#i need him unrecognizably changed for the worse <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[anachronistic-falsehood]

ik in canon armsmaster is described as this manly handsome white guy with short brown hair etc etc but for my own peace of mind im picturing him post-leviathan pre-surgery as a disgruntled scruffy guy while he's under house arrest. sorry i get attached to a guy character and immediately have to give them long hair and scruffy facial hair and get rid of all of his canonical muscles and give him a crooked nose and give him scars and five million other little physical traits in my mind or else i explode u understand im sure

[the-derpy-duck]

Tf one! Tf one! Tf one!

Gonna spoil everything please go watch the movie it’s the greatest transformers movie ever made go watch it I need a sequel please go watch it it is 100% worth it 10/10

Hey so like this movie is really fucking funny? Bumblebee is actually just insane and he’s so caring and I love him. He’s my cringy little boy who has never talked to anyone ever. He lives in the dumpster. Elita one is also funny. She’s so fucking done with dumbasses 1-3. Although the part where everyone was like ‘hey follow protocol’ when not following protocol means Jazz gets to live was a bit crazy. But it makes sense and Optimus going back for Jazz really just makes his chances of dying with him much higher. But it’s Jazz. We all love Jazz. No one wants to see Jazz get crushed. Look at him at the end of the movie he’s so happy to have his little wings he’s Jazzzzz.

If the high I felt from watching this movie is half of what people get from ecstasy then I totally get why people would do it. I don’t think I’ve ever felt that much joy in that little amount of time. I could not sit still. My chest actually hurt. It was amazing. I was able to recognize characters and I was just like ‘JAZZ! JAZZ! WAIT IS THAT RATCHET? PROWL? SIDESWIPE AND SUNSTREAKER????? YESSS! ARCEE!! SKYWARP! RARARARARARA’ and I understand that I am weird for this. But it was so much fun. And I was laughing and getting upset with the characters. And the animation is so good and cybertron is soooo pretty. I love the deer and although the quintsons are a minor part of this movie I think they’ll play a much bigger role in the sequel that’s hopefully coming. I want to see more of the characters. I want to see how Megatron will interact with the other decepticons. I want skywarp to get more lines (I’m 99% sure that he was the guy who said ‘what’ when Optimus said ‘we roll out’). I want to see how the other autobots interact. I want to see Sunstreaker do literally anything. I want to see more of this story and more of this world.

D16 is great. I really like him and I like how pissed he is at Orion and how he snaps. Orion pushed him into a lot of situations he really didn’t want to be in and he’s done saving Orion. And like. He’s also not really wrong about killing Sentinel. Like killing is inherently inhumane, but if it is the only way to preserve life then it is justifiably inhumane. And realistically, what else would they have done with him? He clearly has some backing from a guard of some sorts and connections to the quintisons, so he could ruin everyone’s lives again. The way he died was extra and there’s definitely a better way to kill him (“morally” speaking. There’s not a humane way to kill a persons outside of extreme circumstances, but some ways are definitely worse than others). But his death was also so cool. Like I was expecting Megatron to just shoot him but holy shit that was brutal. Also this is me being a little silly goose but I don’t think that his eyes are literally changing colors. I think the story is being told mainly through Optimus’s perspective, and the eye color shifting is metaphorical. The yellow to orange is a lot more subtle than the orange to red. When his eye color changes it’s not just when he’s changing (which is definitely also apart of it I think) but specifically when Optimus realizes that the change has occurred. Yellow and Blue and Orange and Blue also complement each other. Red and Blue are a bit more jarring when put next to each other imo. Like it’s based on nothing but my own weird little mind. But anyways, I don’t think Optimus jumped in front of sentinel because he gave a shit about sentinel. I think he jumps in front of Megatron’s gun because he desperately needs to save his friend. But it’s too late and they are now both unrecognizable to each other. Suddenly getting power and being suppressed his entire life coupled with sentinel’s betrayal caused D16 to snap. His entire life was a lie and a person he looked up to turned out to be the biggest piece of shit on cybertron. Also a thing I found really interesting was that the high guard/future decepticons chanted D16’s name when he was beating the shit out of starscream whereas with Orion the miners/future autobots changed his name after he gave a speech and was literally kneeling to be on their level.

Sentinel prime was really fun. I predicted that he would be revealed as a traitor entirely because he’s Sentinel. But it was still fun to see it happen. Also he’s beautiful. This is the best he has ever looked. The colors look great next to each other and the wings go hard. He’s very one dimensional but he makes the other characters around him have more dimensions because he’s so simple. And he doesn’t need to be complex. Keep It Simple Stupid. The movie is less than two hours long, it doesn’t need to reinvent the wheel. It knows how to use the wheel and it uses it great. Sentinel is an asshole and I really like him. The version of him that I have in my head is very different but I like asshole sentinel. Tfa Sentinel is great. Tf One Sentinel is great. I hope they both die <3

Also when D16 saw megatronus’s head? Amazing. Both of his hero’s (sentinel and Megatronus) died in that cave, literally and metaphorically. And the fact that this happened in a cave reminds of that one metaphor some dead guy came up with. Basically there’s these prisoners who are forced to stay in a cave and I think they might be tied upside down but one of them is able to leave the cave and discovers that there is more to the world than the cave and that they have also been upside down. When he tried to relay this to his friends they declare him to be a liar. It’s a basic little thing about discovering the truth or whatever I can’t articulate it very well. But that was Megatron’s cave moment. His entire life was a lie. He is existing the cave and he will never be the same. Was TF One actually just refrencing this? Probably not. BUT WAIT! The Cybertronians live underground, so that’s technically a cave. Everyone who is living in the underground city and who don’t go to the surface are in the dark. ITS THE CAVE AGAIN! AT THE END OF THE MOVIE THEY ARE ALL THAT THE SURFACE! THEY ALL LEFT THE CAVE!! I’m loosing my fucking mind if you couldn’t tell. Also the minors go into caves and they very much love sentinel. cave Cave CAVE

Starscream is really cool. We haven’t seen enough of him to get a gage on his morality or how big of a traitor he’ll be, but what’s been shown is really great. His motivations for challenging and goading D16 are unclear. Like he might be a masochist but probably not. Maybe he wants him to be the new leader. I wished that we saw more of screamer but what we got was pretty great. And I hope he gets to play a more major role in future movies. As well as soundwave and shockwave because although shockwave was really funny they unfortunately didn’t get to do much.

This version of Elita kicks ass. Scarlett Johansson does an excellent job of voicing her. Although it would have been funny if she voiced Arachnid. But she’s so cool and also funny. I loved when she told Orion that she was better than him at everything but having optimism. Her ripping off Arachnid’s leg and using it to beat her was fucking awesome. ‘I’m being gentle!’ I love her so much she’s so funny. Her anger towards being demoted motivating her to go along with the three idiots was good. I want to see more of her in general and I want to see how her dynamic with Optimus will change in the next movie. Like ‘next movie’ might not happen but I’m really hoping that it does. But even if it doesn’t the film is still amazing.

Chris Hemsworth does a great job voicing Optimus. I was really surprised and impressed. Like low key I was sort of expecting this to be a Chris Pratt Mario situation when I first heard he would be OP’s VA because I only knew him from the Marvel movies. But he does a great job. Bryan Tyree Henry does an excellent job voicing D16/Megatron. Like he might be my favorite Megatron voice. Like I love Scottish Megatron but this voice is soooo good. Every voice actor does a phenomenal job.

The animation is amazing. I love the backgrounds and the bridges that just appear. The surface of cybertron is so pretty and I love the general aesthetic. The fight scenes are so well done. They utilize transformations in the fight (like Optimus retracting his head like a turtle to dodge attacks) and that’s super cool! The facial expressions are also really good. When Optimus is telling Megatron to leave he looks so sad and it looks so real. These characters are all really expressive, including the background ones. Like I’ve seen a lot of redraws of Jazz looking at his wings and being all happy. Each background character looks unique and there are a lot of cameos and it was so much fun to look at them. A lot of love and effort was clearly put into this movie and it really shows. The eyes are so pretty, the backgrounds are so pretty, the characters become so shiny.

It’s a great movie and I think everyone should go watch it. I need this film to get a sequel.

[il-predestinato]

the car is shit because it doesn’t have a strong front (like the f1-75 did @ the start of 2022), and they can’t change the chassis because of the cost cap. it’s too expensive. so we’re stuck with the chassis binotto & co. designed to suit carlos’ driving style (re: understeer). i know they’ve tried to add some aero-related pieces to strengthen the front in their development (e.g., new diffuser, front flap, etc.). which is why charles was feeling a little more like his old self yesterday and carlos fell off a bit. i’m so ready for the 2024 car since they’ve said they’re designing it toward charles’ driving style (oversteer, fast). hope they can deliver for him. 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼 he deserves a great car!

I truly have no words...

Charles did a great Q3 lap. Drove on the edge a few times in sector 2, and then the rear just... doesn't respond in sector 3. And his lap time is nowhere as a result. He really could have done nothing more. The SF-23 truly belongs in the trash. Absolutely disgrace of a car.

What's worse is this disgrace of a team, who developed the fast pointy F1-75 into an understeer tractor AND stopped development early to focus on the SF-23 (LMAO), an even worse understeer tractor that they now can't develop out of a wet paper bag. They need to bin their organizational philosophy, bin a perpetually feckless strategy team (notice how this season Merc always finishes where they deserve by just ... you know, behaving normally?), bin their useless second driver who at best gives bad data (Silverstone tire wear) and at worst does everything to undermine their fastest driver (Silverstone quali, Austria race, Monaco quali, Australia quali, Saudi race - weaving, Silverstone 2021 race - shoving off the track, etc. I can't even keep tabs anymore, it's actually getting comical) while politicking car development into the midfield.

I'm constantly mind blown this team cannot do simple math. To win WDC/WCC, you don't need both drivers to be comfortable, you don't need your drivers to finish 1-2, YOU NEED YOUR FASTEST DRIVER TO FINISH P1. The points difference between P1 and P2 is fucking enormous. As long as you make a car that CHARLES can win in, it doesn't matter if his teammate is P3, P4, etc. (or if you're special like Perez, DNF in FP1 and then P9).

There's talent in the team. Charles is generational. I think Vasseur is trying to do right, but dear god - there's a reason Schumacher was so successful. He had the political sway and brought in his own people to absolutely GUT Ferrari over several years and turned it into something unrecognizable. To win with Ferrari, you must first disrespect and destroy Ferrari.

[cognitosclowns]

I saw your Robotus NSFW Alphabet post and please GOD elaborate on him having a fleshlight based on Reader's pussy because he misses them. It's driving me insane your ideas are so good

YES ANON OFC I WILL <33 FAVE SHIT EVER ARE YOU KIDDING

nsfw below!! this is gonna be so long I'm so sorry MNSDMS

he didn't expect himself to miss you so much??

Like you're only gonna be out of town for 3 weeks, max. That's nothing. especially in comparison to how long of a life you two are gonna spend together, that IS nothing.

He repeats that a lot to himself during the coming days.

It's about halfway through the second that he starts missing missing you. Proper yearning. Not just surface level ‘wishing you were with him’ NOPE SMDNS

He’s absolutely lovesick. He finds himself missing every little detail about you.

The smell of your shampoo. The little glint in your eye when you flirt with him. Kissing your warm cheeks after you cum, the lazy smile that follows. The way your eyes light up when he makes a joke.

AND ITS STUPID. HE KNOWS ITS STUPID. ITS IDIOTIC YOU AREN'T ON MARS FOR FUCKS SAKES YOU'RE JUST A FEW STATES AWAY. YOU'LL BE HOME BY THE END OF THE MONTH. HE WANTS TO GRAB HIMSELF BY THE SHOULDERS AND SHAKE.

He feels so dramatic but. that changes nothing. he's still stuck in Yearning Hell.

He definitely tries masturbating, because that seems like the easiest way to tamp it down until you're back, but it isn't the same. 

Sure, he cums, and it's perfectly fine, but the wanting doesn't go away. There's still that aching sensation. 

if anything, he feels worse after because it's not you. It's just a new reminder of how amazing it is being intimate with you and how far away you are.

AND,, WELL,

It's definitely an impulse decision.

(Granted, most of his decisions are impulse decisions, so.)

He's got a full 3D model of your innards bc. of course he does smdnsd.

Shockingly, it isn't even smth he actively kept info about? he just has so many sensors in his dick that it just,, naturally acquires that kinda data, and it gets stored away subconsciously. 

Wouldn't even be hard to print out something usable. a few minutes at most...

Yeah after the base idea crops up, he considers it for maybe,, .5 seconds before caving smdnsmd.

He keeps internally scoffing at himself as he sets up the printer, fills in the silicone, inputs the instructions. Sighing his nonexistent lungs out.

Just a constant mental stream of 'you are such an idiot you are such an idiot you are such an idiot' as he undoes his belt MSNDMSD truly he is. Experiencing.

actually,, using it,, oh lordie,,

he hates, hates that it gets a full-throated 'oh fuck' out of him, but it absolutely does.

Is it perfect? Not even close. A pale imitation at best. The slickness of lube is too artificial, there's none of that Human Warmth he's grown accustomed to, he can't cradle your face or squeeze your hips.

Is it just enough for him to pretend it's you? YEP <33

He only gets about 5 thrusts in before his first orgasm, and tbh his artificial cum really helps pull the illusion together?

It stays warm inside his tanks, heated by his motor, and it fills up the inside of the toy in no time.

It cools down pretty fast, but it's no problem because he replaces it just as quick <3

He's split between. feeling absolutely mortified that he's humping a piece of lukewarm silicone like some sort of animal vs not giving a singular fuck because it hits the exact spot he needs it to.

<333333

He isn't entirely sure how long he goes for, but when he's done the sun is firmly in the sky, which makes his cheeks feel more than a little artifically warm.

Thankfully, the toy itself fairly easy to dispose of, since it's virtually unrecognizable by the time he's done.

maybe. he'll keep those designs on file. for future use. just in case.

OH and don't think this spoils the welcome-home sex - think of it as an appetizer <33 just a reminder of what he's had to be away from!!

so. um. *pinwheels into the atmosphere*

[nellyofthevalley]

spawn, ch.2

astarion x fem!tav…

rating: explicit content: NON-CON, tragedy, violence, lots of cazador, dead dove, probably death at some point, i don’t know it’s a lot, fuck or die summary: cazador uses the one thing astarion cares about to exert control over his favorite spawn in the worst ways.

“My boy, you’ve not been paying attention. I never needed you to be my spawn to control you. Leave if you like,” says Cazador. “But first, tell me, what do you think I will do with her if you leave? And where will you go running off to?” Tav just looks at Astarion across the room, accepting of what’s to come, eyes begging him to leave. She shakes her head, telling him not to stay; to save himself. If he left, she would be granted a fate worse than death, he knows it. To kill her would be a mercy. Cazador has never shown mercy. 

chapters: ch.1 | ch.2 | ch.3

read it on ao3 or below the cut:

The next time Astarion sees Tav, on their way back to the ballroom, he frantically looks her over for any signs, anything at all—a scratch, a bruise, or worse, puncture wounds. There are none, save for the ones he’d given her in the ballroom the prior evening, and they look revolting. The wounds on her neck have healed over with crusted, flaking blood, and her skin wears horrid shades of red, purple, and blue. 

By his own hand. He’d turned into something unrecognizable—he’d brutalized her. And still, she looks at him with a kindness he doesn’t deserve; he didn’t have to ruin her like that… did he? Would it have mattered how he’d ravaged her, would it have changed Cazador’s mind if he’d been more cruel with her?

Summoned back to the ballroom, Astarion’s on edge, knowing a new punishment awaits him today. Godey hadn’t done anything during his time in the kennel, not even staying to berate him, so he’s sure what is about to come will be worse than being beaten. Again, Cazador takes his place at the back in his stupid red chair, with Tav by his side, sitting on the floor like an obedient dog waiting for its next order.

Godey ushers Astarion into the room, shoving him to the floor in front of Cazador. He waits, silent, the fight in him out today.

“Nothing to say to me today, boy?” Cazador asks, looking down upon him. “You usually have such a sharp, creative tongue.”

Normally, it would take considerable effort to hold his mouth. Not now. Astarion’s spent the day in the kennels with no one, nothing; only himself and thoughts of what he’d done, and how it still wasn’t enough. He doesn’t know what Cazador wants anymore.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” orders Cazador, his tone shifting to one of anger and demand. Astarion obeys, meeting his master’s cold, empty eyes with his own blank stare, resisting giving Cazador the satisfaction of anything. “You’ve not only forgotten how you belong to me, you’ve lost all your manners while you were on your ‘vacation’, too.”

Yes, of course. He’s lost it all, so overwhelmed by choice and free will that he let his obedience slip. He’ll need to be taught how to behave again; be reminded to address Cazador solely as ‘master’, never to drink from thinking creatures, never to run away again...

No, he won’t give up, he won’t let Cazador break him so quickly. He knows he needs to keep it together—if not for himself, then for her. She’s done nothing wrong but show him love.

If there was any uncertainty left in his mind on taking the ritual for himself before, it’s gone now, replaced entirely by a burning desire to. Carve the runes he bore into Cazador’s skin, slow and precise, taking his life’s work—the sweetest revenge. Tav has too gentle a heart for it, and she’d almost convinced him, but he sees it now; he sees how crucial it is to seize this power, for the both of them. They’d never have to fear anyone again.

“Master,” he says at last, resolved to play along until the right moment. “Command me.”

“You want to own her? Then mark her.” Cazador smirks, tossing his dagger, and as it hits the floor with a clang, Astarion’s face drops. “She’s your lover, isn’t she? Why don’t you share your skin with her?”

I don’t want to own her.

He can’t say that. It would get worse—that’s how he justifies everything he does, how he gets through it. Cazador will make it worse if I don’t comply, he reminds himself as he picks up the blade, trembling so much that he feels like it might jump from his hand.

That bit of determination he’d worked so hard to muster washes away when he approaches Tav and can’t veer away from her stare; the fear in her pierces him worse than any weapon could. How she keeps her silence today, despite her mouth being free, makes it all the worse. Astarion wishes she would yell at him, tell him not to do it, or encourage him to like the absurd martyr she’s always been.

Cazador pushes her forward like a sacrificial offering; Astarion’s to maim and take for himself, but he had. It is evident, written all over her body in bruised splotches around two distinct puncture wounds. Is she not branded sufficiently already? Reluctantly, he positions himself and kneels behind her, going through the motions, undoing her top to bare her back.

Share your skin with her. Cazador wants him to write infernal into her skin, desecrate her the way he’d been. 

He runs a hand over her delicate skin, taking his time to build his resolve to go through with this, but each passing second just makes it harder. Though he looks at her and touches her, what he sees is something else: himself. His own pale, untouched skin, and when he presses the dagger to her skin, he’s cutting into his own. He drags the blade across her, and she weeps quietly; in his ears ring the screams he’d cried when Cazador carved into him for hours.

The sight of her flesh separating and pouring dark red repulses him, though he wishes he could say the same for the smell. The aroma of her sweet, sweet blood lingering in the air hits his nose like a soft caress, wafting up straight to his brain and rousing his hunger. His trepidation leaves an opening for the cravings to overwhelm him with ease, flooding his every sense and regressing him back to that same beast he’d been when he brutalized her.

Astarion hooks his arm under hers, fist to her throat and dagger in hand; he pulls her in and eagerly laps up the liquid seeping from the cut he’d gifted her with, staining his mouth red. Burying his fangs in the crook of her neck elicits a breathy groan from Tav that shakes him down to his core, grounding and reminding him where he is, what he’s doing—who he’s hurting.

She calls his name, voice soft and tone void, though he registers it as a plea. It hurts to hear her voice he’d missed so much, only for it to be a cry for help—to save her from himself. He detaches from her, but it’s too late, he’s done it all wrong from the start and they’ll both pay the price for it.

“First, thou shalt not drink the blood of thinking creatures.” Cazador’s reminder tells him he’s made a mistake, that he’ll come to regret feeding from her. “You think my rules no longer apply because I let you do it once?”

“No, I—”

“Don’t give me excuses, boy,” Cazador chides. “I didn’t ask for much, and you still couldn’t do it. I was wrong to think you could be taught.”

Cazador leans forward in his chair and motions Tav to come. She listens without question, afraid and still quivering every step she takes, dreaming of being anywhere but here. He’d yet to give her much attention—she’d not stayed in his chambers as he’d said, he’d sent lackeys to capture her, and he’d been ordering Astarion to hurt her; she’s not sure what to expect from Cazador himself.

Once, not long ago, she had felt so powerful, and Cazador felt so little, like a bug to be squashed. Astarion warned her; ‘more dangerous than you thought, perhaps, but I’ve never had any doubt,’ he said, and he was right. They were stupid to believe they had time. It only took one calculated move for Cazador to gain the upper hand.

Cazador jerks Tav forward by the wrist, pulling her into his lap and settling his hands on her thighs. Being this close to him makes her ill, let alone having him under her and touching her like this.

“No! Don’t touch her,” Astarion warns, though he knows they’re empty words. “She’s mine.”

“She could have been,” Cazador says. “You chose not to make her yours. I so graciously granted you the freedom you seek, and you squandered it, silly little spawn.” His fingers crawl up farther her legs, turning her stomach; Astarion, she could handle, but not Cazador—anything but him, but this.

It’s when Cazador’s eyes wander, looking over her like he’s about to devour her, that Astarion’s self-restraint lapses again. He raises the blade in hand and moves to strike, but his body relents near instantly; control envelops him fully, like a cold, piercing embrace.

“Sit down, worm,” commands Cazador, exerting his pull, compelling Astarion to the ground on his knees and sending the dagger across the floor.

It’s the first time Astarion’s felt this power for months, though it feels like years, their journey long and grueling. He felt so far away from Cazador’s control, almost safe, especially after he hadn’t felt the call of his master once they’d taken care of the Absolute.

All along, Cazador had been messing with him, he realizes that now. He should have known it earlier. Cazador is nothing but simple, of course it was a game—when the sun burned him, he should have seen that nothing had changed, that his master was simply waiting for the right time. 

“Have I taught you nothing? Second, thou shalt obey me in all things,” Cazador repeats the second rule, hammering in his lessons; soon he’d remind Astarion of them with more than words. “You shame me, child, you’ve truly forgotten my power.” 

Astarion will never forget his power or his rules again. Cazador practically rips the clothes off Tav, fierce and empowered by the whimpers and pathetic face plastered across his favorite spawn. A shudder wracks through her, wishing Astarion had gone through with putting her to the blade; doesn’t he know what Cazador is capable of, after two centuries? Couldn’t he have known and saved her from this?

The worst part is how she’s merely a thing to be used to punish him; Cazador doesn’t care to hurt her, he cares to hurt his spawn the most demoralizing way he knows how. He seeks to tear Astarion down into nothing. He could simply move on with the ritual and kill them both, but it wouldn’t be enough. 

She glues her eyes shut and closes her ears as Cazador shifts beneath her; the sound of a zipper passes right through her as her mind uncouples from her body. Astarion hears it clearly, and for the first time in a very, very long while, he weeps; he weeps and he watches the thing he loves most be destroyed, and he blames himself for it all.

When Astarion tries to avert his eyes, Cazador is quick to remind him of the next rule; “Third, thou shalt not leave my side unless directed.” 

Today he is compelled to watch, and he cannot even daydream or wander out of body. Cazador’s orders control him, mind and body fully, holding him still and attentive. Tav cries in a way she hadn’t when he’d ruined her himself; even then, when he’d turned animalistic and given up his body to instinct, she’d accepted him and forgiven him.

She will never forgive him for this, and he wouldn’t deserve it. He’d lost his nerve so easily to her tears and a selfish hunger and subjected her to a worse fate. He should have listened to her when she said to leave. Cazador never intended to let her go, and he’d never have it in him to hurt her the way his master wanted. At least if he’d left, he wouldn’t have to witness it now. At least one of them would have made it out.

“Tav,” he says, desperately calling out to her, wanting to hear anything but the sobs and merciless echoes of skin on skin.

“No,” she answers, her will whittled down to less than zero. She doesn’t want his words of comfort or his touch or even his love; she wants to be left alone, to never be touched again, by anyone. 

Cazador doesn’t have to say the last rule. Astarion already knows it’s coming—the whole spectacle is a sadistic affirmation that Cazador owns him and that he will be broken.

“Fourth, thou shalt know that thou art mine,” he says meekly, transfixed by the sight ahead. “Master.”

Will their friends come for them—what few they have left? If they do, will it be too late?

[the-s1lly-corner]

BEN Drowned with daughter of Zalgo! Y/N

Ben drowned x daughter of zalgo! reader! (platonic)

as per usual for ben and admins boundaries, this is platonic; sorry anon </3 starts giggling and cheering because this gives me an excuse to talk about my personal zalgo lore ehehehe writing this while my short bread is cooling down; im making homemade twix :3

oooooo so this on is interesting; since my version of zalgo is responsible for the creation of all monsters and is the reason for ghost like characters for existing; so in a weird way your dad is to blame for why ben is a spirit

which on one hand, allows for you to meet the guy but on the other hand opened the opportunity for ben to suffer and be trapped.. mixed feelings here..

but i think as a proper *child* of the creature grants you similar abilities, you know, corruption and creation that kind of stuff also bringing into the question of if you have another parent of if zalgo just. made you with his own hands all my himself

moving on... how would ben feel?

revisiting the idea of zalgo technically being to blame for his whole... "existing after death but in one of the worst ways possible" i think the dynamic between you and him might be a little tense... i mean youre the child of the one who was responsible, and he would unfairly take it out on you

ooooo angst idea imagine you guys were already friends when he finds out

also brings into question of how the other characters feel about zalgo, if theyre aware of his existence

old fandom usually portrayed zalgo as a rival or threat and honestly i think that would be an interesting thing to implement in some characters given my lore

ponders

so perhaps some of that bleeds into they (in this case ben) treat and view you

thinks

i would say you guys play video games together, but if you inherited zalgos media corruption thing it might not end well, usually breaking the game and changing it until its unrecognizable; which can be even worse since ben most of the time is within devices so that puts him at risk

but good news! sometimes he can manifest in the real world for brief periods of time so you guys can hang out through that; just need to be careful about stuff if you dont have a handle on your abilities yet

you guys probably get up to dumb stuff you'd expect teens would get into; staying out late, sneaking out, doing dumb stuff that ends up making you guys look like dummies.. you sneak him into places while hes hosting himself inside your phone... bonus, if youre going somewhere that requires payment (think like, a theatre where you need tickets) you only have to pay for yourself

though i guess thats assuming you pass as a human well enough to be wandering out in public...

lots of ideas and thoughts to be explored but very vague so i cant pinpoint many of my ideas my apologies

[isleofdarkness]

Pardon my extremely graphic language, but it is a)deserved and b) honestly probably not as bad as stuff in some of these backstories but I would like to strangle rook with his own intestines<3 he deserves that and worse<3 murder is too kind<3

Rose has called dibs on killing him for what he's done to Ace. Her current plan (changes often based on what Rook has done to Ace that week) would make a grown man faint dead away. She hopes to make his body completely unrecognizable so that Ace can see it a) without panicking, and b) have no doubt that he's dead and can never hurt it again.

Although if Ace ever wants to be the one to kill him, she'll call off her dibs. She just knows that someone needs to and he's conditioned Ace too much for Ace to even think of even the slightest defiance.

[unlockedcuriositydoor]

I'd like to see Mike initiate the breakup. I think it could demonstrate character growth (or character...resurgence?) Way back in the first season (as well as the events prior to the start of the show), El had no say in anything. Nothing at all. Mike, and to a lesser extent the other original party members, served as her entry point to the world. It was Mike who initiated a romantic component to their friendship. It seemed as if it was something she accepted, rather than something she wanted. To her it was, more than likely, a new concept; something that would take more time to incorporate into her understanding of society outside of the lab, a place where she was treated with unrelenting cruelty.

This viewpoint gets a bit dicey, I suppose, because surely El and Mike's dynamic could have naturally bloomed into something romantic, or even just been romantic from the start, regardless of whether or not it was believable or compelling to me personally; but if I start contemplating all of this I'll quickly veer off the point.

Season 2 started El's arc of self-discovery, which she necessarily needed to do largely on her own. Almost everyone believed she was dead, and those who did not were after her. That self-discovery arc largely came about via attempts to discover her own family, her origins in this strange world. She began to shed more and more of her fears. She began to understand the world just a little bit more as she sneaked out and determinedly navigated her way through it. She was a badass this season. It was unique, and fascinating, but we never lost sight of the fact that she was also still a kid. We felt her pain and rage and frustration and could identify with it. I wanted her to find her family. To discover herself, yes, but in the company of a family who could be there for her. This was not yet possible. The depth of her trauma was never far from my mind.

Season 3 really neglected to take its characters seriously in a lot of ways, but I've tried to make something of it. Season 3 El, with the aid of her new friendship with Max, pushed further along her journey of self-discovery. The dynamic she shared with Mike was unrecognizable from their season 1 bond. I'm almost forgetting why I typed all of this, which was to explain why I want Mike to initiate the breakup. While El has grown, Mike, by contrast, has drifted further and further away. Away from the narrative and away from our perception. I see Mike as exactly the sort of character to continually look after others, while neglecting to ever put himself first. When he explains how something makes him feel, he's ignored or dismissed. He seems to have withdrawn as a result. He's growing, changing, and that's unstoppable. He has no say in any of it; such are the woes of puberty. Scary. By this point, El has just begun learning that she has a say in anything in her life, and she's having her say. El chose to dump Mike's ass, El chose to befriend Max, and El chose to initiate a reunion with Mike at the end of the season. That last choice perhaps due to great fear: El had lost control again. Her father figure, gone. Her powers, which for better or worse had always been a part of her, gone. How Mike felt about that reunion looked quite ambiguous. But it came across as taking it in stride, going through the motions. I think the crumbling state of their relationship in season 4 supports this idea. Mike's withdrawal has affected El negatively too. But she lies; this is also harmful to Mike (as well as to herself). Mike cannot afford to neglect to examine whatever it is that eats away at him anymore. This guy is in a bad way. But if he is able to be honest, that's a start. If he's able to initiate the breakup and explain himself, like he told Will he should have done, it'll be a gateway to some much-needed character growth. There's nothing remotely easy about it, but I'd like to see it. I think if El were to initiate the breakup, it would be more like a reiteration of traits we already know El possesses: the ability to take charge. A great quality, but one I want to see again from Mike. Especially as it pertains to his personal life. Mike addressing what ails him, rather than denying and deflecting and misdirecting all that anger and pain.

Ultimately, I think the conclusion I've reached is that, really, the twists and turns of El and Mike's relationship have indicated where they are in their personal growth at a given time. Kind of a convoluted statement, and maybe something worth a more in-depth analysis. In short, though, it's been a process of self-discovery for them both. So them becoming romantic in season 1, fine. Great, even. Season 3, they were isolated from the others. Nothing good came of that. This show puts such emphasis on the power of friendship above all else. It's why I love it. Once the group came together, once Mike stopped neglecting his friends and El made a new friend, they were happier. The others didn't find them to be such pains in the neck (except for Will; sorry, a post this long and meandering needs a little pun just to mix things up a bit). It was all part of their journey, really. And the narrative arc of season 4 strongly suggests that the romantic (romance-adjacent?) era of their journey has drawn to a close. What's left is acceptance, and moving on, and learning to care for each other in a new way that fits the people they've become.

In other words, their relationship was always meaningful, and certainly worth taking seriously, but part of growing up is changing. And their relationship has changed in ways that require more explicit addressing, I think.

It's all so screwed in the worst way at the moment, which is why this show has been sitting so heavily on my mind for ages now.

A few days ago I wrote a little post about how, to come full circle from season 1, I would like to see season 5 Mike being able to learn from El and be cared for (platonically) by El, just like season 1 El learned from Mike and was cared for by him (platonically, at least until that kiss, whoopsie for that). I guess this is sort of a continuation of that idea.

This ramble comes courtesy of my frustration with the idea that whatever there's been between Mike and El hasn't been meaningful, both to themselves and to the overall plot. That seems a bit like a betrayal of the audience/characters. It's just changed, or perhaps hasn't served the purpose both parties involved wanted it to serve. By the end of the season, they've both reached a place where they're ready to admit that. And yet, then there's the monologue scene, tossing a wrench into that growth.

I can't seem to find a good stopping point so I will just stop here for now.

I’m obsessed with doing polls now so here we go.

[writtenonreceipts]

Feysand and “i didn’t mean to say that but yeah, i love you.” <3

Hey friend! I decided to make it a companion piece to The Things We Cannot Say. Enjoy!  It takes place around one year before the events of the first part.

find my main masterlist here

Warnings: brief mentions of trauma and insensitive comments toward disabilities. But mostly this is fluff.

The Things We Want to Say

“I just don’t understand it.” Elias Archeron sighed as she looked over her water glass at Feyre. “It’s been almost fifteen years; don’t you think it’s time you get over this?”

Feyre handed her lunch menu to the waiter who had taken her order just fine through pointing and careful mouthing. The young man had smiled kindly and not said a word against her.

On either side of her, Feyre felt her sisters stiffen. It was a common argument and sorce of tension in the Archeron family, but Feyre had hoped they could get through one lunch without it being an issue.

Feyre met her father’s gaze as she began signing. It’s not something I can get over, dad.”

He scowled. To her father’s credit, the man had tried to help Feyre. They’d gone to doctor’s and therapists for years. But it all came down to sometimes this happened. There really was nothing anyone could do about it. Trauma manifested in different ways and this was how it manifested with Feyre.

And it was hard. Learning sign language had taken a while, even if Feyre was at a prime age to learn another language. She had a bit of a learning disability and it didn’t help that Elias hardly if ever used ASL in the household himself.

“Dad,” Elain began, one hand squeezing Feyre’s knee beneath the table. “We’ve talked about this before. She doesn’t have to talk.”

Feyre covered Elain’s hand and gave it a grateful squeeze back. While Elain was softer spoken and quite often kept her opinions and thoughts to herself, she’d been doing a lot of growing over the past few years. Especially after moving out of Prythian and away from their father.

“Elain, don’t,” Elias warned. He straightened, his once kind face had taken on hard lines and creases. He’d almost become unrecognizable over the years. “This is for Feyre and I to discuss.”

Nesta let out a not so soft snort. Despite how carefully she sat, prim and neat, there was no mistaking the ire in her eyes and she glared across the table.

“Then why bring this up at a family lunch?” Nesta asked. “If it’s brought up now it concerns all of us.”

Their father shook his head and sighed. If they weren’t in a public place, Feyre was certain he’d concider cursing. None of this was different from the times they’d talked about this before. In fact, nothing had changed. Except Feyre and her sisters.

Over the years, both Elain and Nesta had come to defend Feyre against their father, taking on more protective roles than before. Feyre didn’t know where the change had come, but she was grateful for the support nonetheless.

“She’s twenty-three,” Elias said. “This level of immaturity won’t get her anywhere in life.”

Feyre’s gut churned. If she and her sisters had changed for the better—their father had changed for the worse. Her phone buzzed on the table next to her and she saw a text from Rhys come through.

<<Mor is gone for the day. Come over whenever.

Relief spread through her. She grabbed her purse and pulled out a few twenty’s and dropped them on her empty plate.

I have somewhere I need to be, she signed.

Elias practically turned purple as he glared up at her. His mouth moved silently as he worked out what to say to try and keep her here.

If she’d had the time or desire to stay in his presence, Feyre would have told him to use his words. It was easy enough wasn’t it. But she was already dismissing herself. She gave Elain’s shoulder a pat and kissed Nesta on the cheek and she left the restaurant.

Once out to her car she texted Rhys back.

>>I have a few places to stop by, but I’ll be there soon.

It was enough to make the past twenty minutes ease off her mind. She left the parking lot quickly, eager to finish up her errands.

…

The Court was strangely quiet as Feyre entered on the main level. She was greeted by the silver chrome fixtures and embellishments with the bright, white light that illuminated the marble flooring. It was enough to almost blind her. She supposed this was what she got when she came to the club at three in the afternoon and not midnight. Not that she would complain.

She was free from the horrendous lunch with her father and now had time to do something she actually cared about.

Feyre manipulated the box she carried to one hip as she headed up the open staircase to the second floor that housed the bar and restaurant for the club. In less than eight hours she would be helping Rhys host a birthday party for his cousin, Mor.

Mor, as one of Feyre’s oldest and dearest friends, deserved the best party that anyone could offer. And while Feyre didn’t consider herself very collected and organized—she would pull off miracles for Mor.

It was Mor who had helped Feyre find a job that would accommodate her muteness. And Mor helped orchestrate Feyre and Rhys’ first meeting. Rhys who was everything to Feyre.

It had only been three months since she and Rhys started dating, and truly they were some of the best months of Feyre’s life. Of course, things weren’t easy. Mostly because Feyre couldn’t believe a man like Rhysand Avitas would give her the time of day. And their communication still needed work. Despite Rhys’ efforts to learn sign language, he was still struggling in that front. But there was more to it than that.

Rhys was a business man. He owned this very club and ran it with smooth efficiency while maintaining the cool confidence of a man that should not be crossed. He was the kind of person who could have anything he wanted. And it seemed that he had chosen her. She was a mess if she were being honest with herself. She was working through an art degree and was wearing a pair of mismatched socks. And the bra she was wearing had to be at least four years old. She really needed to go shopping.

Truly, Feyre had no idea why he gave her the time of day. Let alone that fact that he’d gone out to learn sign language because of her. He never pressured her to speak, never judged her, never blamed her.

Sometimes she was certain that she was dreaming and that all too soon she would wake up to reality.

“Hello, darling.” That voice. That delightfully welcome voice.

Smiling, Feyre looked up to Rhys coming down the stairs from the upper offices. He was dressed in his signature black. His shirt was open at the collar; the sleeves rolled up.

Rhys came over and kissed Feyre on the forehead taking the box she carried from her.

“You’re setting up early,” he commented. “You didn’t have to come right when I texted.”

Feyre rolled her eyes before signing. It’s not too early. This has to be perfect. And you saved me from lunch with my father.

A look of worry flashed in Rhys’ eye, but Feyre waved it away. She didn’t want to distract him with her own business right now. Even if he understood more than most what she was dealing with.

Instead, he smiled and set the box he carried on the counter. “Mor’s going to love it, you planned it all perfectly.”

She better, Feyre replied, I have more stuff to get. Since you’re free, come help me.

She gave him a meaningful look to communicate her words when he looked a little confused at how quickly her hands moved. Feyre repeated herself just to be safe.

“Cauldron, you’re going to destroy my club, aren’t you?” Rhys muttered, but there was a soft gleam to his eyes.

Winking, Feyre grabbed his to pull him out to her car before he could disappear again.

The first few hours passed quickly, mostly composed of unloading the many, many boxes that Feyre had brought. She knew Mor, and knew that her friend had expensive tastes. Her style was flashy, elegant, and beautiful. This party was going to be everything that Mor wanted. Feyre would make sure of it.

Everything was looking just the way Feyre had pictured. She may have been on a budget and not able to afford an actual event planner, but she’d also enlisted Emerie’s help to come up with a theme and buy decorations.

It was still a few hours out to the party, but Feyre imagined she was ahead of schedule for everything. The kitchen staff was going to come in a little early to prepare a perfectly executed menu of all of Mor’s favorites.

“You’re almost done already?” Rhys asked as he came up from the main dancefloor. He’d had to take a break from helping Feyre to run through inspections with Azriel on the cameras and security exits.

She finished pinning a string of tinsel up along the bar (Balthazar was going to kill her for this) and turned to beam at Rhys. Nodding, she rested her hands on her hips.

“You are incredible,” Rhys said watching her as he leaned against the bar.

Feyre eyed him suspiciously—the words felt strange to hear. In all honesty, she wasn’t used to hearing them so openly, so honestly.

“I mean it,” he added, noticing her hesitance. He pushed off the bar and walked to her, moving in close until she could feel the heat radiating from his body. Rhys gently tucked a finger beneath her chin so she couldn’t avoid his eyes. “You are remarkable. Strong and smart. Sexy as hell.”

Feyre felt her cheeks heat with a blush. You’re just saying that.

Rhys shook his head and leaned in for kiss. The effect was immediate. Feyre’s blood heated and her pulse skipped a beat. There was always something about Rhys that drew Feyre in. Something so earnest that Feyre could hardly keep her hands off him on a good day.

Sometimes it hardly felt like they’d only known each other for only four months—dating for three of them. But every time he kissed her; Feyre found all the doubts that plagued her vanished. She could forget the lunch with her father and her feelings of inadequacy.

Feyre tilted her chin to turn that almost innocent kiss into something more.

Rhys reacted instantly, his hands going to Feyre’s waist as he pulled her closer against him. His mouth moved expertly against hers until his tongue brushed against her bottom lip.

Sucking in a breath, Feyre fisted her hands in Rhys’ shirt. His taste and touch were almost too much for her. She could have stayed like this for hours with Rhys and she was almost tempted to blow off Mor’s party. She wanted to find a secluded spot either here in the bar or take him back to her apartment.

Rhys pulled away, just barely and smiled down at her. “We should finish up. Mor will never forgive either of us if we half-ass her party.”

Pouting, Feyre tightened her hold on Rhys’ shirt. It was most certainly going to wrinkle and leave obvious intonations of what they’d been up to.

“You are impossible,” Rhysand chuckled. He raised one hand to trace a finger along her jaw and mouth. “But I love you anyways.”

Feyre froze, eyes widening as she stared at him.

Love. Love. He loved her.

He’d never said that to her before. Nor had she said it to him. In fact, no one Feyre had ever dated had told her they’d loved her. Love was such a hard thing to come by and one she’d basically written off with all the crap she’d endured throughout her life for her disability.

Feyre pulled away so she had space to sign in.

You love me? She asked, mouthing the words as her fingers said them.

Rhys smiled sheepishly and if Feyre wasn’t mistaken, a faint brush rose on his cheeks. He chuckled softly.

“I, ah, I didn’t mean to say that,” he murmured, “but yeah, I love you.”

He even signed the words as he said them, his fingers shaky but certain. Feyre felt the breath sweep from her lungs and her heart beat almost painfully.

“Is that alright?” Rhys continued. He still wore a flush of embarrassment and ran a hand through his already tousled hair.

Feyre stared up at him, smile spreading across her lips. For the life of her she would never know how this man had come into her life. When he spoke those words, a spark lit in Feyre’s chest and warmed her entire body. She nodded before signing back to him.

I love you too.

The look Rhys gave her was smoldering. His violet eyes were filled with a mix of heat and tenderness, something so pure and genuine. Feyre leaned into him for another kiss, completely unbothered by the fact they still have things to finish before Mor’s party.

They’d only been together for three months but it felt like years. And Feyre hoped that they would get to that point. That they would have years together. Years of moments just like this.

“You two are hopeless!” Azriels voice cut them apart like a knife.

Rhys regretfully pulled away from Feyre and cut his brother a scathing look.

“What do you want Azriel?”

“We still have stuff to go through,” Azriel called back. He was still down on the club dancefloor, clipboard in hand full of things that needed to be checked off. It seemed that Rhys had left him too soon.

Rhys cursed and dropped a kiss to Feyre’s lips—one full of promise.

“I’ll be back,” he sighed. And giving her hand a squeeze, he turned back to his brother and headed back to the main floor “You said we were done.”

“With the west side, you idiot,” Azriel said, “we’ve still gotta finish up the east and back halls.”

There bickering could be heard throughout the club.

Feyre smiled to herself and pressed a hand to heart where she could feel the erratic beat. Yes. She could definitely get used to years of this life.

...

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[stxleslyds]

Also, the writers' failure to understand, every crime Jason committed had a motive. Attack other criminals? Holy warrior destined to purify the world of evil. Attack Bruce? Joker's still alive. (Oh, Jason, it's much worse than that.) Attack Tim? A parody of what he once was. He wasn't just a "bad boy". He was dangerously insane.

Hi, Anon! Yup, there seems to be a lot of things that writers have gotten confused about Jason Todd/Red Hood and the biggest one is his motivations to kill certain criminals.

Let’s be honest, Judd Winick set a golden path for the upcoming Red Hood writers. But each and every writer that used Red Hood in their stories completely missed the point of Jason’s character. All of them. It’s so incredibly wild to me that every other writer read UtRH and came up with whichever version of Jason they came up with.

Let’s list the writers that completely missed the point.

Geoff Johns in Teen Titans vol.3 #29.

Geoff Johns was one of the first to completely mischaracterize Jason, why on earth would Jason go to the Titans Tower to beat up Tim? This is not me saying that Jason would never do that because Jason thinks of Tim as his brother or a friend or the person that he can trust the most from the Bat-Clan (can you believe Lobdell tried to sell us that one?), this is me saying that Jason wouldn’t have done that because he couldn’t have given less of a fuck about Tim’s existence.

When Jason found out that Bruce had another Robin he wasn’t bothered by his “replacement” he was mad at Bruce for having another child playing hero after he lost his life as a fifteen-year-old. Jason didn’t even think of Tim as his replacement as fandom likes to make us believe, Jason called Tim “pretender”. And that was that, but to go from minimal recognition to go out of his way to beat him up at Titans Tower is a massive mischaracterization.

Paul Dini in Countdown (to Final Crisis).

Paul Dini in Countdown did absolutely nothing with Jason, I am sorry but that’s all he did. Him writing Jason was like watching a dog trying to catch their own tail. He started with a pretty basic take on UtRH Jason, then he added a bit of Jason being an annoying man with Donna, then we had the jealousy arc because apparently, Jason had the hots for Donna but she didn’t want anything to do with him and he was all angsty when she paid attention to Kyle instead of him, and then, later on, he had that whole Red Robin bullshit (I am sorry about this, but I absolutely hated that, it was so dumb, I am so glad it didn’t last long because it was just too bad), and after all that mix of just not interesting stuff he went right back to the Jason that he had at the very start. It was a waste of time, but I guess that he had to be there because he was an anomaly and all that. I just think that was DC’s first try at making Jason Todd/Red Hood something more than just a street-level vigilante and they failed miserably.

Tony S. Daniel in Batman: Battle for the Cowl.

Even though the first two did make mistakes with Jason’s characterizations, this man was the first to just throw UtRH out of the window and make up his very own version of Jason Todd. And his version was horrendous, that Jason had no problem with attempting to kill children and innocent people, he also really wanted to be Batman because Gotham needed a Batman and he wanted to be the person to wear the Cowl and he was looking for a Robin for himself.

I know, the whole concept is the perfect opposite of what Jason Todd and Red Hood were in UtRH. Every aspect of BftC Jason is based on nothing.

Jason wanting to be Batman because Gotham needed Batman is just the beginning of what’s wrong in this book. Jason became the Red Hood (in part) because he believed that Batman and his ways weren’t what Gotham needed so he made a better version of Batman with Red Hood (according to him) because Red Hood did what Batman refused to do. Another thing that is just wrong is Jason wanting, Damian, Tim or Dick to be his Robin, there is just so much wrong with this, first of all, Jason wanted Batman to stop having Robin because child soldiers ran the risk of dying at a very young age and that’s exactly how he saw the whole thing because that was what had happened to him. Second, if Jason was mad at Bruce for getting another Robin why would he now want one of his own to team up with his Batman? Damian was a child, Tim was someone that apparently Jason hated (because Jason beating Tim was mentioned in this event), and then Jason actually asked Dick Grayson, Nightwing, to be his Robin? Listen, there is no way that was Jason, nothing about him makes sense, even taking into account that Jason had beaten Tim already in this event Jason actually tried to kill both Tim and Damian (it might have been just one of them but yeah, it still doesn’t make sense).

I just don’t think that Tony S. Daniel knew who Jason Todd was, maybe he got confused but the thing is, his “villainous” and deranged version of Jason Todd allowed a villainous and deranged version of Red Hood to happen with the next writer that I will be talking about.

Grant Morrison in Batman and Robin vol.1 #3-6.

This was the birth of the villainous, deranged and bloodthirsty Red Hood. There is absolutely no trace of UtRH Jason here, not even if we are looking at the opposite of things like we could do with Daniel’s Jason. Grant Morrison wanted Dick and Damian to have a villain to match their Batman and Robin and they decided to give us a red-haired-pill-headed-red hood. Everything from Morrison’s characterization of Jason is crazy, from the red hair (hello pre-crisis) to the awful Joker’s Red Hood looking suit, everything was just weird.

I still don’t believe that was Jason, to be honest, I would rather think that version of Jason was actually a rouge Skrull that came all the way from the Marvel Universe and lost his way in Gotham City. Maybe when he made the jump between universes, he got too much information and got confused and took the form of the wonkiest Jason Todd he could come up with.

This Jason was absolutely deranged, he knew exactly what he was doing and he didn’t care if innocents died. This Jason was the one that got locked up in Arkham. This is the Jason that Dick put in Arkham for Jason and everybody else’s safety.

Dick putting that Jason in Arkham wasn’t a bad thing or something that anyone can use to shit on Dick Grayson (not on this house). This Arkham was reformed and that Jason knew that if he stayed in that new Arkham he would stay away from trouble, but here is the thing, that Jason loved trouble, so he took all the tests to prove he wasn’t insane and asked to be transferred to Blackgate (where all the Red Hood’s enemies were). That Jason didn’t ask to be sent to Blackgate because the Joker was a cell away from his in Arkham, he did it so he could go on a killing spree in Blackgate (which he did when he got there).

Skrull Jason was just bloodthirsty and nothing like UtRH Jason, he had no motive other than just killing for fun or whatever. He didn’t want to protect Gotham and he couldn’t have cared less about the drug trade in Gotham. In Batman and Robin vol.1. Jason Todd was unrecognizable. And luckily, we never saw him again.

Scott Lobdell in Everything that he ever wrote about Red Hood.

This one is pretty self-explanatory. Lobdell was the king of overpowering Jason, he was the one that drove Red Hood farther and farther away from his street-level vigilante status. He continuously added more to him, he was a big deal because he was meant to take down Ra’s al Ghul, he was a big deal because he was the only human to train in the All-Castle and learned to summon the All-Blades.

This Red Hood’s morals and ideals were kind of gone, there just wasn’t any kind of interest in Jason to get rid of drugs or try to control its trade in Gotham, he just had no interest in street-level threats, everything was extraordinary in both New 52 and Rebirth. If he wasn’t in space he was in some mystical land. His friends and allies became even more and more powerful, his level of power was completely off compared to the others. His personality was ever-changing and quite honestly you could barely see the Jason that he once was.

This Jason also was very inconsistent in the way that he felt towards people (obviously because Lobdell is a shitty writer), he wanted to follow Batman’s rules and was shown as someone that still had fond memories of his life with Bruce before he died but was also willing to let those memories go, to move on? Maybe? I don’t know. But he changed his mind about Bruce and following his rules or not for a very long time. Jason was also a little bitch about Dick, and he was a little bitch because he (Lobdell) never gave the reader or anyone a concrete reason as to why he hated him so much and then in Rebirth he decided that Dick wasn’t that bad. Also, Jason went from “Willis Todd, abusive husband and father that deserved to die” to “Willis Todd abusive husband and father but he sent me letters when he was in prison and Penguin had him killed so now, I really want to avenge him”. Yeah, I don’t really know why that happened and like most of Lobdell’s arcs and stuff it was never really completed or well thought out.

Lobdell’s Jason characterization was a mess for ten years and that’s the prime reason why Jason is a character with no solid background, story or future.

James Tynion IV in Red Hood and the Outlaws.

Tynion’s Jason Todd was a hero, he was like a mini Tom King Batman. Everything he did was right and there was just no way that you could bamboozle him. This Jason was able to hold to Blades that drained his soul as well as hosting the Untitled in his body (that were able to drain his soul too) and on top of all that he completed his journey of the Chosen One by making those ancient martial arts moves that he learned before he was Robin even though Talia hadn’t been able to master it yet.

Scott Snyder, Tim Seeley in Batman Eternal and Batman and Robin Eternal.

A mess, this was pure New 52 levels of bullshit and they all just wanted to push the “Batfamily” and while Dick was gone, they were trying to make Jason fill the void that Dick left in Batman events. It didn’t work at all and all they did was mess around with Jason’s characterization more.

Geoff Johns in Three Jokers.

I have talked enough about Johns’ takes on Jason Todd and Red Hood, but let me tell you something real quick, if a writer thinks that the best they can do with a character is make them give up their morals/ideals for an unrequited love interest, then they can keep that idea for themselves. Geoff Johns wrote a book that was absolutely not needed and then proceeded to butcher every characterization that he could, Three Jokers was three issues long and he managed to add more trauma to Jason’s torture, push the narrative of Jason being at fault for his own murder and make Jason’s motivations to be the Red Hood weak enough to make him want to give up his work for a woman that he barely knows (and doesn’t like him at all).

Joshua Williamson in Future State: Red Hood and Robin #5.

Now, with Williamson I have issues only when he writes Jason, not because his stories are bad, don’t get me wrong, I would have completely enjoyed FS: Red Hood if it weren’t for the completely unnecessary Rose/Jason side plot he had going on. Jason was clearly working undercover for some people that he hated working with. He had to arrest or kill “masks” (vigilantes, just like he “used” to be) for the Magistrate.

His ideas were pretty solid, Jason did the job but he never killed the masks and actively didn’t trust the Magistrate but he was working there to tear them apart from within, and that’s amazing if Williamson had given us Jason Todd/Red Hood working undercover to dismantle an organization I would have been really happy.

But that’s not all he gave us, even if I just forget about his failed attempt at giving Jason a relationship, I can still see that Williamson is the kind of writer that wants (or is just following DC) to make the “Batfamily” happen no matter how dumb and out of place it looks in comics’ canon. So, I am a little bit weary, any writer that leans too much towards making Jason and Bruce work together and become a family makes me want to scream, but I do understand that is just me, many people want those two to be buddy-buddy, I, personally, would love to see Jason kick Bruce in the balls and tell him to lose his number.

Chip Zdarsky in Urban Legends: Cheer.

Ah, yes, I remember the days in which I thought that this could have been something good. Well, I was utterly wrong and I suffered all the way through this mini. I feel like now I can safely say that Zdarsky only wanted to write a Batman book but DC told him, “Hey you can write Batman but it has to be within a Red Hood story, but don’t worry, you don’t have to know much about the Hood guy, just come up with something and write Batman around that”.

I know that’s what happened because I read that story and all we got from it was horrible characterizations for pre-Robin Jason, Robin Jason, Jason Todd and Red Hood. I don’t know how he did it but yes, he managed to mess it all up.

From Jason not really wanting to be Robin and acting recklessly every step of the way, to secret desires of a perfect family with Bruce and so many other people that he couldn’t care about, Urban Legends: Cheer is the perfect book to avoid at all costs if you believe that the concept of “Batfamily” is the biggest lie, DC is trying to profit off this time around.

Zdarsky also nerfed Jason in ways that I thought DC only wanted to nerf Dick Grayson. But I was able to see that I was wrong. Zdarsky’s run also pushed some of the most disastrous narratives that DC really wants readers to believe like: Robin Jason wasn’t good at his job, he was too reckless and ultimately his death was his own fault. Yay! I want to cry!

I will give Zdarsky two points for at the very least showing that Red Hood wants to protect children and that he has a huge issue with how the drug trade is controlled and abused in Gotham City, it had been a while since we had seen that aspect of Jason’s Red Hood make an appearance.

-

It’s just too many writers completely missing the point of Red Hood’s character or simply writers agreeing to destroy Jason’s uniqueness in the DC Universe so DC (as the publisher) can further push the abomination that is the “Batfamily” in comics’ canon.

I do agree with you Anon when you say that Jason isn’t just a “bad boy” but I also don’t think that we can call UtRH Jason “dangerously insane”. Personally, I will only use that last description for BftC and Batman and Robin Jason, those two were dangerously insane indeed.

UtRH Jason was very meticulous in who he wanted dead and who got to live. He entered Gotham’s most dangerous world and he had to make a big entrance, he invited the eight most prosperous street dealers to a meeting, showed up with the decapitated heads of each of their right-hand men and an AK-47 and said:

“I am offering you a deal. I will be running the drug trade from now on. You will go about your business as usual. You will kick up forty percent to me. That is a much better deal than the Black Mask will give you. In return, you will have total protection from both the Black Mask and Batman. The catch? You stay away from kids and schoolyards. No dealing to children, got it? If you do, you’re dead.”

This was Red Hood! Red Hood wanted to control the drug trade in Gotham because he knew that Gotham is far too corrupt and filled with drug lords for him to just want to eradicate drugs from Gotham. If he had tried that he would have been a dumbass, but he wasn’t. He didn’t want to start a gang war and get innocent people killed because of it, he wanted to set the rules of his new Empire and he had to start with the street-level drug dealers, from there he grew until he became a major pain in Black Mask’s ass.

We went from Jason wanting to control the drug trade and take over Gotham’s underworld so people like Black mask couldn’t have people work for him (or being dependent on him) when they were still in high school or were in a vulnerable position, to Jason fighting a war for a mystic land because he was their “Chosen One”. DC really wanted to do something grand (yet boring) with Jason instead of sticking to a street-level vigilante that could have become a Drug Lord to control the drug trade of a city that is so filled with crime and corruption that it can’t be saved by anyone.

Batman doesn’t eradicate crime, he “controls” it, puts a blank it over it, lets it nap up until it wakes up once more to make more mess.

Red Hood had other plans, certain criminals didn’t get to nap, or, better said, they would get to nap forever.

So, no. I wouldn’t call that “dangerously insane”, I will call that “vigilante that believes himself judge, jury and executioner” of a city that is drowning in crime and corruption.

Anyway, I hope you have a really nice week Anon and thank you so much for sending me this ask!

[mfingenius]

hi!! i just read breaking news and i am absolutely in love!! i would adore a continuation if ur willing of course!

TRIGGER WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF CHILD SEXUAL ABUSE, CSA IS THE MAIN THEME OF THE FIC

Breaking News: [1] [2] [2.5] [3] [4]

The first time Laurent touches himself after his own little personal hell is finally over, he thinks of his uncle.

It's not on purpose, or even conscious. He'd had a nice dream - of which he only remembers a smooth dark jaw and gentle hands, and it's so different from everything from before that Laurent doesn't really think about it when he wakes; he's hard, and he reaches down to do - well, something, probably, except he's never done this, because his uncle was fucking him before he could even come and after - well, after, Laurent never would've wanted to do this. He doesn't even want to now, it had just been - instinct.

But it feels good, and it's kind of foreign, and for a few blissful, sleep-thick moments, he's just a normal person doing a normal activity.

And then he feels like he's himself again and his hand freezes and he can only think of his Uncle calling him a whore, telling him he wanted it, and he's hit by a wave of nausea so strong the world spins behind his eyelids as he shuts his eyes tightly.

His heart is pounding; his heart is pounding, and his ears are ringing in the way they do when he feels like his head isn't getting enough blood and and his limbs are tingling and his lungs don't work, and he thinks he won't be able to ever breathe again, and he knows if he makes a single move everything in his world is going to shatter around him.

It feels like the ground is gone, the bed disappeared from underneath him, anything, everything, and he's just floating in a void, inexistent.

He yanks his hand away from himself like he's burnt it, and it's so abrupt and fast that he knocks the glass on the night table to the floor; he barely hears it, he doesn't feel the collision, he just digs his nails into his palms until it hurts enough to distract him a little bit from what's going on in his brain.

It must not be long before Auguste enters, but it feels like a century; every single second spent like this is draining, impossible, hurting in every single inch of his body. All Laurent feels is the panic so thick in his throat and his chest and behind his eyes that it feels like his insides want to be on the outside and he's holding himself together with only his fingernails, with no real idea of how he's doing it but knowing letting go is not an option, not when it feels like nothing could be worse than what Laurent is just barely holding back.

"Hey." Auguste looks awful; they haven't talked since Kashel visited and Auguste stormed out - two days ago - but Laurent doesn't care; he's not angry anymore, he doesn't care, but he can't talk because if he opens his mouth he's going to fall apart, if he loosens a single muscle he's going to die. "Everything okay?"

The glass is broken on the floor, and Laurent is staring at it without blinking.

He's going to die.

He's no stranger to waking up and feeling like that, and he knows that it gets a little bit better at some point, but that never helps when it's happening. When it's happening, he can't think, and he can't move, and he can't do anything because he's going to die if even the slightest thing changes, if he so much as breathes.

"Laurent?"

Laurent wants to answer, wants to tell Auguste to get out and that he's fine, but he cannot open his mouth. If he does, he'll just bleed from it, spill his organs all over the floor like he wants to, and maybe that would loosen up some of the pressure burning against his skin.

"I'm sorry I left," Auguste says. "I shouldn't have done that."

Laurent can't tell him how much this isn't about him right now; he wouldn't even know if it's true; he just knows that he's been dreaming about it, about his uncle, for almost three weeks now with no break and those nightmares always leave him gutted, always leave him feeling like he's a not-quite-right copy of himself, human enough to be fooling everyone into thinking he's there when he never quite escaped that house, when whatever came out - this awful, twisted, horrible thing inside him - came out wrong, similar to what he was, to what he could've been, on the surface, but so unrecognizable to himself that he doesn't think there's a single thing about it not hurting him.

He thinks a part of him is never getting out of there.

"I'll be in the living room if you need anything," Auguste says, and that's the smallest of mercies, but a mercy all the same; Laurent doesn't want the pressure to react, to function, to put on a façade the way he does whenever he's around people, because even when he's hurting he's holding something back from everyone else, terrified they'll finally see him for what he is. "And I'll sweep this up so you don't cut yourself."

He does so quickly, and Laurent can't quite stop looking at where the shards of glass used to be.

"If you want to talk I'm here," Auguste tells him, before shutting the door behind him.

Laurent doesn't even know what he could say.

___________________________________________

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[low-budget-korra]

Lets talk about Korra (again)

i already made this analysis, and it was well received but i dont know, i wanna do it again. Why not right? My english is better now than was when i made that analysis so i think  this one will be better written

What a way to introduce a protagonist. This line and this scene tell us everything we need to know about Korra at that time and everything she knew about herself.

In book one Korra is a 17′s old teenager who have no idea how the world, how life is outside the training center she grew up in and had been locked up since ever. So she is not only naive but have lack of social skills

Oh, and not everyone who lack’s social skills will act like Zuko and Azula okay? Korra can be confident, expressive and outgoing and still have problems when it comes to social skills.One thing dont exclude the other.

“I’m the Avatar and you gotta deal with it” did you guys notice that only for that line we can see the entire opposite on how she treat her role as avatar in comparisson with Aang? And im not here to judge because is two very different contexts.

As far as we know, Korra grew up without friends or romantic partners. Of course, she had her training partners but i believe that they are just that. 

So her entarely perception of herself was around her duty as Avatar, she didnt have personal life, she barely was Korra...She was The avatar and thats that.

So she came to Republic City, it was a mess. 

Its funny to see that she have no touch when it comes to simply talk to people, i guess when you grew up away from society, this happens. And yes, she is cocky and had to learn that people arent there to somewhat please her, and she learned that quicky. 

Thats why the Pro Bending was important for her character, not only for training but also as means of socilization.

Now lets talk about the villains: Amon and Tarrlok

The two of them represents two differents threats to Korra. Amon represents a threat to her duty as Avatar while Tarrlok represents a threat to Korra as a person.

In episode 4 we have what i still thinks is the darker episode from TLOK. In this episode Amon ambushes Korra in the final moments... Even knowing that they did their best to make Amon’s power and control be non-sexualized as possible still...He have her down on her knews, totally helpless and he even invades Korra’s personal space by touching in her face forcing her to look at him. He didn't have to sexually touch her to violate her.

And right after, the fear in Tenzin voice when asking what happened after seeing her laying in the ground like that, and how Korra is sobing in his arms teeling him how powerless and helpless she felt. I mean...Oh, and she keeps terryfied by him until he takes her bending.

Tarrlok in the  other hand doesnt do much different from his brother and started to harass Korra because he cant take ‘no’ as a answer when Korra didnt wanted to join his task force.

Whats interesting is that if it wasnt for Tarrlok harassement and maniputation, Korra wouldnt have joined his task force and wouldnt have confronted Amon and wouldn't have gone through that terrible encounter.

The thing is that Korra is caught right in the middle of a politcal power dispute over the city, something that she for sure wasnt prepare for it. And both Amon and Tarrlok woud hurt or kill her without think twice about it if that means gain  power. And that was exacly what happened

Tarrlok tried to manipulate her and keep her on leash where he could, and when his tatics didnt worked anymore he alreay had a plan B. Yes that whole metal box in that cabin in the middle of nowhere was made especifically for her and maybe Tenzin if he also get in his way.

In the end Korra lost the physical battle against both but won the ethical battle also against both. She was the responsable for expose both of them as corrupted and hypocrites. But at what price? Amon was able to remove the bends of the Avatar. And without them, how could she be the Avatar?

Remember that her entirely conception of herself was built around her duty as Avatar, be the avatar. After all, everything she was, everything she'd trained so hard for, had been destroyed in minutes. Thats why i still strongly believe that she was thinking about killing herself at the end, nobodys goes all sad and crying to in front of a clifft without thinking about jumping from it. 

But she, i think given up the idea and just sit and started to crying when Aang appeared and help her, giving her bendings back in one of the best scenes of the show. So after have everything solve and still managed to get the boy she was in love with, things where great and she “move on”

In that first half, Korra is unbearable. Everything she learned in Book 1 how to be more mature, less spoiled and all, was thrown in the trash and she was the same "child" of the book one only worse.

Until I stopped and realized that I was also unbearable and childish like this when I had my bad phases of anxiety and depression, as defense mechanism and keep people away. Returning to Korra, and if this way of acting of her was nothing more than this defense mechanism?

Because guess what, i dont think she “move on” from all that happened in Book One that fast, and for add more drama she discovered that was her father idea of keeping her locked up training in that training center we saw in book one and not traveling like avatars before her. No wonder she felt betrayed. And for adding even more drama, people still keep treating her like child, so she was despered for some validation. Something that she found in her uncles arms but she was betrayed by him after.

In the end, Korra again goes through a traumatic experience when she has her connection with past lives destroyed. We see how it affected her when she apologizes to Tenzin, through tears. And Tenzin, as the excellent master he is, tries to motivate her to face Vaatu again (now merged with Unalaq, her uncle) and again she saves the day even after go throught a traumatic event

In the final moments, we see the innocent decision to reconnect the world of spirits and the world of men. And we also see Korra and Mako permanently end their turbulent relationship.

Book 3 begins in a more mature, we see all the characters being presented in a more mature way and it seems that Korra now has overcome everything that has passed. We have the relationship between Korra and Asami deepening as well

In Book 3, called "Change" we have a great sacrifice from Korra. Her life goes down a notch when she decides to save the new airbenders from Zaheer and the Red Lotus, the only villain until now that really threat her life since their sole goal was to kill the avatar.

Korra won again but this time victory costed way too much. Yes she save the day again but now she was  physically and psychologically defeated. It was too much, she broke.

Book 4 begins and we only saw Korra in the final minutes and she is unrecognizable. We see that, once proud and courageous avatar, in someone depressed and cowerd. We never have saw Korra like that, even when she was afraid of Amon she wasnt like that.

Korra is afraid of being the Avatar again and her fight against PTSD is still one of the most sensitive, responsable and honest representation of Mentall Issues that i saw, and it was before this subject gain more space on media. It was before people started to give attention to this

I also think that she was having flashs from her other fights and not only the one against Zaheer.

Another thing I think is worth mention is that Korra took 3 years to feel safer and re-embrace her duties as Avatar. It was not 3 weeks or 3 months, it was 3 years. And anyone who suffers from some mental illness knows very well the stigma that is, the fight that is, because everyone wants you to be well faster as possible  when the truth is that many times you spend years fighting against this.  And this is a pressure that falls on you.Imagine, seeing all your friends moving forward while you continue "stock in the same place"?

Only after Korra confronts Zaheer, I think that was a way to show her coping with the trauma, she improves to the point of returning to be the great Avatar we know. I personally still struggles with this scene because put the victim in front of her agressor may not be the best idea but i understand that she needed to see that he was just a man and not the invencible monster her mind was telling her

One of the lines that stuck with me the most was in the TLOK version of the ember island players, the one that made a recap of the show before the finale. When Korra said “I was so naive” just before we watch her narration of her journey, we can feel pain, sadness and strenght. Janet was amazing in the way the delivered this line.

And this fucking quote i saw here on tumblr still is the goat: “The Last Airbender is a story of a boy who becomes a god. The Legend of Korra is the story of a goddess who becomes a girl "

And I still get really pissed when someone comes to talk shit about  Korra because she is such an incredible heroine and her journey is also so incredible.

The story of how life can be hard and unfair, how it can hurt and paralyze, but there is always a reason to move on. We should always move on.

Korra is definitely not weak, quite the opposite, she is one of the if not the strongest heroine I have ever seen. Korra inspires overcoming 

[mypoisonedvine]

Love, Theoretically | Sebastian Stan x reader (Chapter 4)

(Chapter 1) (Chapter 2) (Chapter 3)

series summary: having lost your husband, sister, and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind.  you were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repairman– even though the two of you don’t speak the same language.

word count: 2.5k

warnings: some awkwardness, and almost-nudity, and a sex scene but not the kind you’re expecting (lol) just fluff y’all!

moodboard and inspiration credit to @evnscvll​

Mrs. Alberti asking you for the rent made you realize a month had passed.  You couldn’t tell if it had gone by quickly or slowly; a little of both, perhaps.

You pulled the finished page from your typewriter and placed it in the stack.  You were finally done with the first chapter; pretty good for a month of time to work, incredible for how distracted you’d been.  Still, as you flipped through the pages you’d worked on, you appreciated that this was simply the very beginning of a very early draft.  You realized you should probably write the ending next, as that was usually how you handled a mystery like this, but you were compelled to try a different method this time and see if you could get the first draft done chronologically.  You got the sense that this story wasn’t going to end the way you’d thought it would when you’d started it...

Your evening jog took a new path this time, one which happened to run right past the smaller cottage that Mrs. Alberti inhabited.  You noticed her windows were open— as they should be on a day as nice as this— and for a second you glanced and saw someone inside…

Wait, is that… Arnold Schwarzenegger?

With a chuckle, you realized that you were seeing the TV.  As you ran further ahead, the angle changed to show it was Sebastian sitting on the end of her bed and watching it.  She’d mentioned that she was going out for groceries today… was he just hanging out in there to get some TV time, or was he taking a break from something he’d been doing for her?

This pressing question needed answers ASAP.  The only solution now was to go inside and talk to him, of course.

His eyes stayed glued on the screen even as you stepped into the house and pushed open the creaky old door to the bedroom.  Seeing the TV again, you realized that this wasn’t just any old Arnold Schwarzenegger movie— it was the best Arnold Schwarzenegger movie.

“Are you watching Terminator?” you asked with incredulous joy, and he finally turned around.

“Da!” he beamed.  “Terminatorul,” he explained, pointing to the television.  “Ma voi intoarce,” he mimicked in a deep voice.

“I’ll be back!” you translated as you realized he was quoting the most iconic line, sitting down next to him on the foot of the bed and watching the movie as well.

It was dubbed in Romanian— technically you couldn’t tell that it was Romanian just by hearing it, but you could tell based on how entranced Sebastian was by it; he must’ve understood what was going on.  The best part was that you understood it too, based mainly on context clues and your vague memory of the movie.  Being able to share something with him was unexpectedly gratifying.    

He was over halfway in, and you were trying to figure out what was going on now; this scene was all a conversation, so it was all lost on you.  Sarah Connor and what’s-his-face talking about something, presumably about how her son was the future leader of the resistance against the machines.  You realized that this was a sort of strange movie.  And why was the guy shirtless for seemingly no reason?  No wonder Sebastian likes this movie, this guy must be his role model, you thought as you chuckled to yourself.

Okay, they weren’t talking anymore… they were kissing.  That’s fine— good for them right?  It’s not weird to watch this right next to Sebastian… although it is weird that they’re still kissing...

Oh god.  This movie has a sex scene?  Why didn’t you remember this part?

You cleared your throat and avoided looking at him.  But that just meant you were staring down the screen, and didn’t that make it seem like you were really into Linda Hamilton getting sensually railed?  So you glanced to him to break the tension and nope, that definitely made it worse as you both suddenly made eye contact and then instantly looked away.  Your heart was racing for no particularly good reason, and your palms were all sweaty— just in time for his hand to brush against yours.  You didn’t want to jerk away for fear of seeming flighty.  Nothing wrong with the side of his hand touching yours, right?

Well, a lot of things were wrong with it, specifically the way that it was making your breaths short and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, but you didn’t want him to know any of that so you stayed still.

It seemed to go on forever, and it would’ve been laughably cheesy if you were with anyone else.  Normally, you had no trouble at all laughing with Sebastian, but this was different.  

“Această parte este... interesantă…” Sebastian mumbled.  

“I didn’t realize it was going to go on this long,” you replied, scratching the back of your neck.  “It’s probably good to break the silen— oh shit, that’s a boob!” you gasped.  “They can show this on TV?!”

Sebastian laughed a bit, apparently noticing how your change in tone conveniently coincided with the nip-slip.  

Just a few more minutes of excruciating awkwardness and it was over; you both let out a not-so-subtle sigh of relief when it ended.

“I thought it would never end,” you chuckled nervously.

“Nu fi gelos, ea nu este nimic în comparație cu tine,” he replied, still looking at you even though you were looking anywhere but back at him.  You weren’t sure you’d ever be able to look him in the eye again after that— not that it had ever been easy for you.  But now that he was staring at you it felt even weirder to not look back.  So you did, just for a second, only to be startled by the sound of the bedroom door opening.

You jumped up from the bed, and Sebastian turned as well.

“Oh!” Mrs. Alberti gasped.  “I didn’t expect to see… both of you in here.”

“Ți-am răsturnat salteaua și ți-am schimbat așternutul,” Sebastian offered as he jumped up, motioning to the bed quickly.  What could he possibly mean by that?

“We were just watching some TV,” you explained.

“Uh huh,” Mrs. Alberti smiled.  “Well, Sebastian, that’ll be all, thank you,” she dismissed him with a smile and a little bow.  

“Mulțumesc. Bună seara,” Sebastian bowed in return, nodding at you before scurrying out of the room.  You started to leave as well, but Mrs. Alberti stopped you with a hand on your shoulder.

“Sweetheart, were you two really just watching TV?” she asked quietly, eyebrow raised in question.

“Um, yeah…” you replied, confused.

“Then why did you both jump up like I was interrupting something important?  Seriously, I was concerned you were in the middle of ruining the sheets he’d just put on for me.”

You choked but broke into an awkward grin.  “Uh, I’m not sure.  I guess you just startled us.”

“Yes, well, it’s my room, so you maybe shouldn’t be so surprised when I show up there next time.  You two have the whole house to yourselves, not sure why you had to come all the way over here—”

“Mrs. Alberti, really, it’s not like that,” you assured.

She squinted as she leaned in closer, examining your face.  With her incredibly short stature, she had to pull you down towards her to get a better look.  “Hmph,” she frowned suddenly, “I don’t think you’re lying.  Honestly?  I sort of wish you were.”

“Wh— why?” you stammered.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged, “I suppose I thought you two would make a handsome couple.”

“Yeah, well, he’d be doing most of the heavy lifting in that department,” you chuckled.

“You speak poorly of yourself too often,” she frowned again, slapping you on the shoulder.  “You’re perfectly deserving of someone like Sebastian.”

“Well, that’s sort of irrelevant, isn’t it?  We don’t even speak the same language,” you reminded her firmly.

“Did you and your ex-husband speak the same language?” 

You stopped, straightening up and looking back at her with wide eyes.

“I’m old,” she explained with a glimmer in her eye, “but I’m not stupid.  And I’m sorry that you’re going through that.”

“Um, thank you,” you mumbled, still shell shocked from her deduction and from hearing someone refer to your husband as your ex-husband for the first time.  You figured you should get into that habit soon, but it was difficult to imagine.  Even as much as you’d loved being here so far, part of you imagined that it was just a vacation, and soon you’d go home and go back to the life you’d had.  Of course you would go back home someday, it wasn’t like you were moving to the Hungarian countryside, but the home you’d be going back to was going to be entirely unrecognizable to you.  “And, to answer your question,” you continued, “of course my hu— ex-husband spoke English…”

Mrs. Alberti laughed, but in a sad way.  It was the saddest you’d seen her since you’d arrived, even more than when she’d told you about Mr. Alberti’s passing.  “Sweetheart,” she sighed, “obviously you both spoke English.  But I don’t think you spoke the same language at all.”

You furrowed your brows as you pondered that.  You’d known what she meant the first time she said it, but you hadn’t allowed yourself to accept it.  Mostly because it made you immediately realize that she was right about your marriage.  If only she’d thought to tell you before it had ended the way it did.

“Goodnight,” she smiled, stepping past you as you left her room, and her house, and stepped into the night.

You usually worked in your room, but it was feeling a little extra musty this morning so you decided to haul your typewriter to the lakeside and work in the sunshine and fresh air.  You could’ve asked Sebastian to lift it for you, but frankly, you'd been hoping to avoid Sebastian as he had been the biggest barrier to your writing progress so far.  And yet, with your luck, of course he would appear— and not to garden or hammer or do anything like that, but simply to bring you coffee.

"Cafea," he smiled as he offered you the mug.

You accepted it with a smile of your own, although you wondered if he could tell you were nervous.  "Thank you—”

You were cut off by him lifting your empty mug from this morning, which had been holding down all of your completed pages.  The wind inconveniently picked up at that moment, and instantly the pages were swept into the air and right towards the lake.

"Shit!" you yelped as you lept up, pushing him aside to run to the pier.  Still, you couldn't even get close to catching any of them, and watched helplessly as they fell into the water.

You felt yourself be shoved away and didn't realize until he was in the water that it was Sebastian, diving past you to swim after your papers.

"No, don't— it's not worth it!” you called out, but he ignored you, paddling ahead with all the determination and speed of a professional swimmer— maybe he was one before he did this, you wouldn’t know.  You chewed your nails and felt horrifically guilty for all the work he was doing, and with a burst of foreign courage, you found yourself shirking your cardigan and shirt to join him.  Maybe he didn’t mind getting his clothes wet with dirty lake water, but you did.  

As you shimmied your skirt down, he looked back at you and his eyes went a little wide.  When you woke up this morning, you had no intentions of stripping in front of Sebastian, let alone near-skinny dipping with him, but then again, you hadn’t planned on half your novel blowing away either.  

You tossed your clothes aside and took one last stabilizing breath before diving in.

“Fuck, it’s cold!” you screeched once your head was back above the surface, and you heard him laughing.  You weren’t particularly in a laughing mood as you tried to grab the soaked papers around you.

“Arăți ca o pisică care a căzut în cadă,” he chuckled as he swam closer again, holding a ball of wet parchment in his hand and grabbing a few more on the way.

After fishing a few final pages out of the reeds, the two of you awkwardly walked up to the shore.  Now that you were in your underwear with the wind blowing on you, you were jealous of his wet clothes which, while doing almost nothing, did at least shield him from the elements.

You dashed into the cottage side-by-side, like kids racing down the street— though really it was just a matter of self preservation.  When you did make it inside, you started to lay the papers flat on the table to at least start the drying process; you hadn’t even realized he’d left the room until he came back and wrapped a fluffy towel around you, giving you one of those gentle smiles that made your heart just melt.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, noticing the way his hands rested on your shoulders longer than they needed to.  Even through the terrycloth his hands felt strong, and warm, and his touch made you shiver in a way totally irrelevant to the cold.

“Cu plăcere,” he replied.

“It’s a shame you can’t understand me,” you sighed.  Only as you said it aloud did you realize that he did understand you; sure, he didn’t understand the words you were speaking, but, in a way no one else had before, he understood you.  Somehow.

“Nu vorbesc engleza, dar înțeleg limba iubirii,” he spoke softly, nearly a whisper.  “Și cred că înțelegeți și voi asta.”

Even with no idea what he was saying, the way that he was looking at you said even more.  You wanted to kiss him more than you'd wanted anything in a long time, but even in that wretchedly perfect moment you knew it wasn't worth the trouble.  First of all, you couldn't be sure that he felt anywhere near the same way about you.  Secondly, even if he did, this was exactly the wrong time— and place, now that you thought about it— to be starting something.  Thirdly, he probably didn't want to start something at all!  He was just a nice young man who did exceptionally stupid things in order to make you happy.  That's normal handyman stuff, right?

'Odd jobs,' that's what Mrs. Alberti had said he did for her, and for you by extension as a guest in her place.

"Cafea?" Sebastian offered you, stepping back towards the kitchen.

"Yes, thank you," you nodded quickly, smiling at him.  He smiled back and carded his fingers through his damp hair before disappearing into the kitchen to start a fresh pot.

Odd jobs indeed.

[skeezsbbygirl]

heather + hwang hyunjin

hello lovelies! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･: *ヽ(◕ヮ◕ヽ)

this is for anon who requested a scenario based on conan gray’s heather, and i decided to add a little twist to it (because im a big baby and i cant take the angst TT) hope you enjoy! <3

STREAM GOD’S MENU AND EASY.

You faltered as you tried to match Hyunjin's pace, your high heels making the task even more impossible aside from Hyunjin's long strides. "Fuck it," you huffed and stopped mid stride, leaning down to remove the straps of your shoes, finally sliding them off one after the other.

Hyunjin took notice of your absence and quickly looked back to where you were, your heels hanging from your hands as you were sauntering towards him barefoot. "What made you think that wearing heels is a good idea?" he questioned as he walked back to meet you halfway, turning his back to you and squatting down. "Get on my back," he offered.

"I wanted to impress you, maybe even get you to like me or look at me as something more than a friend," you mentally answered him. However, you couldn't risk to lose him, at least not over some one-sided feelings you've been sheltering within your heart for the past few months.

"You're going to regret this," you playfully taunted as you snaked your arms around Hyunjin's neck. He hooked his arm around your calves, asking you if you were comfortable before carefully standing up, bouncing you up a bit to slightly rearrange your hold on him. "Come on, (y/n). I do this for you all the time," Hyunjin joked.

"You had the time of your life at that party, huh?" Hyunjin spoke after a moment of silence. You let out a heavy sigh. "I wanted to forget someone for a moment," you replied softly, afraid that he would catch on the hurt laced within your tone. "Who?" he asked.

"You."

You've been friends with Hyunjin since diapers, basically you shared more than half of your memories and life experiences with him, even some of your firsts, which unfortunately included having your first love. Yeah, you'd date someone here and there, thinking that maybe venturing out into other men would help you get over your feelings for him, there was no harm in trying, right?

But boy were you wrong.

Instead of forgetting your crush on the said boy, it remained, worse, it got stronger. No matter how many times you tried to erase your fantasies of Hyunjin, your heart and mind were stubborn -- fixated on the thought of making your love life suffer for life because you couldn't see any other way around it.

You thought of confessing, but that didn't work out for you. Not that Hyunjin rejected you or anything, but you didn't even get the chance to pour your feelings out for the male because he introduced you to her that day.

Min Yeji, his heather.

"Hello? Earth to (y/n)?" Jeongin waved his hand in-front of your face, snapping you out of your thoughts. "What got you spacing out?" he asked, throwing an arm around your shoulder and rubbing them in a soothing manner. "I'm confessing today, Jeongin," you exhaled in an attempt to calm your nerves, "I'd rather tell him now than never."

"Listen, if hyung fails to see the beautiful person that you are inside and out, then to hell with him," Jeongin reassured. "I'll personally ask Chan-hyung to teach him a lesson if he chooses her over you," he added.

You gave him a small smile. "Thank you, Jeongin," you said.

You knew it was wrong, selfish even, for having him choose between you and her and for having to confess at such an ungodly timing. You wasted all those years trying to find him in someone else when you could've just spoken your truth. Now, you were left with fighting for a spot to stay. But you wanted to tell him everything before it's too late, before you fade away from his memories, before you get replaced.

And with that, you gave Hyunjin a call. He picked up after the second ring, greeting you and telling you that he was just about to call you as he had something that he really wanted to tell you in person too. So, you guys made plans to meet up in the afternoon at the coffee shop that the both of you frequented during the weekends.

You nervously fiddled with your fingers, growing more and more impatient as the seconds tick by, feeling as if you were about to burst any second now.

"(Y/n)!"

You perked up when you heard his voice, but your smile fell as he approached you.

Hyunjin had his arm around her waist, sporting the biggest smile, one that you've never seen on him. The sight of this Hyunjin was breathtaking, almost unrecognizable as his eyes molded into crescents and his lips curved into the most charming smile. Guess that was reserved for her, huh?

You swallowed the lump in your throat as tears threatened to spill from your eyes, but you held them in and managed to plaster a fake smile on your face, like those countless times when you needed to be strong, especially when you needed -- no, when you should be happy for Hyunjin.

"Hey," you spoke as you got up from your seat, clearing your throat seconds later as you internally cringed at how weak you sounded.

"Yeji," he turned to look at her, "Meet (y/n), my best friend," he continued as he turned his gaze towards you.

That was your first time meeting her in person, but not the first time you've heard about her. Hyunjin made it known, three weeks ago to be exact, that he had been eyeing a certain someone. You still remember that night. Hyunjin was sprawled out on your bed with his head on your stomach as you lazily threaded your fingers through his golden locks. He rambled endlessly, gushing over everything about her.

Yeji leaned in for a quick hug and you returned her sweet gesture. "It's so nice to finally meet you," she beamed. "Nice to meet you too," you replied, wanting to reciprocate the excitement in her tone but you failed. "Take a seat," you invited.

You were so set on hating her and despising her throughout that afternoon, but something in you couldn't. You now saw why Hyunjin fell for her. Yeji had kind eyes, a sweet smile, a lovely personality, and so much more of what you weren't. You wanted her to be mean, maybe to even throw a glass of water at you while Hyunjin excused himself to the bathroom, only to come back and see you soaked in water. He would defend you and leave her, then it would end with him confessing his love for you, admitting that he was so blind to see it before, but now he's changed his mind. You know, just like those dramas that you spent hours watching with Hyunjin.

As Hyunjin busied himself with Yeji, you were mostly by yourself, except those times wherein Jisung would suddenly barge into your apartment and plop himself down on your couch and insist on watching dramas with you. Although you appreciate Jisung's presence, it simply wasn't the same without Hyunjin. You were so used to him -- his presence, his smell, his laugh, and his dramatic antics. It was like you had to start over again, but this time, you were alone.

Reality hit you harder as time passed by.

"--so yeah, I'm basically waiting for Chan-hyung's approval-" Hyunjin's rant was cut off as soon as he spotted Yeji a few feet away, quickly getting up from his seat to help her with her books and bag. "Hey, (y/n)," she smiled, giving you a quick hug like always. "How was class?" you asked her, trying to make small talk as the couple settled down across from where you sat. It was only then that you noticed the sweater that she was wearing. You immediately figured that it was Hyunjin's, judging from the way it drowned her petite figure and Hyunjin might have offered you the same sweater a few winters back.

You felt a pang in your chest.

"It sucks, as usual," Yeji replied as she let out a defeated sigh. "I totally feel for you," you chuckled.

"I can do your essays for you," Hyunjin cooed at Yeji, leaning in to press a chaste kiss on her cheek. You were quick to divert your gaze to your phone, not wanting to witness the affection that Hyunjin displayed. "That's so sweet of you, Jinnie, but you have your own classes too," Yeji responded as she playfully pinched Hyunjin's cheek.

You cleared your throat as you got ready to leave because a) you didn't want to third wheel, especially when you had feelings for the said partner, and b) clearly, your presence wasn't needed. "Hey, uhm, something came up with Jisung and it looks like he needs my help," you lied. "Oh, alright. We'll see you later, (y/n)," Yeji waved and you returned her gesture. "Call me if you need anything," Hyunjin stated and you nodded.

You fought back the tears that threatened to fall from your eyes as you walked back towards your apartment. Upon your arrival, you drowned yourself with school work, not only did it distract you from your current situation, but it also aided in clearing your weekend so you could squeeze in more hours of much needed sleep.

For the next few days, you decided to distance yourself from Hyunjin. It hurts, but you needed to save yourself from further heartbreak. You no longer hung out with him, you started texting him less, and then eventually, you avoided any sort of contact with him.

"Have you seen (y/n) lately?" Hyunjin nudged Seungmin, who was currently immersed in the movie that was playing on his laptop. "Yeah, I just saw her this morning, why?" the younger lad answered. Hyunjin's suspicions were confirmed, you were indeed ignoring him. But no matter how much Hyunjin thought about your new found behavior, he couldn't rack his brain for an answer. Was it something he said or did?

He came up with nothing for the past hour or so, and that's what led him to give up and just call you. "Pick up, (y/n)," Hyunjin mumbled as he paced back and forth in his bedroom, groaning when you failed to answer his call.

This continued on for days.

"Hyunjin."

"Babe," Yeji called for the blond-haired boy's attention for the second time. "Huh?" Hyunjin snapped out from his thoughts, "Sorry, I was distracted for a second."

"It's (y/n), isn't it?" she asked. "Well, yeah. It's just that I haven't heard or seen her lately," Hyunjin answered as he lowered his gaze, thinking that his response would settle wrongly with his girlfriend. He shouldn't be worrying about another girl, especially within Yeji's presence. Hyunjin expected her to lash out, but to his surprise, Yeji gave him a small smile -- it wasn't exactly out of understanding his concerns, but more of getting tired hearing his concerns. She placed her hands on top of his, "I understand, she's your friend after all. But, you do know that my patience has a limit, right?"

"I'm sorry, love. Forget about it," Hyunjin waved his hands, a motion to discard his previous statements. "Chan-hyung is hosting a party this weekend and I want you to come with me," he invited, "The boys really want to meet you."

Yeji shook her head which earned her a puzzled look from the male. "Come on, it'll be fun," Hyunjin prompted.

"Jin, I'm not blind," Yeji snapped. Her response caught Hyunjin off guard for a second. "Look, baby, if this is about-"

"I see the way she looks at you, the way she acts around you, and the way she avoids my advances. I don't blame her, though. If I were in her shoes, I would've cut the bitch already," Yeji exclaimed as a defeated smile made its way on her lips. "But instead, she's trying to be so strong and you're so stupid to not see this. Hyunjin, you've been friends with her for years, you should know her better than anyone else, maybe even better than she knows herself," she continued, frustration evident in her tone.

"Go to her, she needs you," Yeji exhaled.

[Present..]

"Hyunjin, you can put me down now," you said as the both of you neared his parked car and the said male complied to your request, letting you land carefully on the ground.

"What do you mean by wanting to forget about me for a moment?" Hyunjin questioned, his eyebrows contorted in confusion as he faced you. "I just want to forget you, get you off my mind, even for a second," you breathed out, the amount of shots that you took at the party giving you enough courage to pursue this line of conversation with Hyunjin. You already lost him and yourself, so you have nothing else to lose at this point.

"(Y/n), what are you talking about?" Hyunjin chuckled lightly, "Come on, bub. You're my best friend," he added.

And that was your breaking point.

"Well, I don't want to be your best friend anymore, Hyunjin!" you exclaimed. "I'm tired of being second best," you sobbed as you finally allowed your tears to fall. Hyunjin's smile immediately fell and his eyes widened at your sudden breakdown, you looked so hurt, betrayed -- you looked broken.

"Second best?"

"Yeah, just like how I was tonight, right?" you snapped as you flashed him a sarcastic smile. "Since Yeji couldn't make it tonight, you were left with the me," you retorted.

Hyunjin didn't respond because honestly, he didn't know how to.

"I tried, Hyunjin," you paused, "Believe me, I tried to get over you but I can't. I'm so in love with you. I tried to blame Yeji for all of this but how can I when she's been nothing but nice to me, she treats me like a sister."

"I wish I didn't wait that long, I wish I told you sooner," you continued.

"I'm sorry," Hyujin whispered. You shook your head as held your hand up to signal him to stop. "Don't apologize so that I can hate you."

You turned away from him, not wanting his eyes on you any longer. "I need to let you go, Hyunjin," you sniffed through your tears. You started walking away, still barefoot, but you didn't even bother at this point. Hyunjin's hand caught your wrist, "I'm not leaving you, at least not like this. Let me make this right, (y/n)."

"No, Hyunjin, please," you breathed out as you tried to free your wrist from Hyunjin's grasp. "I told you I'm not leaving you," Hyunjin argued, tugging you towards him and catching you in his embrace. He wrapped his arms around you, tightening his hold on you when you tried to push him off. "Shh, bub. It's okay, I'm not going anywhere," he spoke in a hushed tone and you hated the way it soothed you, causing you to lose your strength as you eventually gave into his touch.

Hyunjin gently stroked your hair as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear. He waited until your breathing evened out and soon later, he led you back to his car. "I'm driving you home, then we'll talk," he said.

The drive to your apartment was dead silent. A million thoughts raced through your mind as you looked out from the car's window. Now that you've sobered up, you felt stupid for acting out. Did you honestly think that throwing a tantrum would make Hyunjin dump Yeji? No, you didn't think so.

"Why didn't you tell me anything?" Hyunjin asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He sat next to you as he handed you a glass of water. "I never had the chance. I was supposed to tell you that afternoon when you introduced me to Yeji," you confessed, taking the glass of water he handed you. "Did it ever cross your mind that it was unfair for me too?" Hyunjin suggested.

"I'm not making you choose, Hyunjin," you sighed. "I know you love her, I don't want to rob you of your own happiness. That's why I'm the one who's walking away," you added as you sipped on the drink, setting it down on the coffee table and placing your hands back on your lap.

The blonde-haired male shook his head in disagreement as he moved down to kneel in-front of you, his hands tentatively coming up to lay on your knees. "Can I at least have a say in this?" he asked. You bit your lip and gestured for him to continue.

"You're right, I do love Yeji," he paused, taking a moment to form the right words. "But, I love you more, (y/n). I don't want you in pain because of me and it's killing me right now to see you like this," he added as a tear escaped his eye, recalling the state you were in a couple of hours ago, but he was quick to wipe them away. "You could've slapped me that day, called me an asshole, or something," he said, "I'll choose you over anybody, any day. I'm sorry it took so long for me to realize."

You were left speechless, uncertain of what your response should be, so you opted to stay silent.

"Yeji actually knew this was coming, maybe not right away, but at some point. I didn't believe her when she told me you had feelings for me. She told me she felt it the moment she met you in person," he explained, "So, we thought it would be the best to part ways and that's why she didn't come with tonight."

"I'm sorry," you muttered, keeping your eyes on your lap, finding a sudden interest towards the hem of your dress as you fiddled with it. "No, baby, don't be," Hyunjin replied, tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. "I guess what they say is true, huh? You never appreciate what you have until you lose it," he admitted.

Finally, you mustered the courage to meet his gaze. "You'll always have me," you said. "Good, 'cause you'll always have me too," Hyunjin gave you a small smile. You pulled him up from his position, guiding him to sit beside you. Once Hyunjin was seated, you wrapped your arms around him, burying your face into his dress shirt. His scent quickly filled your senses, making you feel at home and protected, a feeling you hadn't had in a while.

"Let me make this right, yeah?" Hyunjin spoke as he held you close, one hand patting your head gently and the other rubbing the small of your back. "Yeah, okay," you agreed.

"She may be Heather, but you're (y/n), my (y/n)."

[cno-inbminor]

domus (pt. 2)

a/n: i found some motivation to write part 2, so here we are! it’s unedited for now, but i’ll make edits in the morning. you will need to read part 1 for context!

plot: when kuroo tetsuro drops the hard-hitting truth that he’s fallen out of love with you, your first thought is to escape. but you find comfort in the least likely person: akaashi keiji, a boy you had grown up with out of forced family interactions, who always seemed so distant from you. yet you probably knew more about him than anyone else.

characters: fem!reader, ex-bf!kuroo, & family friend!akaashi

wc: ~5.5k, will probably have one more part

genre/warnings: angst with teaspoons of fluff; two mentions of alcohol and sex

pt. 1 | pt. 3

The sliver of sunlight peeking through the blackout curtains gently draws you from your sleep, peeling away the exhaustion that sits atop your eyelids. They creak open as your body shifts and stretches, and you bring a curled hand to rub your eyes awake. You don’t remember the last time you slept so deeply, and part of you wants nothing more than to burrow back into the gray sheets.

Gray sheets?

The world teeters on its axis as you abruptly sit up in an unrecognizable bed – colors dance in splotches across your vision as panic seeps into your lungs – and then you remember last night’s events. That’s right. You’re at Keiji’s nice apartment where he so kindly offered you his bed, taking the couch for himself, and you’re going to be here for the week.

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter to yourself before burying your face into the palms of your hands, trying to calm down. Your phone rests neatly on his nightstand and seems to taunt you as you lift your head back up. You wonder if Tetsuro texted last night, but if you had to be honest with yourself, you genuinely hope he didn’t. He might be anxiously waiting for your promised correspondence, as you imagine him checking his phone with hopeful eyes every time it vibrates in the pocket of his white coat. But you still needed some time and space.

Your body slides off the bed, stretching once you’re on your feet. With phone in hand, you check your emails and notifications while making your way to the window and then pulling back the curtains. Sunlight softly pours in as the rays just begin to peak above the horizon, painting the sky in gradient shades of marigold and fuschia pink. Tokyo seemed to be just as beautiful in the morning as it is at night, only that the pollution and smog in the air was more visible.

The digital clock hanging on Keiji’s bedroom wall indicates it’s barely past 7AM – in the past, Keiji could be a bit of a late riser on the weekends. Judging by the silence on the other side of the door, you figure he’s still asleep. If you are lucky and quiet enough, you could whip up some breakfast as a thanks for last night. In fact, you decided you’d do your best to make most of the meals. Surely Keiji wouldn’t mind a week without having to worry about meal prepping.

The bedroom door silently opens as you gently pad to the restroom – you freshen up a bit and swig around some mouth wash, staring into the mirror. Given Keiji’s comfortable state of dressing down last night, you figured it was fine to change into a large t-shirt and gym shorts for now. If he ever looks uncomfortable by your attire, then you could easily change into something else that’s a little more formal. Once you’re ready, you take a deep breath, slightly psyching yourself up for the possibility that Keiji is awake and kicking.

As you approach the living room, catching sight of your host’s sleeping complexion facing you, your heart skips a beat. One thing that you are unprepared for is just how beautiful Keiji is. It would be silly to deny this fact – you didn’t have to be in love with the man to say so. In addition to that mysterious aura he carried around, the ethereal and angelic beauty that Keiji possessed only enticed his admirers further. A smile cracks on your face as you muse the idea that it should be a crime for someone to look so delicately celestial, especially in sleep.

Keiji lies on his back with one arm bent over his head, the other atop his stomach. It seems that his blanket slipped to the ground at some point, and you could see a faint layer of goosebumps dancing across his skin. Slowly, you pick it up and gather the gray cotton blend into your arms, laying one end of it on his feet and moving up to cover the rest of his body. You leave the excess scrunched up right under his chin, taking a closer look at his face.

Keiji’s skin is smooth and dewy, eyelashes dark against his cheekbones. They flutter in dreams as his lips are slightly parted with even, soft breaths leaving them. You feel some concern when you spot the dark eye circles, hoping that he wasn’t overworking himself too much. But being an editor at a major shonen manga company must have its long list of demands, and Keiji was never short of doing his best.

Suddenly, he shifts and seems to burrow himself in the comfort of his blanket, effectively ripping you from the trance that you were in. You quickly tip toe away towards the kitchen, doing your best to stop your heart from beating so hard that you could feel it pulse in your ears. Your purse sits open on the counter and you pull your earbuds from it, slipping them in and connecting it to your phone. Putting on a soft indie playlist, you begin to become familiar with Keiji’s kitchen.

Much to your amusement, the placement of his pots, pans, cooking equipment, and more, resemble that of how things were arranged in his parents’ house. This makes your task much easier, and you grin to yourself even more when you open his refrigerator. Just like back then, the milk and cream are on the top shelf, egg carton in the middle pressed against the left wall, vegetables stored in the drawers, sauce jars on the door side, leftovers just beneath the eggs, and fruits by the eggs. It seems that some old habits really do die hard.

With the smile still lingering on your face, you begin cooking.

-

Keiji’s heart might just beat out of his chest any second now, and he thinks it’s a miracle that you didn’t realize he’s been awake all this time.

He first woke when he heard the water running from the sink in the bathroom, wincing slightly at the slight ache in his back. Keiji wasn’t lying when he said the couch was truly comfortable, but his mattress had undoubtedly spoiled him. It also would have been a bonus to wake up next to someone for once, but that was a thought he quickly squashed. Just as he was about to reach down for his blanket, the bathroom doorknob turned and he panicked. Keiji was quick to assume his previous sleeping position and shut his eyes, breathing as evenly as possible. He’s not quite sure why he’s feigning sleep, but part of him didn’t want you to feel bad for waking him up. It wasn’t terribly late in the morning yet, and he was usually still asleep at this time. Knowing you, you would feel awful and probably spend the rest of the week trying to make up for it, or worse, leave to spend the nights at a cheap hotel. He refuses to let such a thing happen under his watch, not if he could help it.

So caught up in his thoughts, he commends himself for not flinching when the blanket begins to cover his legs, and quite nearly bursts at your gentle movements and the way you tuck the edge under his chin. He remembers doing the same thing to you last night and wills away the blood from flooding his face at the memory of kissing you on the cheek. How could he be so reckless?

Unable to keep his position, he moves just slightly, and based on the tiny, distant creaks of his floorboards, you’ve probably walked away. As his ears catch the opening of cupboards and the fridge, only then does he dare to peek his eyes open again. He wonders what you’re thinking about with the small grin on your face, if it has anything do with the fact that you’re cooking for someone or whatever you might be listening to. Keiji’s gaze softens, watching you bob and sway to the music in your ears, remembering the times he drove the both of you home from university. Even though you could easily commute, Keiji’s mother demanded that he use his car and offer you a ride home for the holidays, and he’d give you full control of the music playing. You’d always try to play something he was okay with, bless your soul, and sometimes he would even sing along. He pretended to ignore your incredulous side glances when you realized he was singing as well, and would always look out his window to hide the smile that matched yours.

While he’s been in the city his whole life, living alone really does hit sometimes. It’s one thing to have his parents visit from time to time, but coming back to an empty and dark apartment can really take its toll. Perhaps that’s why he feels so fond right now, observing the way you move around his kitchen with so much familiarity. Adorned in your casual clothes, Keiji realizes that this is what it’d look like if you actually lived with him – except he’d probably still be asleep in his own mattress, a little nonplussed at waking up to an empty bed with the sheets fighting to retain some of your body heat. And he would get up and watch from the doorframe as you whipped something up for the both of you, perhaps walking towards you to wrap his arms around your waist from behind and—

No, you were still Kuroo’s.

And that fact hurt him more than he ever expected.

-

You let out a shrill yelp and nearly drop the silicone spatula when you turn away from the stove, only to spot Keiji resting his elbows on the countertop and placing his chin on top of folded hands. An amused smirk crosses his face as you rip your earbuds out and fling them over one shoulder, one hand reaching over to your heart. “Fucking hell, Keiji,” you pant. “Warn a girl, will you?”

“I didn’t want to disturb you,” he reasons, moving to grab a couple of plates from the drying rack by the sink and handing them to you. “Here.”

You thank him and bring them by the stove, lifting the frying pan to distribute the scrambled eggs. They’re just how he likes them, he notices, and also doesn’t fail to spot that his portion is larger than yours. As you begin to spread butter on a couple of pieces of toast, Keiji sees the that his coffee brewer is still open, believing that you haven’t caught the chance to start it. He makes sure there’s enough water and grounds for two cups, starting the machine and grabbing two mugs from the cupboard. One of them was brought from his parents’ home, and had been the mug you frequently used whenever you were there. Keiji knew you were a creature of habit, and once that porcelain had been lent to you at the age of thirteen, you would forever be its second owner. Why he brought it when he moved in was a bit of a mystery, yet deep down inside, he knew exactly why.

It was the same reason why he would buy that specific bottle of dessert wine, why he kept tabs on the ramen shop you liked, why he kept some of your song recommendations saved on his Spotify account, why your Instagram and Snapchat stories were always one of the first few to view on his respective home pages. But he’d keep that reason to himself for now.

“A splash of cream and a small teaspoon of sugar?” Keiji calls out curiously, silently praying that he remembers your coffee preferences correctly. He’s rewarded with the beam on your face as you nod, watching you bring the toast to the plates as he stirs your coffee. You spot the unaltered coffee and take it in your hands.

“Two splashes of cream and half a small spoonful of sugar?” You ask and Keiji nods. Inside, you pump your fist in delight. Keiji brings the two cups to the dining table while you bring the food and utensils – he could get used to this, really. The two of you say your thanks and dig in. When Keiji takes a sip of his coffee, he has to hide the upturned corners of his lips behind his cup because it’s exactly how he likes it, exactly how it tastes like every other morning he drinks coffee. And it baffles him to no end.

Unbeknownst to him, you feel the same way, eyes almost widening in surprise when you taste your own. Another detail that Keiji seemed to keep over the years was being added to this list you didn’t realize you would ever make, but you weren’t complaining. After all, he did assure you last night that you two were friends. It wasn’t all in your head and the time spent together hadn’t been for naught.

“Do you have any plans while you’re here?” He inquires behind a bite of toast.

“Not really,” you reply quietly, chopsticks now picking at the scrambled eggs. “The most I thought was to visit some museums that I missed going to, check out some of the food stalls maybe. I didn’t really think things through.”

“That’s okay,” Keiji comforts. “If you’d like, I can work from home for a few days and we can go do something. I don’t want to leave you all alone here for the whole day.”

“You don’t need to!” You wave your hands frantically, feeling like the worst imposer now. Not only have you showed up at his apartment unexpectedly and staying for the time being, he was offering to work from home to spend time with you?

“I haven’t used any of my vacation days this year anyways. I have a good reason now, and they don’t mind when I work from home either. I don’t ask very often, but I still get work done so it doesn’t bother them.”

“Are you sure that’s okay? Really, I can go find another place to stay and—”

“No.” Keiji’s tone is firm and final, leaving any words of protest to die on the tip of your tongue. “Seriously, it’s okay,” he reassures you softly. “Plus, I have a few ideas in mind.”

“I’ll cook most of the meals then,” you attempt to compromise. “It’s the least I can do.”

“Only because you won’t stop asking until I say yes,” he jokes with a twinkle in his eyes. “I’ll split the cost of the groceries.”

“Then I’ll just send the money right back to you.”

“Remember when you tried to give me gas money for driving us from and to uni for the holidays?”

“You always refused it,” you smile fondly at the memory. “Eventually I just started slipping it into the middle console when you weren’t paying attention.”

“That would explain the stray bills and coins in there,” he mutters. “My mother would throw a fit if she knew you gave me gas money.”

“Which is exactly why I told you not to tell her.”

“Should I tell her now then?”

“And have her call me up to scold me for doing so? Please, you’d be in just as much trouble for taking it.”

“To be fair, I wasn’t aware of the last few times, so I’d be safe.”

“…you’re ridiculous.”

“Oh?” Keiji chuckles, arching an eyebrow playfully as he takes another sip of his coffee.

“Shut up,” you grumble over a mouthful of eggs.

“So,” he leans back in his chair. “How do you feel about going to Osaka on Monday?”

-

While Keiji had a mental list of things that have cheered you up over the years, he figured you needed to see some friends from home. And to him, there was no better reminder of that than seeing Bokuto in the flesh.

Koutaro was aware of the friendship between the two of you and had always been kind to you, engaging in light conversation whenever you visited the volleyball courts to drop something off for Keiji. Kuroo had taken notice of you then as well, but nothing came of it until uni. Koutaro was also privy to some of Keiji’s affection, knowing how much the latter had kept an eye out on you during their last year of high school. So when he got a call and a short explanation of what happened, he was more than happy to hear that the two of you would be visiting.

You and Keiji hop on one of the earliest bullet trains to Osaka, where the grey-haired friend would meet you two at the station. Not long after the train gradually lurches forward, traveling at almost inhuman speeds, the food cart starts to roll down the aisle. You let Keiji take the window seat for this portion of the ride, quickly paying for two flavored onigiris before he can protest. After thanking the kind worker, you place his preferred filling in his lap, watching in delight as he thanks you and unwraps the item with care. Two and a half hours later, you find yourself wrapped up in Koutaro’s strong arms, struggling to catch your breath as he nearly squeezes the life out of you.

Much of the morning until lunch is spent observing their practice – you feel like you’re back in high school again with Koutaro’s excitement practically radiating off of him and into the stands. Keiji’s just glad that your mind is focused on something else, recalling the pensive yet troubled look on your face during most of the train ride as you stared down at your phone. Koutaro has kept his mouth shut for now, but Keiji could tell that he was dying to ask you some questions. After all, both of them had been good friends with Testuro, and there was no doubt that the former Fukurodani ace still kept in touch with him from time to time.

After being introduced to the team, shaking hands with the other players and bowing politely at a reasonable distance away specifically for Kiyoomi, you and Keiji leave with a wave, promising to join them for dinner. Koutaro had given you a list of possible places to sightsee, as well as a few recommendations for lunch near the gym. Eventually, you two settle on a nearby curry restaurant, and needless to say, your waiter had to witness some bickering over who would pay the check.

“Please help me out with this,” you pleaded, pulling a pout with the unsuspecting waiter who certainly feels like he’s caught in a lover’s quarrel now. “He paid for our train tickets, it’s only right that I pay for the meal.”

“Erm—”

“She’s been cooking all of the meals for the last few days, as well as for the food on the train, so I should be the one to pay.”

“You’re letting me stay at your apartment, of course I’m going to help cook, and I like cooking!”

“But still—”

In Keiji’s moment of argument, you snatch the ticket and slam it into the waiter’s hand with your credit card. “Take it. Take it and run.”

“(Y/n)—”

“I’m just going to listen to the lady this time, I’ll be right back,” the waiter says nervously before scurrying off, and you shoot Keiji a victorious look. He only shakes his head in response, but more amused than anything at your antics.

“You can’t win all the time,” he warns.

“I will most certainly try.”

-

Keiji certainly does try and wins when it comes to dinner, Koutaro watching with a grin on his face as you protest and whine when their waitress walks away with Keiji’s card in hand. Next to him, Atsumu murmurs, “Are they dating?”

“Nah, she’s dating another guy.”

“So what’s happenin’ here? Why’s she stayin’ with him again?”

“We don’t know the details – sounds like there was a falling out with her boyfriend and she showed up in Tokyo, called Akaashi unexpectedly. They’re old family friends, grew up living down the street from each other.”

“Sounds complicated.”

“Who knows?” Koutaro shrugs, denying the itch to text Testuro this second and ask for answers. You seem happier, however, genuinely listening to Shoyo’s animated storytelling of when he first practiced with the Fukurodani duo. Keiji chimes in from time to time, but otherwise staying silent and basking in the nostalgia. The team members sitting across from you find it difficult to not notice how often Keiji steals glances at you, who is none the wiser. There are a few times when Shoyo mentions a name you don’t quite remember, turning towards Keiji for answers. You don’t even have to say anything – one pair of furrowed eyebrows and he knows exactly what you’re asking about. Koutaro gathers that perhaps the last few days spent together have caused you two to fall in sync.

He wonders what Testuro would think about that.

-

“Come visit anytime you’re nearby!” Koutaro offers you with another tight squeeze, later releasing you to pull in Keiji for a more manly hug. The two of them knock fists together before Keiji guides you through the station with a hand on the small of your back, giving one last wave to the ace of the Black Jackals.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” you tell him once you’re seated in the train. Keiji has the window seat again. “It was nice seeing Bokuto-san again.”

“I’m glad this could cheer you up a bit, really.”

“It helped me a lot, more than you know.”

“That’s good to know.”

This time, you buy a couple of juice boxes from the cart and hand one over to Keiji, who gives you a teasing admonishing look. A glint in his eyes says that he’ll pay you back for this some day when you least expect it, and you won’t be able to do anything about it. As you quietly suck on the straw, you loosen the seatbelt around your waist and turn your whole body to face him, all while searching for the right words.

Keiji waits patiently, mirroring your movements to face most of his body towards you, only half his back resting on the back of his seat.

“Testuro told me he doesn’t love me anymore,” you quietly confess, peeking a look at your companion’s face to gauge his reaction. Keiji remains stoic, but you find it in yourself to continue.

“He sat me down after dinner about a week and a half ago, told me he couldn’t keep it in anymore. At first, he said a bunch of things about how I didn’t deserve to be strung along or left doubting myself – that it was all him and had nothing to do with me. And then he said he wasn’t in love with me anymore, but that I was still a really important person to him.”

Deep breaths.

“I didn’t know what to do, you know?” You ramble, meeting his gaze with wide, tired, frantic eyes. “What do you even do in that situation? And how am I not supposed to feel like it has something to do with me – like, am, am I not pretty enough now? Was the sex not good anymore? Did—did I change into someone that he couldn’t love? I just, I just couldn’t help but think it’s all my fault, that perhaps I changed into someone he couldn’t see the future with anymore. In some unknown time span, I went from being his everything to just…nothing.”

“You’re not ‘nothing’”, Keiji interjects. His eyes are hardened and dark again, much like when he asked you if Testuro had cheated on you the first night you arrived. You crack your best smile of gratitude, feeling the tears beginning to form.

“Perhaps you’re right – but you know what’s the worst part though? I shouldn’t even be mad at him,” you chuckle bitterly. “Immediately after that was dumped on me, he told me he would try to love me again, that he’d do his best because that’s how much I still mattered to him. I just needed to give him time, but I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“It’s wrong to force him. Whatever his reasons may be, I don’t want to force him to feel something for me again just for my happiness. Even then, I wouldn’t be 100% happy either, always worried that maybe he’d be faking his love for me, wondering when he’s gonna snap and call it all off. I might as well let him go now and revamp on my own, you know?”

Keiji keeps to himself and you can tell he’s trying to process your words. You didn’t mean to spill everything out on a bullet train of all places, but it just seemed like the right time after everything he’s done for you these last few days. Seeing Bokuto was another breath of fresh air that you didn’t realize you needed, and you would have to be completely oblivious to your environment to not notice the many questioning glances the ace had sent you throughout the day.

“I think you’re right in wanting to let him go – he shouldn’t feel like he has to try because of some obligation due to the bond you two have,” Keiji says carefully. “I’m sorry it happened though.”

“It’s nothing you could control, silly,” you let out a watery laugh, wiping tears away with the sleeve of your jacket. Keiji fishes out his handkerchief, gently swiping beneath your eyes. You can do nothing but sit there and wait for him to finish, feeling the care in each stroke against your skin. Never in a million years would you have predicted the two of you would be in this position, and part of it leaves you lightheaded. When he’s done, you open your eyes to meet his, though they flicker down to the silk cloth in his hands. That design…

“Is that the handkerchief I bought you as a souvenir from Kyoto?” You blurt out. Keiji looks at down at his hand and nearly curses at himself. For the first time in your life, you see him look somewhat sheepish and at loss for words.

“It came in handy,” he says fondly. “It’s really good quality, and I figured I’d keep it with me just in case. Thank you for this, again.”

“Well, you bought me that keychain from your senior class trip – it only seemed right that I give something in return.”

Keiji lets out a small, teasing scoff, deciding to remain silent for the time-being. It’s after a couple of minutes does he choose to speak up.

“You’re justified in how you felt, (y/n). I don’t know what it’s like to be in that situation, but I can only imagine how heartbroken you must have been. You’ve always given 120% to the important people in your life – I’ve seen it. So if you wanted to run away for a little bit for some space and time to think, that’s completely understandable. You’re allowed to be angry and bitter, but there is one thing I’d rather you not feel.”

“What would that be?” You ask, genuinely curious.

Keiji leans the side of his head against the headrest, staring at you with a gentile fondness that you also hadn’t seen directed towards you before. “I don’t want you feeling insecure about yourself. You’re a wonderful person, (y/n), and just because Kuroo-san doesn’t love you anymore, it doesn’t mean you’ve become any less than that. He just might’ve not been the right person. I can guarantee there’s at least one person out there who will love you until the day you die.”

“You can’t guarantee that.”

“I most definitely can,” Keiji challenges firmly, leaving very little room for argument.

“For a man who hasn’t dated, you’re definitely a bit of a hopeless romantic,” you laugh, ignoring Keiji’s eyeroll.

Honestly, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

-

You doze off in the Uber back to his apartment building, and even when he gently shakes you, you’re still incredibly groggy. Keiji has to practically catch you when you lose your footing, apologies spilling in slurred words from your lips. At this rate, one of you is going to get hurt on the way to his unit, and he’d rather have it not be you. Luckily, he’s not carrying much and makes the executive decision to crouch in front of you.

“Keiji…?” You murmur, trying to put together the pieces in your exhausted brain.

He holds his arms out behind him. “Come on, I’ll give you a piggyback ride to the unit.”

“But…”

“The sooner you get on, the sooner we can get home and sleep.”

With no energy left in you to deny him, you climb onto his back as carefully as you can, wrapping your limbs around his neck and waist as his arms latch around the backs of your knees. Keiji hoists you up, shifting your body slightly to center your weight, and begins the trek. He nods at the security guards before angling his head to face yours. You’ve pretty much passed out again, but he needs you to do three more things.

“Can you punch in the passcode for me?” He tells you the numbers slowly, making sure you’re inputting them correctly. Keiji asks a similar question when they get into the elevator, and one last task when they reach his door.

“You did such a good job,” he praises you, the warmth in his tone washing over you like freshly dried sheets. Keiji sits on the edge of his bed and lets you fall back into his comforter, laughing to himself when you curl up on your side without a care left in the world.

“Hey,” he calls for you attention and holds onto your hands before pulling you up. Your hair is mussed and he attempts to fix it while coaxing you to properly get ready for bed. “You’re gonna need to take off your jacket before you go to bed – I don’t mind if you sleep here in your jeans, but it won’t be comfortable if you keep your jacket on.”

You grumble something unintelligible but start removing your arms from the sleeves. Keiji nearly coos, folding your jacket over the seat in front of his desk before returning to you. Somehow, you’re still sitting upright, and he kneels in front of you so he can maintain eye contact to keep you awake. “You’re doing great. Now do you want to brush your teeth?”

At first you shake your head, but then pause, and nod instead. “Okay, stay awake for me, all right? I’ll be right back.”

True to his word, Keiji comes back promptly with your toothbrush already damp and holding a dollop of toothpaste, placing it correctly in your hand. You have enough muscle memory left to aim for your mouth, languidly stroking the bristles against your teeth. Keiji joins in, accompanying you until you’re ready to spit out the toothpaste. He lets you lean into him as he half-carries you into the bathroom, holding your hair back as you rinse your mouth and wash away any excess toothpaste. You sit on the toilet lid still half-asleep as you wait for him, somewhat expecting him to help you back into bed at this point.

“Good job, now you can go to sleep,” Keiji murmurs, once again supporting your weight on the journey back to his room. He first flips the comforter and sheets away so they can cover you once you’re in bed, again tucking you in properly. “Goodnight,” he whispers before moving to grab a change of clothes, but a pull on his sleeve stops him. He turns back to look at you, noticing how much you’re struggling to stay awake.

Your arms pull out from underneath the covers and shakily reach for his face. Completely unsure of what to do, Keiji stays still and waits with bated breath. Your fingers grasp the arms of his glasses, sliding them off the bridge of his nose and folding them at the hinges. They gently place it by your phone on his nightstand, a smile creeping onto your face as you snuggle back into the sheets. “You can’t sleep with your glasses on, silly,” you slur.

That’s the last thing you say before you’re out like a light.

Keiji doesn’t know how long he stands there, trying to make sense of everything that just happened. All he knows is that the moonlight spilling from his window makes you seem surreal. He wonders if you’re truly, actually here in his bed, and just did something as trivial as taking off his glasses for him. But that gesture alone sends his heart into overdrive, remembering the care you put in to make sure you wouldn’t accidentally break them with your sleep-addled clumsiness.

He ponders on it for the next few minutes until he’s once again laid down on the futon, throw blanket strewn across his body, and eager to follow you into the dreamworld.  

[actual-fucking-clown]

Take your time then.

Aizawa x gender neutral reader

Story under the cut :)

Unedited but like edited but still not properly edited :)

Hope you enjoy!!!

a/n: it’s been a hot min since I’ve written a fic. I think the last time i was 14 and it was shit and on wattpad. Ha. I hate myself. N e way, I was recently writing some shit for an au me and my friend thought up and in the back of my mind I was like, “you should start writing fics again bc this is kinda fun”, soo lo and behold I made a post asking if anyone would be interested, shared a little too much personal shit in it but whatever, and have now decided to write this mother fucker. (3/25/21)

a/n: not sure if anyone will care about this series of a/n’s but I’m just chronicling thoughts ig. rewriting rn bc my first draft was short and ass. Also I’m thinking about opening requests after this is posted, will go into detail in a diff post maybe. (3/28/21)

a/n: deleted everything, rewriting. I just want to make something that might be decent and if I can give that feeling, y’know those chills you get when you read something utterly gorgeous, but I’m bad at writing. sadge (3/28/21, like several hours later)

a/n: ugh (4/1/21)

a/n: ugh pt 2 electric boogaloo. I can’t seem to move forward with the writing. I realized something like this might happen bc to solve a problem feelings need to be discussed and I fucking hate doing that so you can see where I’m fucking up lmaooooo (4/2/21)

a/n: I read angst to fuel my writing brain. So, read some angst, finally writing agian. This first section is probs as long as the story itself LMFAO(4/5/21)

Started: (3/25/21) Finished: (4/5/21)

Warnings: uh angst, curse words, like a lot, (i saw someone else put this as a warning, do I actually need it?), avoiding problems instead of actually facing them, mentions of shit so-so parenting, mentions of not being able to live up to high expectations, y’know, the works

Synopsis: Aizawa takes in Eri without running it by you first and expects you to be okay with it. That’s funny. He was wrong.

Can I preface this with a thought? I’m going to anyway,

all the fics I read paint him as the sweetest partner and I’m sure he is but I think they miss out on how blunt he is and his whole “Mr. Rationality” thing. So as much as I adore him I think there are situations that he’d be a bit more colder towards, a bit more straightforward about. Maybe even like a bit insensitive about but maybe bc he doesn’t have the full picture or something. so I guess this is another warning but aizawa is a little insensitive in the beginning (but like not really but kinda. it’s complicated)

~

Rain pattered softly against the window. The smell of some old random Bath and Bodyworks candle you’d dug out from a box you’d never bothered to unpack smothered the room. Some Netflix show idly played on a low volume on your computer, you’d lost interest in watching tv awhile ago. You needed a break. After the eventful month you’d been having you really needed this. 

Now of course your whole year so far had been eventful. What with all the villain attacks on you and Shouta’s class and the kidnapping of one of your students, to just dealing with the more mundane problems with your students. No. You had no problem with that. The villains, although not easy, were something you were trained to handle. The smaller problems with your students weren’t arduous either, after all you weren’t too much older than them. 

When reflecting on your situation, from and outside perspective it could be seen as the straw the broke the camels back, which sure, makes sense. After all, you’re bound to be stressed out by everything else, so why would this seemingly insignificant thing weigh heavier than a villain attack? Well if that is the situation why does this single straw feel like it weighs a ton? This is not that. This is not culmination of the events of this year draining the life from you. This is something entirely different. A panic inducing life change that completely took you by surprise mixed with your inability to actually face your problems. 

You don’t blame them. You can’t. They’ve done nothing wrong. A child. A small, probably mentally scarred child is your problem. Well not her personally but the fear taking care of her instills in you. Despite working in the field that you do, you cannot for the life of you handle actual children. Sure you’re a little awkward with your class but at least they’re young adults and (vaguely) mature and independent to a certain extent. The fact that your long term boyfriend just came back one day, small child in tow and said “Hey I’ve gotta look after this one now” not verbatim obviously, for a lack of better words, fucked you up. He basically solo adopted a kid and, let’s be honest, he probably expected you to help out. But how could you? How could this man look at you and think “I want this person to help me raise an already fucked up child?” Ok sure, he doesn’t at first give off the “I’m totally father figure material” vibe but in the end he is extremely competent. You on the other hand, not so much.

You’d never been good with children. Tried your best to steer clear of them. Didn’t matter the place, didn’t matter who’s kid, you couldn’t handle them. You would just stand there, awkwardly, not entirely sure of what to do and petrified that there was the possibility of making some mistake which would upset the child and then oh wow look, your head got chopped right of your shoulders. That’s hyperbole of course but it does sum up the insurmountable fear that overcomes you whenever you have to deal with a child. So considering the fact that your long term boyfriend had suddenly decided to adopt and not at least warn you, didn’t sit right with you.

So, the best and most obvious choice, was to avoid your problem. Avoid Shouta, avoid Eri. Avoid the mention of them and you, avoid it all. And honestly you’d done pretty well so far. You were able to have as little contact with them as possible considering the close proximity of your living quarters in the teacher’s dorms. After all they were legally supposed to give you two separate rooms but you never actually used yours, well until now. You were living it up honestly. Did you feel awful? Of course. He is your boyfriend after all and you were sure Eri doesn’t deserve your cold shoulder but this is probably for the best. What could you offer her? You weren’t sure that you were a good role model for her or anyone for that matter. What did you know about raising kids? it’s not like you had parents to set a proper example for you. Of course they might have shown you what not to do but where do you go from there? Is shit like that really avoidable? You don’t want to be like them. You strive to be better but what if you can’t be. There’s also the added bonus of the fact that raising a kid seems taxing on a relationship. Now matter how strong you were sure that the stress of a kid could break a relationship down that then festers into something toxic and unrecognizable. You didn’t want that. God you couldn’t let that happen. No. This was definitely for the better.

Of course Aizawa didn’t feel the same. He was confused on why his partner had been so blatantly avoiding him. Did he do something wrong? He doesn’t remember doing anything that might’ve upset you. So why now? Why pull away now? He had to get down to the bottom of this but catching you was the hard part. You had been taking on more work, offering more assistance to the other teachers, picking up extra patrols, doing everything and anything to stay away from Shouta. It took him a month but he finally caught up to you. You were tired, worn out he knew that. Instead of loading yourself with work you’d decided to hole yourself up in your room. It was now or never.

You were pulled out of your peace at the sound of a few gentle knocks to your door. You really didn’t want to get it. You honestly couldn’t be bothered. 

“(N/n)? Are you in there?” He hadn’t gotten it wrong right? He hadn’t been too distracted earlier and missed you leaving right?

“What’s up?” You hummed from your place by the window, not bothering to actually open the door.

“Can I come in?” Shouta asked, voice soft. You could barely hear him above the patter of the rain and the low humming of your laptop.

“Uh, no, kinda busy. Got loads of work to do. Need to focus, sorry. Maybe later?” You hesitantly spoke. Not sure if you were convincing enough. 

Apparently you weren’t.

He sighed. “It’s been “later” for an entire month. Please (Y/n) just let me in. Whatever this is we can talk it out.” You had predicted that eventually Shouta would start to try to crack down on whatever the issue was but you didn’t expect it so soon. 

“Uh...no?” You tried, hoping that maybe he’d just give up but that wasn’t Shouta.

“No, you don’t get that option, now please, open the door.” Although it was still soft his voice had taken a more stern tone.

“Oh no I’m dead. I guess I can’t open the door. What a shame. I guess the only way to talk with me now is in the pits of hell.” You quipped, trying to lessen the tension that already ran thick.

“(Y/n).” Aizawa sighed.

“Jeez fine. Talk about pushy.” You quipped once more to no avail.

Opening the door you were met with, well exactly what you expected. He stood there, arms crossed, a stern yet gentle look in his eyes, his lips pulled into a slight frown. 

“Come in.” You mumbled as you stepped further into your room.

“So tell me. What’s wrong?” The sentence stirred so much. Of course you wanted to tell him. You wanted to spill your guts to the man you loved in hopes of comfort but you just can’t. You know you’ll just scare him off. You know you’ll make things worse.

So you stay silent.

He says nothing as he grabs your hands gently and leads you over to your bed. He sits the two of you down on the edge, muting the movie on the laptop sitting behind him.

“You know you can tell me if something’s bothering you right?” Shouta sent you a warm smile. 

You weren’t very comfortable with discussing your feelings sometimes, it mostly stemmed from the fact that you never really could discuss them with anyone growing up which made it harder to confide in anyone now, as at this point bottling things up was a habit. But this was also just something that you were sure that you couldn’t talk about.

Silence answered him once again.

Now he took sometime to think about his approach, think about what could’ve happened that made you pull away. What did he do that was different from his norm? He was genuinely stumped and the fact that you weren’t helping him confused him even more.

You decided to take this time to lament the situation too. What was he going to do? Should you actually tell him or play it off? If you play it off will he still insist that something is wrong? If you tell him will he leave you? If you don’t tell him will he leave you? You risked a glance at him, he was still deep in thought.

Why did you have to adopt this fucking kid without at least warning me?

“What?” Your head shot up at the sound of his shocked voice.

“What?” You asked, genuinely confused.

“Eri’s the problem...?” He spoke slowly, not entirely sure if he’d heard you right.

“Did I say that out loud?” You squeaked.

“I’m pretty sure you mumbled something along the lines of “why’d you have to adopt that fucking kid”.” Shouta said, unsure if he’d heard wrong. Wanting to have heard wrong.

“No no no no no no! It’s not like that! I mean it is like that but not like that!” You frantically waved your hands in hopes of defusing the situation.

The way he looked at you made you want to cry. You felt horrible. You felt like the biggest asshole in the world and, at this point you probably were. He looked at you with such a look of heartbreak and disappointment and confusion it made you sick to your stomach. You felt light-headed and started shaking. You were right. You were right. You were always right. God why did you have to be right! Why did you have to be like this? Scared of raising a fucking child! It was asinine and irrational and you could probably move past it  but thanks to your stupid fucking brain you just sealed your fate.

You scooted away from him still waving your hands frantically as no’s tumbled endlessly from your lips. You tried sputtering an apology, anything so that he wouldn’t look at you like that but nothing stuck. Nothing was comprehensible. Nothing worked. Nothing would work. Nothing will work. You were hopeless. It was hopeless. 

“If it isn’t like how it seems then tell it to me straight.” Shouta finally spoke up.

You took a second to come down from your panic. You steeled your nerves as much as possible before you spoke. 

“Um well, I have nothing against her it’s just that a little heads up would’ve been nice? I’m not all that great with kids so this is just kind of weird is all.” You were purposefully being vague in hopes that he’d understand what you meant and also maybe drop it.

“Not great with kids? You’re literally a teacher.” He pointed out.

“Yeah you know but she’s like a kid kid and let’s be honest I’m not too great with the students either.” You awkward laughed. So he wasn’t getting it.

“Wha-you’re fine with the students and I’m sure you’ll be fine with Eri, there was no reason to avoid me over this.” Shouta sighed. As good as he was with dealing with people, he was equally as shit. Or maybe it was just the fact that you gave him very little to work with. It was probably a bit of both. Still his dismissiveness was not helping you right now.

“No, no, no, no. I think I’ll stay here. Uh, good luck with your parenthood escapades and sorry to leave you high and dry like this but that’s going to have to be a no from me.” You rambled. He seemed to be getting a little tired of this.

“(Y/n) stop being irrational. She’s not even our kid I’m just looking after her for now. Why are you being difficult? I told you you were fine with the students and you’ll be fine with Eri, what else do you want to hear?” Shouta grumbled.

“Well uh I don’t know, uh...” You trailed off, this seemed to be going in a direction you really didn’t want it to go. A slight hostility settling in the air.

At your lack of a proper answer he clicked his tongue. He took a moment to reassess the situation. There had to be something he was missing. After all you were getting really worked up but if you weren’t going to talk to him there was nothing he could do. He shook his head before running a frustrated hand through his hair.

“(Y/n), please, please, just be honest with me. Whatever it is that’s bothering you, you can tell me. But I won’t be able to understand if you don’t.” Aizawa sighed, deciding that getting worked up about this was not the way to go, especially when you seemed to be especially distraught.

“Uh, god the thing is I don’t know entirely what to say to put the shitshow in my head into perspective.” You mumbled, trying desperately to figure out what to say that could clear the air but nothing seemed to be coherent enough.

“Take your time.” He decided that this was the best approach to things, making sure neither party got too worked up lest this turn into a fight.

The rain continued to patter softly against the window and your candle continued to burn an slightly off floral-ish scent.  A deafening silence hung in the air because even though he was being as patient as possible some of his frustration leaked through, it was bound to though so you couldn’t exactly blame him. After all, you were probably equally as frustrated with yourself too. 

“I’m just not good in a position like this. I’m not good with kids, especially someone like Eri who’s already so broken. You have that nurturing nature, it comes natural to you but I’m not on that level. I  don’t know the first thing about caring for a child let alone one as already traumatized as her. I’d fuck it up and only make things worse. I don’t want you to reassure me that I’ll be okay with her, I want you to understand that I’m not comfortable with this and that it might take me awhile to come around. I’m sure I sound like the biggest asshole ever but please understand that this just isn’t something I’m ready for.” You had rambled a bit, you were aware of that, but it was the only way that you could properly express your feelings without making things too complicated.

Aizawa said nothing. Trying to figure out how to go about things.

Was he upset? Yeah, you two, even after several long years of being together, hadn’t discussed moving forward in your relationship in depth. And if he’d tried you seemed content with the point you two were at so he left it be, no reason to try and move forward when what you had was already fine the way it was. But recently he’d been craving more. Some mornings, when he’d be the first to wake, he’d study your features in the soft light of the sunrise and wonder what it’d be like to properly settle down with you. Get married, start a family, all that jazz. He’d taken in Eri only because it was the most rational decision. His quirk would be good for quelling hers had it ever gotten out of hand. But it also seemed to quell his musings of something more with you. He had imagined you being a good parental figure for the little girl and it made his heart flutter and his stomach explode with butterflies. But now seeing that that wasn’t what you wanted and how you weren’t ready for it, it stung. But in the end, he loved you. He’d easily give his life for you. So, if that meant waiting he’d wait. He’d wait a million years if he had to. He could do it.

Once again he spoke,

“Take your time then. I can wait.”

Tagslist?: @captainchrisstan (I think you said you wanted to be tagged but I’m also just small brained lol If u didn’t want to and I misinterpreted things just let me know :) )