, would he have been able to befriend them too? He doubted that notion the instant it materialized in his mind; those counselors weren't like Lijah and would have been afraid of him either way. Lijah was special...Jason could feel it deep within him. Just a few hours with him made Jason reconsider killing anyone this summer.

He hoped Mother would approve.

[gold-onthe-inside]

Hey there

Favourite criminal minds episodes from any season?

oh god this is hard to choose. i did just go on a whole rant about doubt (because it really is a good episode) but i have favourites for different reasons. only doing seasons 1-7 because there are so many ugh

season 1: the ones that stood out for me the most was 'derailed' and 'the fisher king' (somebody's watching was just a painful episode, i'm sorry lila/reid shippers)

season 2: ngl, s2 was pretty good. my absolute favourite this season was 'lessons learned' is an AMAZING episode mostly because it highlights the brutality that happens in Guantanomo Bay and the way the system treats threats to national security. i'm sorry but no-one should be treated that way, not even a terrorist (which could totally be another post).

highlights include:

'the boogeyman' is actually one of my favorite episodes purely because the first time i watched it, i predicted the ending and it made me feel so big brain.

'north mammon' is also a really good episode purely because it tried to add some backstory to JJ. (if only they had kept up that momentum 😔)

obviously 'profiler, profiled' makes an appearance because OMG SHEMAR'S ACTING please i wanted to cry.

also mentioning 'the big game' + 'revelations' - i know it's a horrible representation of DID but i can't help it. it's an amazing episode.

'jones' was pretty good too, purely because willifer and also the concept of the abused becoming the abuser and how that doesn't invalidate the trauma they went through

season 3: obviously as explained in my previous post, 'doubt'. that episode almost made me forget this show is copaganda. in close second comes 'scared to death' even if it does kinda villainise a therapist. but still.

notable mentions:

'about face' gets a mention because it was rossi's first appearance and also imo emphasises how criminal profiling is not a science how had rossi been wrong, a woman could have died.

'in heat' is a beautiful episode because it shows how much pain LGBT+ people feel (speaking as a closeted bisexual) when they come out of the closet and then get beaten back inside. also gives us willifer and derek being pancoded

'the crossing' fucking devastated me. the whole battered wife plotline, why wasn't the whole plot based on that? i wasn't even paying attention to the other plot. the whole scene at the end, her killing her husband and then cleaning it up. when i tell you i screamed!!

THE FINALE!! OMG!! 'lo-fi' and 'mayhem' EXCUSE ME? MY GOD GIVEN SOLACE?!

season 4: the whole damn season, are you KIDDING me? who told them to go so hard? 'minimal loss' is by far my favourite (platonic spemily!!), even more than 'amplification' (moreid!!). overall their best season FIGHT ME!

i should add that i HATED the pigs finale. i refuse to name it. that tragedy, jesus! i don't even know what message they were trying to send us there, what, be afraid of intellectually disabled people? i'm sorry but what the FUCK? by far the most ableist episode i've ever watched (second most is coda but we'll get there)

season 5: '100' made me bawl. like a baby. i hate that episode. 'mosley lane' was incredible, thank you MGG my lord and saviour. 'the uncanny valley' also made me cry, potentially harder than 100. just the sheer 180 spencer reid gave from treating that poor girl's father to the way he treated her, i'm sorry it just, hits me so hard. and what morcia stan could forget 'exit wounds'?

season 6: ooh this was a great season. starting off strong with the premiere, 'the longest night', brilliantly written, loved shemar's acting, a wonderful episode, i have never felt less sympathy for an unsub. '25 to life', another wonderful derek-centric episode. derek is, hands down, one of the best profilers on the team and i have and always will trust his judgement. 'today i do' was another one that i didn't completely hate. the psychology behind that episode made sense, it was something i could definitely understand. and obviously, the whole ian doyle arc was amazing. i loved that.

okay, i've talked about 'coda' before. it was a great episode with one, one tiny flaw. i never understood the anti-seavers before today. y'all are fighting for the wrong reason. she is the epitome of ignorant ableism. she accused a child, A TEN YEAR OLD CHILD with autism of homicide. she accused a child of killing his parents. because he had autism. and the defense. the only defense. they could think of was that statistically, that sort of crime had a financial motive. are you kidding me? he was a child. that was raised with love and kindness. are you kidding me? i'm sorry, spencer playing piano with said child barely won me over.

season 7: off the top of my head, 'it takes a village' because reid's outfit and omg it was so brilliantly written. 'dorado falls' was pretty good, the PTSD was fairly accurately written. 'there's no place like home' purely for reid's frankenstein reference and willifer again. 'hope' was wonderfully written, my favourite penelope-centric episode ever. 'true genius' because it resonated with me so hard. the burnt-out gifted kid thing. i get it spence. 'snake eyes' because it was reid-centric and i loved him in that episode. also portrays gambling pretty well. it's often not seen as a serious addiction on tv, probably because it benefits big corporations. 'foundation' because it's a derek-centric episode and literally every derek-centric ep is amazing. and finally, 'hit' + 'run' are amazing episodes because willifer, emily completing her arc and spencer in a doctor who stume. let's just say this season did wonders for spencer's attractiveness.

kay, i'm gonna stop here or i'm never gonna stop. but those are my favourite episodes and why for every season.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 271: My Hero Tokodemia

Previously on BnHA: Mic was all “goodbye X-Less don’t do anything I wouldn’t do” and just LEFT him with Tomura, like. ???! X-Less was all “I’m gonna sit here and do nothing and wait to die.” Ujiko was all “this has nothing to do with ANYTHING but I just want you to know that I conspired to murder your husband 15 years ago and ended up killing his best friend instead!” Tomura was all “what up bitches I’m in this chapter too” and had trippy dreams about hands and buildings and his family was there and also All for One (the dude)! Because guess what, Tomura has All For One (the quirk) now! Because AFO gave it to him! So yeah! And now he’s waking up, and Deku can apparently feel it happening because he’s a horcrux probably, and so basically everything is FINALLY GOING TO SHIT AND IT’S ABOUT TIME BUT ALSO AHHHHH.

Today on BnHA: SHIGARAKI WHO TOMURA WHAT. Back to Gunga Mountain! So Dabi is all “you do know your beloved mentor just killed a guy right?” and Toko is all “!!” and Dabi is all “SO THAT MAKES HIM THE WORST CRIMINAL OF ALL!” and, WITHOUT THE SLIGHTEST HINT OF IRONY, IMMEDIATELY follows up this bold statement by TRYING TO BURN A CHILD ALIVE. Anyway so this is why Dabi wasn’t the keynote speaker at the “murder is bad” convention though. So most of the chapter is like this, with Dabi (albeit somewhat halfheartedly) trying to set Toko on fire while Toko desperately tries to keep between him and Hawks. Eventually though, Dabi is confusingly thwarted by Otter Pops, making his triumphant return and spraying a bunch of ice just every which way because things weren’t chaotic enough I guess! And then the chapter ends with everyone’s favorite Guy They Hoped Wouldn’t Be Waking Up In This Arc, Gigantomachia, waking up!! :’) :’) :’) etc you get it.

okay so I am please to clarify that the spoilers I received were not actually all that big of a deal, and that pretty much all I know is that we’re cutting back to Dabi and Tokoyami probably, and there’s a good chance we might not even see Tomura at all this chapter in spite of last week’s cliffhanger. so even if I’d have preferred not to know that up front, it’s all good! though I will say Horikoshi has a real knack for cutting away from things right when you’re at your most invested though. reminds me of what it was like reading Lord of the Rings for the first time. “nooo I don’t want to cut back to Frodo -- WAIT WHAT’S GOING ON -- NO I DON’T WANT TO CUT BACK TO MERRY AND PIPPIN DAMMIT -- WAIT WHAT”

anyways! lol guys guess what

so then! those spoilers did indeed have the ring of truth! well this should be interesting

lmao he’s forcibly clawing his way out of Fat’s belly via aggressive use of Dark Shadow oh damn

oh man you guys. time to catalog some feels

Fatgum you do realize you were in the running for #2 hero but have now bled serious points by letting a child run back into danger and doing absolutely nothing to stop him! although to be fair you do have other children to protect, and this one child also should not have been able to do what he just did! and also Child Endangerment is U.A.’s unofficial motto and you didn’t even go to U.A. but you would fit right in though let me tell you. but anyway so the point is this isn’t really anything new, but still

HIS BODY JUST MOVED BEFORE HE COULD THINK ahhhh Toko. THIS IS YOUR MOMENT!! THE MY HERO TOKODEMIA ARC BEGINS NOW

I hope we get a followup panel of Kaminari freaking out and trying to go after his pal (but not actually succeeding though, because I swear to god Fatgum, if you fuck this up again all of my remaining goodwill is just gonna fly right out the window. and it’s a lot of goodwill too! but we don’t screw around when it comes to children’s safety!!). just would be a nice touch! ah well if they don’t show it I’ll just headcanon it

last but not least, it’s also worth noting that while I love how brave and selfless and concerned for his mentor’s wellbeing Tokoyami is here, this was still an incredibly stupid move on his part! least of all because he actually had no idea that Hawks truly was in danger. is it weird to say he lucked out? “you’re so fortunate your teacher actually was being burned alive you reckless little goose!” but like, you know what I mean though right

anyway

-- oh they are showing it!!

YAY HE IS A GOOD BOY. THAT IS ALL. CARRY ON

Toko’s shouting over his shoulder that Hawks is “probably” in trouble. for fuck’s

I mean yeah, it’s probably just some gut instinct which funnily enough happens to be absolutely right. but I’m sorry you guys, there’s just this small part of me that just can’t get over the fact that he briefly saw Hawks flying for all of .2 seconds, and saw some flames, and just IMMEDIATELY leapt to the worst-case-scenario conclusion. you know what this is? it’s the decision-making process of a kid who is actually WAY more powerful than we’ve been giving him credit for. enough so that his self-preservation instincts don’t even kick in at all because it doesn’t even occur to him how dangerous of a move this is. goddammit Tokoyami. you kids think you’re all grown up now and ffff just please be safe

and okay, I’ll give Fatgum some benefit of the doubt for just letting that happen because apparently this is literally the first and only time

seems he didn’t even think it was possible up until now. so that’s fair

OKAY YOU KNOW WHAT FATGUM YOU ARE REDEEMED

THAT’S RIGHT!! YOU DON’T JUST UP AND LEAVE THE FATAXI WHENEVER YOU FUCKING FEEL LIKE IT. FARE DODGERS WILL BE PROSECUTED TO THE FULL EXTENT OF THE LAW!!

so he’s immediately following after him, but is smart enough not to put the other kids in danger! good split-second decision-making there. certain other people in this chapter could take notes! and of course my one fear now though is that the other three children will not listen to him at all, but you know what, let’s deal with one thing at a time

hmmm

dammit Horikoshi, what...?? you really like to toe the lines of what is and isn’t problematic huh? literally if you wanted to go for a cool barbarian look all you had to do was stick with the same kind of costume scheme you had going in the second and fourth popularity polls. but no, you had to go and give him a fucking war bonnet. was that one guy back in the Hero Killer arc not enough. at least this is only a cover page, sigh

also I see that Tokoyami was asked to name his own feature chapter. I’m just happy that he’s happy

would you fucking look at this

first of all, why is Dabi suddenly twenty feet away from them. and second, would you just look at how ridiculously intact Hawks fucking is. Dabi really was microwaving him on the defrost setting only huh

so now everyone’s just looking at each other. sizin’ each other up and stuff

yeah no shit it’s bad. you rushed in thinking you could somehow handle a situation which had even the second strongest guy on the ropes. and handle it alone, no less. lord help me why are the bravest ones also always the most stupid

EEP

HIS WINGS??? also his fucking BACK jesus christ. meaning he’s completely immobile for now at best, and probably soon to be in critical condition and going into shock if he isn’t already. okay so maybe it wasn’t just the defrost setting, fuck. Hawkssss 8|

oh???????

holy shit. an opportunity to actually find out how much of a bastard Dabi actually is?? we of course know he had no problem whatsoever with kidnapping a kid back in the day. but would he go so far as to seriously fight and/or try to kill one? a kid who’s no older than your little brother?? oh gosh oh golly oh intrigue

I literally have not made up my mind on Dabi redemption one way or the other, just to be clear (he’s just been too mysterious up till now and I feel like I don’t know enough), so I am super curious to see how this plays out so I can finally form an opinion!

OH SNAP

SCORE ONE FOR “HE MAY BE AN A-HOLE, BUT HE’S NOT, AND I QUOTE, 100% A DICK”? MAYBE?? but on the other hand he’s definitely not just gonna let Hawks go either so ahhhh???

(ETA: so it seems we’ve arrived at a solid “mildly bastardish!” idk. it definitely seems to me like he’s trying not to murder this teenager for no good reason. ironically he’s in much the same position here that Hawks was less than a dozen chapters ago; facing against someone who’s just trying to protect his friend, and trying to talk him down at first, but then attacking once it’s clear that he’s not going to back off. ah well. still as morally gray as ever.)

ah I see, we’re gonna start by shattering his naive illusions!

(ETA: fucking christ, the scan is so dark I didn’t even notice Twice’s charred corpse just LYING THERE IN THE BACKGROUND the first time I read this. and now that I have noticed it, I would just like to say, sincerely, what the fuck.)

welp, there it is. finally the kids are getting properly involved in this arc, and AS EXPECTED, they are promptly being traumatized. oh Toko ;_;

Dabi this speech you’re making would feel more original if literal scores of tumblrs hadn’t spent the last two months exhaustively analyzing every single last possible angle of this debate lol. everyone has already made up their minds on the “is Hawks worth saving” controversy one way or the other but okay sure, go ahead and throw your hat into the ring too

lmao whaaaaaaat. “as a last resort, after his attempts to take him peacefully were thwarted, Hawks killed a man so as to prevent that man from killing countless others during our coup to take over the country because our boss wants to destroy everything. clearly, Hawks is the worst out of everyone else involved in this equation!” now that! is a take! lol

OH NO OH GOD

“PEW PEW PEW ENJOY THOSE FEELS” HORIKOSHI WHOOPS WHILE SHOOTING LASER GUN FINGERS AT ME, AND HEY, NOW

HEY, I SAID!!!

WHAT THE FUCK -- WHAT EVEN IS THE FUCKING SCREENPLAY FOR THIS THING?? “A BARELY-CONSCIOUS HAWKS MURMURS HIS STUDENT’S NAME WITH AN ACHINGLY WEARY LOOK OF SHAME AND REGRET! AS DABI LOOKS ON, TOKOYAMI GENTLY LIFTS HIS FALLEN MASTER AND WRAPS HIS CAPE AROUND HIS BACK, LOOKING OVERWHELMED, BUT DETERMINED. TOKOYAMI: I’M JUST... CONCERNED FOR MY TEACHER.” who the fuck wrote this shit and how much pleasure were they taking in ripping my heart out and violently slamming it against the wall

sob, and unfortunately Dabi doesn’t look particularly moved himself by any of this

DAMMIT DABI PLEASE RESPECT THEIR PRIVACY DURING THIS DIFFICULT TIME. GO AWAY AND HAVE YOUR REVENGE SOME OTHER DAY GODDAMMIT

DABI!!

Dabi I swear to god!! if you seriously try and burn my gothbird son I will...

DABI WHAT DID I JUST FUCKING SAY. LEAVE THE KID ALONE

Tokoyami... sweetie...

IF ONLY YOU COULD JUST. fly back out?? the exact same way you came??? if only that was a thing you could do??? or can he not fly while he’s carrying another person, maybe? dammit I forget

?!

wait what?? is he implying that Dabi isn’t seriously trying to kill them yet? is that what this is? I should just read on since this is clearly only the first part of something longer that he’s saying and I have to stop this bad habit of trying to analyze half a sentence before I go on and read the rest of the sentence

well whatever it is, he’s absolutely right; Dabi as it turns out is still standing there 25 feet away like a social distance champ, monologuing from afar

this panel gets more hilarious to me the longer I stare at it you guys. someone please make a comic where Hawks is all “he’s still talking...” and Toko looks to see Dabi RAMBLING ON and slowly inches further and further away while Dabi completely fails to take any notice lmao

so Tokoyami is just staring back, and then suddenly he’s all “orders from Hawks!” which I think is just him asking Hawks what to do now??

and fucking look at this lol

“just slowly inch away while he’s monologuing. I just found out he’s secretly a Todoroki so now I know his weakness: he will literally drop dead before he ever stops being dramatic”

OH MY GOD

ARE YOU TELLING ME THIS ISN’T A JOKE AND THAT’S HIS ACTUAL WEAKNESS LMAO. HAVE WE CROSSED PLANES INTO SOME KIND OF SATIRICAL REALITY. WHAT IS HAPPENING

LMAO OKAY NO HAWKS IS SAYING THAT DABI IS JUST BULLSHITTING THEM BECAUSE HE’S USED UP ALL HIS FLAMES OR SOME SHIT. LOL OKAY THEN. ALL I HEARD WAS “HE WASN’T ABLE TO FUCKING KILL ME BECAUSE HE NEVER SHUTS THE FUCK UP.” WHERE IS THE LIE

OH SNAP THERE HE GOES

he is running away in the background, right?? Dark Shadow is just a distraction? you better not be seriously trying to fight him oh god please be smart about this

okay yes good!!

bringing back some unpleasant memories of the last guy who took a tumble off this balcony, but whatever! I’m sure he’s got some kind of plan in mind here

yep okay so he’s using Dark Shadow as a bungee cord

Hawks is so fucking short he somehow looks the same size as this little bird hobbit who’s carrying him. this is just a battle of tiny, tiny people

OH MY GOD FUCKING OUCH OH GEEZ

I FELT THAT OH MY GOD

AND OF FUCKING COURSE THAT KO’D HAWKS FOR GOOD, BECAUSE HE NO LONGER HAS A FUCKING BACK, AND HE JUST TARZANED OFF A BALCONY AND TOKOYAMI LANDED RIGHT ON TOP OF HIM JESUS CHRIST. R.I.P.

TOKO IS ALL “HE MUST HAVE BLACKED OUT FROM THE IMPACT JUST NOW” AND YEAH, YOU THINK?? WOULDN’T YOU?? FUCK

OH MY GOD HE’S PICKING HIM UP AND HE’S SO FUCKING TINY OH GOD OH JESUS

STOP BEING DRAMATIC AND JUST CARRY HIM OUT OF THERE ALREADY CAN WE GET A MOVE ON PLEASE? YOU’RE DOING SO GOOD BUDDY AND I’M SO PROUD, BUT ALSO THE REST OF THE LEAGUE IS STILL OUT THERE AND NOTHING IS SAFE AND AHHHH

-- AND ALSO THIS GUY STILL!!

no doubt. no doubt whatsoever the blood that runs through those veins. the theatrics are more of a dna marker than the flame quirk could ever be

also!! ARE WE SURE HAWKS IS ACTUALLY TWENTY-THREE?? COULDN’T THE HPSC HAVE FORGED HIS BIRTH CERTIFICATE?? THIS IS A BABY PROVE ME WRONG??

anyway so since Dabi is now saying “joke’s on you, I can still use my flames whenever the fuck I want,” I’m going to take this as confirmation that he really was keeping his distance just so he could utilize forced perspective. I’m going to make a post about this as soon as I’m done reading lol

HORIKOSHI WILL YOU PLEASE STOP WITH THE ENDLESS CLOSE-UPS OF A FRIGHTENED TOKOYAMI CLINGING TO HIS UNCONSCIOUS MENTOR SCARED BUT READY TO PROTECT HIM WITH HIS LIFE I REALLY CAN’T???

DABI’S REALLY OUT HERE TRYING TO BURN THESE LITTLE BABY CHICKS ALIVE. WHERE THE FUCK IS YOUR FUCKING CHILL MY DUDE

OH MY GOD

SOME KIND OF CAVALRY HAS ARRIVED AHHHH WHO

AHHH MT. LADY?!

(ETA: ngl, I’m still not sure how I feel about this sequence of panels but I did laugh good and hard though.)

-- holy shit that was ice??! oh lord don’t tell me

yeppp, looks like it’s our old buddy Dairy Queen back at it again

look... Geten?? is it?? nothing against you personally. but I have a deep-seeded and enduring dislike of everyone from the Meta Liberation Army still and that includes you pal

that being said, did you inadvertently save Tokoyami’s life, though? I originally thought those were just ~anime shockwaves~ from some off-screen attack, but if that was all actually ice, it looks like you might have cut Dabi off. which I approve of! but also that’s some serious friendly fire you tomfool

so he’s yelling that he’s disrupted the heroes’ siege, which it looks like he has! very sloppily, but still

and also, way to have both of your fire users currently 80km away, hero team! you knew Geten was here, no?? who even planned this

now this Bleach-looking dude is sneaking up on Gang Orca with what looks to be a hole-punching quirk which is freaking me out a bit ngl

Gang please take him out with your famous yeet as soon as possible, I don’t know if I can handle a prolonged fight against this particular quirk

YES TOKO GET THE FUCK OUT!!!

there is no fucking way this kid is anywhere near his twenties incidentally I might add. none at all. we’ve been had

NO STOP FEELS

HE’S CRYING JESUS CHRIST HE THOUGHT HE WAS GOING TO DIE AND HIS TEACHER IS HURT AND DYING MAYBE AND THE VILLAIN SAID HE KILLED SOMEONE AND HE DOESN’T EVEN KNOW BUT IT DOESN’T MATTER, HE STILL WANTS TO PROTECT HIM AND HE’S JUST A BABY TOO?! IT’S TOO MUCH??

AND I DON’T KNOW WHY I’M SURPRISED OR SHOCKED BY ANY OF THIS AT ALL?? LISTEN UP EVERYONE, YOU WOULD NOT BELIEVE WHAT I FOUND INSIDE OF THIS BAG IN THE FRIDGE WHICH WAS LABELED “CHILD SOLDIERS LIFE-OR-DEATH BATTLE ARC.” THE CONTENTS OF THIS BAG... MAY SHOCK YOU

lmao yeah but GUESS WHAT! I’M STILL GONNA GET ALL WORKED UP OVER IT AND I’M EVEN GONNA LIKE IT! but also. my babiesss

oh for fuck’s sake this guy still??

okay so I’ve already scrolled down enough to see the very top of the last page after this, and I’m pretty sure that’s Gigantomachia’s hair lol. please don’t tell me the radio is still on and he heard Tomura’s voice oh fiddlefucks

YEP

:’)

welp. strap yourselves in, chums. 19 chapters in, and this arc is only just beginning

[fuzziemutt]

Do You Understand?

Chapter 2/9 - Link to MasterList in reblog

Summary: Connor makes some really bad decisions...

Tw: Unhealthy thinking a lot of it from past trauma.

While making his (escape) way out, Connor noticed how the androids scrambled out of his path as if he'd bulldoze them over. He wasn’t the most liked android around, but he had been slowly gaining some trust after the countless acts he did in their kind’s name. However, he didn’t doubt he was quite the sight right now: LED blaring red, hands clenched in tight fists, legs moving in a quick stiff pace. A quick glance in a passing window confirmed that cold, hateful gaze was still there as well. He felt a bit bad that these innocent androids were indirectly facing his wrath, but he could barely contain the bubbling anger in his core. He just needed to get away from the others as fast as possible. 

He quickly hid himself in the automated taxi waiting outside for him. He is hiding even if he refuses to admit it because as soon as those doors closed, he felt that vengeful wrath suddenly drain out of him. He quickly curled up in the corner of the back seat and just held himself there for a few seconds. He felt so empty all of the sudden. Underneath all of that anger and hatred was this feeling of loneliness or sadness or whatever the hell he was feeling that seemed to be so overwhelming and as if it would engulf him whole any moment now. He felt hollow, maybe even fragile... ? No no not fragile, but something almost like that. He wondered if he’d cry if Cyberlife had gifted him tear ducts, but he knew even then no tears would fall. He never felt like much of a crier if given the chance if he was honest. Even with this new found feeling weighing him down, he reached for the control panel to order himself off to Hank’s address. 

He had started staying with Hank since that fateful morning at the Chicken Feed almost a year ago. It wasn’t like he had many places to stay given everything that happened and a warm couch was better than nothing. He didn’t feel like Hank liked him staying there as much as he tried to play it off and saying he enjoyed the company. He had been living by himself with Sumo for the past 3 years, Connor butting into his routines was most likely more hassle than it was worth. 

With a start, Connor realized that Hank would instantly know something was wrong given how he couldn’t seem to put himself together right now and the old man still had keen eyes. Connor did not want to deal with Hank right now. He knew his anger would flare right back up from all the times Hank did the same thing as his “friends”, and he desperately did not want to talk about how he just blew up on said “friends” in the middle of a meeting. In fact, he didn’t want to see anyone right now and it wasn’t like he had much privacy back at the house with no room to hide behind. 

Taking a deep breath, Connor was going to do something irrational and idiotic. Well.. is it still irrational if he knew how stupid of a decision this was? Well that doesn’t matter. He preconstructed that he would have a higher chance of avoiding everyone with his plan than by trying to return home like this and it would provide long term avoidance easily. With another hand placement, he set the car to change destinations to a park that no one would assume he would go to nor find him if they went searching. He needed some time to think his long term plan through before he set it all in motion and he needed Hank to not know what he was doing.

-

Catching a glimpse of his eyes in the window’s reflection confirmed that it seemed that gaze was here to stay until further notice. It reminded him of Amanda’s own frigid eyes that night all those months ago.. He ignored that thought. He got out of the taxi and found the nearest bench to plop himself down on. The air was already cold and the trees were hanging onto their remaining colorful leaves, but he wouldn’t be staying long enough for the cold to become an issue. 

Closing his eyes, he began searching for apartments that were near the DPD and not too far from New Jericho. Even if this whole mess was his fault arguably, he wasn’t just going to drop his responsibilities with both his jobs after a little tantrum. He was simply going to get an apartment. He could easily lock everyone out, hide away, refuse further company and not be forced to strain under the torrent of negative emotions he received from just looking at those who never took the time to understand him. Plus he can’t just keep mooching off Hank for as long as the human lived, he wouldn’t doubt Hank would have kicked him out as soon as Androids’ wages were more stable and livable along with more defined ownership laws. Which funds for an apartment shouldn’t be hard to make up, he was Cyberlife’s best hacker too. Would he need furniture-

His internal phone system cut his thoughts off, Hank. With a deep breath, he prepared himself for whatever might greet him.

“Hello, Lieutenant.”

“Hey Connor, I know you were meeting with the Jerinerds or whatever, but it’s getting a bit late, and you still haven’t gotten home....” the lingering question ‘are you okay?’ was there Connor recognized. 

“Yes, I’m fine, Hank. I decided after the meeting to take a walk to clear my head. We talked about some heavy topics with immediate consequences today, and I’m still processing ways to handle the situations adequately to ensure everyone can benefit,” the lie slipped off easily. Lying wasn’t hard when everyone assumed he just didn’t give a shit majority of the time. It’s also easy when you’re simply using the half truth as a base. 

“Okay…” okay maybe Connor was being a bit petty by purposely talking in such an excessive manner but he was feeling petty. Sue him. “Anyways, do you need me to come pick you up..?”

“No, I’m perfectly fine Hank. I’ll simply order a taxi to take me home when I’m ready. Don’t feel like you need to wait on me either, I’m unsure how long it will take me to come to a conclusion. We have work tomorrow as well, and I’d prefer not dragging you out of bed like last time.”

“Hey! It was you who took that phrase literally not me, you damn militarized nanny bot!” 

“Either way, head to bed Hank. I will see you in the morning,” and with that Connor ended the call and took another breath. 

Okay, now here’s to hoping none of the Jericho leaders and/or Nines tries contacting Hank and tipping him off that something wasn’t right. He knew the leaders had Hank’s number in case of emergencies, but it’s not like they idly chat with the grumpy old man in their spare time. Nines was a bigger threat, but Connor was hoping Nines was feeling too guilty or something to think to ask Hank about it. A terrible thought really, but Connor was banking on this if he wanted to move out as quietly as possible. 

Sure he was being like a child in trying to hide the broken plate he smashed by hiding away from everyone and literally secretly moving to an apartment overnight. But again, Connor never admitted to being good at this whole having emotions thing. Yes he hated how everyone assumed he didn’t understand what they were going through, but that was different from him admitting he wasn’t sure how to handle his own mess of emotions. 

-

He waited until it was well into the night to attempt going home. He needed to be sure Hank was certainly asleep. It wasn’t arguably imperative to his own personally made mission, but he still didn’t want to talk about anything that happened today if he could. 

Sneaking into the house wasn’t hard. Hank gave him a copy of his key about a week after Connor abruptly claimed his couch so he didn’t have to rely on Hank letting him in or breaking more windows. He shuffled his feet inside and made sure the door made as little noise as possible before creeping to the couch. He could hear faint snoring in the other room and relaxed the smallest amount before laying down and getting comfortable (after slipping off his shoes of course). 

His plan was already in action. After some easy rerouting and other certainly not legal things, he procured the money and necessary documents for an apartment and already sent in the application and deposit to an apartment that didn’t seem the worst price and condition. He could be glad about one thing with most things being digital nowadays that made this endeavor far easier especially in never mentioning he was an android. He managed to talk to the landlord and set everything up over the phone, saying he was simply stuck at work and not able to swing by for a physical one on one, he’d sign any necessary documents tomorrow. He also set up that he would be going there tomorrow after work to pick up the keys and move in. He was also glad that the landlord was so desperate for tenants after the revolution wiped out most of her customers with the evacuation. Connor wasn’t sure of her stance on androids, but she was willing to turn the other cheek on a lot of things such as Connor hesitating to say his last name was Stern so he took what he could get.

[sanderssidesfanfiction]

If There’s a Place I Could Be - Chapter Seventy Five

If There’s a Place I Could Be Tag

November 22nd, 2000

“Toby!” Remy exclaimed, running to his brother and hugging him tight. “Oh, God, Toby, am I relieved to see you!”

“Hey, Rem!” Toby exclaimed, turning from where he had been talking to Vanessa to hug Remy. “It’s so good to see you! How’s college been?”

Remy’s stomach churned and he groaned. “Oh, God, I don’t want to talk about it,” he complained.

“Fair enough,” Toby laughed. “I feel the same way after midterms. Have you made any friends, at least?”

“I mean, I guess...” Remy said. “Although he made me his friend more than I made him my friend.”

“Still! A friend! That’s progress!” Toby said excitedly. “What’s his name?”

“His name’s Emile, and he’s—”

Remy was cut off as his mother called them all to the dinner table. “You can explain about him more after dinner,” Toby promised. “I’ll love to hear all about him.”

  November 22nd, 2002

“Oh, my God, Emile, hon, breathe,” Remy said with a little laugh, placing his hands on Emile’s shoulders and gently shaking him.

Emile was not, in fact, breathing like Remy requested. Emile was bawling on the couch having just watched the finale of Courage the Cowardly Dog. “I-I-I don’t want it to be over!” Emile wailed.

“Want it or not, it’s over, hon, you’re gonna pass out at this rate. Please. Breathe,” Remy requested.

Emile took in one deep breath, then another, and Remy gave him an encouraging smile. “Good. That’s good, hon.”

“I feel dizzy,” Emile breathed.

“Yeah, well, you hyperventilated for a good fifteen minutes, I’m not surprised. Should I get you some water?” Remy asked.

“Please?” Emile asked softly.

Remy kissed Emile’s temple and went to the kitchen, grabbing him a glass of water. He walked back over and Emile took the water with a small “Thank you,” taking small sips as his hands ever-so-slightly shook.

“Are you like this when any cartoon you like ends? Because if so, then I might need to get you a designated sobbing corner in our apartment,” Remy teased.

“No, I’m not like this every time,” Emile huffed. “I’m just like this with the ones that mean a lot to me.”

“So, all of them,” Remy filled in.

Emile stuck his tongue out at Remy but Remy just grinned shamelessly. “Listen, I don’t freak out over every last cartoon I’ve ever seen,” Emile said.

“Oh, I’m sure,” Remy said. “You have your calm moments, totally.”

“Remy!” Emile laughed. “I’m trying to be serious.”

“I’m trying to be realistic while also being lighthearted,” Remy said with a shrug. “You get really obsessed with all things cartoons, Emile. I would not be surprised if this happens again.”

Emile pouted, but Remy counted that as better than a scowl, and therefore a win. “I’m not a child, Rem,” Emile said.

“Of course you’re not a child,” Remy said, blinking. “You’re my boyfriend, and a wonderful man, and a massive geek, but you’re not a child.”

Emile was continuing to pout and Remy sat down next to him on the couch. “Is this post-cartoon withdrawal or is this a serious self-esteem issue about you being seen as a child?”

“Probably a mix of both,” Emile said reluctantly. “I just...everyone likes to joke about me getting obsessed with cartoons, and just being...like a giant puppy, or something. And yeah, most of the time that doesn’t bother me, but is that all people see me as? Do they only see me as an overgrown child who just needs to...grow up?”

“I can tell you right now that’s not the case, Emile,” Remy said with absolute certainty. “I mean, sure, cartoons are generally made for children. But liking them doesn’t make you a child. You’ve seen what happens in the adult world, and you’re training to become a therapist to help people with the real world being far, far too much for them to handle. You know exactly how depraved the real world can be. And you use cartoons to remember that good can triumph over evil, that at the end of the day, friendship and family make everything better, and that even in our darkest moments, there’s hope. You don’t simply use them as an escape from the real world, you use them to look at the real world in a different, more positive light. And that’s...honestly, that’s one of the most mature things I can think of. Proving to the world that you won’t be beaten down, that you’ll keep looking for the good in everything. You’re not a child. Sometimes, you like childish things, but liking childish things doesn’t make you a child. I should know. I’m a grown adult who lives vicariously through comic books.”

Emile laughed. “I guess you’re right,” he conceded. “It’s just...hard to remember sometimes. And I know my family always means the teasing about me loving cartoons in good fun, but after a while...it wears on me, and then something happens, like one of my favorite cartoons being cancelled, and I cry over it, and I ask myself, am I really that child that everyone says I am?”

“No, hon, you’re not a child,” Remy said. “Think about it this way: everything my mom says is wrong, and my mom called you a child and ‘stuck in the past.’ Still feel like that has any basis in truth?”

Emile blinked. “...No,” he admitted. “But I really don’t think I can use your mother as the basis for making me feel better most of the time. Usually, she just makes me mad.”

“That’s fair, she drives me up the wall too,” Remy said with a grin.

Emile laughed, only slightly hysterically. “You know, we’re having Thanksgiving here this year,” he said.

“Yeah?” Remy asked. “With your parents. What’s your point?”

“What if your mother comes back?” Emile asked. “Are you ready for that?”

Remy shrugged. “If she comes back I’ll refer to your mom as my mom until she gets the message to leave, and we don’t let her through the door for literally anything,” he said. “Like, my mom scares me, but your parents have gotten her to back down without too much trouble before. If worst comes to worst I can hide behind your dad.”

Emile laughed. “That doesn’t sound like a very solid plan, Rem,” he said.

“Well, I mean...I don’t have a solid plan. I’m not, like, getting nightmares over Thanksgiving but I am admittedly anxious enough that I don’t like thinking about it if I can help it,” Remy admitted. “I’m not really ready to go head-to-head with her. Your parents can act as a buffer, at least a little bit, and I know you won’t put up with her hanging around the apartment, but like...I’m still nervous.”

“That’s understandable,” Emile said with a nod. “Are you ready for Thanksgiving otherwise? I mean, my parents agreed to get the turkey, but do we need to go grocery shopping?”

Remy blinked. “I completely forgot! That’s what I was going to do before I found you sobbing your eyes out on the couch. Emile! We need to go grocery shopping.”

Emile laughed and nodded. “All right, good to know. Should we head out now?”

“Um. Yeah. We have six days, so everything we need should be there and not bought out, with the benefit of it not going bad before Thanksgiving.”

“Then we’d better head out,” Emile said, finishing his water and standing up. “We don’t want to miss out on the cranberry sauce because I was bawling my eyes out about Courage.”

Remy laughed, but his mind was whirring as he grabbed his coat and shoes. His mother was probably going to show up on or around Thanksgiving again, to try and take him back to her house. And much as he would like to see Toby again, he didn’t have his own car that he could use to drive away once he got contact info, so he had no chance of leaving if he went with his mother. And not coming back home, never seeing Emile again, that wasn’t an option. In fact, if Toby found out Remy had left the love of his life just to see Toby again, he would probably be calling Remy bone-dead stupid for the rest of time.

Emile brushed his hand against Remy’s as they left the apartment complex and headed to the grocery store. “What are you thinking about?” he asked.

“Toby,” Remy admitted. “I just...miss him and wish I could see him again. Not enough to go with my mother anywhere, of course, but I still miss him.”

“We’ll find him,” Emile promised Remy. “Dice said he had a couple leads last time we met, remember? It’s not much, and it will probably take some months to get everything figured out and find out which lead is going to lead us to him, but we’ll find him. We’re closer than ever before.”

“Yeah,” Remy said, but he wasn’t feeling as confident as Emile sounded.

“Remy,” Emile said. “We will find him. I know you’d love to see him by Christmas, or your birthday, or someday soon, and it bums you out that isn’t possible. But one day, we’re going to find him, and he’s going to give you a big hug, and you’re going to give him one back, and you two will keep close. Like, I can’t see a time where he isn’t a phone call away, once we find him. Even if the two of you didn’t talk for months, I have no doubt you could just pick up the phone and chat again like the two of you had never stopped talking in the first place. Just from what you’ve told me of him, he wouldn’t throw away his second chance. He would hold it as close as he could, and he would never, ever let go.”

Remy nodded with a sad smile. “That does sound like him,” he sighed. “I just...I don’t know. I wish he could be here for the big things, and the little things. Like, Christmas is going to be a pain, just because I’m going to think about him no matter what with all the emphasis on family and friendship and camaraderie and staying together no matter what. Like, I’d kill to just have the option of calling him, even if I didn’t actually do that. And it feels like Toby is just...a huge focus on our conversations nowadays, and I don’t mean for that to happen, but it just kinda...does.”

“Well, the holidays are coming up, which means you miss him more. That’s normal, Rem,” Emile said, placing a hand on Remy’s shoulder. They walked into the grocery store, and Emile grabbed a basket. “We’ll talk about him as much as you need to, and when the hurt ebbs away a little bit, like it usually does after the holidays, we’ll have room to talk about other things.”

“Like what?” Remy asked. “What do we normally talk about when I’m not obsessed with Toby?”

“Normal life stuff. Work, school, friends. Whatever crazy project you want to try whenever you have the time. Whatever small thing has gotten into my hair and refuses to let me go free until you help me work through the knots.”

It felt like Emile was trying to hold something back from him, though. “What aren’t you telling me, Emile?” Remy asked, his eyes squinted.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Emile lied.

“Emile,” Remy insisted.

“Remy, trust me when I say it’ll be much better as a surprise, okay?” Emile said. “I’m working on something for your birthday, and it’s taking a while so I started early, but I’m getting everything set up, slowly but surely. And it’ll be ready in time for your birthday, and you’re probably going to be chattering about it non-stop when it comes to pass. But right now, it’s not ready, and I want to surprise you. So can we talk about something else?”

Remy groaned. “Oh, you’re no fun, Emile. Fine. What boring thing do you want to talk about that doesn’t involve my birthday?”

Emile looked around the store. “Where do we go first? What ingredients do we need for Thanksgiving dinner?”

Remy hummed and said, “Well, we need the cranberry sauce, and stuffing, and ice cream. I talked to your dad, and he’s bringing a pie over—”

“—Because of course he is,” Emile finished.

“—So we don’t have to worry about that,” Remy said. “I think we should pick some rolls up, or at least some dough and bake the rolls ourselves, just because that’s always a nice add-on, and then we need to figure out the gravy.”

Emile nodded. “Sounds good,” he agreed.

Remy started pulling Emile around in the search, but in the back of his mind the gears were still whirring like crazy. What exactly did Emile have planned for his birthday? What would take so long that he’d have to start in November?

And would it ruin Remy’s plans to go out and buy a ring for Emile?

[bmpmp3]

oh man when i was like 10 i had an art teacher who gave us advice that was like “your art doesnt count unless its finished“ WHICH SOUNDS PRETTY BAD now that i type it out loud BUT TO GIVE HIM the benefit of the doubt i think what he was going for was like, trying to encourage us to see our works through to the end and not give up half way through, which mightve been helpful for some kids BUT ON THE OTHER hand unfortunately i was a very literal child and i took that to mean “your unfinished sketches basically dont even exist and no one must ever see them” instead of “hey kid, try your best to finish your projects so you can have something to be proud of” and i kind of took the former to heart so i still feel a weird aversion to showing anyone my unfinished art WHICH IS NOT great because when I joke that i have no object permanence i am. kind of not joking and if i never showed anyone a drawing or i cant see it in front of me it straight up doesnt exist so i kinda think i draw 75% less than i actually do since i dont even show my closest friends my unfinished stuff most of the time and i am SO SORRY MR M that your well meaning but clumsily worded advice failed so spectacularly here

[capricornus-rex]

A Shadow of What You Used to Be (7)

Chapter 7: On Her Trail | Cal Kestis x Irele Skywalker

Summary: There is another! Years after young Anakin Skywalker departed Tatooine, his mother Shmi delivers a second child—this time, a daughter. Whilst the circumstance of the girl’s birth remains unexplained, Irele Skywalker has yet to choose the true path between those laid out for her.

Tags: Fem! OC, Irele Skywalker, Force-sensitive! OC, Anakin’s Younger Sister, Skywalker! OC, Darth Vader’s Secret Apprentice, Long-lost Sibling, Darth Vader

Requesting to be tagged: @heavenly1927​

Also in AO3

Chapters: Prelude – 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 | Previous: Part 6 | Next: Part 8 | Masterlist

8 of ?

As she had promised to Ben Kenobi, Irele took care of Luke in every capacity. She was more of a big sister to him than an aunt, the boy barely felt like she was an aunt, insofar as insisting he just calls her “big sister” or refers to her as one when he’s asked about her relation to her. Irele eventually gave up counter-insisting her nephew, as it would confuse other people on how they’re truly related.

“Tell you what,” proposed Irele. “No need to call me Big Sis or Aunt—though the last one makes me feel old—just call me Irele, okay, Luke?”

“Okay… Irele!”

Satisfied that their little impasse has been taken care of, Irele tussled Luke’s head full of sandy blonde hair.

Sometimes, she would sense Ben Kenobi’s presence within the radius of their homestead. She does not see him, but she can feel the exact same sage, calming aura that he exuded when she first met him. Irele would think that he was also watching over Luke, albeit from afar.

As Luke grew, their relationship and close connection with one another was so strong, that it often worried Obi-Wan—but at the same time piqued his curiosity, with so many questions piling on top of the next—whenever he would approach the homestead to take a closer look on the boy and perhaps the teenage girl as well. However, the boy’s uncle, Owen, became stingier towards the middle-aged hermit when he noticed old Ben interacting with the two children as if he was a visiting relative.

It confused Irele as to why her brother was so harsh towards this kindly man. Despite being thrown with words in a voice that Irele has never heard escape Owen’s mouth, she noticed that Kenobi remained calm—which she perceived somewhat as defeat in every right. He would not speak back, he would simply straighten the creases of his tattering robe, bow to Irele, and tussle both of their hairs before he departs. Never to be seen again—at least for Owen.

“Will we see him again, Irele?”

“I don’t know, Luke,” the girl sighed.

It was like reliving the day Kenobi came to their homestead to deliver Luke to them, except this time, the boy was standing by her side. Irele stole a glance at her little nephew and wondered: Just how important is Luke to the great, big galaxy beyond this dust ball of a planet?

–

16 BBY

Irele, now sixteen years of age, unshakably adventurous and—more often than not—stubborn, which was something Owen theorized she’s gotten from her brother, has grown to become more independent. Helping out her family as much as she can with the odd jobs she takes in Tatooine’s three main towns—Anchorhead and Mos Espa being her more frequent haunts.

She groups herself with people her age, and like her—they hop jobs when it’s convenient, or most of the time, safer. Currently, her clique is composed of two tan Twi’lek siblings—brother and sister, aged fourteen and fifteen respectively—a seventeen-year-old human female, and a human male who is perhaps the oldest of the group. The four youths work as animal wranglers. Their common target? Banthas, at least the undomesticated ones that still roam in the Dune Sea.

These enormous, woolly beasts have two fates once captured. One: butchered and then sold as raw meat. Second: a steed that one can rent in the absence of a speeder, or perhaps was too broke to afford one. Irele had no favorite choice, she always chose whichever gave the highest bid—only for her family to have something to put on the table.

With her busy work lifestyle, it’s almost impossible she would stop and remember Anakin, wondering what has he been doing ever since he left Tatooine on the day of Shmi’s funeral. As much as she hates it, she cannot shake the dark thoughts that intrude her mind, and there were times that she’s awakened by the nightmare of a dark figure donned in black and cloaked in silver fog; this figure always spoke nothing, but she vividly remembers the heavy breathing it exuded.

This horrendous figure appears in her nightmares, it would abruptly reach for her neck, but not touch it, and yet she always felt like—even in her dream state—her life is literally being choked out of her… and it would growl her name. And she would wake screaming for Shmi, as if begging to be rescued.

“MOM!!!” she shot up from her bed, ruffling her blankets, alarming Beru who scurried into the girl’s bedroom.

“Irele, hey, it’s okay, you were dreaming!” Beru hushed.

Her sister-in-law took her by the shoulders, gave it a quick and soothing rub to calm her down, and patiently waited for Irele to bring back her breathing’s rhythm.

“Is it the same one again?”

Irele swallowed and nodded.

“Oh, Irele,” Beru brushed up the stray hairs that fell to Irele’s face. “Do you want me to fix up something for you?”

“No, thank you, Beru. Sorry I woke you. Did I wake Luke too?”

Beru shook her head and asked Irele once more if she’s sure she doesn’t want any food or drink. Irele’s answer remained the same and that prompted the older woman to return to her bedroom. That night, Irele struggled to go back to sleep.

Another long night, she thought.

–

Meanwhile, in the rather cold solace of a mediation chamber, sat Darth Vader—the walking shell of once Anakin Skywalker—and remained stiller than a statue on where he sat. He cannot live denying that, sometimes, he is the man he was before his body became the black encasement that he dons; and there are fragments that slither into his mind—voices, scenes, and even faces.

My place is here with them. Echoed Irele’s words from countless moons ago. Through the red-filmed sockets of his helmet, using his mind and whatever scraps of memories he can get by, a vision of her forms—he invented what she would have looked like from the last time he saw Irele, who was a small girl at that time. Now with six years past, surely, she must have grown.

Vader imagined Irele to be a little taller, perhaps with longer hair; but the one thing he cannot seem to change was the pair of hazel eyes—readable, expressive, yet enigmatic and rather sad all at the same time—contrasting emotions swimming and smudging his mental painting of his only known blood relative.

He dared not to say her name.

At least not with him around.

A single beep interrupted him, signalling an incoming transmission. He recomposed himself before activating the communication podium in which he knelt as he waited for the holo to materialize. In front of him was a holoprojection of a cloaked individual’s bust: the master he answers to, Darth Sidious.

The holoprojection coats Darth Vader’s black shell a faint cyan light. He keeps his head bowed until Darth Sidious says otherwise.

“What is thy bidding, my Master?” said Vader, his words by rote every time he presents himself.

“I sense a vergence in the Force,” croaked the dark master.

Vader remained silent for a moment, waiting for Sidious to continue.

“I… I have felt it too, my Lord.”

For the benefit of the doubt, Sidious feigned an indifferent expression despite brimming with curiosity. As if he already knows that so does Vader has sensed it. A talent that he has prided himself and perfected over time until his senior age. Sidious only hummed in reply.

“Indeed, my Lord,” admitted Vader. “A remnant of Anakin Skywalker… lives. She is to be destroyed.”

Sidious angled his head ever so slightly that nobody would notice it, “She?”

“Yes, my Lord. If my memory serves me correctly, she is blood of his blood.”

“Then she is strong with the Force, no doubt,” Sidious hummed, his holoprojection fizzled in static and then returned to clarity, “The Force grants you insight, my apprentice. Seek her out. She must be delivered to our side… or she will be destroyed.”

Vader somewhat hesitated to say, “Yes, Master.” but say it he did, and Sidious’s holoprojection dissolved into thin air.

In obeisance, Darth Vader returned to his meditation chamber; now seated, he had the luxury of privacy and removed his helmet which came in two parts—first was the cap, next was the mask itself where it’s laden with electronics. Finally being able to breathe without the use of the gadget, he truly had time and his space to himself, to think.

He denies the fragments of his sister he had imagined. He almost did not want to do it—but he had no choice.

[mrslittletall]

Prompt: Blindfolded

Fandom: Bloodborne Characters: Micolash Host of the Nightmare, Laurence the first Vicar, Choir Leader Yuria (OC) Word Count: 1.970 AO3-Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18718291/chapters/61541248

Summary: Micolash tries to join the choir but blindfolding himself doesn't sit well with him at all...

(Author's note: I have some very specific headcanons about Micolash's upbringing and they are explored in this peace.

Warnings for past child abuse and panic attacks, I guess.)

 Written for @badthingshappenbingo​

The prompts marked with blood vials have already been filled out, the ones marked with madmen’s knowledge are planned. I am unsure about the unmarked prompts… but if nobody has to say anything, there is the danger that I make “Bloodstained Clothes” just about Laurence have a very untimely nosebleed, so uh, you have been warned. The third time actually. The probability for it is 90 %.

“Joining the choir? Me?”, Micolash said. “Are you sure about this?”

“Look, I know you have your own school.”, Laurence said, taking a sip of tea. Micolash's own cup still stood untouched in front of him, but he knew that Laurence would just drink it once he was gone. He knew him long enough. “But your research and the research of the choir are similar. Besides, the choir actually managed to commune with a Great One. I don't ask you to leave your school, but I think the both of you could benefit from working together.”

Micolash had to consider. It was true, the choir actually had managed to get farther with their research than the School of Mensis, actually having succeeded communicating with a Great One, Ebrietas, who spend her time in the church basement, being the main source of the holy blood. The School of Mensis instead had worked on a ritual, to summon a Great One and maybe even visit the nightmare, a place that had been at the forefront of Micolash's research.

It wouldn't hurt to try.

“Alright.”, Micolash said. “I will spend a day with them and then decide.”

“See.”, Laurence smiled. “I knew it would be a good idea.”

“Just one thing.”, Micolash said, his face turning serious. “Isn't Yuria the leader of the choir? Why her? She did everything in her power to make our life in Byrgenwerth more difficult. How can you so easily trust her?”

Laurence' smile fell at once from his face and he put his tea cup down, stirring it with a spoon. Micolash found that strange, Laurence never put sugar or milk in his tea. He hated sweet things, though it wouldn't surprise Micolash if he actually had put salt in it.

“I don't.”, Laurence said. “That is why I have let her established the choir. To have control over her. If she would have continued her research outside of the church, all their research and knowledge would slip my mind. Believe me, I couldn't believe it myself when she came here and proposed to establish the choir, but I very much prefer her here, where I can watch over everything she and the choir are doing.”

“Just admit it, Laurence, you want me to spy on them.”, Micolash said.

“Maaaybe.”, Laurence said, putting the spoon down and taking another sip of the tea. “That should be all. Get a key to upper cathedral ward from Florence and tell the choir that I send you.”

Micolash knew that the conversation was over. He got up, said his good bye and left Laurence' office, found Florence not far away and got equipped with a key to the upper cathedral ward. Soon he was standing in front of the current choir members and their leader, Yuria.

“Oh, if it isn't Micotrash.”, Yuria taunted. “Don't tell me you want to join the choir.”

Ah, the old nickname. Micolash decided to not let him get to him, he had spend ten years in Byrgenwerth having to hear it and had gotten used to it, unless Laurence who would always flip when Yuria deliberately would call him Lawrence. Or Laurie. Micolash could tell him a thousand times that she just wanted to get a reaction out of him, but it didn't work. Their arguing had become infamous in Byrgenwerth.

“Actually, I do.”, Micolash said. “Lau... Vicar Laurence told me to come and spend a day with you, to help me decide if I want to join.”

“Well then, if you think you have it in you to become a proud member of the choir.”, Yuria said. “As much as it pains me to say it, but I know that you possess the intellect for our research. We can skip the written aptitude test then.”

Micolash actually wouldn't mind having to take the test. He always liked to take tests. They made him feel as if he accomplished something. Especially when he got the best grade.

“What would be next?”, Micolash asked.

“We have to see if the choir robes are looking good on you.”, Yuria said. Micolash doubted that this actually was a requirement, she probably just wanted to ridicule him. He knew that he wasn't possessing the most beautiful face in the world. Especially next to Laurence, the Vicar's face could be considered handsome in several aspects.

“Let's see if we have them in your size...”, Yuria said and gave one of the choir members a hand sign.

“You are even smaller than me, Yuria.”, Micolash said.

“Yes, but I am a woman.”, Yuria waved him aside. “You are awfully small for a man.”

Micolash scrunched up his face, but didn't say anything. Weren't these robes unisex anyway? Whatever, he wouldn't do her the favour to let her get a reaction out of him. The choir member Yuria had send away, returned shortly and handed him the robe. Yuria pointed to a door which turned out to be a small bathroom, clearly he was supposed to change in there.

When Micolash stripped his Byrgenwerth uniform, he felt strange. He always had liked the fabric and the feel of these clothes, so much that he pretty much considered it unbearable to wear something else, outside of a pajama and even that needed to be a very special fabric. Micolash never knew why he was so sensitive with clothes. The choir robe wasn't easy to put on, but he managed and it didn't feel as bad as he had imagined, but it was still irritating. He wondered if he would ever get used to it if he really would join the choir. Or if he would rip off the robes one day and put his old Byrgenwerth uniform back on.

Micolash left the bathroom and Yuria turned around to look at him, lifting her cap so that she could see him.

“Well well, I am impressed, you actually managed to put it on right the first time.”, she grinned. “Even though it looks a bit too big on you.”

“...Has Laurence ever tried one of these on?”, Micolash asked, suddenly interested why his friend still preferred to wear the black church set, even though the choir counted as the highest ranks in the church. He had his vicar robe's of course, but only would wear them for official stuff, never when he just was working in his office or roaming the streets of Yharnam.

“Oh yes, we have let him try it one.”, Yuria said. “He looked stunning in it. So stunning that we decided to tell him, that it wasn't his style. We can't let him steal the show, can we?”

“...Why do I have the feeling that there is more to that?”, Micolash said, trying to find any hints in Yuria's face at what she was thinking, but with her cap pulled down again, Micolash found it unable to do so.

“So, with the robes out of the way, there is only one thing left.”, Yuria lifted another blindfold cup up. “You know that to commune with the Great Ones means that the descent into madness is around every corner. That is why we need more eyes... but not in a literal sense, in a metaphorical sense. We blind ourselves so that we can see.”

Well, that certainly didn't make a lick of sense for Micolash. Master Willem had clearly told they needed more eyes, eyes inside their brains and Micolash had done his fair share to help him collect eyes, to unveil the mystery of the eyes, but he wouldn't complain. He accepted the cap and put it on his head, his vision going dark as soon as his eyes got covered. It made him feel... uneasy, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

“Well then, now let's change the location.”, Yuria said and Micolash felt how someone took his hand, if Yuria or someone else he couldn't say. He just decided to quietly follow them and see what hey had in stock. Or, erm, hear, he guessed. It was hard to see when his eyes were cover.

Micolash thought he could handle it fine, but after a minute or two, the fealing of unease suddenly turned into dread, his chest tightened and his heart seemed to pound twice as fast as usual. As he was still contemplating, if he should just run away, if Yuria had some sick and evil prank planned on him, he heard a voice... a voice he hadn't heard in years. Micolash instantly knew who that voice belonged to.

Him., he thought. Father...

Just like that, Micolash was back. Back in that cottage, back in that closet. He would always lock him away, it didn't matter what Micolash had done, it could have been something as having breathed too loudly. Micolash remembered that closet too well. It was dark and too warm and humid in the summers, dark and freezing in the winters. Whatever the season, it was always dark. Micolash could only orientate himself by touching his surroundings and mostly he remembered empty bottles and clothes. Clothes that felt uncomfortable, were too large for him and that wrapped around his head when he tried to stand up, making it even darker.

Micolash remembered sitting in that closet, shivering, sometimes begging him to let him out, often not saying anything, because he would get punished if he wasn't quiet. He would get punished for making a mess, even if he didn't had a say in it, because he couldn't leave the closet, couldn't ask to leave and he often had to spend hours in it. Or even days? Micolash didn't knew. He just knew that He often left and left Micolash alone, in that dark, tight place and he was so scared that this day He wouldn't return and Micolash would die in that closet, to never be found, because he doubted that anyone of the neighbours knew that he had a child in that cottage.

It was too much. Micolash couldn't sit through this a second longer. He ripped the blindfold cap off his hat and hurled it to the ground.

Yuria turned around at the sudden sound, a surprised “What?” slipping out of her, but Micolash just stood there violently panting.

“I.. I can't.”, he blurted out. “I can't blind myself! I need to see! I don't want to be in the dark, never ever again!”

He then ran away, all the way back to the room they had started in. He was fast, he knew that, he was one of the fastest kids in Byrgenwerth, because he always had ran away from Him, hoping that He would forget about it and not hit him when he came back eventually, hoping that He had passed out in his drunken rage.

Micolash only stopped once he was at the bathroom again, shedding the choir robe and slipping in his Byrgenwerth uniform, leaving the bathroom, running past a very confused Yuria and entering his room, where he stayed for a long while, shivering and sniffling because he had to relive these memories that he tried to forget.

Later, Laurence came by, brought some tea and told him that it was fine, if he didn't want to join the choir, though he looked a tiny bit disappointed. Micolash wasn't in the mood to talk, so Laurence left shortly after.

As Micolash laid on his bed, he noticed that there was something still in his pocket. As he checked it out, he had the key to upper cathedral ward in hand.

Even if he wasn't joining the choir, Micolash decided that he would definitely keep this. It would certainly come in handy, some day. (Author's note: Yuria is an OC I made up to be the first choir leader. She is Yurie's mother and I chose the name because it is a recurring one in Soulsborne, it felt like a given. She actually has always bullied and pranked both Laurence and Micolash when still in Byrgenwerth. I have a few more ideas about her and the choir, but I want to save them for myself for now. Also, I think that Micolash took the eyes a bit more literally. In the Lecture Hall we find glasses filled with eyes and he feels mad enough to try to plant eyes on his brain literally... While I think the choir tried a different approach. Judging by what the Choir achieved and what the School of Mensis achieved, I think the Choir had the right idea. We find the key to Upper Cathedral Ward in Yahar'gul, right?! It did had to land there somehow, so I like to think that Micolash kept it and later students of his school could borrow it. That is also how they managed to abduct choir members to experiment on them. Also, even in a story about Micolash, I can't leave out my favourite Vicar apparently...)

[moonstruckholland]

Happy Birthday? (p.p)

(the gif has nothing to do with the fic, I was just too lazy to make a moodboard 😂)

Word count: 2,284

Warnings: tiny bit of angst, hella fluff

A/N: This is my submission for @farfromhaz and @angelhaz11's writing challenge! Go send them some love! Anyways, here's writing number two of the night! I really hope you guys like it! Definitely feel free to send any and all feedback, it would make my spooky day even happier 🧡 (I'm technically late but it's still Halloween somewhere so shhhh it's okay)

Sharing your birthday with your favorite holiday, even if it was Halloween, wasn't always as fun as everyone would assume.

Believe it or not, people actually forgot your birthday. You couldn't fully blamed them, Halloween was amazing. What could compare to the candies, scary movies, and fun costumes? Definitely not your measly little birthday parties, especially as you grew older and everyone was trading in trick or treating for Halloween parties that went on for hours into the night.

But you couldn't lie and say it didn't hurt your feelings growing up when you walked into your classroom expecting just one "Happy birthday" and instead getting, "Happy Halloween!" followed by a "Oh, it's your birthday isn't it?"

It hurt your little child heart so much, you decided at the age of 9 to stop telling people your birthday and pretended it already passed whenever someone asked. It was dumb looking back on it now that you were an adult, but back then it seemed like the only reasonable solution.

The only person at school who knew your birthday was your best friend and crush of many years, Peter Parker. You didn't tell him purposely, he stumbled into your apartment window one night in high school, bleeding and in a daze, and you were getting ready for a birthday dinner.

"You look really nice, can I ask where you're going?" He voice was raspy as you cleaned the cuts on his face.

"You don't get to ask questions when you've been hiding the fact that you're freaking Spider-Man."

He decided to keep quiet for a while, not wanting to push you. You waited until he looked less like death to say something.

"It's my birthday," you mumbled, not meeting his eyes.

"It's your birthday? And you didn't tell me? I'm your best friend!"

"Don't start with me Spider-Boy," you glared at him for moment before softly adding, "I haven't told anyone in years."

"Why?"

"Everyone would forget, so I figured no one can forget if they don't know, saves me from being stressed."

"Well, now that I know, I'm never going to forget."

You rolled your eyes, "Don't make promises you can't keep, Parker."

He kept his promise, making a big deal of your birthday every year. One year he snuck you out of your apartment at night and swung you around the city, showing you places you hadn't known existed.

Another year, he brought you to a halloween party at the Stark tower. You never thought you'd see Captain America wish you a happy birthday personally, but it was one of the greatest experiences of your life.

It honestly didn't matter what he did, the fact that he cared and bothered to remember is what made it truly special. You were sure as long as Peter was in your life, you'd always have a special birthday.

Well, maybe not this year. So far today was the worst birthday of your life.

You woke up very late, apparently forgetting to set your alarm the night before. You rushed to throw on clothes and get as decently presentable as you could rushing to make it to your midterm.

“If you’re late, don’t bother showing up,” you could hear your professor’s shrill voice as you practically sprinted to your car.

You drove to class like you were in one of the fast and the furious movies, definitely breaking at least one law in the process. Luckily for you, the roads seemed to be empty, one gift from the universe. You knew if Peter weren’t already in class, he’d probably be with you right now, chastising you for your horrible driving,

‘I could really use Peter right now, swinging to school would be much faster.’

It was then that you realized Peter hadn't sent you his usual good morning happy birthday text he always sent, in fact you hadn't heard from him at all since you threw your into studying yesterday. You stomach clenched with worry for a second before you quickly pushed it aside, remembering you had to run to class.

You made it to your statistics class with minutes to spare, barely. You would’ve felt relieved, except the second you sat down to pull out your materials, you came to the realization you left the cheat sheet your professor allowed you to bring in your folder, laying on the exact spot you put it before passing out last night.

‘Fuck,’ you wanted cry. That dumb piece of paper was your key to passing this test and it was at home. You obviously had no choice but to take the test, so you told convinced yourself the studying you did last night would be enough, trying your best to think positively.

You didn't fail, but you definitely didn't get the grade you wanted. After more than an hour of answering questions, working them out on your scrap paper, you ended it with a 72. You beat yourself up about it the whole way home. The only thing you were looking forward to was seeing Peter and your lovely roommate Casey, and the delicious chocolate chip cookies she made just for you.

You couldn't help smiling as you heard Peter laughing from down the hall. You often came home to Peter already there, a perk that came with giving him a key, making food or literally hanging from the ceiling while studying.

"At least he always keeps me on my toes," you mumbled under your breath, wondering how you'd find him this time as you unlocked your door.

Much to your surprise, he was just sitting on the couch, Mean Girls playing in the background as he played what looked like some sort of star wars game on his phone.

“Hey, Pete!” you called out, closing the door behind you.

“Hey,” he barely looked at you, too into his game.

Taking a seat beside him, you sighed dramatically, laying your head on his shoulder while you waited for him to pay attention to you. That didn't happen for another 15 minutes and you wondered how he could be so into a game that he couldn't even play on one of the many game consoles Mr. Stark has bought him over the years.

"So," he said after finally putting his phone down, "What's the plan for today?"

"Oh, um, I thought maybe we'd swing through the city and go to our little spot?"

"I was thinking we'd do something different?"

"Like what?" You were suddenly filled with excitement, knowing Peter always came up with the best plans.

"You know that cute girl from down the hall? She invited me to one of the sorority parties and I thought we'd go together."

"You and the girl from down the hall?"

"No, silly," he nudged you gently, "You and me."

The excitement started to slowly fade away as you realized he was being serious, he wanted to go to a Halloween party, he probably wanted to meet up with the cute girl, he forgot your birthday.

"Um, sure! Sounds good." You gave him your best fake smile, trying not to cry on the spot.

He didn't seem to notice, going on about the exam he took a couple of hours ago. You nodded at the appropriate timing, making it seem like you were fully invested, and you wanted to me, but you were so hurt you could barely focus.

Eventually, Peter got up to leave and you hated to even think it, but you were relieved. Until you heard his goodbyes.

"I'll see you in a bit, okay?"

"Yeah," you said quickly, practically pushing him out the door.

"Oh, and tell Casey her cookies were delicious."

"What cookies?"

"Her famous chocolate chip ones."

You sighed, "Did you at least save me one?"

You knew his answer from the look on his face, the immediately blush coloring his cheeks and the way his eyes wouldn't meet yours.

"I'm sorry! I forgot! She can make more, right?"

'That isn't the only thing you forgot, Peter.'

Now you weren't sure if you wanted to cry or lunge at him, but Peter was out the door and down the hall before you could do either.

Closing the door behind you, you decided to settle for the former, tears spilling down your cheeks instantly. A part of you hoped Peter was just messing around and would knock on your door any second now, telling you it was all a joke and he would never forget your birthday.

But as more and more time passed, you knew he genuinely forgot.

You tried giving him the benefit of the doubt, tried giving him a chance to realize his mistake. Hours later, when he came to pick you up, it didn't seem like that was going to happen either.

He greeted you at the door like nothing, "Do you like my costume?"

Even upset with him, you couldn't help laughing as he twirled in his Spider-Man suit. "Again, Peter?"

"What? You can't go wrong dressing up like Spider-Man!"

You agreed with him, though you still hoped he was only joking about the party.

He wasn't, he swung the two of you a block away from the sorority house. You could practically smell the booze from there.

'He really brought me to a party.'

You tried making the best out of it, flirting with cute guys and girls, but it wasn't much fun considering most of them were so drunk, they could barely speak properly. And you knew regardless of how much you flirted, there was only one guy you were actually interested in.

So, after an hour and half of torture, you found yourself outside, playing games on your phone while you waited for Peter on the steps.

He came out not long after, sitting beside you, "Are you having fun?"

You barely looked at him, "No, not really."

"Y/n?" He put his arm around your shoulder, "What's wrong?"

"Everything? From the second I woke up this day has been so shitty, I left my notes and tanked my test, you ate the last cookie, which was mine, by the way," you took a moment to pull away and glare at him.

"Then you brought me here, and what hurts the most is my best friend forgot my birthday," you voiced cracked as you finished your sentence, betraying the cool composure you were trying to keep.

Peter opened his mouth to say something, but you honestly didn't want to hear an explaination, you just wanted to go home and leave this day behind you, "It's okay, just take me back to my place?"

He didn't object, looking around for any witnesses before throwing on his mask, picking you up and swinging away.

You didn't open your eyes on the way home, you instead pretended it was a normal night filled with fun and dumb you and Peter things.

'Like it should've been.'

When Peter finally set you down, you were not on the fire escape by your bedroom window. You were on the roof of your building, twinkle lights and candles everywhere. There were tables full of your favorite food, and one had the most beautiful birthday cake you had ever seen.

Peter pulled off his mask, "Did you really think I would forget?"

"I-" you were speechless, he was messing with you.

"It's not over yet," he smiled, "You can come out now."

Instantly, all of your friends and family popped out from underneath the tables, yelling out "Surprise!"

You were immediately flooded by your loved ones, everyone wishing you happy birthday and showering you with love. You were overwhelmed with happiness, tears of joy falling down your cheeks for the first time that night. You couldn't believe Peter did all of this for you, and managed to trick you.

You let yourself have actual fun. It was much easier considering everyone was coherent, plus you were once again blessed by the presence of the avengers. It was hard not to have fun when Thor and Tony were around.

Later on, you snuck away, finding Peter and pulling him to the side. You smacked his arm the second you were alone.

"You ass! I can't believe you did this!"

"I couldn't let this be a boring birthday!"

You rolled your eyes, "You couldn't at least tell me happy birthday?"

He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck, "I wanted to pull a sixteen candles moment."

"And what was that with the party?"

"You had to be distracted while Casey baked your cake."

You shook your head, "You really thought of everything, huh? It's perfect, Peter. Thank you."

"I, um, actually have one more thing for you."

"No gifts! This was already amazing."

"Well," he blushed, looking down at his feet, "It's more of a question."

"Okay..."

"Would you maybe want to go out on a date?" He asked so quickly, you almost didn't catch the question.

'Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit,' was all that ran through your head.

"Or not! That's okay too, it's just Mr. Stark told me you liked me and I should make a move because I've liked you for years," Peter rambled.

Your heart literally melted at his words. He's liked you for years? And you didn't know? How stupid could the two of you be?

"Peter," you took his hand in yours, "I would love to go on a date with you."

"You would?"

"Absolutely," this time you looked away shyly, "I've liked you for a while too."

He smiled brightly, letting out a little sigh of relief.

It was right then you knew nothing would be able to top this, it was truly the best birthday ever.

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