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zvtara-was-never-canon · 4 months ago

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I saw this one post tagged under Aang deserved better and Katara deserved better. As someone who loves both characters. I hate how people mischaracterize them while saying they supposedly deserved better, when really they’re just salty about shipping when it comes down to it.

Here’s the post:

https://www.tumblr.com/empressofthesunslittlecorner/748486832898048000/a-rant-about-aang-and-byrke?source=share

"What does a 14-year-old want with a 12-year-old?" Same thing a 16-year-old wants with a 14-year-old, aka maybe a romantic relationship, maybe just a hook up, maybe just friendship, maybe nothing at all. You can't put people in a box like that. When I was 14 I wouldn't have cared if the person who had a crush on me was too years younger, two years older, or the exact same, all that would matter would be "Do I like them back or not?" Plenty of girls my age were the same, others would be caught dead with someone younger, and others thought that it was weird to date anyone older.

"It's just creepy, no matter the gender" *proceeds to ship Zutara, that has the same age gap, but the guy is older*

"It would have been better if they got together at like 22 and 20" Why? It's a two year agep gap, not twenty - why age them up to adulthood? 12-years-old is right around the time most people either start having crushes, or already have been having crushes for a while, it's not weird. And again, why it Zutara acceptable with Karata being fourteen, but Aang needs to be at least twenty for it to not be creepy, even though the only thing that changed was the gender of the younger character?

"I haven't read the comics" good for you, don't do it, they're terrible, every character was ruined and Yang should be as hated by the fandom as Shyamalan.

"But what I saw on tumblr" Ah yes, because you can always trust that people online are not biased, mistaken, or full on lying. Just ask the leader writer, Aaron Ehasz, about all the times he had to say "No, zutara was never going to be a thing, please stop sharing that fake interview in which people claim I said otherwise"

"Legend of Korra" Korra is also terrible, that's why the audience for it got so bad that Nick just dumped the final season online without a care.

"He kissed her TWICE, TWICE, without her consent and never said sorry for this" Nope, it was ONE poorly timed kiss that he immediately felt sorry for. Katara is seen blushing and thinking on that kiss during The Invasion because she enjoyed that kiss.

"He thinks he deserves her love because he is the Avatar (the hero) and that's how it be" He thinks the girl that got offended when he said he didn't want to kiss her, that has flirted with constantly, and has consensually kissed twice already is at the very least a potential girlfriend. When he is made to question if that's really the case, he full on ASKS HER if she only thinks of him as a brother and he simply misinterpreted her signs, to which she openly says THAT WAS NOT THE CASE. He explicitly mentions "After we kissed, I thought that meant we were together." He never, ever, ever said "I'm the Avatar, therefore you have to like me." Just because AN ACTOR in a play about THE AVATAR called her "the Avatar's girl" instead of "Aang's girl" doesn't mean he thinks his role means more than her feelings - again, he literally went to talk with her to clear things out. This is not how an entitled person behaves.

"He replaced the love for his people with Katara" No, he did not. The Guru explicitly said "Your love for them lives on the form of new love." When he saw Gyatso's dead body, Katara saying she and Sokka were his new family was what made Aang calm down. Yes, Aang is in love with her, but that moment was much more about general, familial love than romantic love. Honoring the people you lost by valluing your connection to the ones that are still in your life is not placing a burden on them, or being obsessed with them, or thinking that being loved by them will fix your trauma.

"He needed to let go of her" He did. Twice. First in Ba Sing Se, which led to him being killed and KATARA bringing back to life, then again in "The Awakening", in which he just up and leaves to focus on his mission and Katara is heartbroken because SHE DOES NOT WANT TO BE LET GO OF!

"Aang could still love Katara, he just needed to stop to put her on a pestal!" He never put her on a pedestal. He knew she was flawed and would openly disagree and even argue with her at times. Cherishing someone is not the same as idealizing them.

"Book three was... bad, and so was the finale" No, it wasn't. It had it's issues and it is the weakest season, but it is still good. Most of the problems were caused by poor pacing due to them sticking to three seasons instead of four. Aang's feelings for Katara were not a problem to be fixed, because the "entitlement" you complain about doesn't exist.

"Aang is a self-insert of Bryke" Bryan and Mike have repeatedly said that they're like Aang AND ZUKO, in the sense that one is goofy and the other is grumpy. By that logic, Zuko is also a self-insert, therefore shipping him with Katara would also be "bad."

"They act like Zuko is a bad boy instead of a dork" Zuko is a dork with social anxiety, who spent two and half seasons SUPPORTING GENOCIDE. "Bad boy" doesn't even BEGIN to describe him.

"No normal 14-year-old girl would date a 12-year-old and if she did call the police on her ass!" Go touch grass, you're insane, two children having feelings for each other is not pedophilia.

"Avatar was only amazing because of writers like Aaron Ehasz" Ehasz himself disagrees with you, and a lot of the "good changes" you made were decided by/along with Bryke.

"A lot of writer wanted also Zutara to happen and not Kataang" Ah, I see you DID read that fake interview. The writers were all on board with Kataang, even though some of them did like Zutara AS WELL. They're not mutually exclusive, you know?

"If I remember right season 3 was so rushed and lacking because the movie-who-shall-not-be-named was in production" You're remembering made up bullshit just right. Fans keep repeating that, and even I once wrongfully believed that in the past, but it's not true. The movie was going to happen regardless of when the show ended, and Bryke genuinely only wanted three seasons instead of four. Bad idea? Yes, but nothing to do with Shyamalan.

"Aang would find other airbenders" If that's true, I'm glad it was scrapped, THE LAST AIRBENDER needs to be THE LAST AIRBENDER for the show's premise and name to make any sense. Korra was also heavily criticized for a later seasons plot point of random people just magically becoming airbenders because it cheapens the gravity of the genocide by going "Lol, fooled ya! They're still running around!"

"Broodmare to repopulate" Three children is not exactly repopulating a nation, you should have paid more attention in math class.

"I'm a big fan of the theoretical season four" You being a fan of a thing that doesn't exist is surely on brand for a zutarian.

"Also, people who make fun of their own fans because they ship a pairing themselves not like are the worst!" Scream the zutarian that is doing exactly that. If you can complain about ships and call people creeps for it, you can take people pointing out your ship is just a figment of your imagination. Either suck it up or change your behavior so you're no longer a hypocrite.

#anti zutara #pro kataang #pro aang

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wooahaes · 1 year ago

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where to go?

pairing: non-idol!maknae line [svt] x gn!reader

genre: fluff. roommates au. [can be read as poly if you wish!]

word count: 1.4k~

warnings: reader doesn't have a great relationship with their family. some bickering within fic (between seungkwan and chan).

daisy's notes: these three are my beloveds fr btw

If there was one thing your three housemates knew about you, it was the unfortunate aspect of your family life being… not very great. Ever since you moved in with them a few years ago, they’d noticed plenty. You often spent holidays alone in the apartment, you rarely called home unless you were calling your grandparents, and even then you didn’t seem to be on great terms with your parents past sending money or gift cards to one another on birthdays and special occasions. So they made up for it in different ways: little celebrations for the four of you every year, just to keep you involved in the festivities.

And now that the winter holidays were fast approaching… They’d been discussing plans without you. Essentially, they had plans to head home for some time with their families when they were off work.

And now? Well…

“They should go home with me,” Seungkwan had said, arms crossed over his chest.

A little over a week ago, they’d approached you together to ask if you felt like coming home with one of them. Sure, you weren’t blood related, but the four of you felt like your own little family and you’d met their families enough times that it wouldn’t be weird for you to come around. You had simply given a non-committal “Sure, whatever, just let me know when so I can plan around it for work” without showing any preference or pressure toward them in the event they changed their minds.

Before Chan or Vernon could get a word in, Seungkwan had continued, “One of my sisters is coming home later because her work schedule didn’t line up. So we have the extra room, and they wouldn’t have to sleep on the couch or anything—”

“Uh. Dude. They wouldn’t sleep on the couch at my place,” Vernon spoke up immediately. “They can take my bed—plus my sister loves them.”

That was definitely a stretch. His sister liked you well enough, but most of your interactions involved her (jokingly) pitying you for having her brother as a housemate.

Chan rolled his eyes. “Obviously, they’re going to come home with me. They love my family the most.” (Not true: you were on good terms with everyone, no strict preference whatsoever.)

“You invited them home to celebrate chuseok!” Seungkwan shot back immediately, “Because you didn’t want them to be alone in the apartment!”

“And my parents love them!” Chan said, “They said they’re welcome back anytime—so they’re probably expecting them!”

“Hey,” Vernon spoke up, “my mom already said she’d rather me bring them than let them spend the holidays alone. Plus she hasn’t seen them in a while. Do you really want to disappoint—”

“No! No! You don’t get to play that card!” Seungkwan huffed, hugging himself tight. “You can take them to see your mom whenever you want! I’m going back to Jeju and I think they should come with me.”

“My family is in—”

“You just took them home for chuseok a few months ago!”

Chan stood up, “Right! Months ago! You can take them to Jeju whenever you want, too!”

“That’s different!”

“It’s not!”

Vernon just sat by, watching the two bicker. “I mean… If they don’t want to travel…”

Seungkwan shook his head, “They already said they’re fine with whatever! All we need to do is let them know the dates so they can plan accordingly—which is why they should go with me, because it gives them more than a week to prepare.”

“They don’t have to plan so much if they come with me,” Vernon hummed, sinking back in his chair, “just saying.”

“I’m going the latest of anyone, so they should go with me,” Chan said.

“It’s not our fault you waited so long to get work off,” Seungkwan rolled his eyes. “You should have planned ahead—”

It was around this point that you couldn’t hold back your laughter anymore. The three hadn’t noticed you stepped out of your room earlier, headphones draped around your neck (music paused, otherwise one of them would have definitely heard it by now). You’d thought about saying something plenty of times, but something about how heated up you knew they’d become made you stand by and wait. Of course it’d be Seungkwan who cared the most and was the most vocal about it. And, of course it’d be Chan who wanted to take you home again after his parents adored you so much the first time (chuseok with them had been nice, actually, and you appreciated Chan for including you on something you thought you would be intruding on). And then there was Vernon, who had his arguments but settled back to watch the other two butt heads for a while. If you hadn’t stepped in, you were pretty sure he would have jumped back in once they’d argued themselves out.

“This is serious!” Seungkwan said the moment he saw you. “We don’t want you to spend the holidays alone, so we just need you to decide who you want to go with so we can plan!”

Chan rolled his eyes, “They’re laughing because we’re arguing over it. They probably think we’re silly—”

“I do!” You said, wiping away at a tear that had escaped in your laughter. You made your way across the room to them, already pulling Seungkwan and Chan in for a hug—gesturing for Vernon to come join. “I just… I really love you dumbasses, alright?”

“I wasn’t even arguing—”

You rolled your eyes. “Vernon, get in here.”

The three came together to let you embrace them as warmly as you could before breaking apart again. Chan slid into the innermost chair, letting you take his seat as the four of you started discussing this seriously. With you having gone with Chan for chuseok (again, you thanked him: it was nice that he cared about you and that his family had been okay with letting you join them so you wouldn’t be alone), you’d immediately crossed him off the list to his dismay. But he’d understood: it felt a little unfair for him to steal you away again… and there were plenty of times in the future you could visit his family if you felt like it. That left the decision between Seungkwan and Vernon, and as much as you’d like to see Jeju and the Boos again… you’d rather save that trip for later. Which meant you’d spend some time with Vernon and his family for a bit, the easiest trip and the one you could definitely do if you couldn’t get off work.

“You’re coming home with me next year for chuseok,” Seungkwan said, playing with your fingers idly since you’d left your hand resting on the table. “Chan and Vernon can do something else with you, but you can come with me next year.”

You’d cracked a smile. “Is Mama Boo going to be okay with that?”

“You’re already like family, so yes,” he shrugged. “I’ll talk to her when I see her and make sure, though.”

You’d felt your face grow a little warmer. “How much do your families know…?”

“Enough,” Vernon had shrugged. “I mean. I talk to my mom enough, y’know? She knows that you don’t have any family here and she’d rather you come hang out than be alone. Dad thinks so, too. Everything else is your business, so…”

“Right!” Chan spoke up. “But… That’s why I invited you for chuseok, actually.” He began to fiddle with his sleeve for a moment. “I asked mom about maybe bringing back some food for you, and she said to just bring you along since Seungkwan and Vernon wouldn’t be here and that you shouldn’t be alone. She actually chewed me out for even thinking about leaving you here alone when chuseok is about family.”

Again, your face grew warmer with embarrassment. “Oh.”

Between Seungkwan playing with your fingers, the arm that Chan had rested around you, and the way Vernon was trying to goad you into playing footsie under the table… Something felt particularly sweet about having the three of them to care about you. You’d always try to be there for them when they needed you most, but it still felt weird accepting that they loved and cared for you just as much—to the point where they would straight up fight over who got to take you home for the holidays, just to ensure that you didn’t spend them alone again.

Maybe you really did have a family here after all. It was just one you’d picked out for yourself, and you loved these idiots more than life.

taglist: @twancingyunhao @wonuziex @synthetickitsune @staranghae @porridgesblog @weird-bookworm @bangchansbae

#wooahaes.dec23 #wooahaes.fic #seventeen imagine #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #svt x reader #svt imagine #svt x you #seventeen fluff #seungkwan fluff #vernon fluff #dino fluff #dino x reader #seungkwan x reader #vernon x reader

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very-grownup · 2 years ago

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Ace Attorney game parallels (no, not that one, or that one, or that one ...)

One of the interesting things about the Great Ace Attorney in the evolution of Shu Takumi's Ace Attorney games is the maturation of "Weird Girl Assistant".

Our original trilogy Weird Girl Assistant is Maya Fey (obviously a perfect being beloved by everyone with taste why can't I preorder that Nendroid yet motherfuckers?), who is all heart and ... not so much knowledge, but a conduit to Mia’s knowledge. She doesn’t personally possess any legal knowledge, but she’s integral for Phoenix in accessing knowledge that would otherwise be denied to him due to Mia’s untimely death. She’s fully Weird in her Assisting.

Apollo Justice has Trucy Wright (obviously a perfect being beloved by everyone with taste), who is a lot of heart but not all heart. She has personal knowledge to impart to Apollo, regarding the perceive ability and his bracelet. It’s integral assisting to how the trials in that game will reach pivotal points, which makes it genuine Assisting, even if outside of that Trucy is plenty Weird. I would argue this is distinctive from the Phoneix-Magatama matter in the original trilogy (it’s easy to forget that Nick doesn’t even have the magatama in the first game) because Trucy is, essentially, teaching Apollo to do something he technically can already do, whereas the magatama is something Phoenix is given by an outside source still connected to the mentor (Pearl). Narratively and thematically they’re different, even if mechanically they function similarly.

Years later, the Great Ace Attorney gave us Susato Mikotoba (obviously a perfect being beloved by everyone with taste). Susato is an /actual trained legal assistant/ to the point she can masquerade as a lawyer in the second game's tutorial. She could BE the lawyer as easily at Ryunosuke, save for her sex in the historical setting of the game. She Assists like no one’s business and her Weird is no weirder than Ryunosuke himself, two young people who grew up in a country with recently opened borders, in a foreign country for the first time.

A reflection of a maturation in Takumi's depiction of female characters, a general wider consciousness of feminism in popular culture in Japan (something I am in no way qualified to discuss), a third possibility? I don’t think it’s fair or accurate to say that the evolution of the Weird Girl Assistant into an actual competent assistant is a sign of the games ‘maturing’. For all their goofiness there has always been a serious, darker tone in the games compared to the adventure game standbys of North America. It’s built into the series from the choice to have Phoenix’ second case involve the solving of his boss and mentor’s murder.

There may also be something in the connection between the tutorial mentor and the Weird Girl Assistant, holding the balance of knowledge between them like the centre of a seesaw.

The connection with Mia and Maya is obvious: they’re sisters and perfectly mirror each other in their relation to what they bring to Phoenix. Mia on a pedestal of legal knowledge, forever older and wiser than Nick, as her death fixes her on that pedestal. Mia and Nick never get to be colleagues, equals. On the other end, enthusiastic but underage Maya, someone Nick will always be older than and always be wiser than in the legal sense. We don’t know how an older Maya might have fit with the disbarred Phoenix Takumi left the series with; maybe it didn’t matter and outside the confines of the Lawyer Protagonist and Weird Girl Assistant, Maya could stop being a mirror for her sister.

Similarly, Kazuma and Susato are sibling-like. Kazuma, like Mia, is the tutorial mentor, but he’s only a mentor to Ryunosuke because he’s a law student and Ryunosuke isn’t. He doesn’t have that much more knowledge than Ryunosuke and I think it correlates that he doesn’t have that much more knowledge than Susato, the girl who expected to be his legal assistant. There is something like equality here between the Mentor and the Weird Girl Assistant when neither precisely fits their role mold. Kazuma is, I think, as weird as Susato is knowledgeable.

BUT WHAT ABOUT --

Bitch, you know I've always got Apollo Justice opinions to drop.

In Apollo Justice, Kristoph is a fully knowledgeable mentor to Apollo. He is an actual lawyer, he is Apollo’s senior, and he is Apollo’s employer. In these ways, he is on all fours with Mia.

Aside from being the murderer.

There is, frankly, an entire other thing to get into with the tutorial mentors and how their stories intersect with death and a turning point in their respective protagonist’s life and career but this is about Weird Girl Assistants.

So.

What is Kristoph Gavin’s Weird Girl Assistant connection?

THE INCIDENT.

Seven years earlier, in Zak Gramarye’s trial, Trucy is used by Kristoph to deliver fake evidence to Phoenix, leading to Nick’s disbarment.

In Apollo’s tutorial trial, for the murderer of Shadi Smith/Zak Gramarye, Trucy is used by Phoenix to deliver fake evidence to Apollo, leading to Kristoph's arrest (and possibly his disbarment but who knows in the world of Ace Attorney and Japanifornia).

I have nothing but love for Trucy, but she's the shifty, deceitful Weird Girl Assistant to follow a shifty, deceitful Tutorial Mentor in a game about disillusionment and broken trust, following a trilogy about believing in yourself, your instincts, and redemption, and preceding two games riding a balance between hope and despair, with part of that balance being a more equal partnership between the Attorney and his Weird Girl Assistant.

#ace attorney #apollo justice #the great ace attorney #parallels #narrative patterns #just talking about ace attorney again #i have an advanced honours degree in saying how one thing is like another thing

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slipping-through-my-fingertips · 5 months ago

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Hiding, Denying

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Ao3

Summary: Annabeth wants to tell their friends about the baby until she doesn't

Luckily Annabeth spends most of her days behind a desk. During the last half of her second trimester, the morning sickness begins to subside a bit. Now that she wasn’t hiding her morning sickness at work, the next hurdle was the bump.

Since that first morning spotting it, the bump grows more and more prominent.

She starts with lightly untucking her button downs, adding a little extra space in that tummy region. In following weeks, it’s baggier pants. Then it’s empire waist sundresses all summer long, which hang over her bump but don’t show it.

Annabeth keeps herself tucked in her office (not unusual for her) and holds most of her client meetings in house instead of on site. If her coworkers are still in the dark, there’s no way she’s revealing her pregnancy to their clients.

Mid-July, Annabeth feels ready.

They’ve already told Sally and Paul over their weekly Sunday dinner, Annabeth’s parents and brothers at Easter, and Estelle over mini golf and ice cream and a long winded explanation of what it means becoming an aunt. They had a short beach meeting with Posideon, though it seemed he already knew. After a few tries, Annabeth managed an Iris Message to Athena.

They had tracked Grover down too. Found a time to catch up and have some lunch together in the middle of Central Park. If it was even possible, Grover cried more than Sally and Frederick.

She wishes Piper and Frank and Hazel were closer. They’d love to tell them in person. Then, Annabeth realizes they can.

“Percy,” Annabeth says one night. “I want to take a trip.”

He peeks his head out of the bathroom. Toothbrush his mouth, he says, “when?”

She shrugs, “next week?”

With school out of session, it’s no problem for Percy to up and leave and Annabeth’s got plenty of PTO to burn through. She wants to save most of it for when maternity leave runs out but there’s enough that she can take a few days for a little trip.

So, she puts in the time off request, it’s approved almost immediately, and they book some flights. (Zeus has been a slightly more lenient in allowing Percy to fly nowadays)

The perk of knowing the higher ups at Camp Jupiter means they always have a place to stay out in California. Frank even makes a point to meet them as soon as they arrive.

“Hey guys! You made it,” he says.

It’s been a while so they hug. There’s a moment of panic when Annabeth’s bump hits Frank’s stomach.

Frank opens his mouth but Annabeth never lets him say anything.

“Sorry, big lunch.”

Percy looks at her funny. As if to say “I thought we came here to tell people?”

Frank, bless him, doesn’t say anything as he walks them to their weekend apartment.

“We’ll see you later Frank,” Annabeth continues, pulling Percy along.

When they’re safely inside their apartment for the weekend, Annabeth dramatically throws herself onto the sofa, sighing loudly.

“What was that?” Percy asks.

“Please.”

She didn’t even know what she was pleading for.

“If you don’t want to tell them, it’s okay with me but we’ll need a cover story because they’re all going to wonder why we’re here.”

The thing was Annabeth did want to tell their friends. She had no idea why she couldn’t just tell Frank earlier.

Their families had taken the news so well. She’d never seen her dad so happy. He actually cried when they told him.

She knew their demigod family would react similarly.

Instead of dealing with her weirdness, she reached a hand up and pulled Percy onto the sofa with her. She had to stretch more now to kiss him with her bump getting in the way but sitting down, Annabeth still held control. She straddles his lap and holds his head in place with one hand to the back of his head. Percy is so easily distracted by kissing when Annabeth pulls away he doesn’t even bother asking more questions as she trails her lips down his neck.

“Bed?” She asks.

Percy picks her up and carries her to the bedroom.

He breaks their kiss when he deposits her on the edge of the bed, “you’re not getting out of this conversation with sex.”

“Can’t we pause it to have sex first?”

He answers with a furious kiss to her collarbone.

An hour later finds them back on the sofa. Decidedly not making out.

Annabeth’s changed into a sundress, something she’s sure Piper will comment on at dinner tonight. She rarely wore dresses. But it hides her bump better than shorts.

“We have 20 minutes before we need to be there, let’s chat.”

She doesn’t want to meet his eyes but she does. It’s Percy. Anything Annabeth says, he’ll understand. He might laugh a little but it’s never in a mean way.

“What if they judge us?”

Percy doesn’t laugh. His reaction is worse than laughter; it’s pitiful, it’s worrisome.

“Annabeth,” he says, gently, “what makes you think that?”

“We’re so young, Percy.”

“And? We’ve known each other since we were 12. Together since we were 15. Most of our friends have only known us as a couple. This isn’t going to be a surprise for them.”

He’s right. Of course he is. Because deep down, Annabeth knew they’re friends were going to be nothing but excited for them.

But a few days ago allowed for doubt creep into her mind.

In true Percy fashion, he reads her mind, “so what happened to make you think they would?”

In true Annabeth fashion, she had kept this bottled inside letting it linger in her mind, creeping into her head when she was trying to fall asleep. When she knew if she let Percy in, share the burden, she’d be past this feeling already.

“How are we supposed to be good parents? I’ve been royally screwed up by mine. Sure, my dad’s better than he was but my childhood…well what childhood did I really get?”

“I think my mom did the best she could,” Percy says, avoiding the topic of his former-step father and the lack of seeing his biological dad, “and I think you were a great sibling to your cabin. Being an older sister is very similar to being a mom.”

Annabeth smiles a little. “And you know that from all your experience as an older sister?”

“Being an older brother taught me some things.” he shrugs.

“This isn’t what’s bugging you though,” Percy says, “maybe it’s connected but being worried about us being good parents isn’t the same as our friends judging us for having this baby.”

“Remember when I went to camp on Tuesday?”

“Yeah, to see Chiron about updating the Big House?”

“Well, after we were done, I went for a walk. Reminiscing…”

She had also gotten herself a larger camp shirt for the bump, which is now too large to fit in the ones she has.

“And I passed these campers who were talking about kids and stuff. Long story short, they don’t think it’s okay for demigods to be having kids young.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t hear it all,” she replies, in truth she had gotten too upset and went to the beach to calm down. “Essentially they called it irresponsible because we’re always at risk, y’know? And being a baby into this messy world…what if we’re terrible for doing this?”

“Annabeth, they’re teenagers, what do they know about this messy world? What do they know about us and what we’ve faced?” Percy tells her, “we’ve done some pretty dangerous stuff. I think parenthood will be a cakewalk in comparison.”

“But what if we’re just putting this child into…”

“Nope, stop that.” Percy pulls her closer. “You’re going to be a killer mom, whether it’s literal or not. You got this. Right here,” he puts their hands on her bump, “is the luckiest baby in the world because it’s got you on their side.”

Annabeth wipes away her tears. He’s right and as usual she’s heard exactly what she needed to hear. Percy has perfected that over the years.

“Let’s go tell our friends we’re pregnant,” she tells him.

Percy kisses her cheek and she finally feels ready to let the world know she’s going to be the best damn mom she can be.

#percabeth #percabeth fanfic #percy jackson #annabeth chase #percy jackon and the olympians #my fics

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scribespirare · 1 year ago

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I feel like Miles trying to hide his mating bite from everyone - especially his parents - would be so funny for some reason

when i was 15/16 i tried to hide a hickie from my mother but i am an absolute dog shit liar so she found out basically immediately and then spent like twenty minutes laughing at me. afterwards she taught me the spoon trick so my father wouldn't see. i feel a kinship w/ Miles b/c that's exactly how Rio would react lkajdfladsj;a

“Miguel, we have a problem!”

With a long suffering sigh, Miguel looks up from his work just in time to see a frantic Miles finish a graceless tumble through the front door. The sight of his Omega never fails to warm Miguel, but its up for debate on whether the warmness is from affection and love or irritation. He’d say it’s a 50/50 split.

“Yes, Miles?” he asks as the Omega throws himself down on the couch beside Miguel in true teenage fashion. All long limbs and bony elbows Miguel deftly dodges.

“It’s my mom,” Miles says, sounding breathless. He’s looking up at Miguel through his eyelashes and that combined with the fact that Miguel can see one of his own t-shirts under Miles’ hoodie nearly makes him miss the next words. “I think she saw my mating bite.”

Miguel freezes at that, tearing his gaze away from the tantalizing dark skin of Miles’ throat. “What?”

“My bite! I was getting ready to leave and I didn’t realize I was wearing your shirt until it slipped down my shoulder and I thought I fixed it fast enough but she stopped me and-”

“Miles. Breathe.”

By mutual agreement they’d decided to keep their relationship a secret. The reasons are varied and many; Miles’ age, their antagonistic history, the fact that Miguel is sorta kinda in a position of authority over Miles…when Miles chooses to actually participate in spider society, anyways. The point is that they’ve gone out of their ways to make sure nobody knows until they’re ready for them to. Miles’ mating bite is on the curve of his shoulder. It’s admittedly pretty huge on the much smaller Omega, and the impression of teeth clearly shows Miguel’s double set of fangs.

Miguel’s is on his clavicle. It’s almost delicate looking in comparison, except for the faint trailing edges where Miles had started to tear at the skin before Miguel had grabbed him by the nape and pulled him off. Brat.

Despite the strategic locations they’ve both had close calls hiding them in the past. Miguel’s suit decided to malfunction just right. Miles needed to change his shirt after spilling something on it during movie night, and got teased when he insisted on running to the bathroom to do so. One time Miguel had tried to shower at the gym thinking no one else was there, only for Peter B to show up. For some weird reason. So on and so on.

Still, nobody has caught on, and nobody has ever seen the marks outright. The idea that Miles’ mother might be the first to know, a woman Miguel has never actually met but who he hears plenty about? Yeah, if that’s not panic inducing Miguel doesn’t know what is.

“Are you sure she saw it?” he asks, looping an arm around Miles’ waist and pulling the Omega close.

“No. Maybe. I don’t know.”

“What did she ask?” Miguel presses.

“If I was dating someone.”

“And you said?”

“No.”

“Okay. She probably thought it was a hickie then,” Miguel says, soothing himself with the words probably even more than Miles. Mostly because Miles’ face gets that faint pink glow to it that means he’s blushing. “Es algo bueno, cariño.”

“She thinks I’m sleeping around!” The tone of Miles’ voice is somewhere between horrified and traumatized. “I said I wasn’t dating anyone so now she thinks I’m…soy una puta!”

“Is that better or worse than being mated to someone twice your age?” Miguel asks dryly.

That has Miles snapping his jaw shut at least. He still looks embarrassed though and Miguel laughs, tugging at the Omega until he’s got Miles comfortably in his lap.

“Relaja, cariño. She’s your mother and you’re a teenager. Most kids have already had a few sexual experiences by the time they’re your age and she knows that. Also did I mention she’s your mother? She’s had-”

“No termines eso,” Miles says quickly, shoving a hand directly into Miguel’s face, palm to cheek. “That’s so gross, por qué dirías eso?”

Miguel tolerates the awkward angle his head’s being pushed at for a moment longer, then when Miles doesn’t let up he sighs and bodily grabs the Omega up, wrestling him until Miles is firmly planted with his back to Miguel’s front, trapped between Miguel’s thighs.

“Your mother doesn’t think you’re a whore,” Miguel grunts once the scuffle and Miles’ complaints have died down. “My point was that she’s had a child herself and she knows what being a teenager is like. One little hickie isn’t going to make her think you’re out getting laid every single night.”

“I mean…”

“I said every night, malcriado.”

Miles pats placatingly at Miguel’s thigh. “A technicality. I am definitely getting laid way more often than most people my age.”

“You know what I mean!”

“Yeah.” The word is soft and amused and Miles tips his head back against Miguel’s chest to smile up at him. “Thanks, big guy. I do feel a bit better about it. Though I still don’t think I can look her in the eye for like the next week.”

“I’d make an attempt if I were you if you don’t want to be teased about it.”

“...damn, you’re right.”

#asks #requests #flowerfang #ur right this is fuckin hilarious anon

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aesethewitch · 3 months ago

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Notes from an Ex-Empath (Full Ver.)

This post is a highly personal account of my time as an empath. It’s a doozy, and I didn’t mean for it to get so long, but as with all things that really matter to me, it got a bit out of hand. I’ve left out the goriest of the details, but still take heed of the content warnings. Thanks for reading. (Placed under a cut for length.)

Content Warnings: Mentions of abuse, mentions of unhealthy home environments, emotional manipulation, cult behavior, mental health struggles, delusions, brief mention of hallucinations and nightmares, self worth issues, compulsive lying, toxic friendships, and teen angst.

Subtle Beginnings

The year is 2011. High school is hard. Like, really hard. Harder than it should be, probably. I’ve just left an abusive relationship to enter a new one which would turn out to be, you guessed it, abusive. Escapism is the norm, and I’m always looking for new ways to feel in control of my life.

I’ve always been a little strange. I saw my first ghost before I knew what death was. I talk to trees and the wind, and I know all the names of the local rivers, right down to the little creek behind the school. But by this point, I’ve learned to not say that. I know it’s weird, and I’m happy to be weird. Weird is cool, at least in my friend circle. Outside of it, not so much, but I’ve learned to Ebony Dark’ness Dementia Raven Way my way through life at this point.

My friend buys a cheap mood ring from a shop in the mall, and that’s how we learn what auras are. She’s into it. I’m into her, even if I don’t know how to articulate that at the time. So I get obsessed, because I don’t know how to be anything else. I read all about auras and color theory and energy and “chakras” on loud, multi-colored websites proclaiming that you (yes, YOU!) can become a master of aura-reading and energy healing in just one month for only $12.99…

I don’t learn about being an empath (or Indigo Child, or Starseed, or whatever we were calling ourselves at the time) from the internet. No, a different friend overhears us talking about auras and mood rings and meaning (because I’d spent hours and hours reading about it and am now eager to display my knowledge; I like being an expert; I like knowing things), and he asks us if we’re empaths. He tells us what they are — people who can feel the emotions of others acutely and are highly sensitive.

And I think about it.

And I think about it some more.

And then, I think, hey… I do feel others’ emotions. I take them on like they’re my own. I carry them on my shoulders and between my ribs and in my bones, and it’s second nature. And I say, yes. Yes, I am an empath.

An Inexperienced Expert

Taking on the title of Empath was like finding the Holy Grail. I finally had a word to explain why I felt so energized in crowds but drained after going home, or why I found other people’s pain so upsetting and visceral, or why I could guess my friends’ emotions even when they were able to hide them from everyone else. I felt like I understood myself at long last.

I wasn’t sensitive. I wasn’t a crybaby. I was an empath. It was a superpower, something that made me special. Because it was a superpower, it was something I could learn to harness and control. My sensitivity would no longer rule me; I could learn how to rule it.

I did a lot of reading. I went to the library and read books with titles I can’t even remember anymore. From firsthand accounts by other empaths to explanations of energies I couldn’t actually understand, I was way out of my depth. But I liked to know things. I liked to be an Expert (tm).

Honestly, I still do. I like knowing what I’m talking about. Being an insecure child who needs to feel in control and enjoys being respected, I could pretend that I understood. I did plenty of that all the time, and it worked out (most of the time). False confidence was something I was finely attuned to already. I could bullshit my way in and out of any situation I wanted easily — from teachers forgiving missing homework to lying about my whereabouts to my controlling parents to pretending I was attracted to my boyfriend at the time, I was an expert in lying to survive.

Surely I could pretend to know what I was talking about. After all, I was an empath, an Indigo Child with a beautiful, healing, pure white aura. I was wise beyond my years, in tune with the Universe and all its creations. The information came from inside me anyways, and all those books said to trust my intuition. The voice in my heart that whispered about how special and different I was for being an empath was right, and I shouldn’t question it. A little improvisation wouldn’t hurt anyone, right?

… Right?

When my friends asked about it, I spoke with confidence. I proclaimed myself an empath to anyone and everyone. No, I couldn’t actually see auras, but I could act like I could. The vibes were there — I could feel them like pinpricks of lightning on my skin and as little nudges at the back of my mind. All I had to do was squint and assign colors to those feelings. Sometimes, I thought I really could see them. I can’t discount it entirely, but I’m likely to attribute it to tricks of light and wishful thinking now, looking back.

I had a reputation for Knowing Things. Weird, niche facts. Being right about obscure topics. Remembering minute details from notes at the end of the teacher’s presentation given three weeks ago. Guessing right answers to questions I’d never heard based on logical reasoning and deductive skills. I had near-perfect grades in the top 3% of the class. I had a side-gig in helping people improve their essay skills.

So, when I talked about being an empath, my friends believed me. They proudly proclaimed the colors of their auras as I painted pictures for them.

And it felt good. I was both the center of attention and had no spotlight on me. I couldn’t see my own aura, so of course, I couldn’t tell them what mine was like. But theirs, oh, theirs? That was easy. I had a gift for telling them exactly what they needed to hear. I solved their problems in a flash, giving the perfect advice and predicting outcomes using nothing more than good old-fashioned vibes.

An empathic gift, of course. Understanding and unselfish love are tenets of the Empath Way. We’re healers, I told my friends, and that’s why people ask me for advice. It’s why I’m so good at it, I said. I never took my own advice about self-love and choosing better relationships — that wouldn’t come until several years later — but that didn’t matter. My issues were trivial; I had The World to worry about.

Despite my newness to the empath scene, I positioned myself as not just an expert but The Expert. It wasn’t really on purpose. I couldn’t help myself. My friends wanted me to be a wise, trusted source of information, so I was one. Or, well, I thought I was one.

The goal was never to fool anyone. I believed with my whole heart that I was an empath, a Starseed, someone born to do noble things and help people. It was my purpose. As an empath, I had a duty to spread good vibes whenever I could. If I couldn’t do that, I was worth nothing.

Sometimes, that meant talking out my ass about concepts I read about at a bleary 1:00 AM before having to wake up at 6:00 to catch the bus to school on time. If I made something up or said something untrue, it was because it “felt right.” And that made it simply right in my mind. Those books and blog posts and articles said it was.

As far as experts go, I definitely was not one. I hesitate even now to call myself an expert in anything whatsoever. But back then, it was a matter of course. My friends wanted advice, so I gave them advice.

My friends wanted me to be an empath, so I was one. Some of those friends felt the same things I did. Others’ emotions, the burden of it all, the weight of responsibility for everyone around us. We were empaths together.

I was never more alone, and I had absolutely no idea.

Downward Spiral

At the time, I wouldn’t have called it a spiral. I wouldn’t have called it a mental health crisis. And I certainly wouldn’t have blamed the whole empath thing for any of it.

No. Of course not.

As I graduated high school, I was entirely adrift. I had absolutely no idea what I wanted to do with my life. All of my friends were going to be leaving for college elsewhere while I stayed home to go to a local one.

But that summer, I was intent on enjoying every last minute of my life. It was time to take charge of my existence. I still called myself an empath, but it was more like a personality trait than anything else. An explanation, a fun fact. I’m double jointed, I dislike sweets, I’m an empath.

And my friends were empaths, too. Well, most of us. One was a “brick wall” of a guy — a skeptic who found us fascinating and wanted very much to believe in what we were doing and saying. At the same time, one friend was getting into Wicca. And, afraid to look like a fool, I pretended I knew all about it. I knew generally what Wicca was, because of the empath stuff running over into witchcraft circles. It was enough to sound competent, and that was enough!

So, suddenly, I was The Expert on Wicca and witchcraft and magic. A lot of it was stuff I really did do and believe, so it was simple to fill in the gaps with logic. And what I couldn’t make up, I ignored. Or I looked it up later and pretended I knew all along.

Anxiety was my constant companion. I was an imposter in my own life. This was just one more act to put on.

And because of my empath abilities, it was easy! I could determine the right thing to say at the right time. I read the room, felt my friends’ energies, and adapted accordingly. We did rituals and cast spells, and through it all, I relied heavily on my ability to read them clearly.

So when I failed to read one friend and it cost us everything, it was devastating.

I won’t go into details to protect their identity. The entire thing was… ugly. I spent a long time miserable over it. But I knew, even when I was heartbroken over it, that it was my fault. The empath in me was clinging to everything too hard, seeing what I wanted to see instead of what was. I needed to be The Expert, and I was failing at it.

There’s a lot about that time that I don’t remember clearly. What I do remember is a lot of stuff about past lives, reincarnating together, and misguided notions of deities and magic and history. It was a mess. One delusion fed into another, building into a web of intricate, interweaving stories. We were encouraging each other’s theories and beliefs and feelings without criticism, because to challenge one person was to challenge the entire structure.

And we couldn’t do that. Because to do that would mean admitting that we were all lying.

Because it would mean I wasn’t an empath, wasn’t special, wasn’t anything. I was just me, and I’d be back to square one with no clue about what was wrong with me.

That house of cards was years in the making. When that friend split off and stopped talking to us (to me), I thought it was going to come crumbling down. And in many ways, it did.

I dropped out of college barely two weeks into the second semester because I was failing every course but one. I started seeing a therapist, and then another one, and then a psychiatrist. I received words for my anxiety and even ADHD. Things started getting better, little by little.

Lingering Problems

I reconnected with someone from high school by chance. We got very close. I helped raise her new baby. Things were good.

And then, old habits rose. The need to be Right and Expert ate me alive, even though I recognized them as symptoms of anxiety. But with this reconnected friend feeding into my insecurities, echoing those feelings of inadequacy and out-of-place-ness and a need to belong somewhere and to mean something, it was hard to logically sort those thoughts.

Everything was about being an empath. Our shared difficulties, our pains, our burdens — all of it was because we were empaths. We were empaths because of lingering past lives.

I won’t get into those, either, because they’re so incredibly specific, and I don’t want the people involved to see this and Know. Just know that our lives revolved around being empaths — special, sensitive, powerful, and made for infinitely complex purpose.

People who weren’t empaths were simultaneously lucky and pitiable. They would never know what it’s like to walk into a room and Understand everyone there. They would never have to bear the weight of someone else’s grief.

I wouldn’t say we looked down on non-empaths, necessarily. At least, not on purpose or consciously. Their lack of skill wasn’t their fault, after all. They were normal. We were special.

Notably, this is when I stopped using the term “starseed” at all — it was close, but not good enough to describe what we were feeling. It was a woefully human way to understand what we were, you see. A convenient word that didn’t encapsulate us, because we were special, even among the ever-special starseeds. We didn’t have a word for what we were. We didn’t really need one, because we didn’t need to describe ourselves to each other. We just Knew.

When I read my friends’ auras and described their energetic feelings to them (which I was an expert at by that point; my natural empath abilities had been honed to a fine edge), I was as thorough as possible. Mostly, I was accurate. Anytime I wasn’t, it was because of someone’s protective barriers or natural resistance to being read. We went to cemeteries so I could commune with spirits and tell my friends all about their energies. They couldn’t exactly challenge me about it, so they accepted what I said as Truth.

I was their Leader. How could I possibly be fallible?

It was, in the end, the accuracy of it that kept me in the empath mindset. The positive feedback loop I’d created for myself just confirmed my empath feelings. And if those were right, then everything else must’ve been, too — because it all came from the same place.

It just made sense.

I kept a journal off and on during those years. Reading through it now is… well, it’s harrowing. The entries are dated. Much of it is free-writing, a technique I still use today as a warm-up exercise. But almost all of it is a cry for help. It details hallucinations, delusions, nightmares, dissociative episodes, depressive episodes, manic spirals, and more.

If someone were to share this with me today, I would suggest they seek help with their mental state immediately. At the time, I believed myself to be receiving visions of the past. I believed that my empathic abilities were opening me up to a long lineage of lives I could tap into and, perhaps, return to one day.

There is a small, injured part of myself that wishes I could return to those feelings. No matter how unhealthy it really was, it made me feel strong and special and wanted in a time when I knew, deep down, that I was none of those things.

It was a comfortable lie. I knew that the past lives were bullshit. I did. I can admit that now. It was a series of elaborate lies built on lies built on lies.

And yet, I still firmly knew I was an empath. That kernel of truth never wavered. It was the foundation.

I was slowly teaching myself magic during these years. I’d been doing spirit work and tarot for years already, so the craft was almost second nature. It took a back seat to the rest, but it was there.

Even as my relationships grew less and less stable, I had magic and spirits and my empath abilities to fall back on. Surely everything would be alright.

By Tooth and Claw

After the unhealthy friendship I described above dissolved rather spectacularly, I spent a few more years harboring the past life stories. They morphed slowly into fiction, and I gradually lost interest. My remaining friends from that group and I would talk with disdain about the one we’d cut out; she wasn’t good enough. She was lying.

Because our memories were different, you see.

The justifications we crafted were as elaborate as any other lie we told. She really was a manipulative person whose goal was to “own” our friendship — and we acknowledged that. But we still couldn’t shatter the veneer between all of us that the rest was all lies.

So we left it. We didn’t talk about it again. But it lived on in my mind and in that digital journal. It haunted me.

And, as all toxic friendships built on shared lies tend to do, that relationship also imploded.

It left me utterly friendless. I had no one but my partner at the time, and even that relationship wasn’t exactly going well. I was questioning my sexuality all over again, and I’d just started acknowledging the whole Gender thing, and I had no one to talk to about any of it. It was a miserable existence, but I’d still rather have no friends at all than have friends like those.

I abandoned all of it. Without the people who propped up the lies, there was no need for me to keep going. I stopped with the past lives stuff, I stopped all the magic, I stopped my spirit work, and I stopped calling myself an empath.

It was… Well, it was easy. Shockingly so.

Healing from the rest was decidedly not easy. It took a lot of hard work and introspection. I had to own up to the lies I told myself and others, even if I was never going to be able to have the closure-inducing conversations with them.

I decided to start choosing myself. I made new friends. I dumped my boyfriend who I hadn’t been in love with for over a year (or maybe longer). I started dating my current partner. I let myself move on.

I’m now about seven years out of that last friendship, and I finally feel like I’ve moved on.

My laptop died. I saved my necessary files and moved them to my current PC.

I didn’t bring the journal over.

The Draw and the Cost

When you’re a scared, sad, lonely person, you’ll go looking for fulfillment anywhere. You’ll accept whatever others give you if it means they’ll value you for even a single moment.

Positive feedback means everything to someone who has never received it before. When you have to work hard for an ounce of attention or affection at home, you come to expect that you’ll always have to do that everywhere you go.

I remember when Facebook became a thing just as I was starting to become my own person in high school. Liking pages called things like “Getting caught in the rain with your best friend” and “Ultra kawaii girlz do it best!” and “Sorry I read your mind, I’m an empath LOLZ” and “RANDOM TACO MUSTACHE PANDA ATTACK!” was par for the course after school. (Sorry for the psychic damage.)

I also remember the first call-out post I ever saw on Facebook. It was about some girl in my grade who I didn’t know. The girl who posted it was an empath, of course, and accused the other girl of being a fake, cheating liar. I don’t know if it was true. At the time, I took it at face value — after all, the accuser was an empath. Empaths don’t lie. Obviously.

I still struggle with compulsive lying. I suspect I always will. The drive to be an Expert is a part of me that I’ll never be able to get rid of. The need to be accepted and appreciated, too, will never leave me. It’s part of why I love this platform, and all other forms of written communication, over speaking to people verbally. While I can usually catch myself before I tell a reflexive, unnecessary lie these days, I sometimes slip. It’s an embarrassing thing. I try to force myself to admit it and then tell the truth.

Usually, I succeed. It’s a work in progress.

But typing, I can backspace. I can delete shit. I can keep things in my drafts and edit them and adjust wording to my heart’s content. I can remove messages and take things back. It’s easier to say “I was wrong” or “This wasn’t true” to strangers on the internet, after all.

Now, as I near thirty years old, I have better language to describe what I was feeling. The overwhelming emotions from everyone around me, the overload I felt in crowds, the reflex to please everyone, the uncanny ability to read a room’s atmosphere at a glance…

I was an undiagnosed autistic child with serious trauma and unmedicated ADHD. I needed help. I asked for help. Everything I did was a cry for help.

I wanted to feel special. I wanted to feel powerful. I wanted to feel useful and valuable. I wanted to feel different in a way that was manageable.

I wanted language to describe myself that was empowering. “Empath” was empowering and manageable and useful and valuable and powerful and special. It felt good. And because it felt good, it felt right. And because it felt right, it was a solid band-aid on the open wound of my life. “Empath” was an escape from the reality of my situation. It made everything easier to bear.

I’m sad because I’m an empath, and someone in homeroom was crying.

I’m angry because my parents’ fight leaked into every corner of the house, and I couldn’t help but absorb it into myself like a sponge, because I’m an empath.

I’m so happy I can’t contain myself, and I have to flail and jump around, because everyone around me is cheering and singing and dancing, and I feel it all like a growing avalanche that echoes through the walls of my body and rings in my bones as a song I cannot contain. Because I’m an empath.

I’m always being hurt because nasty people are attracted to my empath abilities. It makes me an easy target. That’s just how it is, and that’s how it’ll always be, because I’m an empath.

I’m too sensitive, too soft, too emotional, because I’m an empath.

Every step I take away from the “empath” label is done with the full knowledge that without it, I wouldn’t have survived. I needed something to cling to, and “empath” was enough to keep me afloat. Although I didn’t realize it at the time, I was looking for Meaning.

Besides, “empath” was an easier word to swallow than “traumatized” or “abused” or “mentally ill.” It didn’t taste as bitter. I didn’t choke on it.

There were no resources for me. All I had was what I could fashion myself out of bubble gum and black sharpie and sheer force of will and please God, if you are there, let me live another day. Everything I am, I owe to my own two hands and luck.

I don’t need the “empath” label anymore. I’ve outgrown it. I recognize it for what it is now: a patchwork explanation for other phenomena in my life that are better explained from a psychiatric standpoint — and from a truly philosophical, spiritual one.

To this day, talking about empaths and twin flames and starseeds and past lives and everything that goes with those things remains a trigger. It gets easier and easier to manage, but I still blacklist those tags. I avoid it at all costs. Empaths I can manage, for the most part. Twin flames I won’t abide; soul mates are on thin ice. Starseeds are a crock of shit for a whole bunch of other reasons. Past lives… it’s the only thing I won't really talk about at all.

And I ask you kindly, please, don’t ask.

Where I Stand

I’m still paying the costs of all this. When you spend most of your life under immense stress, having yearly crises of one kind or another, it kind of fucks you right up.

A few years ago, I returned to witchcraft. I started small. I did a little simmer pot to welcome myself to my brand-new apartment. A little protection here, a short meditation there. It felt good. I didn’t feel like I was slipping backwards.

After that, I returned to spirit work and divination. My old allies welcomed me back with open arms. It was a relief to unwrap my tarot cards and find the spirit attached to them still there. I set up a little altar space for them. Things were good.

I returned to the cemeteries. I apologized. The conversations I was having with those spirits were real, but I wasn’t respecting them the way I should’ve. We made a deal to even those scales, and I’ve paid in full. Those relationships are better than ever. Some of those spirits have followed me, per our agreements, and I work with them regularly.

And things are good. I haven’t done any backsliding. Last year, I allowed myself to question the nature of the universe and theories on magic and how it actually works. I made the connection with Lady Fate and drew up a theory on connections in magic. And it was fine. It is fine.

I’m extremely alert to the signs. I remain critical of my experiences. But I’m letting my personal practice be… casual. Natural. It’s just for me, not a performance. It doesn’t need to be spectacular or even produce results. It just has to be gratifying.

I started this blog for myself. I wanted to encourage myself to try new things and get out there again. It’s hard to make friends and connect with people, and I’m wary of IRL groups — for good reasons I’m sure you can guess at.

It’s been extremely cool to get to interact with people here. I get to vet people before I ever talk to someone. I can sweep their blog for signs of things I want to (need to) avoid. Blocking people is good for my health. This is the safest environment I’ve ever had to explore, communicate, get feedback, read criticism, and learn about witchcraft.

I am immensely grateful to my various lovely Tumblr mutuals, to my Discord pals, and to the folks I follow in all my witchy spaces. It’s through great effort that I’m able to talk about this stuff at all. I wouldn’t have realized I could if not for a brief mention in a private Discord server about doing a post about being an ex-empath.

It’s been so long since I’ve thought about it. It all feels so far away now. I know the distance is a testament to my own hard work. The difference between my mental health then and now is staggering. Even on my worst days now, I am nowhere near that level of Bad.

Where do I stand? On my own two damn feet, that’s where.

A Bit of Advice

I will never use the “empath” label again. I don’t think anyone should, though I understand the appeal. Obviously. You’ve read this far, I’d be surprised if you thought I don’t get it.

Instead, explore what you’re actually experiencing. Are you showing signs of a manic-depressive cycle? Are you having symptoms of anxiety, autism, ADHD, or depression? Do you know what depersonalization and dissociation are, and what they feel like? How about synesthesia, such as mirror-touch synesthesia, which can help explain why you feel a touch on someone else’s skin as though it was on your own? What feels bad, and why? Is your home life fraught, or was it? Are you looking for ways to cope with feelings that are too large to contain?

Do a simple search for “empath traits.” Check out any list of qualities empaths have. Make note, in particular, of the traits you identify with. Now take a look at a list of, say, “autism traits” or “PTSD traits.” Check out the overlap between them.

It’s important to consider mundane causes and mundane solutions. My greatest mistake when I picked up the “empath” label was that I believed there were no resources for me. I even said it up above that there were none.

But there were. Trusted teachers, the guidance counselor, the youth council director. Clubs, support groups. There were places I could have gone, but I was so far inside my own mind that I couldn’t see them. And the people around me were so dazzled by my false confidence that they couldn’t see how badly I was struggling. Admitting I needed help was akin to admitting defeat, and I couldn’t do that.

But you can.

“Empath” Alternatives

When I went looking for other accounts of people leaving the “empath” label, I was surprised to find… not a lot of bitterness. Then again, maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised. “Empaths” are often of the “love and light” persuasion, and that sort of philosophy isn’t always so easily let go of. Empathy for our past selves and the community surrounding even the most toxic of concepts is par for the course, don’t you think?

The primary thing most ex-empaths share in common (from what I’ve seen) is that they’ve outgrown the label in some way. Whether they realize why they picked up the label is hit or miss. Some, like myself, drop it almost unthinkingly after years of using it to define ourselves and only realize years later why we used it and what it did to us. Others leave it behind by choice, opting for more up-to-date terminology or paths.

I know this might be a little surprising. After all, I’m a witch. I do magic, and I work with spirits. Surely I believe in empaths as a concept, even if I ended up not being one.

No, I don’t. Not really. Some people really are naturally sensitive to others’ energy and/or feelings, and energy work is a real thing that you can do.

But the “empath” label isn’t helpful. If anything, it’s reductive. Why would you want to reduce the plethora of abilities and skills at your fingertips to a single word? Why submit to a rigid, fantastical definition that encourages self-martyrdom and unhealthy social behaviors when reality is much more interesting?

If you really feel drawn to calling yourself an “empath,” consider why that is. You’re sensitive, you’ve got an interest in the supernatural, you want to dip your toes into magic, or you just Know You’re Different?

Primarily, consider the fact that you’re likely neurodivergent in some way. See the above section about that, and do those trait searches again. Be really honest with yourself.

Secondarily, consider simple energy work instead. Rather than relying on a prescribed set of traits laid out like a cheap newspaper astrology column that’s so vague it could apply to anyone with the right spin because it’s been written by someone who doesn’t know what a Capricorn is, focus on an actual goal.

The first mistake people who pick up the “empath” label make is the assumption that they’re Special and Different. While you are a unique human being, you’re no more special or different than the guy next to you on the bus who’s got the spiritual sense of a lump of clay. You don’t need to be special or different. You just need to be human.

Sensing certain types of energy (like emotional energy) might come naturally to you. That’s great! It’s a real strength that you might have; it’s one that I certainly have, and it helped to confirm my “empath” related delusions described up above. Instead of resting on your laurels about having this talent, put some work into it. Figure out how to manipulate your own energy. See if you can feel plants’ energy or just people’s. Research the various methods of energy visualization and manipulation. Read some theory. Learn how to read auras if you can see them.

(Which, by the way, I can’t. I’m on the more severe side of aphantasia, and I can’t visually imagine jack shit. The whole “reading auras” thing I talk about up above is a big old lie. I can work off of vibes and sensations to give an approximation of an impression of what something might look like, but that’s it. I’m basically blind in that regard. What I lack in sight, I make up for in my other senses, though, so it’s not a huge loss.)

If you’ve got a talent for guessing outcomes to things, you might find success in divination. Pick up some cards, dice, or literally any other method you like and give it a whirl. See what works and be honest with yourself when it doesn’t. At the end of the day, the most important thing is that: Be honest with yourself. It’s fucking hard. I know. Trust me, do I know. [Gestures to the above emphatically.]

Learn discernment skills. If you don’t know what that is or what it means or how to discern, there are a bunch of good guides out there. I’m sure I can scrounge up a couple to reblog in the wake of this post.

You cannot fix someone else’s problems. You cannot be a permanent balm on someone else’s life. Your worth does not lie in the service of others. Your life is not worth less than theirs. You should not be a sacrifice in the name of someone else’s carelessness. You aren’t responsible for the emotional well-being of everyone around you.

You don’t need to be “special” to ask for help. You don’t need a magical label to stand up for yourself and ask for accommodations. You are allowed to have feelings and react to other people’s existence and feel overwhelmed and experience second-hand emotion without putting yourself on the martyr’s pedestal.

Decide what you actually want from being an “empath,” and be honest with yourself. Do you want to use the “empath” label because it makes you feel less alone? Less scared? Less like a freak? Ask why you feel that way in the first place. What’s the thing wearing fear like a shroud? What is its true name?

And honestly, if you can’t subscribe to the “empath” label or do energy work or spirit work or magic or whatever without it risking your mental health… don’t. Just don’t.

Because I can attest, the band-aid doesn’t work. It won’t last forever. You’ll have to face the monster behind the mask sooner or later, and it’s significantly better to do it when you’ve got the choice.

Trust me. I’d know.

(Oh, and by the by: Don’t be mean or try to shame people using the empath label using my experiences. I won’t be a cudgel for you to swing at somebody else. Share this with whoever, but be kind about it.)

Hoo Boy, That Was a Lot, Huh?

Well. Like I said, this whole thing got away from me in a serious way. I’ve got other things I should be working on, but this… well, it took over my brain. Once I started typing, I couldn’t stop. And now here we are.

If you read this whole thing, thanks. No, seriously. It means a lot. I hope you got something out of it.

I mentioned somewhere in this whole thing that I don’t talk about this stuff. For the most part, that’s because I just don’t think about it anymore. It’s all in the past. But if my story can help someone or inform someone out there, well. Here it is. I’m open to questions. Respectful ones, mind you. I won’t be talking about past lives at all at this point, so like I said before, don’t ask. But any of the other stuff… [shrug]. Shoot. Some things I’ll have to omit or leave unanswered for the privacy of my past friends and relationships. And some things I just won’t talk about because it’s frankly none of your business.

But yeah. I’m releasing this into the wild. I almost decided to not publish this at all, but I think it's too important to keep to myself. I’ve given it a cursory look-over for grammar, but… honestly, I think it’s good the way it is. It’s honest.

And these days, that’s all I aim to be.

Shilling

Anyhow, doing words is my living these days. If you like these words or other ones I’ve written up, throw a couple dollars in my bread jar. Thanks again.

[Harmonica fades into the distance]

#aese speaks #ok time to launch this officially #everybody BE COOL.#empath #ex-empath #spiritual healing #personal essay #witch community #i blame the chicken (ominous) (positive)

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commando-rogers · 1 year ago

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I know little ol me does not get much traction on this site and I’ve been reblogging PLENTY about the WGA/SAG-AFTRA strikes, but I keep seeing people confused about this online and irl so I just want to say:

As of now, the unions have NOT asked us to stop watching content. You can (and should!) keep watching and streaming your favorite shows and movies.

Now, I’m not a member of either union (though I hope to join SAG in the coming years if I get lucky, and maybe WGA is in my future if I get off my butt and write!) so I am not an authority on this, nor do I have all of the information. I could be mistaken on some of this, so those with more knowledge feel free to correct me! But I do know for a fact that the unions have not asked us to boycott watching shows.

The purpose of these strikes is to stop providing LABOR to the AMPTP (the gross weird mafia-like conglomeration of studios such as Netflix, Warner Bros, the like), not to stop watching.

Part of the issue with the proposed contracts from studios is the fairness of residuals (money paid to a writer/actor when their work is aired on TV, released on DVD, sold to a network, etc.). If already-aired shows and movies continue doing well, these workers keep getting paid (at least a little, they’re not getting paid for their jobs while striking but the studios cannot withhold residuals). (Of course, it’s messier with streaming services, which is another thing being advocated for in these contracts.)

So keep streaming movies and shows! Keep tuning in on TV if any of you still have cable! Go see Barbenheimer or anything you’d like to see at the theater! Support the art! This is a labor strike, not a consumer boycott. Not only might it help with residuals, but it shows the studios that there is still a demand for content. People are still watching their movies and shows, they still want to pay their subscriptions, and the studios are proverbially shooting themselves in the knee by withholding future content. That’s why this strike will work, that’s why WGA and SAG-AFTRA refuse to back down until their demands are met.

ESPECIALLY with shows that are coming out! Good Omens is one of my favorite shows, and season 2 drops on July 28th. Neil Gaiman, the writer, is very active on tumblr if you’d like to go check out his blog, and he’s being incredibly gracious and helpful answering questions about the strike. And he said the BEST thing we can do for the show is WATCH it. Watch in one sitting! Watch it on loop! We need to demonstrate demand, or the studios will cancel shows, which means artists out of work.

Of course, should the unions come out with a statement and ask us to stop watching, do it. However, that is not currently their wish, nor is it a rule of the strike.

(A note: if you’re like me and hoping to become an actor or writer in the future, this is NOT the time to get your big break. Studios are gonna come looking for nonunion talent to keep productions going. They are exploiting us and our desperation. If you scab and perform labor for a struck company during this strike, you WILL be blacklisted from ever joining the union in the future. Aspiring actors, that featured background gig is not worth kissing your hopes of a SAG card goodbye. Same goes for writers. You may see some SAG work continuing, that is being done under special agreements with the union, for SPECIFIC exceptions. Do your research on every casting call. Do not scab, these union members are fighting for OUR futures in this industry! The worst thing you can do is hurt them and throw your future away.)

Check out the WGA’s website and SAG-AFTRA’s website for more info on strike rules, and things you can do to help. If you want to make a financial difference, the best thing you can do is donate to strike funds. Go to this link and under Strike Assistance you’ll see a number of funds that are being used to help pay writers while out of work, AND to help pay the crew members who are also out of work because of the strike! Worker solidarity! Here is a link to emergency funds for SAG-AFTRA members.

If you’re in NYC or LA, stop by the picket lines! Even non-members are welcome to march, and a great way to help is to show up and hand out water bottles, food, anything you’re willing to donate and help make the picketers’ day just a little easier. And here’s a link to the LA chapter of Democratic Socialists of America. They have information on strike funds, as well as a fund specifically to help buy snacks for picketers! It’s summer, and both NYC and LA are miserable to be marching in the sun all day.

The other way the unions say we can help is by speaking up and voicing your support on social media. An anonymous studio exec told Dateline “The endgame is to allow things to drag on until union members start losing their apartments and losing their houses.” They said the quiet part out loud. You can look up the salaries of these studio execs. It’s tens and hundreds of millions. Then go look up what each union is asking for in their contracts. It’s a drop in the studios’ bucket, but they’re refusing to budge, and they’re showing their complete lack of humanity.

tl;dr: you can and should keep watching shows and movies during the strikes, unless we are told otherwise by the unions. There are other great ways to help! These unions are a huge driving force of American economy, and hopefully these strikes will help garner support for a larger labor movement for all workers to get fair pay.

Thanks for tuning in to my accidentally very lengthy post. But I hope this helps clear up confusion. Share this info with your friends, and voice your support loudly! And for the love of god DO NOT CROSS PICKET LINES!

#sag aftra #writers guild of america #sag aftra strike #wga strike #support the wga #wga solidarity #wga strong #writers strike #actors strike #sag aftra strong #sag aftra solidarity

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4xbfdi · 19 days ago

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hello!!! ive created a little story based on my algebralien bunny au!

The sun was just beginning to rise over the rolling hills of the Equation Playground. Dew sparkled on the soft grass, and the air filled with birds chirping a gentle morning melody. In the middle of the meadow, near a cozy shared burrow, stood Four and X, who was eagerly waiting for a new arrival.

“I can’t believe Two’s finally moving into the Equation Playground!” X exclaimed, his ears twitching with excitement as he leaned against Four, their paws lightly touching. “It’s going to be so fun having them nearby! Aren’t you excited?”

Four groaned, his nose twitching. “Excited? That’s not really the word I’d use. Do they really have to move in next to us?”

“Fouurr… come on! Two will be a great neighbor! Besides, you two are already friends, right?”

Four narrowed his eyes. “If by ‘friends’ you mean ‘they constantly annoy me’ then sure, friends.” He huffed, folding his arms. “I don’t get what your deal is with Two. You always act like they’re the best.”

X giggled. “They’re nice! Maybe you just need to give them a chance. You two have a lot in common, you know.”

Before Four could continue his rant, they spotted a familiar figure hopping toward them over the hill. Two, ears bent slightly in an eager, nervous way, was using their magic to carry a box full of belongings. Their wide grin made X smile instantly.

“Hey Four! Hi X!” Two called, waving with one paw. “It’s so good to see you both! I’m so excited to be your neighbor!”

“Two!” X hopped forward. “You made it! Welcome to the Equation Playground, we’re going to help you get settled in!”

“Oh, thank you X!” Two said, then turned to Four with a bright smile. “And Four! My old friend, thanks for coming to help too!”

Four frowned, nose twitching. “Yeah… ‘friend.’ Let’s just get this over with.” He muttered under his breath.

Two either didn’t notice or pretended not to, their excitement undampened. “I’m glad we’ll be right next to each other! I’ll get to see you every day!” They beamed as if that was the best news in the world.

Four winced at the thought, but X leaned in with a grin, nudging him. “Isn’t that great, Four?”

“Yeah… great,” Four groaned, managing a tight smile.

The trio hopped over to Two’s new burrow, which was conveniently located next to Four and X’s shared one. X was already hopping around, excitedly pointing out the best spots for tunnels, while Two surveyed the space with plenty of ideas.

“So, what kind of burrow were you thinking of?” X asked, peering into the box Two had set down, inspecting all the little trinkets. “Something fun with curvy tunnels?”

Two’s eyes sparkled. “I was thinking of something balanced, you know? Like, some curvy tunnels like yours, X, but also symmetrical rooms. That way it’s fun but organized.”

X smiled. “That sounds perfect! Right, Four?”

Four thumped, clearly annoyed with X’s attention being shifted away from him. “It sounds fine, I guess… as long as they don’t mess up the neighborhood with too many weird tunnels.”

Two chuckled, hopping over. “Don’t worry, Four! I know you like things neat. I won’t make a mess. We’ve always worked well together!”

Four’s ears twitched, and he muttered, “If you say so.” He shot X a look that said, please get me out of this.

But X, ever the optimist, just smiled and began digging enthusiastically. “Come on, let’s get started!”

Four attempted to dig straight, clean tunnels for the foundation, but Two kept bouncing in with their own ideas, curving paths and suggesting tweaks that drove Four up the wall.

“Ugh, Two, can you not curve this tunnel?” Four groaned, staring at a bend Two had just made. “It’s supposed to connect to the room in a straight line.”

Two blinked and smiled. “But a little curve makes it more fun! Besides, X loves digging curves, right X?”

X looked up from happily digging side tunnels, grinning. “I do, but maybe we can balance it out?”

Four shot Two a glare, the kind that said, you’re only doing this because you know it bugs me.

Two grinned, unfazed. “Come on, Four, it’ll be fun!”

Four sighed but relented. “Fine. Just don’t add any surprise tunnels.”

With Four keeping things orderly and X adding creative touches, the burrow turned out surprisingly well. By the time the sun began to set, the entrance tunnel was neat and straight, just the way Four liked it.

Once the digging was done, Two opened their box full of decorations. “Now for the best part!” They pulled out a set of colorful math-themed décor.

Four raised an eyebrow. “What… are those?”

“Decorations!” Two said happily, hopping into the burrow and placing little items on the walls. Smiling at something in the box, they pulled out a green-framed picture of Four, X, and themselves, with Four being the only one not smiling. Two carefully placed it above their bed.

They continued unpacking—a decorative green tea set, framed posters, and more. “This one goes here… and this can hang right at the entrance,” they mumbled, lost in concentration as they arranged everything.

X peered in, his eyes lighting up when he saw the framed picture. “Wow, Two! It looks amazing! I remember when we took this!” He giggled.

Two stood back, admiring their burrow. “This is great! Thanks so much for the help, you two.”

Four, looking exhausted from the day’s work, gave a half-hearted nod. “Yeah, I guess it’s fine.”

Two nudged Four playfully. “See? I knew we could work together, like always!”

Four’s ears flattened, but he didn’t pull away. “Just don’t get used to me digging for you all the time.”

As evening settled in, the three bunnies sat outside the burrow, enjoying the cool night air. Two was thrilled to be in their newly decorated home, while Four and X curled up together, paws intertwined.

Even though Four grumbled about Two living next to them, there was a fondness behind the bickering, like siblings who could never admit they actually cared for each other.

For X, the day was a success. Two had a new home, and Four, though he wouldn’t say it, was happy to have helped.

As the stars twinkled overhead, Two looked up and smiled. “I think this is going to be a great new start. Thanks for everything, X. You too, Four. I can’t wait to start decorating more tomorrow, I’ve got even more ideas!”

Four’s ears twitched. “More? You brought enough decorations to last a lifetime.”

X chuckled softly. “You’ll like it, Four. I’m sure Two’s decorations will grow on you.”

“Don’t count on it.”

With that, the three bunnies settled in for the night, knowing that even with a little rivalry, they’d always have each other’s backs.

And as X drifted off, nestled against Four, Two watched from their newly decorated burrow, feeling like they truly belonged in this little corner of the playground.

Maybe, just maybe, Four was starting to feel the same way.

#bfb #bfdi #xfohv #4x #battle for dream island #four bfb #battle for bfdi #the power of two #two tpot #tpot #x bfb #object shows #osc art #osc #object show community #bfb headcanon #bfb au

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citrusses · 2 years ago

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right, so, I just found your blog through one of your rec lists (the burn it all down one) and ended up reading nearly every fic on the list in one sitting because of how good they are. and so i trust your taste haha but i also have no idea if you've already answered an ask like this. anyways.

do you have any recs for (drarry) fics that are draco angst centric, like draco whump or draco h/c but happy ending. preferably from his pov?

bonus points if you have any the following elements but not necessary: 1) him being soft for harry/kind to harry etc 2) harry takes care of him 3)him just being sooooo besotted with harry like cannot stop thinking about that boy.

Hi love! I am honored to be trusted by you! I see that we both adore Draco but also like seeing him suffer? 😊 Please enjoy some of my favorite Draco + angst (Drangst?) - and I hope you like long fics! This got out of hand so there's more beneath the cut.

Draco POV + Angst

Turning Leaves by @kbrick (E, 112,654)

Draco and Harry have a one-night stand that ends in disaster after Harry tells Draco he's unable to move beyond their poisonous past. So when Draco finds an unusual Time-Turner in the Department of Mysteries, he seizes the opportunity to start fresh with Harry. Only instead of fixing things, he keeps making them worse.

Another Mask Behind You by @letteredlettered (E, 116,557)

Draco is a high-end prostitute who hides his identity. Harry unknowingly hires him. And then there is porn, questions about identity, domestic bliss, more porn, and truth as seen through a web of lies.

Dwelling on Dreams by @the-sinking-ship (E, 135,588)

Draco thought he could avoid Potter for the duration of his brief return to England. He’d stick to his schedule and be back home in Paris, where he belonged, in a few short months. No trouble at all. He had plenty to occupy him, what with the opening of the London branch of his successful apothecary, his innovative research, drinks with Pansy, a backlog of unread potions periodicals.

Nor All That Glisters by @sweet-s0rr0w (E, 110,625)

Lonely and frustrated on house arrest, with no prospects for the future, Draco begins brewing Felix Felicis in an attempt to improve his lot. Just in the short term, of course. He isn’t a total idiot.

The (Third) Worst Year by @the-francakes (E, 20,041)

Draco Malfoy has one year to fall in True Love with Harry Potter or be turned into a Dragon. And he knows that is never gunna happen. This is going to be the worst year of his life.

Draco Angst + Dual POV

I Do Not Love You by Writ_and_romance (M, 228,290)

In 2013, a carefully-designed Obliviation leaves Harry reconfiguring his life and identity without any memories of true love; an act that's essentially erased Draco Malfoy from his mind despite a wedding band and shared home.

Two to Lie and One to Listen by @fluxweeed (E, 84,562)

It’s weird when Hermione announces that she and Ron have broken up. It’s weirder when this is followed by the revelation that she’s already moved on—and the new object of her affections is Draco Malfoy. Things only get worse from there.

Close Behind by @oflights (M, 134,215)

To rescue Draco from the Underworld, Harry has to look forward. Unfortunately, Draco has to look back.

Angsty Draco POV + Soft for Harry/Harry Takes Cares of Draco

Way Down We Go by @xiaq (T, 109,767)

The war was over. Or at least that’s what the papers said. They’d been saying it, for months, as if people needed reminding. Maybe they did.

Once More With Feeling by InnerLilith (E, 28,647)

Draco is dosed with a consummation-compelling potion, with Harry Potter as his intended. It’s a cruel irony, because he’s wanted Potter for years. But not like this.

The Unknown Door by @amywaterwings (E, 60,970)

There is something wrong with the Bellcrest. The heart of the place beats rotten. Everyone says so. Where Draco is a magical property manager, Harry is a recluse, and they’re definitely not hiding from their problems in the run-down flats of the Bellcrest. Not at all. Not one bit.

The Ordeal of Being Known by @lou-isfake (M, 146,637)

When Auror Potter is anonymously cursed with silence by being forced to hide his own voice inside his mind, there's unfortunately only one person in the country with the qualifications to fix it: Certified and Licensed Healer Legilimens, Draco Malfoy, specialist in Mind Curses and Afflictions. It's obviously a terrible idea, a disaster waiting to happen, but Draco's never been able to back down from a challenge... especially from Potter.

Waiting By An Open Door by @femmequixotic & @noeeon (E, 29,506)

Draco starts following Potterwatch secretly during the War. He wishes Potter would come save him too. But that sort of thing only happens in fairy tales, and Malfoys don't get fairy tale endings, do they?

Unspecified Draco Angst

Grounds for Divorce by Tepre (E, 122,217)

Malfoy finds a coin. Harry finds a letter. A story about histories, a story about families. A story about a lemon tree somewhere in Upper Egypt.

Anything by Gallaplacidia, top-tier Drangst.

#citrus recs #asks #drarry fic recs #drangst #angst #draco pov

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mitsukiwa · 2 years ago

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Made for vice

A/N: You may have read this same one before but this one was edited; my other story was roughly draft also criticism is welcomed. If there are any mistakes pls let me know. Hope you enjoy. !MDNI!

word count:0.3k

You were forced, against your own will to be his. He took what soldier’s had fought for all mankind to have Freedom. Never had you ever thought it’d be something taken from your grasp. Simply because of a rejection, we all had that choice to make. But him he took it from you, whatever liberation you had before seized away from you.

The two of you encountered back in October. There was a coffee shop a few blocks down from your work building. The doors of the cafe dinged as a new customer entered, glancing up from your computer. There was a man of average height with a slim and narrow build, Captivating crimson wings.

You couldn't help but stare, knowing it may come out as crude despite having such fierce wings.

It's an astonishing sight to see something so surreal, golden irises staring back at you.

You quickly looked away, cheeks beginning to warm up at the reality that you were caught goggling.

It's not strange to have specialties like this in this world.

They're known as quirks. Quirks superhuman capabilities, that can be possessed. Along with being unique to each user. Quirks are sorted into different categories. Though then there's the quirkless to sum it up people who are are are born as ordinary normal whichever you want to call it. I'm one of those people born without a quirk. Those who are expected to rely on those with quirks, Those called heroes.

Yet not all heroes are flawless, there is always a flaw within them.

And I comprehend that by experience.

How it all began

You resumed typing away into your computer, Entirely ignoring the humiliation you'd just put yourself in a moment ago.

From your peripheral, you notice someone walking over to your table.

They cleared their throat to grab your attention.

you gaze up

it was the man you had just been staring at with a cup of coffee in hand.

Not sure if he came over to scold you about how rude it is to stare at a person.

wait...

you know this man he's a

hero

Known as the hero hawks, you've noticed him on the news.

Pro Hero Hawks

Number two hero

And he's standing in front of you right now?

''hello,'' he said with a grin.

You greeted him back.

'' would you care if I sit here?" he asked as he indicated the chair in front of you.

You couldn't help but look around the cafe. There were plenty of stools and tables unoccupied.

Yet you hummed a yes.

There was one word to describe what you deemed at the moment awkward.

''what's your career'' He suddenly asked.

You were surprised he even continued to try a conversation out of you. Nonetheless, you responded

''I'm an Author,''

he hummed

''interesting''

''And you?''

Sure, you already knew but still, you wanted to continue the conversation a little longer. Out of boredom really.

He gave a breathy laugh

'' you don't know?''

You shook your head

''no, sorry''

''well, that's a first,''

''what's your name?'' He asked

''what's yours,''

You were well aware, you probably sounded like a child right now.

He chuckled

''Takami''

''nice to meet you Takami,''

He had a shit-eating grin you wanted to punch off his face.

Why was he smirking?

''what's your name?''

You told him your last name, not really on first-name bases since you didn't know this man at all.

He repeated it himself. You felt a weird sensation at him pronouncing your name.

And you heard him say your name along with his ''Takami''

You widened your eyes at his boldness. How dare he say that you don't even know-

''I gotta head off duty calls,'' he said as he got up from the seat and stretched.

''wanna maybe give me your number? So I can call you later on?''

he had that shit-eating smirk again

''no, thank you''

Hawks was surprised. He's never been rejected before by anyone. Every girl he'd wink at would fall to his feet at a chance with him. He was popular with the ladies. However, you were different.

''I'm just glad at least I got your name.''

He waved you bye and exited through the glass doors of the cafe, you saw him flap his wings, as they slowly levitate him up into the sky, but before he was out of view, he winked at you flashing you his smile.

I hate him

But you don't know why, do you?

Is it because he made you feel something?

Or is it because you want to hate him, but you don't have a reason yet

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

''you met THE hawks!''

''yea,'' you said coolly

'' He was willing to ask for your number, and you refused!''

You knew exactly where this was going. Hori was your close friend from work. Knowing each other for three years is enough time to promote the title.

She was a ''big'' fan of the winged hero. It only made sense, She'd be mad I rejected her idol.

''Shimoda!''

''what is it ?''

''she rejected Hawks,''

''wait what you spoke to the Hawks ?''

you nodded. Honestly, it wasn't something to be proud of.

''He even asked for her number,''

And the discussion persisted. They got infuriated at you for being so hard-born.

Serendipity

fuck serendipity

Why?

Hmm, you may be asking at this very moment, Well simple serendipity fucked up your life.

It didn't leave things as they were no, instead it wanted to ''help'' out.

Your company had gotten a call around noontime. The caller had asked for you.

And, you were shocked to find out who it was. They claimed it was urgent to speak to you.

Which was weird for you, your parents never called you.

That right there could've been your red flag instead curiosity gets the best out of a person always.

''hello?''

''hey little nugget''

your brow furrowed.

what the actual hell was this

''Who is this?''

''aww, don't tell me you forgot about me already,''

The voice sounded familiar, it could be no other than

''Hawks?'' voice sounding high pitched though it wasn't intended to be.

''the one and only, ''

''how'd you get my works phone number?''

''I got my ways,'' he cleared his throat '' I was thinking... I could maybe take you out to dinner?''

cliche'

you thought as you rubbed your chin

''I'm busy,''

''C'mon, just let me take you out.'' he persisted

"I'll pick you up by the time you clock out,''

''I said no-''

Beep

fucken prick

You dreaded leaving work, and having to deal with a huge ego pro-hero exhausted you.

You never wanted more from him. He was the one who approached you, after all.

He went to extreme measures to find out your work location, which did startle you.

Of course, you didn't tell your work friend, knowing if you did, she'd make you go, so you kept this one to yourself.

You looked over to your mini clock located on the right corner of your work desk.

It read 8:30, and your eyes widened.

You groaned running your hand down your face.

god no

You thought to yourself.

Just great, so fucken great

You start thinking of ways to avoid him, but the thought that he is there blocks you from even thinking straight.

Grabbing your purse as you stood up from your chair.

Your phone chimed.

Without a second thought, you opened up the notification.

Hori<3:you wanna go to the bar with me and Shimoda

A wide smile made itself in your features.

And here I thought my luck wasn't any.

With newly made confidence, you grabbed your belongings and made your way to the front door of your work building.

Walking out of the building, the first thing you saw was a sports car, colors red and black.

The windows of the car rolled down and revealed hawks.

He gave you a boyish grin.

As he indicated you come over.

Reluctantly you did, Hawks then got off the car and walked over to the passenger's side, and opened the door for you.

"hawks something came up'' you begin your excuse.

''get in'' He demanded with an apathetic expression.

Whatever gentleness or outgoing aura he had before dissipated completely.

His voice raised, and you felt intimidated.

So you silently stepped into the car. The door slamming was heard, along with him mumbling something you couldn't quite hear from the inside of the vehicle.

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat, as he walked around the car.

The driver's door opened, and he stepped in slamming the door shut, and locking the doors.

He turned his head in your direction and gave you a tight-lipped smile.

''wasn't so hard was it?''

You opted to nod, not trusting your voice, knowing that at any given moment you'll break down into tears.

'' We need to get you something to wear, work clothes aren't very appropriate for this occasion''

Now realizing that he indeed has a nice dress shirt with black dress pants and a Rolex.

And you looked nothing superior to his level. If anything, you seemed like you were nothing.

The drive was about 20 minutes, and it being quiet was very uncomfortable, but you are glad you've finally made it.

The store he'd token you were an indeed expensive and a very well-known store.

Hawks then got off the car and walked over to your side to open the door for you.

You wanted nothing more than to puke.

He reached his hand out for you to take, which you hesitantly took.

The street lamps illuminated his gold irises perfectly. His red crimson wings seemed more contrasted.

He helped you out, closing the door behind you.

He placed his hand on the small of your back as you both walked to the entrance.

You both walked into the store.

Immediately you felt like you didn't belong.

Soon a worker came to assist the two.

She was stunning.

She had lengthy light brown hair with greenish-brown eyes. You were starting to feel envious.

'' How may I help the two of you'' she wore a bright smile.

''I need the finest dress in this shop''

Hawks sounded arrogant, it bugged you. You bite your bottom lip to avoid the commotion.

''all right, come this way, sir''

The women's heels clacked along the white floor as she walked over to a dressing room.

''wait here while I check for it''

He simply nodded as the woman took her to leave.

Hawks called out your name.

You turned your head in his direction.

''yes, hawks''

He then rolled his eyes, glaring at you.

'' Don't call me hawks call me Keigo.''

He wants you to call him by his name? And again, you did comply.

''sorry, I meant to say Keigo'' you corrected yourself.

The widest smile made itself on his features

you could've sworn his eyes were sparkling.

Soon she came back with a dress along with a manager.

''Hawks my man, how you doing'' the man conveyed in a cheerful voice.

''Great, I just need this one to look gorgeous for tonight''

He indicated to you.

Your face started heating as all eyes were on you. You hated too much attention.

''Don't worry we'll get that handled''

The man assured hawks, flashing you a smile.

Soon they left the fitting room to get ''the best dress'' they certainly have in stock.

''I would have gotten a dress tailored for you if I had planned '' Hawks voiced.

''you don't have to''

You stated, waving your hand dismissively.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

You stared at yourself through the mirror, the dress fit perfectly, showing every curve on your body with enhancement.

You wore a black cami cowl neck midi dress, it looked stunning.

Through the mirror of the fitting view, you saw hawks on the bench, licking his lips at the sight of you.

You shyly look away

''I think that's the one, don't you think love?''

You nodded your head, not giving a verbal response.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The restaurant was beyond what you have imagined. The valet opened the doors to the car as you then stepped out.

Hawks walk alongside you with his arm snaked around your waist.

You fiddled with the expensive jewelry on your neck he had brought you before arriving at the restaurant. The pendant had a k with diamonds engraved on the insides of the k. The necklace felt heavy on your neck.

Suddenly you feel something tickle your cleavage. You glance down and notice a crimson feather in between your breast. You stare at it, confused, as you walk side by side with hawks up to the desk.

The waiter seated you shortly after, and you both sat at a secluded table.

''Isn't it perfect Babe'' hawks mussed.

You nodded.

You pulled the feather out of from in between your breast.

holding it in between your fingers

''Keigo why'd you do that?'' you said sternly.

''It's marking my territory, my little nugget.''

''territory? so now I'm owned'' You scoffed.

''Yea'' he said with a wide smile.

You couldn't believe this. What are you some object he can take a liking to, write his name on you?

''unbelievable''

''so, what are you ordering baby?''

The feather in between your finger then began to wiggle out of your hold as it flew its way back to your cleavage.

Looking down at the menu before you. Officially deciding that there was no way you'd make up your mind. All the dishes looked delicious your mouth was watering.

You ended up ordering a salad and water while hawks ordered chicken wings. Which for you was funny you were just about too close to comment on him and his wings but ended up biting your tongue once more.

For some reason was spent how any other couple would.

But you two weren't a couple.

''We should go to this nice hotel I saw-''

''it's getting a little late, and I have work tomorrow,'' you spoke.

Once again, hawk's face dropped, staring at you.

''But we can on my day off'' you tried

In an instant, his face lit up. It was rapid, you thought you were assuming things.

''so this means we'll see each other again?''

''sure''

As you were opening the door of the car to let yourself out, he quickly grabbed your arm and pulled you close.

His lips meet your own in a tender kiss. You felt pubes on his chin against your own. The kiss was short-lived as he then pulled away. Still in shock, you stepped out of the vehicle.

''ill text you later on,'' he said

'' you don't have my number'' you stated

''I do, and ill send you a selfie of myself to prove it''

''wait how'd you even get my phone number,''

''I have my ways, anyways.''

With that being said he wished you goodnight and drove away.

You walked over to the front door of your home.

All you wanted to do at this very moment was to take a warm shower and sleep in your comfy bed.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Your phone chimed repeatedly as you typed away on your laptop. You were just about to turn off the notifications when you read it.

You've seen the media little bird

You furrowed your brows at the nickname.

And wait what did he mean about the media?

The first thing you saw when you opened up the media was some gossip article about hawks. The title grabbed your attention in an instant.

Hawks' latest hookup?

Hawks secretly has a relationship.

Hawks spotted in the spatula restaurant!

What the actual fuck was this?

Your face was all over the media.

You heard whispers around you in your workspace as you scrolled through your phone.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

These past few days have been nothing but gossip about the number two hero and his secret relationship.

Even going as far as having to hide your appearance, you'd have paparazzi tailing you at any given moment to take a shot of you.

A buzz interrupted your train of thought pulling you back into reality.

Flicking your eyes over to the phone. The screen lit up a notification on the lock screen.

Skimming the notification

Annoying bird

New message

In all honesty, you didn't feel like responding. Knowing Keigo, he would probably come over to your house and confront you for not answering in at least 6 minutes.

Opening the message

Let's go out again.

You typed onto the phone's keyboard. Pressing the send button after you've typed your sentence.

I'm busy, maybe next time?

That was a lie, you were currently comfortable on your bed you had decided to call off work not in any mood to be confronted by your coworkers about your ''relationship'' with the hero.

Darting your eyes over to your nightstand you grab the red feather. That was placed on top of it.

Holding it in your hand, you stared into the crimson feather.

At any given moment, this soft delicate feather could turn into a razor-sharp knife, if he wanted it to.

You hummed as you placed it back on the nightstand.

The phone buzzed again

I'm picking you up from your house be there in 5 min

Wait, how´d he know?

You looked over to the feather beside you, brows furrowing in realization.

You heard your balconies sliding doors open, your head snapped to the direction of the noise.

You stepped quietly out of your room looking down the hallway. Eyes squinting to adjust to the darkness.

Now in your living room, you glance over to your balcony door.

It was closed switch locked

But you could´ve sworn you heard the door open

Dragging your feet over to turn on the living room lamp you heard a cabinet shut close.

Making your way over to the kitchen, you felt a strong arm grab you against him, slapping a hand over your mouth and muffling your whimpers.

''little bird, the second you hear someone come into your home you dial 911''

Your eyes widened.

He then let go of you.

Turning over to look him in the face, he wore a smirk.

''you scared me'' you barked.

''This just shows you wouldn't know what to do in that situation. Now I'm worried you can't protect yourself.''

you scoffed.

''no one really barges into my house without telling me first.''

'' I did tell you.''

''no, I told you I was busy'' you remarked.

''busy? you called off work today.''

He spits back.

Crossing your arms, you then said something you´d later come to regret.

''I'm not your girlfriend, stop acting as if I were.''

He stared at you intently, his slit pupils narrowing. His wings spread a bit as he walked over to you. This image of him looked intimidating, placing both his hands on your shoulders.

''you're going to be soon.''

______________⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆____________ /*yandere ml*/ ______________⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆____________

''Your home is small.''

''it's fine'' you retorted.

''you say that now but you´ll soon come to realize this place would be small for our kids to roam around.''

You stared at him with pure disbelief. Why would he imply such a thing, especially after you´d just told him you two were nothing, not even friends?

''Don't worry frills, I got enough money to find us a good enough house.''

He took one more step further close to you.

''no need to look so troubled'' He reached his hand out to cradle your cheek, and you pushed him back away from you.

But it seemed no matter how hard you tried to get away he was always one step ahead.

'' Of course, we´ll do everything the right way we´ll get engaged and have a wedding honeymoon. All that package.''

Suddenly the words caught in our throat, and your heartbeat was banging against your ears.

''it won't be the same as my parents did, I'll protect you and our soon-to-come family. And provide you with your needs. You'll be a queen.''

All of a sudden breathing was now hard to do.

You didn't dare move an inch.

As the feather was now against your neck, no longer soft but in its sharp form.

Those gold eyes stared directly into your awaiting an answer.

You swallowed hard, breathing in sharply.

slowly nodding your head.

At this, he beamed with excitement, the corners of his eyes crinkled along with his pearl-white canines in view.

He then embraced you in a not-too-tight but not-too-loose embrace.

Wings enclosing around you.

Your face was flushed against his chest.

''You really were meant for me, baby bird. ''

Too scared to even bite back you nodded against his chest.

The aroma of his cologne enveloped your senses.

''can't wait to be a Takami huh?''

you bite hard on your tongue to prevent yourself from saying something you'd regret.

''You no longer have to worry about financial shit'' He assured you in that sick sweet voice he's fooled many with.

''Your main concerns will only consist of worrying about the kids and the house being neat and cleaned'' His voice became soft in a soothing voice, almost too good to be true.

____________

''How'd you get my ring size?'' You questioned.

You don't remember ever giving it to him.

''remember that feather?'' he questioned.

As you recalled that feather that had curled around your finger as he told you it would be your temporary ring. A way to let many know you belonged to him. And every individual who saw it had an idea of who.

You nod your head.

Staring down at your hand

no doubt this ring must have cost more than what you earn a salary a year.

Although the ring fit perfectly, it felt, as if it were cutting off your finger's circulation.

''beautiful huh?''

''yes''

This ring should not be on you, but on someone who really was in a happy engagement, and you were certainly not.

''I tried to find one that was good enough for you, but if this is not what you want, I'll find you another.''

''no, it's okay, this one’s alright.''

''alright?'' he questioned eyes sharp.

You cleared your throat ''I meant divine it's beautiful.''

''not as much as you are frills.''

#hawks x you #yandere hawks x reader #hawks x y/n #bnha hawks #hawks x reader #bird boy #keigo x reader #keigo tamaki #my fic writing #all criticism appreciated #hawks x female reader

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stormblessed95 · 3 months ago

Note

Okay, so you probably don’t follow Stray Kids and won’t really get this and that’s fine, but I just had to share ‘cause my mind is like… a little blown right now. So for years now most of the SKZ fandom has been suspecting that the possibility that Minho and Jisung are like… romantically together is a real one. Not even in a shippy way; like they have their shippers, but plenty of people who don’t “ship” them are still like “yeah, they’re probably together.” They very frequently just kind of… do things that make people raise eyebrows, you know?

Notably: Jisung has pointed to Minho when a poster asked who his girlfriend was (I think something similar actually happened multiple times). Jisung recently allegedly introduced himself as Minho’s boyfriend at a music show (2 diff. sources, but it’s not really verifiable). There’s an infamous live where a commenter asks Jisung, “Do you have a husband?” And he responds, “Not yet.” To which Chan unprompted (like Minho wasn’t even in the room with them) says, “Isn’t [Minho] your husband.” (This was interesting to me regardless of Minsung because of the whole “yet” thing when responding to a question about having a “husband”, male specifically, thing.) Their entire episode of 2 Kids Room is just… interesting.

And that’s just some of them, if I were to list and source all of the things they’ve done over the years it would take ages. Anyway, the kids recently renewed their contracts with JYPE and they split into dorms of pairs (they previously lived 4-4 separately). Anyway, Minho and Jisung are one of those pairs and Hyunjin was like, “Minho and Jisung are together, no surprise.” Their reaction to that comment was also interesting, low key. (Oh, and for context they were previously spilt up between the two dorms.)

I don’t ship them or anything, but it’s actually crazy bro. I’m like sitting here in shock. I’m not really looking for your opinion or anything; you probably don’t know enough about the situation to give one, it’s just like—I have no words. Sorry I just had to share ‘cause I’m just a little befuddled. Nobody actually thought that this was happening. People were speculating because of cars and stuff that they had switched dorms, but even I was like like, “I’m staying out of this speculation. Who knows, let’s wait for confirmation.” And well we got confirmation. And they can actually say it cause it’s not weird if everybody’s in pairs, right? Guess it will be interesting to see if they ever move out or if in the future when everybody else has their own place, they’re like, “Well, we’re already living together and I guess we don’t really see a reason to move just yet.” I don’t know… I’m just really fascinated by all this. Not “excited,” like I said I don’t ship them, genuinely fascinated. Obviously, it’s not a whole relationship confirmation or anything and I would say I’m maybe 60/40(?) on the whole thing. In the end, I don’t think anybody needs to know and I don’t particularly care myself to 100% know, but it’s still a little crazy to me.

I have a friend who follows stray kids and they have been filling me in a little bit on who the members are and they also have apparently been eyeing this pair the same as you! I'll be sending them this post too lol, hope that's okay! I really don't know much about this group at all, but I am learning a little bit through osmosis from my friend 😂🥰 I do actually really enjoy the songs of theirs I've heard too

This is who popped up when I typed their names into the gif search, so hopefully that's right!

Thanks for sharing with me 💜❤️

#stray kids #minho #jisung #other fandoms

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teratalia · 1 year ago

Text

Funouhan yandere: Usobuki TadashixReader

I wrote most of this while bored at work ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

AO3 link!!

Quick notes: fem reader, ngl I tried to stay as close to canon as humanly possible, description of death, no smut (yet)

“Haha…how pitiful humans are.”

“What?” You turn around, not sure if the stranger was talking to you. “Can I help you with something?”

“Maybe you can.” The man steps up to you, ruffling his messy dark hair with a casual grin. “I’m lost, I think. I’m looking for the closest convenience store, can you direct me?”

“Oh, sure! I’m actually headed there now, if you follow me,” you reply with a friendly smile. You don’t feel the need to be too cautious because it’s daylight and there are plenty of people around, and you keep your wits around you even when guiding this person.

“Thanks. I’m Tadashi, I appreciate it.”

You introduce yourself and shake his hand, which is oddly cold to the touch. Judging by the pale skin and bags under his eyes, you almost liken him to a vampire. Attractive like one too, in a weird way.

“Are you looking for anything specific?” You ask as you head into the store.

“Yeah, cat toys and cat food and cat beds and…”

With a giggle, you point him in the direction of the pet supplies. “New cats, huh?”

“Yeah, they’re a handful,” he says with an exaggerated yawn. “Thanks, miss. Maybe we’ll cross paths again.”

You do your own shopping and leave the store, headed back home. By the time you get home, you notice an extra box that you don’t remember picking up. It’s some of your favorite cookies with a little handwritten note: Thanks for today. Enjoy. - Tadashi

“Wow, how’d he sneak this in my cart without me noticing? Oh well, free cookies,” you shrug, taking a quick look at the box. It was unopened and not tampered with at all, so you happily pop it open and grab a cookie, taking a big bite.

With a hum, you savor the bite, settling down in front of the TV and putting on whatever as you eat. You zone out as commercials play.

“So, how are the cookies?”

With a yelp, you nearly drop the box, spinning to see Tadashi standing nearby, grinning at you.

“How the hell did you get in my apartment?” You yell, scooting to the other side of the couch. He sits at the farthest end, leaning back as if he owned the place.

“The door was left open.”

“No, it definitely wasn’t!”

He chuckles and shrugs. “Believe me or not, are you sure you want to keep eating those cookies? Look again.”

Ice cold fear runs through your veins. Had he done something to the cookies, after all? You open the box again, staring at normal-looking cookies. As he watches, you pick one up, inspecting it at all angles and even sniffing it.

“What’d you do to these cookies, Tadashi? They look normal…but whatever, I don’t want them anymore.” You toss the box at him, which he catches perfectly.

His eyebrows are raised, and he stares at you in shock. Slowly, he smiles again, though there’s something so off-putting about his expression.

“I didn’t do anything, actually. I just thought I’d play a little prank on my new friend.”

“Friend? Since when are we friends? I gave you directions exactly once and then you broke into my place–”

“Came in through the unlocked door–”

“And now you’re insisting we’re friends? Get out already!”

Tadashi full-on laughs as he stands up, taking the cookie box with him. “You’re a fun one, I like you. Be seeing you.”

And you did start to see him after that, the messy-haired man with the cold eyes and dark aura. More and more, you saw him: out of the corner of your eye when walking down the street, chatting casually with your coworkers during your lunch breaks, sidling up to you after work to hang out, inviting himself over to your apartment on weekends with a cat in tow. You didn’t really have a choice in the matter, and somehow you actually did end up becoming friends, though more out of pity on your end. You sensed that he was lonely and probably didn’t have other friends, and that’s why he liked bothering you so much. So you accepted it, let him visit you with cats (an added bonus), let him join you on lunch breaks, let him insert himself into your life little by little.

At some point, he’d basically moved into your place with his cats, though you made him give up a handful of them for adoption so now you were down to a manageable three. (“And good riddance! You can keep him, young lady!” said his former landlord.) Sometimes he would leave during odd hours of the night and come back at random times, and whenever you asked he simply dodged the question. All he would tell you is that he’s working. On what, you probably wouldn’t ever know, but at least he managed to keep up his part of the rent every month.

One day, the two of you are walking arm in arm through the local park when someone shouts your boyfriend’s name. Surprised because you don’t normally see him interact with others, you turn to see a man in a suit run up to you, looking frantic and frazzled.

“Ah, if it isn’t Detective Tada.” Tadashi sounds pleased. “Have I introduced my girlfriend to you?”

“Oh wow, a friend of Tadashi’s? It’s nice to meet you, Detective.” You shake his hand as he glances between the two of you, clearly a little speechless. Eventually he reins it in and forces an awkward smile.

“Nice to meet you, ma’am. Usobuki is such a troublemaker and I haven’t seen him in a while so I was getting worried.”

You glance up at your boyfriend, who merely shrugs. Did he have run-ins with the law in the past? “He’s fine, he’s with me and our cats a lot. Did you need something?”

“No, ma’am. Just…” The detective narrows his eyes. “There have been some odd disappearances in the area lately. Be careful, okay? Here’s my number if you ever need…help.” Tada glares at Tadashi before nodding to you, slipping his business card into your hand.

“Thanks, Detective.”

“Thanks for your hard work, Detective Tada. See you round.” Tadashi winks and pulls you away before Tada can say anything more. He stares after you with worry etched into his face.

“You’re friends with a detective, Tadashi?” You ask. “Since when?”

“Due to my…work, you could say. I have to work closely with law enforcement from time to time.”

You gasp, looking up at him with sparkling eyes. “You work with law enforcement? How cool! I bet you guys are working on the disappearances, huh? How noble.” No wonder he couldn’t tell you much about the job, it was probably top secret, you rationalize his actions in your head.

He chuckles at your naivety, secretly glad you’re not pressing the topic. “That’s right, babe. And that’s why I want you to be careful, okay? There are all sorts of people out here, not all as nice as me.”

You nudge his shoulder playfully. “I don’t know if ‘nice’ is how I would describe you, sweetie, but if you say so.”

***

After a really difficult day at work, you come home to fling yourself into your boyfriend’s lap, cuddling one of your cats as you ramble about your most annoying coworker.

“Ugh, it’s like Akane has something against me!” You complain, scratching the cat behind her ears. “She keeps trying to throw me under the bus. I’m glad my boss knows I’m a good worker and was on my side, but what is her deal? It’s like she’s trying to turn others against me. Our other coworker, Yuuto, even told her to back off.”

“Hmm…” Tadashi hums quietly, rubbing your back in soothing circles. “Would you like me to help you?”

“You’re already helping,” you mumble, nuzzling into him as your cat purrs in your arms. “And little Hazuki is also very helpful, aren’t you, girl?” She meows her agreement. Satoka and Suzuki are both curled up nearby, napping together in a patch of sunlight.

“No, my dear. Is there a…request you wish me to fulfill?” His voice is quiet in your ear, tone light with something odd simmering below the surface.

You stiffen as a chill runs down your spine. You’re not sure if he’s joking anymore, and you’re afraid to ask what he means.

“N-no, it’s fine,” you mumble. “It’s just some petty squabbles, is all.”

“Are you sure? You don’t want me to, say, make this Akane stop bothering you at work?” Why does he sound hopeful?

“No, Tadashi.” You try to be more firm. “Whatever you’re thinking, I don’t want it.”

“Okay, okay.” He sighs, burying his face in your neck. “I’d gladly help you if you would just ask. You could be my favorite client, you know.”

“No, thank you. Don’t bring your work home.”

“No promises.” He gently nips at your neck, making you giggle.

Unfortunately his work does end up following you, in the weirdest of ways. Barely days after that little chat, Tadashi’s mood starts to change. You notice that he’s more protective of you, pushing you away from the street as you walk down the sidewalk, always there waiting patiently for you to come home from work, sometimes even bringing you back home himself. As you leave the building, you see him stare over your head at someone, and turn just in time to see Akane walking away. Maybe you saw that wrong, because how would he possibly know what she looks like?

As all this is happening in your home life, there’s an odd shift at work as well. Akane starts being nicer to you, offering to grab you a coffee or buy you lunch every so often. Even as she smiles at you, it never reaches her eyes. Eventually you call her out for being so weird with you, and she sighs.

“Look, I just wanted to apologize for being so nasty to you this past year. You’re not a bad employee at all; if anything, you’re a great employee. We all know it. I just have a hard time apologizing. Tell you what, can I treat you to some food tonight? I’ll buy you dinner, how about it?”

You agree, albeit reluctantly. If this makes her stop being weird, then fine.

When you mention this new plan to your boyfriend, his expression doesn’t change. “Have fun,” is all he says.

You go out to meet her that night, and she takes you to this expensive, exclusive sushi place. You’re escorted to a private room and they just start bringing out dish after dish, with heaps of side dishes and alcohol to go with it.

When you look to Akane, she just says, “It’s on me. Enjoy it.”

She pours the both of you a drink and clinks glasses with you before taking a sip. Following suit, you drink, only to notice that the liquid tastes off. There’s a strange saltiness that it shouldn’t have, and you put the glass down and gag a little.

“What is that? If it’s expensive, you need to get your money back.”

Akane laughs, practically cackling. You stare in horror as she reveals a small bottle filled with cloudy, translucent liquid, marked with a blank label.

“I can assure you, I’m getting my money’s worth. Just not in the way you think.”

Throwing the little bottle down onto the table, she stands, laughing even louder.

“Finally, I’m getting rid of you! My biggest rival.”

Rival? You never thought of her as more than an annoying coworker, so did she see you as an arch nemesis this whole time? You think it would probably make things worse if you told her that she was never more than a brief thought in your mind, so you kept quiet.

“Yes, you’re a good employee, but you’ve always been so stuck up! You always thought you were better than me!”

“You could have just, I don’t know, worked on improving your skills instead of focusing on me?” You mumble under your breath. Akane is too wrapped up in her monologue to hear.

“And even Yuuto, my darling Yuuto, stood up for you and defended you!”

“Darling?” You ask incredulously. “Isn’t he married? Isn’t this year his fifth marriage anniversary?”

“So what?” She screeches, nails gouging into the wooden table. “He knows that we are meant to be! I know that he will leave his wife for me…when I finally get rid of you.”

“Yuuto and I are just friendly coworkers,” You say, trying to calm her down. “Neither of us have said anything remotely flirtatious. Like, ever.”

“Oh, shut up! You might have fooled everyone, but you never fooled me! And now, within the hour, you’ll be gone and I’ll be here to take your place! At work, and in Yuuto’s life!”

Right, the liquid she snuck into your cup. You guessed it was poison, but really it only tasted like overly salty water. And you didn’t feel any different, so maybe you could bide your time and get to a hospital.

“Okay, I think that’s enough.” Tadashi gave a heavy sigh, entering the private room.

“Ah, Usobuki! You’ve already fulfilled your end of the bargain, and now my rival will die, so I don’t need your services anymore.”

“Yeah, about that. We’ve had a change of plans, actually. Look at the bottle again.”

Akane picked it up and gasped. “It…is this even poison? It doesn’t look like it! What did you do, Usobuki?” She glared at him, but something in his expression turned her anger into horror.

“It is poison, actually. But are you sure you put it in the right cup?”

Instantly, she reeled back, clutching at her own throat.

“No…no, why…this isn’t what I wanted…”

A dark chuckle. “No, it’s what I wanted.”

“Th-then if I’ll die, I’m going to take her with me–!”

You reel back in your chair, but she doesn’t head your way. Instead, she lunges into the table between you, sending plates flying. Akane makes a choking sound, and you realize something is lodged in her throat.

“It’s just a small rice ball, spit it out!” You cry, frozen in place.

“Is it just a rice ball? They did bring out sea urchins, too,” says Tadashi, and Akane’s eyes bulge. Spots of blood appear all over her neck, as if it’s being punctured from the inside. Eventually, Akane’s whole body goes limp, eyes rolling in the back of her head, never to open again.

It’s hard to breathe. You can’t figure out what just happened, and your chest heaves as your eyes fill with tears.

“Hey, hey. Look at me. It’s okay. Breathe with me slowly.” Tadashi is kneeling in front of you, blocking the view of the scene behind him. With his help, you get your breathing under control, but you still can’t stop from crying.

Gently, he pulls you up, bringing you out of the private room. The restaurant host sees your distress and asks about it.

All you can say is, “I couldn’t help her,” while trying not to burst into loud sobs.

“I think her friend was allergic and just didn’t know,” explains Tadashi as he guides you out of the building. Before you know it, you’re back at home, curled around a pillow in bed crying your eyes out as the cats gather around you, clearly worried about you.

The next day, you wake up with a headache, eyes still stinging from crying yourself to sleep. Gratefully you grab the painkillers and wash them down with the glass of water, all conveniently on your nightstand, only for the memories of last night to come rushing back. You double over, coughing on your water, hoping that the pills you just took weren’t poison after all.

“My dear, you’re awake.” Tadashi appears at your side out of nowhere, patting you on the back. Instantly you recoil from him, putting pillows as a barrier in between you. As you finish your coughing fit, Tadashi smiles sadly at you.

“L-leave me alone,” you gasp.

“Oh, my darling. Normally I’m used to horrified stares, but I don’t like it coming from you.” His pout, which you would normally find charming, just makes you angrier.

“If you aren’t going to leave, then explain,” you practically spit at him, glaring daggers.

“I had hoped you would never find out, but I suppose it had to happen. So. My mysterious job that you don’t know about. I’m an assassin. I take clients who put murder requests at a certain phone booth in the city.”

He says all this so casually that you almost don’t believe him, but you couldn’t begin to understand yesterday without this.

“You kill people.” Your voice is a nearly unrecognizable monotone. “But how did you kill Akane without touching her?”

Tadashi explains to you about his method of killing. As much as you don’t want to hear it, you feel like you need to know, so you listen to him describe his hypnotism and tricking people into hallucinated deaths or suicides.

“It is the ultimate defense, the impossibility defense. Because who can convict me when there is zero physical evidence of me doing anything?”

You stare down at the pillow in your lap as you clutch onto it like a lifeline.

“Akane was the client who introduced me to you way back then,” Tadashi explained.

You could barely look him in the eye anymore, but you motion weakly for him to continue.

“She wanted you gone for a while now. That first time she commissioned me to kill you was the day I first met you, and you guided me to the store. You were supposed to eat the cookies, see them as acid-covered balls of razor wire, and choke to death.” He says all this so matter-of-factly, it makes you sick. “But that didn’t happen. You’re immune to my hypnotism, my dear, and that’s what makes you special.”

“So why didn’t you just kill me some other way?” you whisper.

He shrugs. “Didn’t want to. Not like that. And I decided I already liked you. So I hypnotized Akane to forget that she ever requested your death. But she ended up trying again, so this time I’d had enough of her and decided to get rid of her before she did something to you herself.”

Don’t justify killing her like you’re doing it for my benefit, you think to yourself.

“So you’re a murderer who never does his own killing and can’t be proven to be a murderer. Yet you call yourself an assassin, like it’s cool? Like a vigilante or something? But aren’t you doing this for your own sick pleasure?”

For a moment, you worry that your sharp words might anger him, but he simply laughs. “Isn’t it interesting to watch how humans think, the way they act? Such fools, thinking they can get rid of their problems so easily by hiring me. But humans are so foolish, so hopeless. I do this because they ask me to. And I’ve steadily lost faith in humanity…until I met you.” He pins you with his intense gaze. “You’re different. Any darkness in you is dwarfed by the light. You could have asked me to get rid of Akane, and I would have gladly done so for you. But you never did. You even tried to help her after she tried to kill you with salty water. I find you fascinating. Won’t you help me regain my hope for humanity?”

Stunned, you say nothing. He caresses your face gently before getting up and leaving, probably to give you some space.

The cold touch of his skin lingers on yours, sending shards of ice into your heart. What does it matter that you don’t fall for his hypnotism, when you’re trapped with him regardless?

The door opens a crack to reveal a cat, pushing his face through to meow at you. Suzuki trots up to you, jumping into your lap and rubbing his face against your shirt.

You know that the cats can’t open the doors by themselves, so Tadashi must have opened it for him. Why did he have to be so nice, even after all this?

Lying down with the cat in your arms, you shut your eyes, stinging with unshed tears. You pretend not to notice that Tadashi is peeking through the doorway at you, brow furrowed with quiet concern.

#funouhan #yandere funouhan #usobuki tadashi x reader #yandere boyfriend #my writing #he's the worst. i love him sm #tbh i think their relationship is him asking to kill for her and her going 'babe no'#anyway i wanna do at least one more part with lemon. hopefully #also maybe including tada more. detective my beloved

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