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alilobsessive · 3 days ago

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Dreaming of Teeth: On Ice!

The life and times of are disastrous Y/N, told through there history as a figure skater. This covers several events in reader’s childhood, both mentioned and not mentioned in chapter 1. As well as an event after they left Wayne manor.

Tw: unreliable narrator but it becomes even more obvious, Canon Typical Child Death (Jason), Canon Typical Child Undeath (Jason), child abandonment, spousal abandonment, child neglect, spousal neglect, mentioned cheating, there might be some pronoun mistakes that I didn’t catch if so please inform me and I’ll fix it as quickly as possible! There also might be some spelling and grammar errors, I am very dyslexic.

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A woman with an extravagant fur coat sits on the bleachers, a small child in a leotard sitting next to her. Several other women and children mull about, all of them here for the exact same reason. “Mom-me” the small child says, “do I have to wear the scary shoes?” The toddler asks, a pair of untied ice skates on their feet as they look up at their mother, small hand curled around her coat. The woman sighs, “yes dear, that’s how ice skating works, now why don’t you tie your shoes” “but what is I hurt myself on the big knives?” The child says seriously “also I’m cold and there heavy” the woman sighs at their whining child.

She bends down to tie the laces “you will never learn to skate with that attitude” she gently scolds. “But I don’t wanna!” “We all have to do things we don’t want to do dear” “I don’t like that!” She sighs and sits after tying the skates. “Come dear, your first lesson are starting soon.” She said, taking your hand with her gloved one and helping you stand up. She lets go as you wobble onto your feet, struggling to walk in the shoes as you follow her to the rink.

She ushers you through the door and onto the ice were several other children your age struggle and slide about. With a nervous step forward you get onto the ice but struggling to keep balance. Quickly grabbing onto the wall, to small to see over it. Tears well up in your eyes, body half on the ground, falling to stand. The instructor glides over to you with an ease that feels humiliating to your plight. “Hay there” she says softly like she’s approaching a scared animal. “Let me help you up” the instructor gently picks you up by your armpits, before placing you on the ice. As you start to balance on the ice the instructor gives you a small smile “There you go” she coos, “now keep your hands on the wall and skate around a bit okay? If you fall again just call me” you sniff “okay” is your weak reply. “Once you think you’ve got the hang of it try skating away from the wall, can you do that for me?” You nod and put your hands on the wall. “That it, good job kid” she gently pats you on the head and slides off to help another kid.

By the end of your first class you were already sliding about at a rapid pace. “I AM SPEED” you scream and then slide into a wall, “Oh my god!” the instructor yelps. Before she can rush over to see if you’re okay you quickly get back up “SPEED!” You yell and dart off yet again. The instructor panicked as this small child took to the ice like a duck to water, or more accurately a seal to water. Although you still hadn’t figured out how to stop without running into anything. Which led to you colliding with another child. Both of you fell to the ground with a thud and instantly began screaming and crying.

“My baby!” The kid’s mother shouts, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” You sob “are you okay!?” But the other child just keeps crying, face as bright red as your own. The kids mother tries to get on the ice, sliding and slipping as she does so. “Ma'am please stay off the ice! I’ll bring your child to you!” The instructor calls out. She slides over and helps the both of you stand up, she then glides to the entrance holding the hands of two crying and wobbling toddlers. The kid’s mother quickly picks them up “I’m sorry!” You continue to sob.

The child cries into their mother’s shoulder, your own mother comes over, her polished leather boots clacking with each step. “What happened?” She asked calmly, surveying the scene. “Teach your little brat!” The mother says pointing at you, still balling and apologizing. “How to watch were there going! They hit my precious little baby” she coos at her own child. Your mother huffs “they're doing just fine, neither of them are hurt and mine is even apologizing” “that doesn’t excuse what they did! My baby is hurt!” “So is mine” your mother snapped. “But you don’t see me yelling about it” the woman glares at her “your cold, this uncaring attitude of yours is exactly why your husband is with other women more than you.” You watch as you’re mothers hands ball into fists, “you know nothing” she spits out, hands shaking. “Oh I know plenty, how you and sunshine over there” she gestures to you “can barely even be considered a side” “SHUT YOUR MOUTH!” Your mother screams, face contorting into rage. The other woman flinches back, your mother then takes a few deep breaths before continuing. Voice still full of vitreal your mother spits out “There are children present” like that’s the only reason she hasn’t acted.

With a scoff the other woman looks away, “not like you and your daughter haven’t heard worse from the-“ “how much?” Your mother cuts off. “What?!” The woman says offended, “for your kid’s medical expenses or new clothes or whatever it is you’re going to badger me about. That’s the only reason I can think of for you to still be yelling at me?” The woman genuinely looks at her in shock. Then she looks at you, you sniffle and waddle closer to your mother. You try to reach for her hand but instead she folds her arms together, so you grab onto her coat. She looks back at your mother, a look of horror on her face. “Jesus Christ” she mutters and then turns around.

The other woman and children mumbled to themselves or looked around confused. The instructor looks nervous and claps her hands together. “Okay! She says in a fake cheerful voice. “Class is over for today!” Her tone was polite but held an edge to it, you moved closer to your practically hugging her legs. “Sit down” she says motioning to the cold metal bench your items are being left at. With a small sniffle face cold and wet you waddle over, sitting on the bench “Mom-me” you mumble out. But all she does is sigh, shake her head and untie your skates. She takes them off for you but after that you’re on your own. You slip on your own pair of boots and jacket and stand up. Quietly your mother leaves the building, you trail behind her carrying your bag and skates. Rubbing your nose with the sleeve of your coat as you do.

Once the two of you get outside, it isn’t even two minutes before Alfred pulls up with the car. He exits and opens the car door for your mother “Ms. Wayne” he greets your mother before greeting you. “Thank you Mr. Pennyworth” she says politely and enters the car, Alfred then carefully takes your items from you and places them in the trunk. He then picks you up and goes to the driver’s side, he opens the back door and places you in a car seat, buckling you in. The look he gives you makes your stomach turn, even at such a young age you can tell he doesn’t care for you or your mother. He loves you like an employee loves their employer. It wouldn’t be too bad if it wasn’t for the fact that he looks at you like a sad creature. Something to pity but he has no desire to help. You don’t like Alfred very much, but at least he’ll play with you when no one else will.

You continue to go to the classes for several months even after this. Slowly it turned from just simply learning how to move around the ice to how to do tricks, how to perform. Before you knew it, the time for your first show began.

“Mom-me” you say looking up at her, “do I have to?” “Yes dear” she says dismissively, tying your shoes. “You spent so long training with the rest of your class, don’t you want to show off?” “But…” you mumble, fidgeting with your chubby hands as you look around. A decently sized crowd had shown up full of your classmates, friends, family and even some reporters. All to watch them and you, it made something squirm in your gut. So different from what training for this was like.

“It doesn’t matter if you win” she says in a tone you can’t help but believe. “Nothing will change if you do” she continues standing up and scanning the stands, looking for your father. She then looks back at you with familiarly cold eyes, but they're not like your father’s. Unlike him, she sees you, she just doesn’t care for what she sees. You stand up, feet hitting the ground, your leotard sparkling in the lights. “Go” she says simply, motioning for you to join the others. Hesitantly you nod and walk over to your other classmates, you wouldn’t call yourself close with any of them. After the first day not many wanted to talk to you, of course you had break time, but even then most dedicated it to basic practice under their mothers watchful eyes. You did the same of course, although she signed you up for it, she didn’t seem to care too much. It made you wonder why she did it in the first place. Not that you minded, the sport itself is fun.

As the ceremony passes and each kid performs round after round. The points and results are finally brought, to your shock and wonder you make it to 4th place. With glee you go over to your mother as fast as you can, finding her reading a book at the stands. “Mom-me! Mom-me!” You giggle out with glee, “4! 4!” You chant excitedly. She glances up at you “yes,” she says simply before looking back at it. “4th place, better than I thought you would get” you pause for a second before puffing your chest out in pride. “Once you’re done your group picture we’re leaving” nodding you go back to your class, excited to at last go home.

“Da-De” you yell out into the large mansion, feet stomping. “Slow down!” Alfred calls, as you trail snow and mud into the house. “Take your shoes off!” At that you drop to the ground and rip them off, throwing not just the shoes but your jacket onto the ground. Not even fully getting up as you run off, almost falling several times as your socks slide against the slippery floor. “Da-De” you say once again trying to find the man, “Dear” your mother’s voice softly rings out behind you, causing you to turn around. “How about we go see your father together?” She carefully picks up your squirming form, holding you close as you excitedly wiggle. Small body full of energy and joy, too much for it to contain “Yayayayayaya!”.

She walks down the long hallway, filled with Wayne family portrait’s and heirlooms, making her way to your father’s office. “Bruce” she calls in a soft loving voice, he doesn’t even look up from his work. “I told you to knock” he says curtly, “I know but-“ she begins, a little upset only to be promptly cut off by your attempts to break free from her arms. “Da-De, Da-De!” You say with glee reaching towards the floor. Your mother gently puts you down, as soon as you’re free you bolt over to him.

Hands quickly grabbing at his pants staring up at him wide eyed. He looks down at you, face completely blank, with a happy grin and a cheerful voice you hold up the 4th place medal “I won!”. “You didn’t win” he says matter-of-factly which instantly makes your smile drop. “You just got fourth, but that’s fine” he puts one of his large hands on your head and gently ruffles your hair “there’s always next time”. He then pulls his hand away and goes straight back to work.

Now sufficiently deflated, you walk back over to your mother, unsure what to think or do. Staring up at her with conflicted eyes, but she doesn’t look down at you. To completely and utterly focused on your father, but there is irritation in her eyes, not as much as love, but it’s there. “Dear” she says sternly making you straighten, “go to your room” “but-“ “please” with her voice strained you instantly nod. That reaction and conversation made your father look up with his eyebrow raised. But you had already scurried off before you could hear them speak.

You didn’t see either parent for the rest of the day, not during dinner, nor when you were sent to bed. You usually saw at least one of them. It wasn’t until early the next day did you see your mother. She woke you up with gentle nudges and calling out to you. “I just wanted to tell you I’m going to be gone for a little while” she tells your tired form “we’re are you going?” you ask voice still groggy with sleep. “Out” “how long” “a long time” you huff at her responses and get out of bed. “No, go back to sleep” she says, but you don’t listen. All she does is sigh, and you follow her around the house as she puts on her favorite fur coat. Watched as she packed her leather suitcases and anything else she had that could be used as storage. All with an intense look in her eye.

She paused as she grabbed one framed photo, staring at it for a long time, fingers brushing against the finally cut wood of the frame. She then glances down at you, whose hands are batting against her luggage like it’s drums going “dtthhh dthh” with your small tongue sticking out. Something in her gaze changes, like a realization finally hit her. “Dear” you instantly look up, the way she says it is unusually soft and gentle. “I have a gift for you before I leave” she says sitting next to you on the bed, it sinking as she puts her weight on it. Looking up at her with wide eyes she hands you the frame. You stare at the picture inside, completely entranced by the image.

There is your father, standing in front of a strang clear box with many wires coming in and out of it. Sitting inside you can just barely make out a baby who he stares at with loving eyes, a look you have never once seen on him before. A love no one has ever looked at you with before. “It’s you” she says softly pointing at the box, wrapping the other arm around you and pulling you close. “Alfred took this photo the day you were born. You came to us three weeks too early. That’s a long time for a baby, so you had to be put in a special box with lots of wires and doctors to make sure you were safe.” “We’re are you?” She smiles softly at that. “Mommy was still getting looked at by the doctors to make sure she was okay to when this was taken” you let out a small oh. “This picture is very important to Mommy, so I want you to have it and look after it while I’m gone.” You hold the frame close to your chest and nod, determined.

“Good” she says standing up and patting your head, “go put that in your room will you?” Nodding vigorously you run out of her room and all the way to yours. You spend what feels like hours but in actuality was only a few minutes looking for the perfect spot to place it. Finally deciding on the small table next to your bed, right in front of your whale shaped night light.

When you go back to your mothers room you find her already gone, all her luggage with her. Confused, you look around the manor trying to find her. Racking your brain around we’re she could be, you head to the garage. Quickly finding her putting the bags in it. “Mom-me” you say standing behind her shivering from the cold air in your too thin pajamas. She practically jumps and turns to look at you, “Dear” she says glancing over at you “go back inside, you’re not dressed for this type of weather” “But moooo-“ “no, inside” she says sternly making you sulk. But before you could leave she walks up to you and pushes back your hair. “I wish…” she begins before stopping herself, she kneels down and gives you a small kiss on your forehead. She then stands back up and shoos you off.

You feel like what she was going to say is important, but you will never know what that is.

Once you entered the main building again you walked towards the main entrance, pressing your face against a window showing the driveway. Several minutes pass before you see the car leave the garage, main gates opening and the car driving far, far away. Obscured by the foliage surrounding the 200 year old house. You continue to sit there patiently waiting for your mother to come home, the clock ticking with each passing second.

You hear Alfred call out to you, turning your head to look at the elderly butler he continues “it’s rather early for you to be up” you just shrug at his comment and turn back to the window. “Mom-me woke me up” you say simply “I see… and what exactly are you doing?” He asks walking up to you. “Waiting” “for what” “Mom-me to come back” you push your face against the window, aggressively smudging it. “She left?” He asked, all he got as a response was a small ‘mmm mm’. Alfred lightly shakes his head, “how about I bring your breakfast here then?” “Okay” is your mumbled response.

Continuing to sit in the same spot, curled up into a ball and staring out the window. You lightly peck at the food Alfred had brought. Sitting there for hours, lunch, even dinner had passed and still no sign of her. You could hear Alfred and your father talking just out of reach. Their words were so muffled that all you could make out was nonsense. Once again Alfred called out your name, but you barely responded. “It’s time for you to go to bed” he said calmly “but Mom-me still isn’t back yet” You mumble eyes not leaving the dark driveway. “She won’t be back for a very long time” “how long” “a while” “like..” you pause to think “a day?” “No” he says slowly, unsure himself. “Two days?” You ask again, only for him to pick you up by your armpits and then maneuvering you into a proper hold. “It’s late, let’s get you to bed” “but m-“ “no buts” he gently scolds.

You really do not like Alfred.

The old man takes you to your room, disputes your protests and much yawning. Gently placing you onto the bed tucking you in “nooo- I want-“ you get close to sobbing before he shushes you again. “Your mother would want you to be well rested.” “Mrrp?” He chuckles at that, “what if she comes home and you’re too tired to properly greet her?” “Nooo” “yes, so sleep, alright” sniffling slightly you nod. “Okay” you whine, sliding down the bed, your head hitting the pillow. “Goodnight Mstr. Whail” you say to the faintly glowing plastic Whail. You then reach over to your side we’re a rabbit plushy the size of your whole body lay. White with a pink bow tie “good night Mstr. Buns” Alfred looked at you expectantly, you tiredly blink up at him, why, oh right “good night Mstr. Pennyworth” “good night” he says with a soft smile. As he stood up he noticed the picture on the nightstand. “Where did you get this?” He asked slowly, you sleepily barry your face into the rabbit’s side. “Mom-me gave it to me before she left” you mumbled out with a yawn. “I see” is all he says, pursing his lips, before leaving the room, turning off the lights and closing the door as he does so.

This goes on for the next two days, you waking up and waiting for your mother to come home for the moment you wake up to the moment you go to bed. It’s extremely boring, but you don’t want to risk missing her for even a second. Finally a car does pull up, a very familiar car. You light up at the sight of it. It’s not the car you’re mother left in but it is a car you’re familiar with. A very familiar man steps out of the vehicle, tall and slender, wearing a nice suit. He walks to the front door and swings it open “Brucesy!” He calls out happily “Uncl Harvey!” you yell, jumping up and running over to him. He bends down and gives you a big bear hug, causing a series of giggles to leave your mouth. “How you doing squirt!” He says letting you go, instantly deflating and backing away slightly “I dno” you mumble head held low.

Harvey tilts his head, eye brows slightly pinched together. He opens his mouth to speak, “Harvey” you hear your father say in a friendly tone. Instantly you forget about your favorite uncle and run to your father “Da-De!”. Said man gives you a small smile that doesn’t fully reach his eyes, and quickly turns back to your uncle. “I’m glad you’re here” “of course!” Harvey says having stood up when you trouted away. He gives your father a large huge, which the man recuperates. “So what’s the issue?” Harvey asks as he pulls away, your father glances down at you and then back at him “It’s better we talk about this in private.” He looks concerned at that statement but nods. Your father shoos you off, or at least you attempt to “No!” You huff stomping your foot on the ground “I don’t wanna!” He sighs. “I need to talk to Harvey in private, why don’t you go play with Alfred-“ “NO!” You yell aggressively tugging at his pant leg. He sighs “kid-“ but Harvey cuts him off “sorry squirt but you’re dad’s right, it’s an important conversation between adults.”

You stare up at them squinting, “is it like when Da-De brings home those other ladies?” Harvey instantly starts choking on his own spit “NO! nononononononono” you’re Father says rapidly and panicked “It’s business! Work things! Boring talk!” He insists. You continue to squint up at them, letting out a small humm “oookaaay” “never say anything like that again, okay kid” Harvey says mortified. Nodding rapidly you continue to just stare at them, Harvey sighs and then with a smile pulls out a coin. “Okay, how about I make a deal with you” you nod rapidly, instantly knowing what was going to happen. You watch mesmerized as he maneuvers the metal through his hands, “if it’s tails, me and you leave this stuffy manor right now to get ice cream” “Harvey-“ “but if it’s heads you have to leave us alone just long enough for me and your dad to have are talk. Deal?” “Deal!” You chirp, he nods and you watch with bated breath as the coin is flipped. It goes high, high, high into the air, and as it comes down you watch as Harvey catches it. He then flips his closed fist around so his palm is up, and sitting right there is heads.

You groan and huff angrily, stomping your feet “tuff luck squirt” Harvey says with a frown. “Looks like it's meeting time then” “noooo” you whine, “I don’t make the rules! Blame Lady Luck for your misfortune here.” He says, shaking his head solemnly. You continue to huff and puff but eventually you turn around “ima go now!” You angrily shout as you storm off as well as your little legs will let you. At least that’s what the adults think, adults are stupid. They always think you don’t know as much as you do and they always don’t realize you lie, a lot. Well except Alfred but you’re pretty sure he’s not human.

It isn’t hard to figure out where the two are, so you walk to your Fathers office. Putting your ear against the door straining to hear the conversation. You can hear Harvey talking to your father “you really should….. cruel….. it….” Sadly it was almost impossible to hear what there saying. “I know… but…… issue….. fight…… gone” You can barely make out your fathers voice, flinching back when you hear Harvey yell a “WHAT!” “Hold on” your father says and you can hear his steps as he walks towards the door. You quickly try to run away, only for the door to open before you're even fully away from it. You turn to look at your father, he looks at you, he raises an eyebrow, you quickly try to continue your escape. Only to be scoped up and carefully placed in his arms. “Unhand me!” You yell, struggling in his grip, falling your arms around and kicking your feet.

He doesn’t respond, quietly walking away with you “let me down! I have rights!” He continues walking through the manor you yelling all the way. “Alfred” he calls out, the man just appears. “Yes Master Bruce?” You’re handed over to the man “caught them listening in on a conversation they shouldn’t have” “FIRST AMENDMENT, FIRST AMENDMENT” “it’s the fourth actually young master” you scream. Kicking and face red, you try to bite him but are quickly pulled away. “No biting!” Your father scolds, but you don’t stop struggling. He just sighs and sends you and Alfred off as he continues his discussion with Harvey.

After so long of waiting for your mother with no answers, not even after the police got involved, you got to thinking. Would she come back if you continue your training? As an adult, that would sound stupid. But as a child, who’s mother disappeared the day after you lost your first competition, it made complete sense. Maybe, somehow, some way if you won she would come back. So you worked and trained and competed as hard as you could. You even invited Harvey to a competition, sadly he couldn’t come because of an important meeting that same time. But he promised he’d show up next time! Then he got into an accident and you never saw him again, of course you already knew what happened when Two Face appeared on screen. You were 4 not stupid, even through all the scarring and the manic air he had, the man is still your uncle. It’s a sad sight to see, both as a young child and as an adult.

Even when Dick comes to live with you, you don’t stop. You invited him once or twice, but he never came, you didn’t really care much. He didn’t feel like you’re brother. No matter what everyone else tries to tell you. Really you only invited him out of courtesy. Even his dismissal couldn’t stop you, not until you reach your goal of winning, just once, of your mom coming home. Even if it’s only to congratulate you for finally winning at something. Now this doesn’t mean you don’t invite your father, of course you do. Every chance you get, you have him sign the permission slip, pay for what you need, tell him when competition and even practices are. But he never shows up, never, no matter how much you ask or beg, there is always something, someone more important than you. Not even Alfred stays longer than necessary, it made sense when your mother was there. But now, he just left a small child all on their own. They always do that, leave you alone.

Things don’t really change until Jason shows up, unlike Dick who introduced himself with a friendly formality and then left to talk with your father, Jason was different. Jason greeted you with enthusiasm, a bright smile and wanting to know everything about you. He wanted to know you, wanted to be your brother and for the first time in a long time you felt loved. He told you about himself, how he met your father by stealing his car tires. The most damning piece of evidence straight up said “It must be weird having The Batman as your dad” which very quickly sent you on a spiral. Jason thought you knew that, but you didn’t even have the slightest clue. That made Dick Robin didn’t it, and Alfred had to know too. Based on everyone’s reaction when he asked you that.

It was upsetting, you wanted to scream at your father for keeping this from you. To yell at Alfred for him helping to hide it. To kick Dick in his shins for not speaking a single word. But you didn’t, instead of Alfred, or Dick or your father, it was Jason that comforted you. Jason who told you hiding it was for your own ‘safety’, at least that's what they told him. Jason held you and comforted you, a stranger, someone he didn’t even know for a full day, something no one had ever done for you. Not since Harvey left at least.

You quickly glued yourself to him, it was confusing why Dick hated Jason so much. Jason played games with you, Jason listened to you talk, Jason talked when you didn’t want to. He was kind to everyone, with a smile that lit up the room. In only a week he was your whole world. Because of this you hated Dick on principle. It just made sense to you, it wasn’t that same 11 year old logic that had you inviting Jason to your performance not even two weeks after he came. When he said yes? It instantly made something about this one feel more, like it was the most important one yet. That if you failed this if he doesn’t come you would be crushed.

But the second he got into the car with you, not a moment for your self doubt to creep in, you felt like all your fears left. The two of you entered and went your separate ways, but you weren’t scared, weren’t nervous. Everything felt like it was in place for the first time in years. That day will always be one of your favorites, that day….

Jason sat in the stands next to a familiar woman, he had never met her in person, but Bruce made sure he memorized every member of his rogues gallery. Even the most minor and inconsequential ones. Although he didn’t recognize the baby in her lap, bundled up nice and snug “what are you doing here Talia?” The woman turned to him and smiled. “Well hello to you two little boy wonder” it didn’t surprise Jason that she already knew him. “What do you think I’m doing?” Jason scoffs, “stalking my sibling” she just smiles at him, fondly, like his mother did. “No, I’m just supporting my stepchild, that’s all” she says setting up a camcorder, “you’re not married to Bruce!” She just keeps on smiling. The baby on her lap wiggles, whining as all babies do. She quickly goes to shush him, “Here, hold Damian would you?” She says passing the baby-Damian-to him. The 14 year old panics, holding Damian to the best of his ability. “Good job!” She says, patting his head, continuing to fiddle with the camera.

“Are you planning on?” “Recording this? Yes!” “Why?” “Well I’m doing this for all my kids-“ Jason doesn’t have time to unpack all that. “Is there a greater reason you’re doing this” that makes her pause her smile dropping, just for a moment. Then it’s right back up “can a mother not do things for her child?” “Do they even know you exist,” she doesn’t respond to that. “Will they ever know you exist?” “When there ready” “when will that be?” He asks, gently rocking the baby back and forth. “I don’t know, maybe never, maybe never under the pretense I want it to be” “that’s a really good non answer” Jason hisses out. “I know her mother” now that made Jason pause, “did you-“ “not when they were married, good havens no! Sure I loved him back then too, but I’m no home recker! Then again Father did want me to be.” She sighs and shakes her head, “no I meet her long ago, only once. I don’t remember exactly when but… I remember it was not long after she left. I wanted to know why you would just leave your child like that, how you could. I never got that answer from her, not one I understood.” she glances down at the baby in Jason’s lap, looking almost guilty. “She already knew who I was, knew what my relationship with her ex husband was like. I don’t know how she knew, she just did. She didn’t confront me about it, didn’t seem to even care. She just told me… ‘keep an eye on my Child would you?’” Jason hums, “I never took you as one to uphold this type of promise” she laughed at that. “This is your first time meeting me, is it not?” he just looks down at the baby in his lap who started eating his own hand.

“What did she say?” “Hmm?” Jason looks back at her, “her response, how could she just… leave them” that made Talia’s face twist into something unpleasant. “I still don’t understand their response, after all how could” she shakes her head, “how could someone not love their child? How can someone wish to love their child when it should come so naturally?” Jason freezes at that. “Some-“ he begins in a shaky voice, “some people’s brains just don’t work like yours” she looks up at the ceiling. “You’re right” she says bringing Jason into a side hug, “Most people’s brains don’t work the same.” The three just sit in silence, the only noise being from the crowd of parents, siblings and other relatives of the competitors. Then as soon as the announcer began the camera was on and….

You won

Jason never told Bruce what happened that day, not in full detail at least. You would never know what happened then two, at least not yet.

Things were fine, great even for the next few weeks. But then for the first time since Jason arrived you saw him and your father in the same room. He looked at Jason with so much love, a love you never got. Instead of an increasingly cold and distant man, he had a warm and loving father. He had your father’s trust, his love, his respect, something you desperately craved. Yet he got it so freely, Dick did too, of course he did. But something always felt different about seeing them interact, it wasn’t the same love you desired. You wanted to be loved as your father’s child, not as their sibling. You wanted to be loved the same way he loved Jason. It hurt, in such a short time you felt closer to him than anyone else. Call it foolish, call it naive, but you couldn’t help the love and care you felt for your older brother. This felt like the ultimate betrayal, and as he turned to look at you and give you his signature bright smile, you understood why Dick hated him so much. So you turned around, and ran off. Still hating Dick all the while.

Then he fucking died

Not Dick, this would be a completely different story if it was him. But Jason, sweet, wonderful, Jason, died. That somehow broke you even more, you didn’t get it, you hated Jason, you’re supposed to hate Jason. Yet you have never felt this level of grief before. Not even when you excepted that your mother was never coming back. You wanted to scream and shout and break everything, judging by the news about Batman he wanted the very same. Because of said anger a new child appears this time only a few months younger than you. He, not you, never you, dispute your shared anger and grief, became the new Robin. Later you learned that Tim asked Dick to go back to being Robin first then once he was rejected, he skipped you completely and asked to become Robin. You never really formed any close relationship with Tim especially after that. But even so, no matter how much you hate it, time marches forward. So you continued to do your shows, in a vain hope for, something. Completely ignorant to the three shadows in the stands watching. You never won again, you never will.

You don’t really understand what happened that day when you turned 14. You felt like a shell of whatever you once were. You we’re going through the motions.There was no passion, no lust for life left in you, maybe there never was. But that day, another Birthday you spent all by yourself, you didn’t crack, you didn’t shatter, you fizzled out. All that was left was tired and angry edges. So you quit, it was fun, but it had long lost all meaning. All you wanted to do was rest, you got that for two years. Just two, then it would take you another four until you could rest once more. It would take 8 years before you could one again feed the joy you once had in figuring skating again.

“He’s the perfect man!” Phoebe says for the 13th time, yes you have been counting, since this conversation started. “You just like that he’s an alien,angel,plant thing” you respond, opening the door to one of the many ice rinks in Gotham and stepping inside. “That's just a bonus! Not the main feature! If it was, I would be talking about Knives too!” She says walking in front of you and to the receptionist, after a quick transaction between the two of them and Phoebe picking out her own skates the two of you head towards the rink. It’s almost nostalgic, stepping into one for the first time since you were 14. The sound of music coming from the speakers filling the air, “hu” you mumble to yourself, “just us right now, convenient.” Phoebe continues her rant, “Knives have no redeeming qualities! Except for being hot! Especially Stamped Knives!” “Hot or no redeeming qualities?” You ask sitting down on the bench, cold and familiar, especially in the hurting your ass department. “No redeeming qualities!” “You like Scaramouche?” You start putting on your own pair of skates, dispute not needing them anymore it just felt wrong not owning any. So once you moved into your apartment, you scraped together extra cash to buy a pair.

“That’s different” she insists, moving her arms close to her chest and balling them up into fists. “He had a compelling redemption arc that was ruined by the fact that most of it was in limited time events!” “He still killed like a lot of people” “I think the murder was funny” you let out a quick “HA” and shake your head standing up. “Put your shoes on” she instantly goes quiet at that. “What” “knife shoes” she says with disdain, you giggle slightly at that “what are you a toddler?” “Hush!” She says face flushed. “Besides! I brought us here for you! Not for me! I don’t even know how to ice skate. Now shoo! Go do like a triple axis or something!” You almost feel over from laugheder at that last part. “What!” You try and fail to calm down enough to answer her question, clutching your stomach from how hard you're laughing. Still cackling as you speak “Me??? Do a triple axel??” “What is it hard or something??” “Only the hardest move to pull off ever!” You take a deep breath, a large grin on your face even after you’ve calmed down. “You just asked me to do a move only like 11 people have ever done.” “Oh…” “ya”.

Rolling your eyes and shaking your head fondly you head towards the ice, leaving Phoebe to put on the skates. It takes a moment, rusty from years of no practice, the muscles you worked so hard to train are now gone. But then those same muscles memory kicks in and you're off. It feels magical, like coming home after so many years away. Each slide and spin felt familiar, it’s not as good as it used to be. But somehow it felt better, more fun, more freeing then it had ever been.

With a final slide and a pose you hear clapping coming from the stands, you turn to look at Phoebe with a pair of skates on sitting in the stands. “WOOO!” She says cheering you on and with a joking tone “DO A QUADRUPLE AXEL!” Giggling to yourself you yell back “I'M NOT BREAKING THE LAWS OF PHYSICS FOR YOUR AMUSEMENT!” “BOOOOO” she yells in a playful tone, grin not leaving her face. “Get over here!” You say playfully, “I can’t skate!” “I’ll show you idiot!” She huffs and with shaky legs walks over to the entrance of the rink. You watch as she grips onto the wall for dear life, even more amusing as the song switches to a soft romance about snowmen or something. Completely opposite vibes to the newborn fawn you're watching right now.

“I’m staying right here!” She insists, legs bent and spread in awkward angles, eyes wide and shaky. You roll your eyes and skate over to her, “I got ya” you say helping her stand up. You then take her hands in yours and start moving backwards. She stands there stiff as a board letting you basically drag her away. “Come on move your legs” “Fucken how bitch!” “Look at my legs, copy what they’re doing.” Phoebe huffs and looks down, she shakes as she copies the way your legs are positioned, clearly uncomfortable with it. “There you go!” She flushes at your praise as she mimics the movement of your feet. Of course going forwards then backwards, “now” you let go of her hands and quickly move out of her reach. “NONONONONO!” She yells scrambling for balance, getting it with her arms spread wide and torso pushed forward “YOU BITCH”.

Cackling you move back towards her and she quickly latches on. “Don’t ever do that again” “I won’t” you say teasingly. “You’re the worst” “I know” you continue to help her along, as slowly more and more people fill the rink. She holds tightly onto your arm as the two of you go from being in the middle to skating on the sides like everyone else. The music of the rink fills the air as the two of you just skate and talk. A form of peace washes over you, this, this is nice.

——————

Fun fact! All of this chapter happened because I was listening to the song Snowman while thinking of the ending.

I have a few more ideas after this, but I don’t really know when I’m going to get those out or how they’ll work. I do appreciate asks! Love answering those!

I was thankfully not a pageant kid, I did do baton for several years but I don’t remember ever participating in any competitions. I also did ballet for a few years, but once again outside of the class is mandatory shows I didn’t do much, oh and one of those marathon training programs that one time. So this definitely isn’t going to be very accurate, I also don’t know much about ice skating. I did a bit of research on it though.

@hoeinthehouse @strwberryglass @type-ink @okaycelina

#batfam x reader #platonic batfam #x gender neutral reader #dreaming of teeth #neglected reader

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doginurbloodstream · 15 hours ago

Text

i am bive from regretevator!

i dont particularly miss the regretevator universe.. i do enjoy the game though

i know two infected fictionkins, one of which is also unpleasant gradient and poob!

id say im a 3/10, i tend to be a very rational person (i think)

bive is unlabled mspec but wlw and im aroace transmasc

my fictionkin identity doesnt really effect daily life, if at all. it has to be triggered by specific bive related things. the closest its gotten is wanting to yell out "me" whenever the npc me entered the elevator while i was playing with my friend, who does not know im a fictionkin, so there was like an awkward pause where i stopped myself, and then yelled bive. there are random bits of dysphoria i guess, i dont like talking in third person, but its mild and i can get past it.

my fictionkin experience is mainly unpleasant (gradient) unfortunately. shifts are euphoric but also stressful. i tend to have to consciously ground myself a bit, because i have felt like im being watched in the past. i knew/know i wasnt, i just couldnt shake the feeling. i mean coming up with theories for the game where i can just completely let lose is fun, however it is saddening that i will probably never come up with a real one.

death note, touch tone telephone (i was based on that song so its not surprising), and i recently realized the backrooms does too. theres more im not thinking of

im not sure, its not psychological and i think dont believe in most spiritual things. its probably a multiversal thing, but i dont know from there so i usually just say unlabeled.

i do experience shifts! they are always triggered tho, thankfully. i dont get them too often. the first two shifts i had were me being paranoid abt things (the very first one was very out of control, but i was sleep deprived and depressed at the time). the second time i talked about two questions ago. i didnt have any shifts for awhile after that until i my plushie arrived, and i stayed up quite a bit just missing mediamates. that was rough. my later shifts were triggered by trying to come up with theories for the game, altho i wasnt aware i was shifted, until later, i thought i was just excited. the theories were really unhinged, and i thought i was a genius. it was rly fun tho. harmless shift. today i had a brief shift, i was looking at a bive fictionkin stimboard, and there was like a liminal space gif + music was playing, and it looked.. all too much like the lab. i started crying a bit, even tho i do not think have kinmemories, but it ended pretty quickly cuz my friend msged me a joke and the shock value got to me lol. ive also had phantom shifts, but not much recently. i may have had tail shifts, but its difficult to differentiate between kintypes

my media is regretevator on roblox! i do cringe at it sometimes tbh.

when i see fanart, it sort of feels like it was made FOR me specifically lol. what i know abt my canon heavily aligns with the fanon designs so thats cool. when it doesnt align i do feel a bit off tho- like no, that isnt me. you got it wrong. ironically this happened with a recent canon update, when they added melanie WHO IS DEAD. she was supposed to BE dead and STAY dead. and then also, why do i welcome her back?? why am i so friendly?? i mean i get that shes like friends or smth with split, but i just dont trust her. i have no reason not to, i just dont. that is WRONG. you. NO. get OUT.

ooh ooh! i like this question. i have a large, reptile-like (but hairy) non-prehensile tail! my hands and feet are clawed, with only 4 digits. for my feet i have like thumb things coming out of my heels, similar to a bird. i likely am very similar the upcoming remodel, but i cant confirm as i have not seen it. i just know im not a roblox character, and the previews of splits remodel feel very familiar.

ah.. ships. i dont see much of them outside me n split. if i do i just think its a bit weird, and move on. i wish i was seen as more than just someone who likes her. theres more to me. the majority of bive fans are mainly spive fans. i decided to look myself up on tumblr and i was just flooded with shipart. there is MORE TO ME. I AM MORE THAN HER. PLEASE SEE ME FOR ME.

in current lore me and split have feelings for each other (cant relate, im aro, but spive is in my canon tho) and are GOING to confess but that has not happened yet. i feel kinda weird abt it since i have very mixed feelings on romance, but i think we are a thing in my canon, because MY GOD I MISS SPLIT SO MUCH. I MISS HER.

Alex's fictionkin ask game!

(mostly for fictional characters)

🌲 - what is your fictotype?

🪲 - do you miss your home? Or maybe you're happy that you're here?

🐸 - do you have any sourcemates? If yes, who/what are they?

🌳 - in scale 1-10, how are you similar to your canon?

🌿 - does your fictotype have a different sex/gender identity than your body/you?

☘️ - what aspect of life does your identity affect the most?

🪴 - is your fictionkin experience unpleasant or enjoyable for you?

🍃 - what reminds you of your fictotype? (E.g.: a figurine, a doll, a tv series)

🌄 - on what level is your identity? (E.g. spiritual, psychological, psychical)

🐢 - do you experience shifts? Of yes, how do they look like?

🥝 - what is your source?

🐛 - how do you feel about fanarts of you and fanfictions?

🌵 - do you look exactly like in your source or do you look different? If you do, then what is different?

🥀 - what do you think about ships with you?

🦕 - do you have/had a loved one in your source?

♪♪♪

So, yeah, that's all! :D

Reblog this, so the others can ask you questions or answer them all right now, if you want to :>

#fictionkin #fictionfolk #otherkin #alterhuman #regretevatorfictionkin #regretevator fictionkin #regretevator bive #bive regretevator #bivefictionkin #bive #regretevator #sorry for the rant #split #regretevator split #spive

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olderthannetfic · 2 days ago

Note

www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/771823370694213632

You need the say the bit about the way canon treats characters way louder because I really think that the way the character is... framed, I guess? accounts for huge chunks of it.

I remember when the Disk Horse was about Finn vs. Kylo Ren from the Star Wars sequel trilogy and I got called racist for trying to point out that Finn was always framed as the comic relief/unserious by the canon. He has a character arc in the first movie, but his emotions and his trauma and his personality are mostly played for laughs (ha! ha! Black janitor guy is scared because he's a coward! - and him being a janitor is a change that came pretty late, he was originally meant to be the top of his class). OTOH Kylo Ren has the camera linger on his anguished face while sad music plays and he monologues about the moral conflicts that he's facing.

The average viewer/reader - especially in the case of visual media - doesn't really stop watching to form non-prejudiced independent opinions on every character (and really shouldn't if your narrative is well-constructed!), that'd take up too much of their mental bandwidth! They let themselves be guided by how things and people are framed, so of course they'd see Ren as Serious and Tragic and Finn as the funny guy, which is inherently less sexy to most people!

Same thing with F/F: when canon treats its women with any degree of complexity and gives them the sort of character traits that are conductive to blorbofication people are all over it!

My dash's been drowning in Rhaenycent for a year now, and that's a show that arguably sorta botched its female characters in the attempt to make them complex! But it doesn't matter, because they set up all these juicy dynamics and the fans are all over it!

Fans LOVE Claudia from IWTV even though the tragedy of her canonical role is that the guys always sideline her for each other.

I went to the Anora tag after seeing the movie and saw a bunch of Anora x reader fic in between the gifs the same way I did for Feyd Rautha from Dune or any other feral unhinged character fans love imagining themselves having sex with (and then blocked it lol).

Like, my taste in women and men is exactly the same but the large majority of characters that fit it are men, because we just don't get a lot of women who are composed, charming rogues on the outside and crippled traumatized messes on the inside, with a narrative that gives this sufficient weight, and also lets them be feral and unhinged. And I actually prefer minority characters because where I'm from I'm from a minority group myself, but again, most of them don't fit the bill personality-wise or framing-wise.

Fandom's a hobby and it's meant to be fun - I'm not gonna be constantly swimming uphill from what the canon is trying to present to me just because a character shares a demographic category with me. I think this is the case for most people, really.

My read on a lot of this is that people are sad about the status quo (fair) and are lying to themselves that the culprits are nearby where they can reach them.

If we confront the fact that the real source is the director or the cinematographer or the studio head, it all feels so much more insurmountable.

Of course, one can opt for niche, indie media, but a lot of people don't want to do that, so they fall back on this shitty coping mechanism of pretending that they can yell at the people around them and effect meaningful change.

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dollfacefantasy · 2 days ago

Text

TELL ME WHEN YOU HEAR MY HEART STOP ♡

pairing: naoya zen'in x fem!reader

summary: today's a very special day for you and naoya, and he plans to celebrate it with a very special gift.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, dubcon, kidnapping/captivity, drugging, stockholm syndrome, p in v, fingering, breeding kink, puppy play, misogyny, mentions of spanking, corporal punishment, and psychological torture stuff

a/n: birthday gift for my sweet wonderful friend who i love so very much @nexysworld <3 also!! imagine naoya as a few years older than his canon age for the timeline in this story to work.

“Naoya taking a wife… I never thought I’d see the day.”

The sound of Jinichi’s voice speaking his name drew Naoya’s attention to the two men walking several feet ahead of him on the stone path. His golden eyes flitted from the blue sky above to the pair of them, narrowing as he focused on hearing the next part of the conversation.

“It’s not that shocking,” Ogi replied, “He’s the future head of the clan. There’s no way Naobito would let him fail to produce an heir. Even if the old man had to find some bitch to pay off, the kid was always going to get married.”

“That’s true, but don’t you find it the least bit odd? Seeing him at events with some girl on his arm now? Before, he could never shut up about how the women shouldn’t even be allowed at those things. To be honest with you, I always thought he swung the other way,” Jinichi added.

“Well, yeah. But look at her. If he was ever gonna wed a woman, it was gonna be one like her. Quiet as a mouse. Moves through rooms like a scrap of silk in the wind. Doesn’t go anywhere without him,” Ogi reasoned.

“I don’t think that’s her choice,” the other man quipped.

Ogi shrugged. “Maybe not, but she goes along with it. I only wonder if she’s always been so naturally obedient or if the kid beat it into her.”

Gritting his teeth, Naoya had enough of listening to this. He sped up to catch his relatives. Once within arm’s length, he laid a hand upon Jinichi’s shoulder and pulled him around. His lips curled into a sneer upon making eye contact.

The sudden tug shocked the older Zen’in, his brows raising and lips pausing around the word they had been forming. Ogi followed his direction and came to face the future head of the clan as well. The three of them stood there for a moment. Naoya let them have a few seconds to register that he’d heard their conversation.

“I’ve never thought of either of you as intelligent, but I thought you smarter than thinking it was acceptable to disparage your future clan leader out in the open like this,” he said.

“Our words weren’t intended to be negative, Naoya. We didn’t mean to upset you,” Jinichi started.

“Because you didn’t think I would hear,” he shot back.

From the looks on the two faces in front of him, it was clear the men weren’t afraid of Naoya. That irritated him of course. He wanted all of them to fear him, to feel that if they so much as put him in a bad mood, they would suffer. But the emotion he did see on their features satisfied him enough to prevent that from being a pressing issue.

The gleam in both Jinichi and Ogi’s eyes told him they respected his rank. They may hate him and believe him to be nothing more than Naobito’s spoiled-rotten son, but they accepted the fact that there was nothing they could do about it. And he almost liked that more.

“But really? The implication that I have to lay hands on my betrothed to receive her submission wasn’t meant to be an insult?” he mocked, “The idea that my father would have to pay some woman to be my wife wasn’t said to demean me? I don’t believe that for a second.”

“They were just jokes,” Ogi defended, “How you deal with your woman is your business.”

“Oh, I know it is. How I discipline her is of no concern to you, but do you really think I would have chosen someone so unruly to spend my life with?” he questioned.

“It’s just that you have such high standards-” Jinichi stated.

“I do have high standards. And she meets every single one,” Naoya cut him off, “You two don’t have to explain any further. I’ve already decided to forgive you because I know the root of all of this is jealousy. Ogi, I can tell you wish there was some way you could trade in your wife for mine. Someone young and fresh. Eager and passionate. Not dried up and drained of any personality from more than a decade of dealing with you.

“And Jinichi. Have you ever even been with a girl? I’m sure if my wife took the time to so much as smile at you, she’d have you trailing her like a drooling dog. So please, spare me your judgements about her being ‘quiet’ or shy or whatever you think. There simply isn’t much to say when the company is made up of people like you two,” he finished.

The both of them blinked at Naoya in return, unsure of what to say in response to the scathing words. Arguing would probably cause a blow up that would draw the attention of Naobito, but cowering would inflate the young man’s already super-sized ego. Luckily for them, Naoya continued speaking before they had to make a decision.

“Either way, it’s all water under the bridge. I know you two won’t make this mistake again,” he smiled, “But in case you need the reminder, don’t ever utter the word ‘bitch’ in a discussion about my wife. And if I hear you calling me kid again, you’ll find yourself feeling sorely out of place when I take mine as head of this clan.”

This time Naoya didn’t bother waiting for a potential reply before pushing through them and continuing his walk. The pathway fell into serene silence now that it wasn’t polluted by their annoying chatter. Birds chirped in the trees above while a gentle Spring breeze rustled the hedges on either side of him.

He let out a soft sigh as he turned a corner as his shared suite came into view in the distance. Never did Naoya think he’d see the day where he defended a woman so valiantly. Though that was the crux of why he did it he supposed. You weren’t just some woman. You were his. His bride-to-be, his beloved, his special girl. The only person of the female persuasion he’d let walk one pace behind him instead of three.

God, it was ridiculous. Even thinking of you now made his heart race. He envisioned your sweet, sparkling eyes. Your cute lips that tasted like the richest wine in the world. That luscious body below that gave him wet dreams like he was a horny teenager.

He sighed, longing for you even though he’d be in your presence in a matter of seconds. No matter how often he saw you, it seemed it was never enough. If he could, he’d blow off all his duties around here and stay with you for the entire day.

Opening the miniature gates to his suite, he walked across the paved path to a small wooden staircase. He headed up the three steps and finally reached the doorway that would lead to you.

Upon entering his home, he slipped off his shoes and took a glance in the nearby mirror to make sure his hair was in place. On the thin end table against the wall was a pile of wedding invitations. The sight of them brought a smirk to his lips. Save the date! Mr. and Mrs. Zen’in would like to invite you… scrawled in elegant calligraphy and bordered in gold trim.

“Sweetheart, I’m home,” he called through the house.

He waited a few seconds for the sound of you rushing towards him. That phrase served the same purpose as a whistle to a trained hound. He’d taught you well over the last year. Everyday when he said those words, he could count on you to come to him, to ask about his day, and check on what he needed.

Only today, he didn’t hear the pitter-patter of your footsteps.

His eyebrow raised. In an instant, his body tensed, his lips set into a scowl. He tried telling himself you could be temporarily occupied. Maybe you were taking a bath or had fallen asleep for an afternoon nap. You could just be watching tv or listening to some music that muffled the sound of his voice.

He knew it was probably one of those, but his mind couldn’t help going to the worst place. That you had escaped.

His fist clenched by his sides. He bit the inside of his cheek. Walking further into your shared home, his eyes glanced around to look for any immediate signs of your departure. So far there was nothing. All the furniture was in place, no windows had been left ajar, one of your jackets draped across the back of an armchair.

She knows better now, he thought to himself. Last time you’d tried leaving two months ago, he had hoped it would be the last time. He’d caught you tumbling from the bedroom window while coming home to fetch a paper he’d forgotten. If he found out you’d pulled the vanishing act again today, he’d make the fury he’d felt in that moment seem like minor irritation.

When you tried leaving out the window, the two of you had locked eyes as you clambered off the ground. It would have been kind of cute if he wasn’t so pissed, the way he could see the realization in your eyes that you had majorly fucked up. You tried running, but Naoya was fast. He had you by the back of the neck in seconds, his nails digging into your tender skin.

“My little puppy felt like exploring outside her crate, hm?” he’d asked with barely constrained rage, “You know you’re supposed to ask for permission to do that. You’re not allowed to wander on your own yet.”

Naoya always ended his rules in yet even though he wasn’t sure if he actually planned on ever giving you the freedoms he currently forbade. A small part of him believed that the false hope would inspire your obedience better than direct punishments would. Not that it stopped him from giving you regular punishment though. That day he dragged you back into the house and spanked you till your ass was raw. You wouldn’t have been able to run for a light jog after that. It left you crying for nearly a whole day, so he had hoped it would have been a lasting lesson.

He continued to prowl through the house like a fox hunting its prey. Gliding into the kitchen, he again saw nothing out of the ordinary. You even had the oven on. He wanted that to be enough to put him at ease, but he couldn’t let himself relax. You might have left it on intending to burn the house down.

From there he slipped into the hall. You weren’t in any of the rooms off that walkway, so he headed for the stairs. He moved up them in silence. If you were still here, he didn’t want you to know his exact location. Paranoia had fully taken root. It wasn’t just escape that worried him now. Maybe you had figured out that never worked. You could have graduated to planning an attack. That wouldn’t work either, but he wouldn’t put it past you. For all the times you’d wailed about wanting to kill him, he didn’t believe logic factored into these little rebellions.

God, what if you had found the propofol in his nightstand. He kept it unlabeled, but you’d probably recognize that milky liquid by now. You could have found the syringes in his sock drawer too while doing the laundry.

Shit. Shit. Shit. You could be waiting, tucked behind a corner, ready to jab him in the throat like he’d done to you a year ago. In his defense though, you actually needed it. You were so upset that night, it bordered on hysterical. He’d come over to keep you company because even though he’d only been with you for a year, he’d known you much longer.

You were Toji’s girlfriend.

He’d met you while trying to track him down years before. The day he spotted you, his eyes had been trying to find his older cousin on a crowded city street. Instead they landed on you. Back then, you had a real baby face. Your eyes shined under the rays like they'd never known a cloudy day. The delicate daylight made your skin glow and your features appear softer. He felt drawn to you. It was like fate that you happened to be hanging off Toji’s arm.

Naoya had become friends with both of you. Hanging out with Toji was great because he was Toji. Naoya would have had fun with him if they just sat there and stared at each other. But shocking to everyone including himself, he actually liked you. He acted polite towards you, friendly even. He naturally smiled when you laughed. His eyes watched you during conversation. He took interest in the things you said.

In his mind, he maintained that he still didn’t like the company of women for the most part. But if Toji took an interest in you, there must have been something that made you worthwhile.

He fell in love with you silently. It was a feeling he never planned to act on. He would never betray his cousin like that. Instead, he’d just observe you in awe from a distance. He’d resign himself to only being your friend. Cousin-in-law if it came to that.

But then Toji died.

It left you devastated. Naoya felt hollowed out too, of course. He never thought he’d see Toji die. Part of him didn’t even believe that was possible. But even in comparison to his shock and grief and despair, you took it really hard.

You pulled away from him. Gaps between his visits transformed from days to weeks to months. You never outright told him you didn’t want him around. Your offers to play video games just dried up. You didn’t start conversations anymore, only offering minimal reactions to what he said. Most days you were busy taking extra shifts at work and on weekends you were hanging out with your own friends who Naoya “didn’t know.”

He followed you to a couple of these outings after feeling like he was going crazy experiencing withdrawal from you. Only he didn’t find “friends.” He found you, alone at the bar, getting yourself wasted until some guy would take you home with him and leave you feeling more empty than before.

After that, Naoya decided it was his duty to intervene. He would never have betrayed Toji for you, but now that Toji was gone, he would be what you needed. His cousin would want that, someone to protect you and make you feel loved. Someone to prevent you from destroying yourself in your sadness.

So on the anniversary of Toji’s death, he came to visit you. The two of you talked in short, tension-filled sentences. He could feel the guilt dripping from your every word. It was awkward, and he didn’t try making it any easier. Soon enough, as he expected, you pulled out something to drink to soothe your nerves and make the evening tolerable. And with the liquor came your tears.

It was easy really, corralling you to his chest and rubbing your back, whispering I’ve got you over and over. Then one little prick and you were out cold against him in less than a minute.

You weren’t too happy when you woke up the next afternoon in a place you didn’t recognize. His bedroom was much nicer than your apartment. Luxury furnishings adorned the space while expensive blankets covered your sluggish form. The upgrade in surroundings did little to convince you though.

When he came in to explain to you your new circumstances, you listened quietly at first. He thought for a second that it might all go smoothly, that you would see the value in him taking care of you. But then he got to the part about becoming his wife and bearing the next generation of Zen’ins… and you didn’t seem so on board with all of that.

Now, his heart pounded in his ears as he reached the top of the stairs.

The first few months of your training had been rough, but he honestly thought he’d made great progress with you. All the fighting and yelling and crying broke you down quite a bit. The period of sleep deprivation helped as well. And of course, you’d done great for that couple weeks he’d kept you on a leash. You’d still have your bratty moments every now and then, but overall, you were doing much better now. You’d come so far and learned your place. Just sometimes, you forgot that he knew what was best for you.

And he wasn’t evil. He could be understanding. Going from your life of reckless independence to being taken care of by someone so responsible would be a big change, especially for such an emotional little thing like you. That’s why he only punished for actual disrespect.

He hoped that wasn’t what this was right now. Today was a special day. He planned to come home with open arms for you, not a raised belt. But like always, he would do what he had to.

Cautiously, he ventured through the second floor of your house back towards the bedroom. Once he was within a few feet of the door, he could hear some rustling. Finally some indication that you were still in the house. He let out a breath, but his muscles stayed taut. You could be trying to slip out the window again, prying off the nails he’d tacked through the sill.

His shaking hand landed on the door, his fingertips giving it a light push to knock it open. He braced himself, ready for the worst possible scenario. His plan wouldn’t change. Your compliance was the only variable in this situation.

He came into the bedroom and scanned around for trouble. You weren’t at the window or rummaging through his nightstand like he’d feared. You weren’t crouched at the foot of the bed, poised for an attack. Rather, he saw the closet doors open. That was where the noise was coming from.

Crossing the room, he peered between the double doors. Now his body could finally relax. He let out a deep breath and ran his hand over his face. Inside, you were there, safe and sound and not trying to escape. You were on your hands and knees, ducking beneath a shelf as if trying to find something. It seemed like you were having some trouble. Soft grunts fell from your lips and your hips wiggled as you tried to reach further. He couldn’t help noticing the way your back arched in this position along with your hips squirming. His pants felt a little tighter while watching you struggle, but he could deal with that in a few minutes. He cleared his throat to get your attention.

“There you are,” he said.

At the sound of his voice, your head shot up, knocking into the shelf above you.

“Ow,” you squeaked before pulling yourself free and sitting up. Your eyes looked up at him, wide and nervous. “Hi. Sorry. I didn’t hear you come in.”

He laughed at your little mishap before walking over to you and patting your head. “It’s alright,” he said, running his fingers along your scalp.

His sweet puppy. Obedient just as he’d hoped. You deserved more credit than he gave you it seemed. He couldn’t let you totally off the hook for not meeting him at the door though. That was how bad habits formed.

“Though maybe you shouldn’t start cleaning out the closet around the time I’m usually home.”

You nodded without protest before rising to your feet and tucking yourself to his side, your cheek squishing against the crisp fabric of his shirt.

“How was your day?” you asked. Your voice sounded meeker than usual, but he supposed you still feared the possibility of getting in trouble.

He wrapped his arm around you and squeezed your shoulder. “It was fine. Nothing special,” he said with a shrug. He began walking you out of the closet and back into the main part of the bedroom. “What were you looking for in there?”

“Today those people came over to fit me for the wedding dress, and while I had it on, I remembered these shoes I have that would go with it. I was just trying to find them, so I could ask if you liked them,” you answered.

A perfect answer in his book. You were looking for something in regards to the wedding, and not only that, but you planned on asking him for his opinion on it. It made his heart soar.

His fingers coasted up and swept below your chin, making you look up at him. As your jaw tilted upwards, his eyes fell to your neck. More specifically, the tight piece of material wrapped around your neck.

Your collar.

Just looking at it had Naoya’s cock stirring in his pants. He valued that little strap of fabric more than the diamond ring around your finger that cost thousands. His fingertips flicked the dangling silver tag that hung at the front.

“That’s my good girl,” he praised, “Are you getting excited for the wedding?”

You shrugged and gave him a small smile. While he would have preferred a resounding Yes, he would take this. It was a vast improvement from the times you’d burst into tears if he so much as uttered the words wedding or bride in your presence.

He planted a kiss on your forehead before sitting on the foot of the bed and pulling you into his lap. You sat up straight on his thigh with your shoulders back. Good. He stressed the importance of not slouching to you. It was unbecoming of someone with your beauty.

Two of his knuckles dragged down the curve of your face while his eyes studied your face for a moment.

“You know… today is a very special day,” he said, connecting his gaze with yours.

They swirled with nervousness, uncertain what kind of special today was. “It is?” you asked.

“Yeah. It is,” he confirmed. His fingers rested below your jaw while his thumb swiped back and forth across your chin. “Today’s our anniversary.”

You blinked at him for a few seconds. “But we’re not married yet…” you said and cocked your head a little.

“I know that, silly girl,” he said, rolling his eyes, “I’m not talking about our wedding anniversary. I’m talking about the anniversary of us. Of me bringing you here. The real start of your life.”

Realization dawned all across your face. “Oh,” was all you said.

“Don’t give me that,” he said with a little pinch to your jaw, “It’s a lot more important than ‘oh.’ That was the day you really became mine. My little puppy.”

He snuck his arms around you and pulled you flush against his chest, rocking back and forth with you for a few moments. The way his body swayed felt like how a child would do it with their favorite doll. His fingers traced up and down your spine.

You shut your eyes and relaxed in the embrace for a few moments. His tender attitude at the moment helped keep your thoughts quiet, which was good since the information he just gave you feelings the exact opposite of his.

While nostalgia warmed Naoya’s chest, a sense of dread permeated your body. You had been here for a whole year. An entire year of your life, wasted away while you played house between the walls of the Zen’in estate. You had honestly given up on escape after the last time when he threatened to upgrade your collar to an electric one, but the idea that you would actually be here forever didn’t feel real until right now.

Something about the one year marker ticking by made the time more than an abstract concept. The same was true of Toji’s death. Some days it felt like he was gone only a week, others you felt like the last time you laid with him was in another life.

Tears pricked at your eyes as you think of him now. It was stupid, but sometimes you worried he’d be disappointed in you for giving in. He fought his way out of this place. Now one of them had you, and you were just taking it lying down.

But you couldn’t fight back anymore. You just couldn’t. This wasn’t so bad. You told yourself that everyday as you lounged around the house or made him dinner. It could be so much worse. It’s not like Naoya kept you in a box under the bed or in some dank basement. He treated you like a wife. Sure he could be… old-fashioned to put it nicely, but you were pretty sure that, in his own twisted way, he really believed he loved you.

And the worst part about this whole thing was you were kind of sure that, in some fucked up way, you felt some sort of attachment to him too.

You’d liked Naoya as a friend before any of this happened. When he was just Toji’s little cousin. You thought he was cute. A little mouthy, but funny and sharp. He was still that way now, and when you behaved he let you see that. That was when nostalgia hits you. When he got you laughing, some part of your brain felt like you were back in the apartment, waiting for Toji to come home from the store.

And when he wasn’t in a bad mood, he could be pretty sweet. Sure the puppy stuff made you want to vomit at first but now it was kinda cute… It was just his special thing for you. That’s what you told yourself. He took care of you, and he could be loving and gentle. He could be a lot worse to you. Some of the other men around here were to their wives.

Those thoughts only brought you turmoil though. You hated yourself for getting used to him. For finding reasons to defend him to yourself. To justify his eternal presence in your life.

As much as you tried to keep it down, a sniffle broke its way out of you. You hoped he didn’t notice. He was being nice right now, and you wanted so badly to keep that going. You didn’t want this to turn into a lesson.

But unfortunately, he heard the soft sound. He narrowed his eyes and grabbed your jaw, forcing your head off his chest. His eyes looked down upon your face now, not in admiration but with inquisition.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, the words coming out with the smallest hint of accusation.

Before you could even think of a cover, you shook your head. There was no way you were gonna risk having to explain your feelings to him. Naoya wasn’t the best with that.

“No…” you replied, “I’m just… I’m so… I’m so happy.”

He continued to stare at you, though his gaze dissolved from displeased to plain confusion. You brought your hand up to hold his wrist.

“I never thought I would be so lucky to have someone like you who takes care of me and looks out for me. I just can’t believe it’s been a whole year. It just makes me think about everything,” you whispered. The low volume helped them seem more authentic. If you had to be emphatic about this, it would probably seem forced.

A gradual smile began forming on his face. “Well no wonder you’re crying. You know you and thinking don’t go well together,” he teased and pulled you back to his body.

He let out a lovesick sigh and rested his cheek against the top of your head. You released a breath too. Without his scrutiny, you could relax. His hand resumed petting up and down your back while he held you.

“My poor puppydoll… you get overwhelmed by all those big feelings in your head so easily,” he cooed, “That’s why you need me. You know I can handle it all for you.”

You nodded on instinct.

“That’s my girl,” he praised, “But I didn’t bring today up for no reason. I wanted to tell you something.”

“What is it?” you asked and wiped at your misty eyes before looking up at him again.

“Well, because today is our anniversary, I thought you deserved a gift. But you’ve been such a good girl lately, so polite and well behaved, doing everything I ask of you. It couldn’t be just anything. It had to be special,” he explained.

You tried to map out where this might be going, but you came up short. He rolled over with you, slotting you beneath him on the mattress. His elbow held him above you while his free hand came up and clicked off your collar. Your eyes widened as he pushed it aside. Today must have really been special to him.

“I was thinking and thinking and thinking, but I couldn’t come up with anything that my puppy would need. You already have so many pretty outfits. So many good pairs of shoes. All the toys you could want. I keep you so well-spoiled… so what would be a good enough present for my sweet little bride?” he asked as he ducked down to your neck, “Can you guess?”

His mouth began laying hot kisses on your throat. You shuddered under his touch. He licked at your pulse point before nipping at the skin. You know he wanted to leave a mark. That was the main reason he bothered kissing your neck at all.

When he didn’t say anything after a few seconds, you realized his question wasn’t rhetorical. He expected you to guess.

“Um… I don’t know. Are we gonna go out somewhere together?” you asked hopefully. It had been a long time since you’d seen the city. Or anywhere that wasn’t this house or the grounds of this estate.

He laughed a little against your skin, peppering the area with another series of pecks. “Good try, but no. I thought of something even better,” he breathed.

You tried to think of another guess, but you honestly had no clue what he intended to use to mark this occasion.

“I don’t know,” you acquiesced.

“That’s ok, baby. I didn’t think you’d get it. It was just cute watching you try,” he teased.

He nosed at your neck once more before pulling back and looking down at you. His hand rested on your hips, his fingers clasped around the soft flesh there.

“I was thinking that because you’ve been such a good girl for me lately, that you’re ready for me to give you the greatest gift you’ll ever receive,” he whispered, “My heir.”

Every cell in your body froze upon hearing those words. You stared at him, jaw tight and eyes unmoving. How did you not think of that? It was obvious now that he’d said it. You’d known about his desire to eventually get you pregnant since your first day here, but he’d always referred to it as some distant thing. Some event that would occur after the two of you married.

There was only a month until the wedding though, so you supposed he was on track.

“Like a baby?” you whispered back, still wishing somehow that you’d misinterpreted what he meant.

“Well obviously,” he said, “Now’s not the time for joking, puppy. I know you’re ready.”

“I…” you started, but you cut yourself short. You didn’t know how to divert him from that idea without causing a blow up. “I’m scared…” you tried.

“There’s no reason to be. You know I’ll take care of you. The whole time you’re pregnant, you’ll be spoiled even more than you are now,” he said and kissed you, this time on the mouth. His lips moved against your own at a sensual pace before he pulled back. “It’ll feel so good. It’s what this body was made for. To carry Zen’in babies.”

You didn’t know what else you could possibly say, but luckily that wasn’t a worry for long. He went back in for more kisses. His tongue worked your mouth open before slipping in and caressing your own. You moaned softly and brought your hand up to thread through his bleached tresses.

He smirked against your lips. You could feel the smug curve of it rise as he steadied himself above you. His hand kneaded your hips before his fingers hooked over the top of your bottoms and began pulling them down.

Your heart thundered in your chest. “Nao, I don’t know…” you whimpered, but he silenced you by pressing his mouth harder against you.

“There’s nothing for you to know, baby. Nothing you need to worry about. You let me make the decisions remember? Just be a good girl for me,” he mumbled.

He rolled his hips against your center, forcing your legs to spread wider in the process. You could feel his bulge against the thin cloth of your panties. He did it a couple more times, rocking the hard mound against your clothed cunt. The dull friction felt good, you couldn’t deny that. Your breath hitched and you arched against him slightly.

Despite you starting to reciprocate somewhat, he could still feel the tension in you, and he didn’t like that. Normally it wouldn’t bother him so much, but tonight was different. He wanted you desperate to carry his babies, begging for him to fuck you full of his seed. It was an honor after all. Even if you still had reservations, you would come to see that in time.

His right set of fingers delved between your thighs, lifting the elastic of your panties and cupping your pussy. He slid his middle digit between your folds. In a few seconds, the pad swirled around your sensitive bundle of nerves. It flicked across your little clit, drawing a whine out of you.

“You don’t understand how badly I need to breed you, precious,” he breathed.

Your legs squirmed, and you bit your lip. You tried to keep your thoughts in line. A few small strokes to your pussy wouldn’t melt you so easily.

But it wasn’t just a few small strokes.

Naoya went back to kissing your neck, working all over from your jaw to your shoulder. His finger played with you until you began leaking arousal. He ground his erection against your thigh and whimpered next to your ear.

You could try to ignore it all you wanted, but you could hear the need in his voice. He sounded like an animal in pain. His other hand gripped you with the force of one as well.

“It’s all I want in this world. To rule this clan with you at my side, full with my child,” he panted, “You’ll look beautiful. Swollen in all the right places. Your body glowing as it does what it was meant to.”

Another moan fell from your mouth as his dreams began to infiltrate your mind as well. And while you were all worked up, you could kind of see the appeal.

“It’ll feel so good for you, fulfilling your purpose. Your body will be so sensitive too. You’ll ache for me, puppy. Your body will crave me like oxygen because it’ll know I own you.”

“Naoya,” you gasped. His finger slid down to your entrance and prodded inside for a moment. He pumped it in and out. It wasn’t enough to make you cum or give you serious pleasure. But it was the perfect amount to steal the thoughts from your head and melt you beneath him.

“Good girl,” he purred, “This is what you need, baby. That silly little brain is trying to hold you back because you’ve been taught that everyone expects more of you. But I don’t. I don’t expect you to work or make decisions or do any of that hard stuff because I know that’s too complicated for my little puppy. It wouldn’t be fair to ask that of you. All I want you to do is relax and let me have control. Just be my good little girl and listen to what I tell you. And what I’m telling you is that you’re meant to be bred. That’s all you need to do, my sweet wife.”

A moment passed where nothing changed. He kept kissing you while you stayed still. But then your hands rose to his chest and started grabbing at his shirt, trying to tug it off. And he knew he had you.

“Silly girl, just a few sweet words and you fall apart so easily for me,” he muttered.

In your mind, your resolve hadn’t completely collapsed. But what he’d said didn’t sound horrible. It was definitely the best case scenario for being here. So why not enjoy your anniversary. You could worry about the consequences tomorrow.

He made quick work of his clothing and your remaining coverings. In no time, he stood nude above him while you laid exposed on the mattress.

Stroking his cock a few times, he climbed on top of you. His golden eyes drooped with lust as they focused on you. You wrapped your legs around his waist in an attempt to guide him where you needed him most.

“So eager to be full now, are you?” he mocked.

You nodded and looped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him down on you. Most of the time, he wasn’t a fan of such clinginess while he was on top of you, but you were behaving better than he expected. He could let it slide just this once. It was your anniversary after all.

He lined up with your hole and nudged the tip against you teasingly.

“Naoya,” you whined, tightening your legs around him.

“This is what I get for spoiling you, huh? A whiny pup,” he murmured and pecked your cheek as he sheathed himself inside you.

Your walls locked around him, squeezing and fluttering at the pleasure that came with the first thrust. His breath came out a little shaky as he adjusted to the feeling of you around him. He shut his eyes for a moment, just feeling the warmth of your tight embrace.

“Your pussy’s begging for it,” he said as he dragged his hips back. He then pushed into you again.

Another long stroke followed the first, and then another after that. He set himself into a steady rhythm, rocking his hips back and forth. You mewled and clutched at his shoulders.

“It just feels so good,” you whimpered.

His grip became stronger on you too. He held you close to his body, ensured you couldn’t run or squirm away from him in the slightest. His pelvis continued to piston against you. The faint sound of skin clapping on skin filled the bedroom along with your combined sounds of ecstasy.

Every time he bottomed out, his silky tip bumped against some sweet spot. You cried out with almost everyone. Your eyes rolled back, blissed out from the continuous stimulation.

“That’s it. Just take it,” he huffed, nestling his face against your neck. You could feel his hot breath steaming against your skin.

Arousal continued to gush from you around his cock. Your slick smeared against your skin and coated the patch of dark hair at the base of his dick.

“Nao… deeper, please,” you whined.

He sighed and obliged your request, slamming into you as hard as he could. Your head board knocked against the wall.

“There you go,” he grunted, “Nice and deep. Gotta get it all the way in so it will take.”

You felt so good that hearing that didn’t even bother you. If anything, it dragged you closer to the edge.

“Gonna- ah! Gonna…” you tried to tell him.

“Just think about it. If I knock you up tonight, you’ll be pregnant during our wedding,” he said. He rolled his hips against you at a slower pace that still reached just as deep. “You’re supposed to wait till the wedding night to try, but no one would know. It’d be our little secret. My gorgeous bride, bred and beautiful just for me.”

Your hips bucked eagerly, out of your control. A pitchy whine left you, audible proof of your desperation.

“That’s it, puppy. Cum for me,” he crooned, “Cum for me so I can pump you full and put a baby in your belly.”

You cried out and locked your limbs around his body. Your muscles all quivered as release crashed into you. It hit you like a bomb going off. Your eyes screwed shut while your jaw clenched. Strangled moans still made their way out though.

He groaned right beside your ear. The pulsing of your cunt only grew more rapid around his length. It massaged him just how he needed to reach the finish line. He kept working himself in and out right until he felt that peak. Then he slid in all the way and let his body go lax on you, trembling with the pleasure of his orgasm.

You held him while his cum spilled inside of you, and afterwards the both of you remained attached. Your hearts pounded against each other where your chests met, rising and falling with labored breaths. His fingers lazily pet your head, trailing down to your shoulder to trace little patterns there.

Eventually, he pulled out and rolled off of you. His hand came to rest on your lower stomach without a word. He held it there for a few moments before rising onto his elbow and giving you a kiss.

“My perfect bride-to-be,” he whispered, the tip of his nose nearly touching yours, “I think whatever you had in the oven has long burnt by now.”

The tone in which he said the words had you thinking for a few seconds they were just some sweet nothings you didn’t understand. But upon taking a deeper breath and smelling the air, you realized he was right. The food you’d put in the oven before he’d come home was probably burnt to a crisp at this point.

“Sorry,” you said, instantly sitting up to go and correct your mistake.

But with a gentle hand on your shoulder, he ushered you back down against the mattress.

“I’ll have the servants bring us something better and clean it up,” he said and nuzzled your cheek, “What do I always say? I’ll take care of you. Even your little mistakes.”

You nodded and relaxed again. Your eyes drifted down to your stomach, the location of your possible future greatest mistake. Despite everything that had just transpired, you hoped it wouldn’t take.

“Oh I almost forgot,” he said, breaking you from your thoughts. His hand came up to your throat, your collar between his fingers. He grinned as he fastened it back into place. “There we go. It would be wrong of me to leave my pup without her collar.”

He flicked the dangling tag once more before laying beside you again.

#naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin smut #naoya zenin x you #jujustu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk imagines #ch: naoya zenin 💌#naoya x reader #naoya x you

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fangirl-writes · 3 days ago

Text

It's a wolf thing

Jacob Black x Fem!Reader

Warning(s): swearing, violence, canon-level things

Request: Jacob Black x fem! reader, where reader is dating Jacob, and he is getting more distant towards reader. Bella and Jacob are getting really close so she thinks he is cheating on her with Bella. Reader goes to school, and confronts Bella about it, and Bella tells Jacob. Jacob then yells at reader and reader asks him "Do you still love me?" and then Jacob breaks down and cries, and tells her that he became a shapeshifter. You can finish the rest!

Notes: Jakey really needed a girl to get his mind off Bella; shame that the author decided that girl should be an infant. Anyway-

PS: I went a little bit of a different route than the request, but only slightly. The main beats are still there. Hope you like!

You weren't worried before.

You'd been dating Jacob for a while before Bella moved back to town, and really, what did you have to worry about?

Bella was nice, a bit awkward, sure, but nice. She didn't seem interested in Jacob and, since they didn't go to the same school, they didn't interact with much.

She was with Edward, you were with Jacob, that was that.

Until.

That dreaded word “until.”

Until Edward and the other Cullens left town.

Until she came hauling a motorbike in the back of her truck.

Until Jacob started spending all his free time with her, instead of you.

"Hey," you said, walking into the garage where Jake was crouched by the motorbike and Bella was sat next to him.

Your hands were in the pockets of your jacket, feeling like you'd just interrupted something, even though the guy in the room was your boyfriend.

"Hey, babe," Jacob replied, grinning at you.

"Hey," Bella replied in her usual soft way.

"Bike almost done?" you asked.

"Yeah, I think she's about ready for a test drive," Jacob replied, standing up and wiping his hands a rag. "What do you say, Bella? Ready to give it a go?"

"Sure," she said with a non-commital shurg. "Let's load em up."

Jacob walked over to you, smiling and kissed your temple. "You wanna ride along?"

"If that's okay with Bella."

"Of course it is, why wouldn't it be?"

You shrugged, trying to sweep the pit in the middle of your stomach under the rug.

"Bella, it's okay if Y/N rides along, right?" Jacob asked, walking back over to help her wheel the bikes out to her truck.

"Oh, yeah, of course," Bella replied, smiling a little at you.

Jacob gave you a look that clearly said "see?"

"Thanks," you said, following them out of the garage.

Jacob lifted both bikes into the back of the truck easily, like they weighed nothing.

It made you shake your head and laugh when he did a few extra lift ups to impress you.

See? You're being silly. You have nothing to worry about, you thought.

You hopped in the truck, taking up the middle space between Jacob in the passenger and Bella in the drivers seat.

It was a mostly silent ride to wherever Jake had decided would be good for a test run, but he soon turned it serious with one question.

"If I had told you I couldn't fix these bikes, what would you have said?" he asked.

It was a question you knew to have been nagging at him for a while.

He and Bella weren't exactly close before this project, so why had she come to him?

You wanted the answer almost as badly as he did.

"Are you doubting your mad skills?" Bella replied, jokingly.

"No. Definitely not," Jake said, smirking. "I mean, they'll run fine. It just, uh..."

He glanced at you on the trail off.

"Maybe if I was smart I would have dragged out the rebuild a bit."

That struck you.

"If you told me you couldn't fix these bikes, I would say that that's really too bad, but we're just gonna have to find something else to do," Bella said, a little laugh in her voice.

You, however, weren't laughing.

What had he meant by that? By dragging it out?

"Is that Sam Uley?" Bella asked as they drove by the jumping cliffs.

"Yeah," Jacob replied. "Him and his cult."

You gave him a look and he shrugged. "What? It's true."

"Oh my god," Bella pulled over as one of the members of Sam's group was practically pushed off the edge of the cliff.

The reaction made Jacob (and you this time) laugh.

"They're not really fighitng, Bella," Jacob assured her. "They're cliff diving. Scary as hell, but a total rush."

"A rush?" she asked.

"Most of us jump from lower down," you said. "We leave the showing off to Sam and his disciples."

Bella, reassured that no one was in serious danger, turned back towards her truck. "You guys have some kind of beef with him or something?"

Jacob tossed his head. "I don't know. They just think they run this place."

"Embry used to call them hall monitors on steroids," you remembered, smiling.

"Now look at him."

"That's Embry?" Bella asked.

She'd met him and Quil a few weeks ago at one of the bike repair meetings, back before he was with Sam.

"What happened to him?" Bella asked.

"He missed some school," you explained. "Cut his hair, got a weird tattoo."

"Now all of the sudden, he started following Sam around like a little puppy," Jacob added, frowning. "Same thing happened with Paul and Jared."

Jacob had mentioned that Sam had been keeping an eye on him lately. Like he was waiting for him or something.

It was freaky.

It was like he was next.

Bella straddled the bike, adjusting herself and wrapping her hands around the handles.

"You look like you're scared," Jacob said.

"I'm not," Bella replied.

You were perched on the edge of Bella's truck bed, watching from a safe distance.

Dirt bikes weren't really your thing and it was their project.

As much as the jealousy monster clawed at your insides, you wouldn't let it win. There wasn't a reason.

Not yet.

Bella reved the bike after Jake showed her the controls, but she seemed distracted.

"You sure she's good to do this?" you asked him as she took off.

"I don't know," he replied, watching her go. "Something's off."

He was proven right as Bella swerved, unable to hit the brake before she was careening over the handlebars and rolling into a stone.

"Oh, shit," you said, hopping up as Jacob used the other bike to speed over to her.

You followed, slower, obviously, stopping only to stare dumbfounded at your boyfriend when he swung off his shirt to tend to Bella's head wound.

What, he couldn't have tore the shirt or something? There wasn't a rag in the truck? What the fuck?

By the time you reached them, they were already walking back. Jake's hand was on Bella's waist and she was leaning on him.

"You okay?" you asked her.

"Fine," she replied, though from the blood still fresh on her forehead, you guessed you were done for the day.

You glanced at Jacob, but he wasn't looking at you. His focus was on her.

A few days later, he said he was going to see a movie with her and some of her friends. Some action flick you knew you wouldn't have the stomach for, so you stayed home.

Which, in hindsight, was a bad idea.

You should've asked him to stay with you, fake something you wanted to do with him that night.

Would he have stayed with you when Bella was on the table?

And when he came back he was angry.

You stopped by his house, wanting to see him after the movie, but he was practically boiling when he got there.

"Woah there tiger, you okay?" you asked when he stormed into his room.

He froze when he saw you, an unknown emotion crossing over his features as he stared at you.

"What is there something on my face?" you asked after a beat.

"What are you doing here?" he snapped, grabbing at his head.

Your eyebrows furrowed and you frowned. "What I can't just stop by anymore? You are still my boyfriend right?"

"Get out," he said.

"What the hell?" You said, getting up from your slouched position on his bed when he turned away from you. "Did something happen? Hey, talk to me-"

"Stop! Just stop," he replied, pushing your hand off of him. "Get out. Now."

"Why?"

"Becuase I asked you to."

He was breathing heavily, his skin was hot to the touch, and he was starting to sweat.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Y/N, just leave!"

Taken aback by his anger and not feeling like fighting, you relented. "Fine. Call me when you decide to stop being an asshole."

But he didn't.

In fact, he stopped answering your calls, texts, everything. Every time you went to his house, his dad said he wasn't there. He wasn't at school, he didn't go to group hangouts anymore.

You were starting to get worried.

At first you just thought this was a breakup. That he'd finally decided he wanted Bella more than he wanted you. That he switched schools and was spending every breathing moment he could with her.

So, you decided to confront her. Ask her what the hell kind of game she was playing at. And if he was there, better yet, you could yell at him to.

You slammed the door of your car, storming up to Bella's truck where she was perched, talking to some Forks kids.

"Hey!"

She turned, surprised to see you.

"Where's Jacob?"

"What?" she asked, dumbly.

"Is he with you? I haven't seen him in weeks. He won't return any of my calls. He's gone completely cold, so I'll ask again, is he with you?"

You were seething. You wanted to see the words come out of her mouth, for her to confess that she'd wanted him all to herself.

But she didn't.

Instead, she said, "You too?"

You were slightly relieved to find out you weren't the only one that Jacob had ghosted.

And with a quick conversation, Bella assured you that she just wanted Jacob's friendship and nothing else.

Now all you had to worry about was where the hell your boyfriend was.

You caught him at his house one afternoon in the pouring rain, almost not recognizing the boy who froze when you yelled his name.

You stormed up to him, soaked to the bone and freezing, but he stood there, stone-faced and shirtless.

"Where have you been?" you shouted. "You cut your hair, you got that stupid tattoo. What Sam finally got his claws in you too?"

"You don't know what you're talking about, Y/N," he replied.

"I don't?" you asked, angrily. "Cause you look just like every other cronie in Sam's cult. He have a no girlfriend rule or something or was ignoring me just easier than breaking up with me?"

"Go away, Y/N," he said instead of answering.

"Hey!" you shouted, grabbing his arm when he tried to turn away from you. "Talk to me! If you need help-"

"I don't need your help."

"And you need Sam's?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

He scoffed, shrugging out of your grip. "Go away."

"No!" you stomped forward as he started to move away. "Don't you still love me?"

He froze.

"Or was that just some bullshit you thought you could say to get in my pants?"

"Stop," he said, turning to face you again. "It's not like that."

"Then what's it like, Jake?" you asked, throwing your arms out. "I don't know cause you won't talk to me! I'm out here in the goddamn rain right now for you and you won't tell me anything!"

Shouts from over Jacob's shoulder got your attention and you saw Sam, Embry, Paul, and Jared standing by the treeline.

"Tell me something," you pleaded. "Anything, Jake, please. I love you."

"I love you, too," he said. "Which is why it's better if we- if I..."

He sighed. "Go inside. My dad's there, you can dry off...I'll be back later, okay?"

"And then? You'll talk to me?"

"Yes. Now go."

You didn't stop him when he turned away this time.

Blinking away the rain and the tears to see him running into the trees with Sam and the others.

Billy offered you a towel and an apology when you went inside.

You grabbed some of Jake's old clothes and put your wet ones in the dryer.

Then, Billy, trying to break the ice, started telling you some of the tribe's old legends.

Wolves.

Jacob came back later, after the rain stopped, to find you and his dad talking, questions flowing out of your mouth.

"Well, this is cozy," he said, strolling casually in the room.

You looked at him, still a little upset with him.

"Can we talk?" he asked.

"Finally?" you asked back, standing.

Billy and Jacob exchanged a look as you passed him on the way to his room.

"You sure about this, son?"

"She won't tell," he replied. "And...Sam said I could. You know why."

Billy nodded sagely, resigned to his son's decision.

Jacob turned to follow you.

You made it to his room first, sitting yourself down on his bed.

He sauntered in soon after, closing the door behind him.

"Hey," he said.

You raised an eyebrow. "Hey?"

"So, dad buttered you up for the truth?" he asked, coming to sit next to him.

"And the truth would be?"

He sighed. "When I tell you this, you're going to think I'm crazy. But I promise that I'm not."

You turned your head slightly, questioningly. "Okay..."

"All these...changes," he started. "They're not...choices."

"What."

"I mean that they're...better for me to have."

"Jacob, you better get to the point or I'm going to slap you."

He huffed out a laugh. "All right, all right. Um. I'm...I'm a werewolf."

"What?"

"Everyone in Sam's pack is. He's the leader."

"Jacob Black you'd better not be fucking with me right now."

"I'm not!" he said. "Ask my dad, ask Sam."

You shook your head in disbelief.

You'd always known Forks was a sort of beacon of strange happenings. The "bear" attacks, the destroyed dance studio last year, other things over the years. Living there your whole life, you start to pick up on that stuff.

Not closely, enough, apparently.

"And...this is a tribe secret?"

"Well, yeah..."

"Then why are you telling me?"

"Er..." he bit his lip. "Cause you're...kind of my soulmate."

"I'm what?"

He laughed, a bigger, happier laugh than you'd heard out of him in a while.

"It's called imprinting. Every wolf has one and, well, I found out you were mine the same night I shifted for the first time," he said.

"When was that?"

"The night I came back from the movies with Bella. Remember how I was all angry and hot?"

"Yeah."

"It was the wolf in me trying to come out. After you left I had to practically jump out of my window to avoid destorying the house."

"I bet Billy would've been thrilled with that," you said, laughing.

Jacob laughed to, leaning in to hug you. "I'm sorry for putting you through all this shit. I thought...I thought it would be easier if I just...waited. But you've never been patient so I should've known that wouldn't work."

You smacked his still bare chest.

He smiled.

"This is a lot to take in," you said.

"I know. Take your time. I'm not going anywhere."

You reached up to cart your fingers through his hair. "I miss the long hair. But I can't complain about the abs, and the tattoo is kind of hot."

He snorted. "Thanks."

"Is the...warmth all a part of the wolf thing, too? Or is that just you."

He chuckled. "It's a wolf thing."

You hummed. "Well, I've never complained about that part. Tell your ancestors thanks for that."

"I'll get right on it," he said, smiling.

The two of you laid down then, snuggling up on his small bed.

"So. I have a werewolf boyfriend."

"That you do."

"A soulmate werewolf boyfriend."

"You're not gonna let this go ever, are you?"

"Nope. Get used to it, wolf boy."

He groaned. "Do not start with the nicknames."

"Oh, no, I've got a whole list I'm excited to test out on everyone. Think Embry would like dog breath? Ooh, or butt sniffer?"

Jacob rolled on top of you, practically smothering you, which only made you laugh.

He sighed, lifting himself up to look at you. "I really do love you. You know that right? I didn't just say it that time because-"

"Hey," you said, reaching up to cup his face. "I know. And thank you. For telling me the truth. I, uh, I kind of thought you were cheating on me with Bella."

Jacob laughed. "With Bella? I knew you were jealous."

"Was not!"

"Was too!"

"Oh, you're gonna get it now, wolf boy," you said, pushing him off of you and taking the upper hand.

He let you, of course, you couldn't move him before he had extra wolf powers, let alone now.

You couldn't hurt him, but you didn't think wolves were impervious to being ticklish.

"AHAHA!" he laughed out when you started, making you smile with triumph. "Okay! Okay! I give! Uncle! Can we go back to cuddling?"

#jacob black x reader #jacob black x you #jacob black imagine #twilight imagine

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rubykgrant · 2 days ago

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(very close to this one zombie story concept I was playing around with; weird zombie stuff starts happening, the world falls apart, but then it just continues on so long it gets treated as "normal" in the worst way. this one older scientist guy wants to find a cure/immunization method instead of just the current plan of "shoot all zombies and try to make safety-zones that don't work and only protect really rich people". he gets an assistant who is a dude that was literally only born because at one point, the military was like "hey, we need more soldiers, if citizens have a baby and promise to make the kid be a soldier later, we'll let you move into a nicer house in a safe zone". this dude was expected to just be canon-fodder, but he managed not to die, and live long enough to realize how much that whole system sucks, so he left the military and his awful family, and lives with scientist guy out in this big abandoned factory in a "wasteland" area, where they try to fix the zombie problem.

a running joke is; different weird zombie-cults/religious zealots and small-scale "armies" show up to knock on their door to try and sell the guys on THEIR totally true and correct opinions on the situation. some of them think they can like, just "drink a little bit of zombie juice" to gain immunity/super powers, some of them think "all the zombies are clearly the empty vessels left behind by some rapture that happened and then demons got in there so we need to do exorcisms about it", some of them think "the Lord wants us to use zombies as free slave labor we just have to train them to push and stack rocks", some of them think "we all need to die in some grand ceremony to avoid being zombies", some of them are just WAY too exited about the idea of "we can kill them for free so it doesn't count as murder but we REALLY like murder". so the guys just keep answering through a loud speaker- "No, we don't want to join the Church of Holy Mother Death. No, we don't want to be part of General Blood's Army of the New Life. No, we don't want to join anybody called Bishop or Deacon whatever. No, we're don't want to join the Un-Alive Movement run by that weird children-of-the-corn teenage prophet".

the various groups sometimes fight each other, or go bother different people, but the two guys are just not having any of it... however, they DO share medical supplies/food with travelers, they just don't give it out at their factory; they leave stuff at different abandoned gas stations, and people think they have successfully "raided" stuff others haven't found. this helps people, and also makes them less of a target)

has nobody done a zombie thing where every little group of survivors call them something different

#zombies

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fireheartpages · 2 days ago

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never planned on | b.d.

bodhi durran x reader chapter one series masterlist summary: you never planned on being a rider, and you certainly hadn’t planned on the grinning boy from tail section that weaseled his way into your day to day. word count: 2.9k notes: second person pov, reader uses she/her pronouns, has a nickname (i love dirty dancing) and a last name bc i want this to be readable. mentions of (reader’s) death, canon typical violence, you’re kinda mean to bodhi but it’s justified. i wasn’t really planning on writing any more of this tbh, but then i was listening to mastermind by taylor swift and i was like “oh this is so baby and bodhi” and then i was like okay yeah im writing more bc i literally could not stop thinking about them. i really wanted to end it where i had in the last chapter though, but i had so many ideas it felt unjust to leave them hanging, so i decided this is gonna be a sort of multi part series. this can be read as its own series, but i recommend reading the other part for development purposes :)

There were moments that were mean to test you, and moments that were meant to break you.

Your life, so far, had been full of these moments.

You had never planned to be a rider. Never really saw yourself on the back of a dragon, flying and jumping and falling like it was second nature. Never saw yourself handling things like the parapet or the Gauntlet with ease. You sought information, sought knowledge. Truthfully, you’d never really seen yourself going to Basgiath in the first place.

But when your father had run to the outskirts of the Tyrrendor province and left your mother to fend for herself during a historic rebellion, you had made a vow never to be as cowardice as he was.

Basgiath didn’t charge tuition, but not everyone had the means to pack up and travel hundreds of miles away from home to go study to be a glorified librarian. So, when the opportunity presented itself, you accepted the funds to be sent to the college with one condition and one goal.

The condition: Navarre would send you from the little town on the edge of the cliff side on Tyrrendor’s southernmost coastline to Basgiath if you would join the riders quadrant. The war effort needed fighters, and the Tyrrish had the most to prove. Or to apologize for.

The goal: to find out if your mother’s name was on the death roll.

So, fine. You were quick on your feet, could throw a decent punch, and weren’t terrible with a bow or a dagger. You could, with the right training, and an insane amount of luck, make your way through your education.

You never planned on being a rider, but you would do it if it meant you could get away from your dad. Prove yourself as something more than he ever could be. And find out if your mother was alive or dead.

You were at Basgiath three days before you read the death roll, your finger finding her name, your heart crawling its way up your throat as you stared at the parchment.

You hadn’t heard of separatists’ kids before going to Basgiath, and you were surprised to see the winding black swirls of the relics that marred each of them. It was a surprise, to say the least, and you were more than a bit concerned as to why you didn’t have one. Your mother had been executed for being a part of the rebellion, and yet you were a spared the horrors of everything the other kids had gone through. But it didn’t feel like a relief. It felt like that one word you had been running from: coward.

You toed the line of cowardice, unsure of who you could admit your history to. You hadn’t told anyone in your squad, not yet. You were certain anyone who wasn’t Tyrrish wouldn’t understand, and anyone who wore the rebellion relic would see you for what you are, or just resent you for it.

Suddenly, the saving grace of the riders quadrant turned into your doom.

You never planned on being a rider, and you certainly hadn’t planned on the grinning boy from Tail section that weaseled his way into your day to day.

He was all smiles and eagerness to help, laced with quick thinking and brutal efficiency. He was kind, too kind. Bringing you a balm to soothe the aching skin of your hands in a cold you’d never experienced in Tyrrendor. The cracking and bleeding on your hands was sure to be your downfall, until Bodhi Durran had offed you an olive branch, and practically gotten you through the latter half of your first year at Basgiath.

The sight of his rebellion relic had twisted your stomach in a knot. And then you got to know him. Started to fall for him. Found out that he was observant, and overly kind, and willing to put himself on the line if it meant helping someone else. Found that his skin was really soft, and that he could turn the knots in your stomach into butterflies when you watched one side of his mouth curve before the other, as if being pulled by an invisible string. Found you really, really wanted to know what ran through his mind when he looked at you like that. Found you couldn’t help yourself from running your thumbs along the lips that shaped that smile just for you.

Maybe it was a bad idea to open up the way you found yourself wanting to. Maybe Bodhi Durran was a bad idea. But also, maybe for a moment, maybe for more than a moment, Basgiath War College had become more than the death sentence you had assumed it would be. Maybe it had become a second chance.

And then you developed your signet.

Suddenly, more than your education and training was a death sentence. It was every teacher, every student, every secret that was meant to be your doom.

You hadn’t even considered it. Being an inntinnsic. It didn’t even seem in the realm of possibility. If you had to wager a guess, you’d have thought you would have a physical signet. Maybe a fire wielder, or maybe you could have a signet that made you remember everything you read. If that was a thing. Retrocognition would have been cool. Or illusions.

But then you heard it. Dain Aetos’ voice in your head as if he had spoken out loud, and it had taken all of your willpower, and counselling from your dragon to stay calm. Shocair had diffused the tension in you and gotten you somewhere safe, but even she couldn’t save you from an execution.

Every waking moment seemed to bring more stress and panic.

You weren't safe anymore. Every conversation, every look from someone had you convinced you were going to be found out. Every breath you took might be your last. You'd spent quite a few nights in the flight field, curled around a meager fire under Shocair's wing, just to have a moment of quiet. Of peace inside your own mind.

It was noise all the time. Every class, every conversation,

You would have given anything at this point to go back in time and change something—yourself, your mind, anything—to change the outcome of your signet.

You considered just turning yourself in a handful of times. Just walking up to Professor Carr and confessing. He probably wouldn’t even give you a warning before you were dead. It sounded peaceful. Shocair was adamantly against this.

Everything is exhausting now. Classes, training, all of it. If you knew how to use the signet, how to read the thoughts you hear as predictions instead of distracting clatter, you might be good at sparring. But all it does is serve as a block, a sledgehammer in your brain until you yield during challenges without putting up much of a fight. Everyone was going to figure it out, they had to. It was obvious something had shifted with you. You were just good enough at hiding this particular secret so that no one knew what.

It was all exhausting. All of it. From waking up and mentally preparing yourself to face the day, to dodging questions about why you were heading out to the flight field after dark. You were playing mental gymnastics just to get yourself from point A to point Z, and it was taking a toll.

There was one relief. Shocair was there to walk you from waking to sleep, through anxiety and panic attacks and interruptions and interactions. You were fairly certain that the only reason you got any sleep at night was because she was there.

You had never wanted to be a rider. Never pictured it for yourself. But you didn’t see another option anymore. You couldn’t imagine a you without Shocair. There was no going back, just through. You didn’t know what the other side of this looked like, but you were facing it. You hadn’t stepped towards it yet, but you were going to. Eventually. If you could stay alive.

It was the dead of night, and you were freezing, and the fire you had next to you was doing little to thwart the cold. It was one of those nights when other people’s thoughts were plaguing you, making it impossible for you to sleep, let alone take a full breath. No one ever thinks to shield in the safety of their room. Not that most first years were very adept at shielding.

But the flight field is quiet. You weren’t sure if Shocair was just really good at keeping her shields up after the development, or if your signet ability just didn’t extend to dragons, but either way, being tucked under her wing with a meager fire is peaceful, even if you’re still very, very cold.

You were just dozing off then a low rumble shook you awake. If you didn’t know any better, you’d have thought it was an earthquake, but it was just—

Shocair. And if she’s growling, she’s growling at something. Or someone.

You shoot up, shaking any lingering sleep from your brain as you make to leave the confines of her wing, but she doesn’t allow it. Doesn’t lift the protection to let you assess the situation.

“Shield,” Shocair says into your mind. “Now.”

There are voices, low, male, angry. And you’re panicking.

But there are no thoughts. Not until—

Daggers with weird makings, a mountainous region you were unfamiliar with, and two faces you did recognize.

Xaden Riorson, and Garrick Tavis.

You hear it.

“Is that—what the hell? We have to—”

Hear is a bad word for what your abilities show you, but you lack the proper understanding to explain it. Not that anyone is asking, and not that you’ll ever gain the understanding. You make do with what you have.

Another flash—gryphons and fliers. You suck in a breath.

“Fuck, if she finds out about the rebellion—”

“Put your shields up,” someone hisses, Xaden, you’re pretty sure.

“What?” someone else asks, and—oh, you recognize that voice—and the noise inside your mind quiets.

“Shocair! Let me out!”

“I will not put you in danger.”

“You need to trust me to handle myself.” You almost stomp your foot, frustration boiling to the surface as a last line of defense, simply the tip of the iceberg that is everything in your brain at present, but you weren’t about to take it out on Shocair. Not when you couldn’t have survived a day without her.

You felt the hesitation down the bond as she begrudgingly lifted her wing, revealing you and your measly fire. You’re faced with three men—Xaden, Garrick, and Bodhi as your heart attempts to take flight out of your chest.

“Baby?” Bodhi asks, all of his attention trained on you, sans that smile you loved so much.

“What the hell are you doing out here?” Xaden asks—demands—using the wingleader voice. Shocair lowers her head, a low growl escaping from her as she bares her teeth in a snarl. Xaden is unfazed, but Bodhi and Garrick have the good sense to at least glance at her with reverence.

“Do not answer that. You are not his to command,” Shocair tells you.

“He’s my wingleader,” you respond to her, then to Xaden, “I’m not—”

But another growl, angrier with a puff of steam this time, crawls out of Shocair. You wince.

“Tell him.”

“Shocair would prefer I didn’t answer that,” you say.

Xaden sighs, and glances up to Shocair, who is still snarling at him, then back to you. “Anything I need to be concerned about?” He sounds tired, and a little wrung out, and you really can’t blame him.

The way he looks at you makes a shiver run down your spine. And not in a fun way.

“No,” you say. “Nothing. I just sleep out here some nights.” Another growl, and you clamp down on the urge to roll your eyes. “It’s peaceful.”

Xaden narrows his eyes at you, but it’s more in a that’s-the-weirdest-thing-I’ve-ever-heard way, and not in a you’re-hiding-something way. Relief is a palpable thing.

“Get to bed,” he says with an assessing gaze. “Or, whatever it is you’re doing. At least make it back to dorms in the morning and pretend like you slept there. I’ve heard your wingleader can be strict about curfew.”

You roll your eyes, but smile despite yourself. “Yes, sir,” you toss out.

Xaden motions to Garrick and Bodhi behind him, and Garrick makes to leave, following him. Bodhi loiters behind, casting you an assessing glance.

“I’ll catch up with you guys.”

“Bodhi—”

“Go.” He turns his full attention to you, but there’s no hint of your favorite smile. Only curiosity, and a bit of apprehension.

“You sleep out here?” he asks.

You nod. “It’s peaceful. Safe.”

His brow furrows, concern lacing through his features. “You don’t feel safe in your dorm? Did something happen?”

“No,” you answer quickly. “Just, you know. Unbonded cadets. Stuff like that.”

Bodhi nods slowly, but it’s obvious he doesn’t believe the flimsy lie. “You’ve been…” he begins, and it’s obvious he’s choosing his words carefully, “distant. Lately. I feel like I haven’t seen you much.”

Well, if that doesn’t hit you like an anvil to the chest. “I don’t mean to be,” you say. Even though you do. You wish you weren’t. You have to be.

“How are your hands?” Bodhi asks, glancing down to where they are balled at your side. You had been wearing your gloves more often, since riding and the colder winter months had you going through the little tins of balm too often. You couldn’t ask Bodhi for more.

“Okay,” you say. It’s a lie. They are so, so painful. Every day is a cacophony of physical and mental pain, and with the cold weather, the joint pain had settled in.

“Do you need more of the balm?” he asks.

You had expected Shocair to butt in by now, but when you chance a glance behind you, she’s settled her head back into the grass, golden eyes half shut.

“No, it’s okay. You really don’t have to go through the trouble—”

“I don’t mind,” Bodhi says quickly. “I want to.”

“Okay,” you say. You can’t help the smile that wiggles out of where you were suppressing it. “I guess I can’t say no to you.”

The statement was meant as a joke, a light and airy tension diffuser. It doesn’t come out like that though. There’s more truth in it than you would care to admit. It settles between you, the admission pulled taught like a rope tied to each of your ribs, bringing you into one another’s gravity.

“Let me walk you back to the dorm.”

Oh, maybe you can say no to him. But it might break your heart in two.

“I’m gonna stay out here tonight,” you say, then, as if your tongue had a mind of its own, “I’m sorry.”

“How often do you sleep out here?” he asks, and it’s real, genuine concern in every fold and crease of him. Your pulse picks up.

“Sometimes,” you answer noncommittally.

He steps closer to you, and now you’re in each other’s space as if that rope had dragged you in. He reaches for your hand, and you let him take it. You stare at his mouth, because, holy shit, you want to know what his lips taste like so bad.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” His gaze is on where he’s turning your hand over so it’s palm up and resting in his own.

“I’m fine,” you lie.

Bodhi screws up his nose, and it’s an adorable gesture that just about stops your heart for all the wrong reasons.

“You’ve just been so—” He sighs. “You’re so reclusive, and you’re pushing everyone away.” He goes to the buckle of your gloves, as if to pull them off and test your lies for himself, and suddenly it’s all too much. “I’m worried about you.”

You snatch your hand away. “You don’t know me well enough to be worried about me.”

You regret the words as soon as they’re in the air between you. The expression on his face—the confusion, the hurt— is enough to make you want to fall to your knees and beg forgiveness.

“And whose fault is that?” he asks. There’s no malice in his voice. It’s a real, genuine question.

You don’t answer.

“Have a good night, Baby,” he says, and he turns to walk away. This time, he didn’t say your name the way he usually did. It was a brand now. Not the affectionate honorific it usually came out as.

Your face is screwed up as you drop to the ground, your knees finding purchase in the grass and dirt as your breathe saws out of you. You can’t get enough air, and finally, your vision goes dark.

Not your vision, just the stars. Shocair’s wing is around you again, blocking out the world around you. She’s silent as you try to weather the panic, but there’s no use. It’s consuming you.

“Breathe,” she says, her voice a comforting presence in your mind. “You must breathe.”

“I’m trying,” you send back to her, unable to form the words verbally.

There’s some light let in, and then her giant nose is at your chest. You hear her inhale, and feel her exhale. She does it again.

You match your own breath to hers.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

Inhale. Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

#this is so i never planned on you from newsies coded!#emma shut the hell up challenge #fourth wing #fourth wing fanfiction #fourth wing x reader #bodhi durran #bodhi durran x reader #rebecca yarros #the empyrean #emmmaswrites

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axhellart · 2 days ago

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Leona and a representation with love topics (female & male)

Everything said on this analysis is just a personal opinion, I don't mean to offend nor step on someone else's view or headcanons. Thanks to @/Viperkun to translate it.

First of all, we need to start from the basics and ask ourselves, Who is Leona Kingscholar? Leona is a complex character, filled by development which not everyone sees through or most of the time tends to not notice. He's a character that tends to have high expectations over a depression pretty deep and prolonged, there´s many themes regarding those feelings of inferiority, demotivation and many others, which leads to his self sabotage. However, at first glance he doesn't allows himself to feel pity towards others due to his own high ego and pride, he's a man that despite finding his own life pretty unfair, keeps going on in his own way and stipule.

Now, how would this affect his romantic relationships? The answer may change depending on the person who is by his side, this includes gender. Leona is very polite towards women since he's from a country which prioritizes them, they're stronger and bigger than the usual males from the same country, and so, even if women doesn't really fit this kind of criteria, he's still going to be respectful towards them.

No, he wouldn't be a role model prince (as an example, Eliza, with who he shared a few words one on one, then nothing more), but he's not going to have thoughts or actions that could be considered nor even be close to the category or definition of "incel".

He's not someone who overpowers by his strength or title over women; yes, he speaks with sarcasm, cynicism, and teasing is his second language, but he would never start any situation in which he would make someone uncomfortable or even less put someone at risk or danger (Overblot aside, since Yuu has no specific gender. If that was the case and Yuu was a girl -just like Savanaclaw's manga Yuu-, it's not that Leona decided to have a breakdown due to her or to hurt her, it was something out of his control due to circumstances)

In the case we talk about a boy, it wouldn't be too different from how we see Leona acting towards the rest of the twst cast in game; maybe the level of respect would lessen just a bit to talk in a bolder way we can consider as you to you.

I want to clarify that I'm not saying Leona is a bully towards a romantic male interest, just that he would probably have more fluid talks through a mutual understanding by sharing similar biological features if we put emotional and psychological sides apart, Reiterating it wouldn't be too far from his canon interactions with the original cast. Regarding my personal opinion (as well as this post is) I don't see Leona as someone who uses petnames with his romantic interest, at least not early into the relationship (established or not)

I know, there are many who have seen him or portray him as someone who would use nicknames as "my love", "darling", etc, and I don't invalidate any of them, though I can't really see them coming from someone who's stoic and serious most of the time. "Love melts even the coldest of hearts", yes, however it's complicated relating this through a romantic or platonic relationship with Leona, it's a bit complicated and takes some time.

As I mentioned before, he's a man with issues,problems which were born from deep insecurities and an inferior complex too huge to make them disappear all of a sudden just for love. It's a slow process, I'm not saying that he's going to be toxic once he gets into a relationship just that as many others the relationship would take more time and it's going to be complicated to finally establish it. The first phase of Leona being in love is denial, his main goal won't be focusing emotionally on a person, however, if he falls through this thought he would probably and mostly spend his time with said person; not being a man who would easily please someone with words, let's remember his brain tends to go under the logical side of things rather than emotional.

Even so, he's a man who's predominant love language (at least through this phase) is gift giving. Leona is a smart and sharp-eyed man, knowing at least a bit of the interest of the ones around him (Just look at Idia's second birthday card in which Leona gives him a chess set or how in more than on ocassion he gives Ruggie different things without him asking him to do so under their agreement of basic services; even when he gives a salad to Riddle or a pen to Vil, despite being unnecesary objects, and most of them being related to more of a silly/fun kind of interaction, they exist to let you know that he remembers those special days, he knows what to do, he is a man that sees and most importantly listens to his surroundings). Even if Leona's romantic interest doesn't mention they don't want anything Leona would read that somehow, he'll give it a meaning and provide surprise gifts through different kind of occasions for no apparent reason (money isn't a problem for him).

Moment of interlude, appreciate the kitten:

Ok ,let's continue. Once the relationships progresses, PDA will make it's entrance. Leona would be pretty clingy with his loved one, letting his own scent on them to let the others know that he was there first. Don't misunderstand nor mistake this as the kind of a response from a toxic or possessive person, he knows when to give space and how, even he needs it, but that doesn't mean he would let his lover go around without their clothes having the slightest of his scent on it.

He enjoys to take naps on his lover's lap, or even sleeping while embracing them. If we focus on a more natural-like related environment, lions tends to demonstrate their care to others by caressing each other's heads with their own, caressing their fur and also leaving some love bites; it wouldn't be much different here.

Personally I can see Leona giving love bites as a sign of affection; bites on the cheeks, shoulders, hands or neck (this without leading to a sexual side), leaning his head against his lover's one, or their shoulders if they're hugging, lazy little kisses around their face. I've read that when it comes to a girl, Leona would even ask for permission for a kiss, again related to the topic of consent and respect, to which I agree being someone who would ask for permission without words but actions, subtle, around two or three that would feel more than enough for him.

I don't see Leona jumping over or around someone to express his love through the first months into the relationship, he would be patient, testing the waters to see if this person isn't playing or making fun of him and his trust, something that has happened with other characters from the cast.

Please don't misunderstands my words, I've said before that he would ask for consent if his partner was a girl, but this works in case his romantic interest is a boy too, I just see him being more teasing with the last example.

Conclusion: Leona would never be categorized as a toxic man that would use his strength or status over someone he loves. Even if he ever could do so, the most possible scenario is an accidental one and he would make sure to apologize if he mistreated or make his partner uncomfortable. Leona isn't someone that would be afraid of apologizing when he knows he has done something wrong (we can see this during Tamashina Mina and how he apologizes to Jack by not thinking about how the hot weather would affect him since he wasn't from the same place as him). This also doesn't means that he would leave his pride aside, all he has is his own pride anyways, for good or wrong.

He's a responsible man, attentive, someone who wouldn't be the best at using cliche or romantic words at first; but everything will change with time and a slow development, overthrowing the bad times that he could experience as a partner while evolving into someone capable to keep a relationship of respect and lots of mutual and understanding love.

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst #twst leona #twst leona kingscholar #twisted wonderland leona #leona kingscholar #disney twst #just an friendly analysis #PERSONAL OPINION #None of this has been intended to provoke headcanon war #I'm just tired of Leona being portrayed #as a violent person

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hollowed-theory-hall · 1 day ago

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Do you think of Ginny as a “pick me girl”? Some of the things you say in your post makes her come across as that, which is sad since she is a strong female character and there’s so many m|m bloggers who shitting on strong female characters these days.

I don't know if you're just looking for a fight or if you're genuine, but I'll give you the benefit of the doubt about this subject once.

Yes, I think Ginny comes off as a bit of a "pick me" which I already wrote about here, which I don't think was intentional on JKR's part. I don't think Ginny was intended to come off the way she did.

Like, Ginny in the early books is just, really boring, in my opinion. and I think Ginny in book 5 had the potential to be an interesting character. She had a good sense of humor and she seemed somewhat in line with the twins (though on the crueler side), but I despise Ginny of books 6 and 7.

Like, all power to you for like Ginny and her romance with Harry. Truly, have fun with your canon pairing, I wish you the best and that you find many fics that portray them just as you like to see them.

But I don't see them that way. I think Ginny is a badly written character, and I think her romance with Harry is similarly badly written. It has nothing to do with gay ships. Trust me, if Harry was written into a compelling romance with a well-written female character, I'd be all over that. But he wasn't.

I mean, hell, I don't even ship Drarry, which is the most popular gay ship for Harry because I don't like Draco much. I think he's written well for what he is in the story, but I just don't vibe with him.

Becouse I don't need an excuse to dislike a character or a pairing. I can give my reasons, I have them, but I'm (and anyone else is) allowed to say I just don't vibe with a character. Even if Ginny was the best-written character in literature (she isn't) and her romance with Harry was perfectly written (it isn't) I could still shit on her as much as I want to, you know why?

Becouse she's fictional.

Fictional characters can't be offended. You can't be mean to a fictional character. Because fictional characters don't have feelings. They're not real.

You can say you personally find it sad people don't like Ginny the way you do, and you can be personally disappointed — but it isn't objectively sad. It isn't sad for Ginny becouse Ginny isn't real and only real people have feelings. It's sad to you, that's your opinion.

I love Harry, he's my favorite and I made it no secret, but I have good irl friends who shit on him in casual conversation and I can laugh with them when they make a funny joke about him even when we disagree, you know why? — we agree to disagree. We know Harry is fictional and that he doesn't care. Because he isn't real, he can't care.

So, for me, it doesn't matter if you shit and hate on fictional characters and fictional relationships as long as you're decent to real people.

You aren't a misogynist for disliking a female fictional character. She's fictional. She isn't real. You would be a misogynist if you mistreated irl women because they're women. In the same vein, you aren't a homophobe for disliking a popular gay ship. You would be a homophobe if you mistreated irl gay people because of their sexuality. You aren't wrong for disliking a fictional character or ship for any reason, even if the reason is just "vibes". You would be a dick if you mistreated irl people because they don't think the same as you about a fictional character or ship.

I personally find it sad that fandom seems to have lost the ability to say "agree to disagree" and move on (if the ability ever existed in the first place). I follow some blogs who shit on HJP himself because they post other stuff I find compelling. I follow blogs that post a lot of Drarry because I like how they write Harry even if I don't really care for Draco. You can like someone and enjoy their writing and be friendly with them even if you don't agree with them on some fictional characters and fictional relationships. And if it really bothers you, you can block and move on as many of us do.

So yeah, I think Ginny comes off as a "pick me." I think she's a badly written character, and you can disagree with me on that, you can think she's a strong female character, but that's your opinion, not an objective truth. And I dislike her for being a badly written character, which, I assure you, is gender-natural.

I also think it's important to remember that at the end of the day, we're all just playing with dolls, and the only feelings that matter are those of real people.

#sorry for the rant but this attitude is one I find annoying #fictional characters aren't real people and shouldn't be treated like they are #and an opinion =/= objective fact #ginny and harry canonically being together = objective fact #ginny being a strong female character = opinion #asks #anonymous #anti ginny weasley #hollowedrambling #fandom #about fandom tendency in general

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gallusrostromegalus · 2 days ago

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I think there's two things going on in canon about Aizen:

Aizen doesn't kill captains in the first big battle of his betrayal because he can't.

1. The doylist explanation of his actions is so blatantly transparent (shonen jump scheduling hell) that it overwhelms the subtle watsonian clues that kubo gives us which are:

2. Aizen is a lying bitch. To absolutely everyone around him, but most of all, to himself.

He takes great pains to disguise it. He talks a big game and definitely tries his best to kill, but he doesn't. it makes tactical sense for him to kill at least SOMEONE before fucking off to hueco Mundo but even the fucking off belies the problem. He's a tough customer, but if he really were capable of killing another captain in a fight, he wouldn't have bothered with the whole fake corpse theater- he would have just picked them off one by one while quietly completing the hogyoku until Yamamoto had straight-up run out of strong enough shinigami to promote and Aizen had made himself a god while nobody was looking.

Instead, Aizen's plan relies on (and fails at) having the captains kill each other, and building an army of warm bodies to put between himself and the rest of the Court Guard until the Hogyoku is complete, which pretty much screams "I cannot win, even in a pitched fight".

EVEN WHEN THE HOGYOKU IS COMPLETE, Aizen doesn't stick around to actually finish off the captains- he bolts to the living world AGAIN and shuts the portal doors behind him.

Now that we know that Aizen is mostly smoke and mirrors who is desperately trying to stay alive until his godhood hax kick in, his pattern of avoidance of real threats reveals something interesting:

It's funny that you mention him being afraid of Yamamoto because I think he is afraid, but not of Yamamoto. Aizen doesn't want anyone to think he's scared of anything, but it's better you think it's Yamamoto than The Actual Problem. If you ignore everything Aizen says and just look at how close he's willing to even let other captains get to his person, there is one captain he's TERRIFIED of above all others.

He spends exactly one scene in the same room with them, and only when he knows the meeting is ending early.

He absolutely refuses to taunt them- in fact, they're the person he spends the most time trying to convince that he is actually dead.

When confronted by the various captains, he glaots a bit and then tries to kill them- except one, whole monologues at exactly long enough for Gin to cause a distraction, and then DIPS. He even cuts his big monologue at the execution grounds short because this Captain is incoming.

When the finale of the winter war begins, Aizen makes a point of not being in the same dimension as this captain, and when they're approaching, he leaves for the living world.

Again and again and again, there is one captain, one person, that Aizen stays far, far away from:

Unohana.

I don't think this is intentional on Kubo's part, (unless it's severely underplayed foreshadowing which is a shame) but given how kubo treats his female characters and how he doesn't really seem to understand what a doctor does, I think Aizen's pattern of staying the hell away from Unohana is accidental, but it's my fic and I can have it be on purpose because it reveals some truly delicious motivation and interaction.

1. AEIWAM!Aizen (and to a similar extent, canon!Aizen) regularly squanders perfectly good resources or chances to fix the inequities of soul society because he's too far up his own ass to see the forest for the trees. One of the cheif blindspots he has is his rampant misogyny. Aizen regards the relationship between Gin and Rangiku as that of child and toy. He treats Momo as a disposable tool instead of recognizing she was the one who got closest to actual killing any of the other captains. He seems to think the royal guard themselves will be easy to deal with- possibly because the only one he ever knew in person was Hikifune, and it is so, so easy for a man like him to wildly low all the power and competence of someone like her. He rambles about the hollows having no inner life, but notably it's Hallibel that triggers this rant. It NEVER occurs to him that Orihime herself could be a problem - she's just a toy to take from Ichigo.

Aizen, simply put, does not think of women as people. He disregards the interiority of everyone around him, really, but ESPECIALLY the women around him.

...but this kind of objectification cuts both ways. Like most bigots, his inability to think of certain humans as people means he is also prone to greatly inflate the damage they can do in his mind until they become supernatural entities. "The Enemy is both pathetic and omnipotent" is an important basis of victim complexes, and Aizen Loooooves being the victim, so it makes PERFECT SENSE that his personal Boogeyman is none other than the woman he knows entirely as the quiet and dutiful doctor who has never set foot in battle but that all the older shinigami seem strangely eager to placate. Unohana is pathetically weak, so far as Aizen can tell, yet seems to effortlessly command the respect he so desperately craves. No wonder she lives rent-free in his head.

2. ... Ironically, Aizen is right about her. In canon, Unohana's past as the first kenpachi is not a secret, just largely forgotten. In AEIWAM, it's an actual secret because the Gotei-13 is playing a much more fraught game with the C46. Aizen genuinely has no idea she used to be captain of the 11th, so the weird bloodthirsty edges that he sometimes sees to her reiatsu, and the respect she commands with the other (smarter) captains is baffling.

In truth, Unohana is every inch the monster she was as a kenpachi as she is a medic. Flesh is hers to command and her willingness to cut and sculpt it to her desires hasn't changed- she is just now also capable of healing and reviving it into shape as well, which is much, much worse.

I haven't decided exactly how much Aizen knows about her by the time of his betrayal, but at least on a subconscious level, I think Aizen knows that Unohana is punching in a league well above most of the captains, if not above the old man himself at this point, and his inability to think of her as human means he is unable to assign human motives to her like most of his victims, so she appears terrifyingly unpredictable.

3. Even if it's a secret, some of the captains know, or have guessed. She was still Kenpachi when Shunsui and Ukitake started at the academy. Soi Fon is responsible for handling some of soul society's most sensitive information. Zaraki got his ass handed to him by her and has been in love ever since. Rangiku looked into giving blood once and realized that the most of donors to transplants didn't add up and the meat had to be coming from SOMEWHERE and oh wait that would explain everything huh.

There's a fun bit of play, I think, between the captains who knows Unohana is more than she at first appears, and the ones who haven't gotten a clue yet.

I may have wandered off topic.

MY POINT IS: Aizen doesn't kill captains when it makes tactical sense for him to do so because he is not capable of doing so. His whole strategy relies on not getting killed before he gets his godhood and up until he does, he's running like a rat.

Poor bastard.

If only he knew what was in store for him when he got there.

I did not care at all for Aizen Sosuke when I first read bleach. I found him boring, and worst, unthreatening.

So it's pretty jarring for me that I have been OBSESSED with him in your AU. I'm rotating him at great speed

Walt Disney was a jackass who was flat-out wrong about a lot of very important things, but he employed a great many geniuses of storytelling, and there's a piece in Disney Animation: The Illusion of Life by Frank Thomas and Ollie Johnson that discusses a key feature of Disney Studios Character Design:

"Of all characters, villains are the most fun to develop because they make everything else happen. They are the instigators, and always more colorful than the Hero. They may be dramatic, awesome, insidious or semi-comic, but they MUST be appealing. Almost any story becomes innocuous if all the evil is eliminated, but we do not necessarily gain strength by being frightening. we want a character that will hold the audience and entertain them, even if it's a Chilling Type of Entertainment."

And I've found that to be an important principle of character design, especially the kind of canon restructuring I do.

Aizen had a LOT going for him in canon- for all of Bleach's other faults, Aizen's conspiracy and THE REVEAL are spectacularly constructed and executed. I legit screamed and threw my mug across my dorm room when I read it in the manga the first time. He's also conventionally attractive and the translations I was reading gave him the speech patterns of Every Douchebag In Your 101 Political Theory Who Thinks He's The Smartest Man In The Room, which made him a terrific combination of Unfortunately Charming, Menacingly Competent and Engagingly Obnoxious.

...But he falls flat in a few key places.

Aizen's reasoning could be MUCH more sympathetic- After all, he is RIGHT. Soul Sciety does suck ass and all the options kind of suck. Who designs a universe like that? An asshole who needs killing, that's who. The best kind of Unhinged Madmen are the kind who spell out their reasoning and you realize that there but for the grace of Not Having Super Powers Go I. Canon!Aizen makes a few Good Rhetorical Points, but seems to lack any personal connection to his all-consuming plan.

Another issue is that nearly every villain with A Plan has a clear end goal AND a lot of the menace is drawn from the fact that the plan *could* work. Aizen's plan for betraying the court guard and then killing them off before proceeding into the Royal Realm to Kill God sorta falls apart when it's clear he planned to use pretty much all his accumulated forces dealing with the court guard and doesn't seem to have a plan for the Even More Powerful Royal Guard, let alone God. For how meticulously planned the rest of the plot is, the last two VERY IMPORTANT steps are just handwaved.

So I sat down and started with the plot beats Aizen MUST hit, and tried to imagine what kind of guy would he have to be to get there? And I came up with this:

Sosuke Aizen is a fundamentally good man with genuinely good intentions who is really trying his best for the whole world.

Think about it- what lengths would you NOT go to if you think you found a genuine shot at Fixing Everything Wrong With The World Forever? We all talk about killing Hitler if we found an actual Time Machine- would you do it if your only chance was when he was a baby? Would you kill an infant if it meant you could stop World War II before it starts? Of course you would! One small life for over 75 million? You'd be insane not to! What if you found out that you could prevent the future extinction of Humanity by killing your best friend today? Ten Billion lives? For theirs? It's simple, really- Hell, it's your Moral Obligation to do that if you were SURE!

-And Aizen IS sure. He is absolutely, totally, completely sure that He Can Save Everyone if he just gets rid of that idiot sitting on the throne of heaven. He's seen the plans! He knows where the gate of heaven is! It's So SIMPLE he just has to get inside, and he knows EXACTLY how to do it, yes it'll be hard and there will be... unpleasant parts but. IT. WILL. WORK.

He is of course, insane.

Aizen didn't have One Bad Day that set him irrevocably on the path of madness. It was a succession of catastrophic disappointments and realizations that he was living in a fundamentally irrational world that made irrational thinking look sane. The Catastrophe that befell his family, working for the central 46 and later the court guard and seeing how the organizations were inept to the point of abuse or corrupt to the core, learning that The Actual House Of God is a place he can just? Go to? Anyone would start thinking you were just a handful of white lies and homicides away from Fixing Everything, Forever.

Not only is Aizen insane, he is nowhere near as smart as he thinks. He is smart- He does have a knack for being able to guess just what will spur someone to action or make them recoil in fear. But mostly he gets extremely lucky Many, Many, MANY times. On some level I think it gives him Confirmation Bias that this is what he's supposed to be doing. Aizen is also nowhere near as smart as (nearly) everyone else thinks he is. His bizarrely good luck makes him look like a hyper-competent genius when really it was really the catastrophic failure of Soul Society as a Society that let a merely mediocre conspirator to evade detection for so long.

Being that he is at most, mediocre, he had to have Outside Help, specifically Gin's emotional support and Tousen's Competence- and if there's a part of the fic that stays true to canon, it's this.

Gin is Aizen's emotional rock in Canon. He's the ONE guy that Aizen genuinely trusts, and considers his 'my only real partner' in his scheme. There's more than one occasion in the manga where Aizen more or less asks Gin "Is this actually a good idea?" and Gin backs him up every time.

...Which is more than a bit at odds with Gin's later stated goal of "I did all this to kill you at your most vulnerable to protect rangiku" . It never rang true to me. So I started thinking why on EARTH Gin would be backing Aizen up like that, and realized there was a hole in my world building that he slotted into nicely :)

On the other hand, the entire fic was started because I didn't like how Tousen's character arc ended, so you can imagine how much he's changed.

But in canon, TOUSEN DOES ALL THE FUCKING WORK.

Lab work? Tousen.

Supervising the arrancar directly? Tousen

Actually getting victims for the Hogyoku experiments? Tousen.

Altering all the archives to keep Aizen's plot hidden? Tousen.

Sending all the Orders allegedly from the central 46? Tousen.

Making sure Unohana believes Aizen's fake body is real? Tousen.

Managing all the day-to-day operations at Las Noches? Tousen.

There's even this little exchange, which is Tousen's first appearance in the Manga:

Aizen establishes this entire meeting is a little fake-out a few pages later with "now isn't that a convenieint time for the alarm to go off?"

which makes him look like he's investigating, but he's also going "Good job on disrupting everyone with the alarm Gin!" It's ballsy of Aizen to do a check-in on his plan with his main nemesis in the room, but also his style.

I think the same thing is happening here with Tousen. To make sure Ukitake wouldn't raise a huge fit about the proposed execution of his beloved lieutenant, which might fuck everything up for Aizen because Ukitake is one of like, three people Yamamoto will listen to (sort of).

...So he had Tousen poison Ukitake to keep him out of the way.

ALL. THE. FUCKING. WORK. It's even in his name! The characters for "Tousen" Refer to a legendary scholar the emperor of China sent out to discover the secret of immortality- only to kill the scholar when he returned with that secret. The character for "Kaname" means "Necessary/Vital/keystone" or "to organize/take account of". His name LITERALLY means "Scholar who is essential for the plan (that we're going to kill later)"

Another thing Kubo did well in Bleach: his name game is Off The Fucking Charts.

-but I digress.

In AEIWAM, it's much the same only this time Aizen sees this very dangerous witness who is immune to his illusions but also extremely snart and capable young man and instead of risking being caught out by the one damn guy who can see right through him, opts to Curse Kaname into doing as Aizen says, and doing all the fucking work of this conspiracy against his will.

It's Not Nice, but Aizen genuinely thinks he's doing Kaname a favor by subjecting him to this degrading and incredibly painful servitude- I mean, Aizen's only other option was to Kill him to keep his silence, and isn't it wonderful that you get to help fix the universe? You're the one always going on about Justice, I don't understand why you didn't jump at the chance to mete out some Divine Justice.

An Excerpt from the captain's meeting in between the Massacre that made the visored and Zaraki's arrival, when Kaname realizes Yamamoto is 100% serious about his promotion to captain of the 9th and goes to throw up in the garden. Aizen offers to go check on him while Unohana very politely reads the general the riot act:

---

"You broke your toy Aizen." Kaname coughs.

"…I really am sorry for running you ragged like this. I really shouldn't have gotten so mad about you hiding the the hogyoku- it was very petty of me." The bastard sighs, taking off his glasses and rubbing his face, entirely genuine.

Kaname stayed on his hands and knees, weaving slightly as another wave of nausea flowed through him, powered by disgust and rage.

"How about this- I've got a lot coming up with the new job, training Gin and disposing of Kiganjo- So how about I promise to not give you any orders for a while? You will have to keep our arrangement a secret and not interfere, of course, but other than that, you're free to do as you please for- a year and a day is traditional isn't it? No, that's not going to heal by then- Oh, would you look at that!"

Kaname didn't have the strength to offer his usual rebuttal that he won't look at anything, ever. The sides of his head tingle like his skul was being pressed between two enormous hands made of static electricity.

"It's 11:11! Alright, I won't give you any Orders until 11:11 am on November 11th, 1911. That's easy to remember! What do you think?" Aizen continued cheerfully, patting his back and the Curse nails.

"…I can't." Kaname groaned. He could scream if he had the energy, but due to Aizen's Illusions, nobody would hear him. "I actually physically can't think. Please…"

"Of course! You really are such a help to me, it would be a shame to lose you. I'll even amend our contract, so you don't get paranoid-" There was a sizzling sound and a new stroke of hot pain up Kaname's spine as Aizen did something to the wretched Bakudo. "There. No compulsions for eleven years and a day. What do you say?"

Kaname grimaced, but dropped his head. Save the energy to fight another day. "…thank you, Aizen-sama."

"Good man! Let's get you on your feet." Aizen beamed, putting his glasses back on and offering him an arm.

---

He genuinely thinks that he's doing everyone a huge favor and if they don't get it it's because they're just not smart enough, but it's alright, He's a Benevolent God and they'll appreciate all his hard work the next time around :)

Aizen is a man who is FULL of joy. He loves what he does! He actively takes pleasure in it! And I think that's something that REALLY delivers in terms of sympathy AND horror for him. Who *Wouldn't* have a great time actually fixing the universe? He's a good man who enjoys doing good works, and this is the greatest work of all!

It also Delivers on the Horror when I get to write the deliciously fun scenes where Aizen is Elbows-deep in a novel War Crime and waxing poetic about how GREAT this is, or being confused why the people around him are reacting with fear. Don't you want to make everything better too?

#aeiwam #an elephant is warm and mushy #bleach #bleach fanfic #sosuke aizen #unohana

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