#instincts season 1

[magicandmundane]

Crosshair really said, “Kids aren’t your area of expertise” and Hunter took it personally lmao

[strangerwheelerthings]

Nancy is fascinating to me because here's this teenage girl who's very much a teenage girl. She's not even old enough to drive in season one, and she worried about boys. But then, whenever people are in danger, it's as if a switch is flipped. A very different switch to when she alone is in danger, mind you.

When there's someone else to worry about, she starts operating in a Fight mindset that's different from anyone else. She's impulsive to an extreme. She loses all sense of self-preservation. Any sense of hesitation and trauma just gets completely repressed till the dangers over.

Just, I don't know how to express how Insane I am over her and the fact that her desire to protect was so strong that she Immediately pointed a gun at the person she was trying to protect; at 15. She lost any care for how this might look or anything else because her mind had become too deadset on getting Steve as far away from the danger as soon as humanly possible. It was impulsive and dumb... and an incredibly genius move that could have worked really well, except she forgot to factor in the way other people freeze in the face of danger.

That's just not even an option in her mind. She sees an unknown glowy portal while trying to save her best friend? She dives in. A little boy is possessed and hurting the people he loves most? She stabs him with a hot fire poker. She sees a car charging her brother and friends down? She stands in between them and shoots. A friend gets pulled underwater? She jumps in right after. Max and her family are being threatened? She decides to Murder a monster as fast as possible with her on the very front line.

It doesn't always work. She's a teenage girl; she's not exactly a tactical warfare expert. Yet, this apparent fearlessness is noticed by everyone around her and they all follow her lead and turn to her for direction.

Meanwhile, she knows that she tends to act like that when she's drowning the most.

Then, when the danger is over, she cries and she shuts down and she remembers she's just a little girl again and she doesn't know how to be that anymore. She's stuck in a fight and protect and just survive mode that she has no idea how to escape.

[larry-is-my-anchor1]

Season six episode 4 of 911, called Animal Instincts, have I mentioned how much I love this show? It’s obvious isn’t it? Ok, but they play really good music. They’re playing Queens Fat Bottom Girls for goodness sake. hey have the banter down well.

Hen, Chim and Eddie are discussing Christopher lying to Eddie.

Eddie notices Buck is quiet, and tries to bring him into the conversation. However, Buck is lost in his own thoughts since a college buddy had asked him to be a sperm donor.

Then Buck hops on a bicycle when the 118 are at the science of a drunk driving accident, and he is chasing the car down because Chim is inside. Eddie yells to Buck with his hands in the air in exasperation, asking him where he is off to, knowing it’s dangerous.

But Buck always leads with his heart and soul. Giving recurving. Oh god writers Eddie could give him evening back. They already are give one another everything. Why can’t they realize they’re inlove? Why?!!!

Evan is truly selfless.

Hoover is adorable. Happy he’s well.

[swan2swan]

Jurassic World: Camp Cretaceous

"The Last Stand"

[skitskatdacat63]

Look at themmmmmm 🥹

[starlight-archer]

You know what, the ATLA live action has a fair few flaws with some characterisation, pacing etc. , but I enjoyed it, it was fun to watch and I liked it a lot, I think the casting was really good and I'm excited for a season 2 and 3.

However I think that what would have fixed its pacing is if they had 10 episodes instead of only 8. They tried to rush through too much plot at once and squashed it together a little too much. The original season 1 is 20 episodes, meaning 10 would be like combining 2 episodes for each one, which I think would work much better than squishing 3 or 4 into one.

The devil is in the detail after all, and they lost a lot of detail trying to contain everything into only 8 episodes. I hope they have more episodes for season 2 and 3 because I think it would help a lot with the pacing and give more opportunity for character exploration and growth.

Also let Zuko be obsessed with his Honour, let Aang be more playful and actually learn waterbending and let Katara be angry and bold.

[houseswife]

as much as I love cuddy, foreman becoming house’s boss in season 8 was such an IT girl move I CANNOT

[katierosefun]

deranged thought of the day is that each of harvey specter’s exes reflect mike ross somehow. anyways

[navree]

i say this as someone who felt the show had good bones, someone who, like grrm, has liked some of the changes they've made in this show like helaena's dragon dreaming and aegon's fatherhood and rhaenicent (i'm a big ole rhaenicent shipper y'all know that) and adding in the lore about aegon the conqueror also having targaryen prophetic abilities, but this is just spot on. this is the exact same thing i was talking about when discussing how cutting nettles makes all these problems for how the tory moves on going forward. f&b isn't crafted like a narrative but it is still fiction, grrm chose certain pieces based on what would make the best story. and some of the changes the show made create a weaker story (b&c is incredibly weaker both in the immediate deed and its aftermath/effect on the audience than if they had been faithful to the book description, for example), and more drastically, are making the sequence of events that has to come in the next two seasons borderline nonsensical. and that is a problem that should be called out, because it's not book purism, it's recognizing subpar writing.

[brionysea]

i was gonna make mike love the byers dog in this fic anyway because it's cute (and also sad when you remember he dies after season 1 as if mike didn't have enough loss to deal with already) but 1) david harbour hating the dog makes that so much funnier (even if hopper was chill with it) and 2) (with manifestation theory in mind) the dog always knowing when something's up like barking at the ominously unlocking door and the lights and the shed and knowing when will was in castle byers has some interesting implications for just how familiar he was with mike

[zanderbobs]

Keep watching succession and getting mad that the characters have no moral compass as if this isn't the 'absence of moral compass' show

[legends-and-savages]

Tag Dump

[inkskinned]

which is fine, because love is love, and you're getting gay-married, so it would be kind of ironic if love was only sometimes love.

except The King Of Demons (his is Edmund) is always late, to everything, always. which is fair, because time doesn't work in hell, and it's not like he can just catch a bus. except that you specifically asked him not to do this, didn't you, because he's always doing things like this.

He splays out his hands, the light catching on long, ivory claw tips. god, doesn't he know not to wear white to a wedding?

so many people are screaming right now.

it's not that he's the golden child. you guys had normal parents, middle-class. your mom was kind of an "almond mom," according to your fiancée, who pursed their lips when they found out about how your mom used to wrinkle her nose any time you asked for an extra snack in your lunchbox.

you close your eyes for a moment. think of your beautiful almost-spouse. ashe. their name like a bloom inside you. how the dress looks on ashe's body, their shy little smile. how they'd walked down the aisle, and you'd both been half-laughing, half-crying. your hands had trembled when you saw them. like the whole world was pouring down your throat, golden. like you were catching a moment and casting it in amber.

ashe'd been the one to help you when your parents were pushing for you to invite edmund. god, the amount of fights you'd gotten in with your parents - the same six sentiments, over and over again.

you'd been sitting on your bed, biting your lip, your fingers hovering over the little button send. ashe'd nuzzled your neck. you used to be close, and i think that's important. but you know your relationship to him the most. i'm willing to make the effort, and i love you no matter what you choose, they'd said. we don't have to if you don't want to, though, no matter what your parents say about him.

you'd thrown yourself down, supine, arm over the eyes. he's just... we are just.... you tried to phrase that-which-is-love-and-rage.

you're the normal twin. your "big thing" was only "being a lesbian." in high school, edmund started being able to make birds die by looking at them. you came home, trying to tell your parents i kissed a girl. i think i'm - and they just kind of nodded at you. edmund was eating the bible in front of them, like a goat.

on the bed, you'd held your hands out vaguely to ashe. edmund is a just always a lot.

ashe had shrugged. don't invite him then. and it was that - that they were okay with either of your decisions - that is why he even got an invite, in the end.

and now here he is, like how you wanted (?), and your hands are red, clenched hard around your bouquet. the officiant is crying. some people are on their knees, praying. some are trying to touch your brother, like he could impart a blessing.

"i made it!" he's triumphant. "i know i'm late, i'm sorry, there was - do you know anything about right-wing politicians?"

"i'm going to fucking kill him," you say, although you're not actually sure who you're talking to, or if he can be killed.

ashe is blinking, their face in a tiny oh of surprise. you take their hand, drop their hand, take their hand again. they blink at your brother. their voice is low but steady. "there's, um. is there a dark halo around him?"

you duck your head to meet their eyes. "fuck, ashe. i'm sorry. he wasn't supposed to -"

"did i miss it?" Edmund is swinging his head around far-too-wide. his 2 sets of horns leave little red mist any time they scour through the air. "I didn't miss the kiss, right?"

the town clerk is in the audience, and she's frowning. you send her an apologetic look. she shakes her head. "as we've discussed," she manages to throw her gentle voice over the din, "the wedding isn't official if someone objects. that is the legal statute. which people tend to be understanding of." she sends a dirty look to edmund, and that makes you love her. she seems completely calm, which makes sense, because she works in the town hall, and this probably isn't even her first demon-showing-up-at-a-wedding.

he somehow hears her, holds his hands up. "i'm not objecting!" the back of the event hall catches on fire. of-fucking-course. "i'm not - don't mind me, uh, please continue." edmund sends a look to the back-of-the-room fire and it whimpers and gutters out. he flashes you a winning smile, and then puts his hand to his king's-garb chest and mouths sorry! and then cartwheels his glittering talons to say go ahead.

"i think i'm going to throw up." the officiant's voice is barely a whisper.

you watch in horror as edmund tries to awkwardly slide into a waiting line of chairs. the sound of begging follows him, people on their knees at hell's king. he pats a few of them on the head, holding up his finger in a sheepish shh! while his touch leaves a bleeding rune on their skin. his hooves click, and his footprints leave ruby-bright fireroses in his wake.

he tries to sit down, but the wooden chairs are made for people and not the lord king of demons, so he has to span his furred hindquarters over two seats. he smiles again, offers you a little wave.

the room is dead silent, minus the weeping. you look back to ashe. you ruined this. you shouldn't have invited him. you spent so much money on this event, and ashe looks so fucking handsome, and you haven't even gotten to kiss them. to make it official.

ashe looks up at you, manages a little smile. "could be worse?"

you feel yourself start to smile too, but then edmund's chairs give out, and he falls directly on the floor, and with his startled yelp, everything around him bursts into the cold whip-crease of hellflame, disintegrating everything that isn't-a-person, including the flowers and the decorations and the cake and the tables. everything you saved for months to be able to afford. the venue that you both agonized over choosing. you picked this place because it was significant to both of you and was equidistant from both your parents and had a deal with the local hotel for people coming out of town. two years of planning, literally burning down around your ears.

edmund manages to stop the fire pretty much immediately, but it's too late. the officiant faints clear away. the town clerk gives you a sympathetic look and mouths see you soon and steps neatly out of the room, taking ashe's parents with her, chatting gently. an arched flower frame collapses into dust with a loud whoomp. pretty much nobody is left in the building, and you're standing at the top of the steps, at the fucking hour of your marriage, and there is nothing left but blue-cold embers, the lights blown out in favor of the eerie hellfire glow.

you sit down, hard. after a few seconds, you feel ashe sit down next to you. you put your head between your knees so you don't puke with rage, which would be somehow more humiliating than everything else happening at the moment.

"okay, it's definitely too soon," they whisper in your ear, "but i have to admit there is something that's going to be so funny later about my name being ashe and my wedding going up in flames." they wrap their hand in yours. "i can't believe we worried about candles. we should have just gone with them instead of worrying about safety. are you okay?"

you send them a look. "am i - am i okay? this absolute bitch -" you gesture with your free hand out to where edmund is trying to piece together the cinders of his chair, "ruined my fucking wedding."

your mom is standing awkwardly in what used to be the "family" row of chairs. your father is absent, of course. she makes a noise at you. "don't call your brother a bitch."

"oh my fucking god." you have to put your head between your knees again, fighting that stupid fucking rage-puke urge. your blood pressure has obviously reached "skyrocket".

"he's here, isn't he? you're not being particularly grateful," your mother says, because of course she does.

"oh my god! ohmygod. ohmygod." you feel yourself hyperventilating, and then you start laughing, and you hate the hyena hysteria of it, the way it pitches dangerously close to a sob. "this is just - this is just like you! this is the fucking - you blow out the candles on the birthday cake! you curse the kids i'm trying to babysit! you get straight-A's on every test without studying, and get all the friends, and everyone is obsessed with you! and then when i graduate from art school, do i fucking get a party? nope! but hey, let's throw edmund a party for his 300,000th tortured soul! and his 300,001st! and fucking everything else. and fuck me, i guess! edmund gets hurt on the playground, let's burn down the playground. i got fucking bullied, and our parents don't even notice. i am fucking struggling, but we need to pay attention to edmund. he gets fucking everything. while we're at it, why don't we let him fucking ruin my wedding!"

you are dimly aware of ashe wrapping one arm around you and then the other, and then you are sobbing into their shoulder.

"oh, come on. stop with the hysterics," your mother chides you. "you had a perfectly fine childhood. all kids fight. you should have gotten the ceremony done faster. and you know i didn't approve of you spending all this money when you have student loans to -"

"respectfully," ashe's voice is cold and cutting while they rub circles on your shaking back, "and i know you're about to be my mother-in-law, but -" you hear them force a smile, "maybe you could choose this moment to leave your daughter the fuck alone?"

you are so fucking in love with ashe at that moment that it stops your weeping like you got hit by a truck. you look up at them, and want to go back to crying, just overwhelmed by the sheer fucking amount you care about them, but then you look over at your mother, and her shocked expression, and you burst out laughing.

your mother makes a few almost fish-like motions with her mouth, and then turns on her heel, stomping over cinders on her way out. and then it is just you and ashe and edmund and how you are half-crying half-laughing quietly to yourself, like a tap that won't stop dripping.

edmund has put the chair down. he is staring at his hands. he is at least 500 pounds and over 7 feet tall (he doesn't use metric, he's the devil). and somehow, right now, he just looks... small. crestfallen.

"yeah, i mean." his voice cracks. there's no boom of thunder or hellhound echo. he sounds like he did as a kid, before the strange powers and the levitating and the souls of the damned. he sounds like he did the night he accidentally melted most of the pieces in your first glass art show. he sounds - like your brother. he puts the heel of his palm against his eye. "i ruined my sister's wedding."

ashe offers him a little half-grin. "i do just want to say i love the aesthetic, by the way. but you did very much ruin my wedding too."

he points at them, finger-guns. "....ruined their wedding too." something in the attempt at humor - how his voice breaks on the words, how lonely he sounds. it makes you have to close your eyes against the sound. "....you seem cool," he says. "it's... it was nice to meet you."

you hear him come over, his hooves clacking slowly on the floor. when you open your eyes, he's sitting closer to you.

he opens his hand. inside are two little ceramic figures. wedding cake toppers. "i... i made them for you two. i figured i would try - how you make art, without magic. i... i took a class, and i made - i made them." he looks down at the little white-dressed people in his wide, calloused palm. "it's... i wanted to be ... good. i..." he looks at you, and then at ashe. "i tried, you know?"

ashe reaches up, lets him roll the figures into their palm.

he stands up. folds his hands in front of himself. "i don't. know how to be good. i know it doesn't come naturally to you, either. i saw you... choose. to be kind. you could have treated me different, too. like everybody? i was weird, and everyone knew. if you'd been ... mean? it would have been okay. but you." he shrugs. "one time you tried to kill me in the bathroom."

you don't know why you're crying. you look up at him through the cracks between your fingers. "twice," you croak. "but the second time i had a knife." you tuck your hair behind your ears. "but that was only after you pushed me down the stairs at grandma's and i broke my leg before a dance performance. you fuckin' deserved that one."

"i pushed you because you were being a wretched bitch."

"hey now," ashe says, a little edge to their voice, "that's my wife."

you squeeze their hand. "no, he's right. i had deleted his pokemon gold save file right before the elite four."

ashe drops your hand like you scalded them, showing the only horror you've seen this whole time. "you - girl, what the fuck?"

you shrug a little. "i was being a wretched bitch. and he did break my leg about it."

edmund shifts a little. "i just - you are...." his voice dies.

in your family, you don't say i love you. in your family, you don't touch each other or show affection. in your family, you just show up for each other, quietly. neither of you knows how to speak or process what needs to be said. you can see that lacking flashing over his face, literally playing out in shades of crimson. you get that weird twin-sense of something unsaid.

ashe sets the little ceramic people to the side. "she treated you like a person when everyone else treated you like a prophet."

you cut your eyes to them, and then edmund, who gives you one very short, sharp nod. "i, uh. i can. never try." he clears his throat. "i can never try hard enough. for that. i can - what you gave me. by. doing that. by ... just. i made. one thousand. wedding toppers. so it could be perfect. because - i ... it needed to be perfect." he appears to be dying of embarrassment, which does imply he might be capable of dying. oh good. in case i need to try to kill him a third time.

the thought makes a weird, wet laugh bubble out of you. "remember that one time i failed my math test and you set mr. fog's car on fire about it?"

edmund looks shyly at you, and a very small grin spreads across his face. not the dark lord - just a 30-something year old man who has just upset his one-and-only twin.

"you're throwing us the most ostentatious, egregiously expensive wedding," you tell him. "above land."

he frowns a little. "okay, but i'm not doing anything in miami. the vibes there give me the heebie jeebies."

ashe holds up their hand. "and you'll be repaying the deposit on literally everything. oh, and replacing the cake."

you kiss their cheek and then point to him. "and you'll be on time for it."

he shrugs a little. "okay, i literally can't perform miracles, so like. set the bar lower. i can't promise i'll-"

you look down at your feet. "i'd like you to be my man of honor this time. like. by my side. so. you can't be late this time. okay? we do it the right way. finally."

"huh," ashe says, looking between the two of you. "you guys have the same smile."

edmund's grin becomes a little wider, a little easier. he raises an eyebrow at them. "okay, i get that you're cool, but you're like, very cool about this whole thing."

ashe lifts a shoulder. "used to work for the monster under the bed."

"oh shit, simon? fuck." he points to them. "remind me not to mess around with you."

you want to tell edmund i love you and i missed you, but you can't. instead, you pick up the figurines. they're not perfect, but you can tell hours of his life went into each. his hands are so big - it must have taken him so much work to make these things so small. you picture him with his back bent over a workbench, trying to get a face into a tiny clay figure. the ceramic version of you is smiling. he's given you little fangs and a unibrow. he gave ashe a tiny yellow crown. you make the two figures kiss.

snow is falling indoors, little icicles of hellfire. ashe reaches out and take edmund's hand, and then, very awkwardly, he reaches out and takes yours too.

for a moment, it's just the three of you, and the beautiful quiet of the room.

You’re standing at the altar, about to get married to your beautiful fiancée. When suddenly the king of demons bursts through the door of the room, which naturally causes panic. You tried to warn everyone that inviting your sibling to the wedding would mean trouble, but they kept insisting.

[stephthestegosaurus]

I’m getting the most fucked up tan lines 😭

[loycos]

ahh caitlyn my beloved.

let's talk about the trauma she has around jinx, in particular, in a way i think is more related to being targeted by jinx than just grief.

don't get me wrong- grief is a huge part of why caitlyn is all over the place this arc (season?). she probably came to the conclusion that her softer, pacifistic attitude from the first season is the reason she ended up hurt. clearly the rocky relationship she had with her mother adds a layer of bitterness and regret caitlyn is feeling regarding her death. alongside a million different reasons, which i might discuss in a different post.

but there's a clear difference between the anger and coldness we see from caitlyn when she discusses catching jinx and bringing her to justice, than when she faces jinx head on. in the latter, she suddenly loses her cool and acts all frantically, so unlike anything we've seen from caitlyn so far.

in her mind, in episode 1, she sees herself as collected and calm, aiming her rifle at jinx. btw, take note of how jinx is depicted here. her eyes are glowing.

but in reality, she's very much NOT cool and collected when she thinks that exact scenario is about to be replicated.

that's caitlyn's pov btw:

again jinx with the glowing eyes- caitlyn had seen what jinx looks like in other circumstances, but THIS is the version of her that she visualizes and then irrationally reacts to.

we see it again when she shoots jinx in the finger

no composure, no deep breathe, no thinking. she just shoots on instinct. it's nothing like she used to.

and then her frantically calling vi to move out of the way as she keeps firing, almost like shes blind to everything but jinx- the kid and vi, who are both in harm's way, don't stop her.

i know it's easy to just paint it as anger and grief here, but there's something about it that strikes me as almost like animalistic fear. she sees jinx and just goes feral mode, but its almost more of a prey instinct than a predator.

and i think it's because whenever she faces jinx, properly, it's not the grief and radicalized anger she's feeling, it just sends her back to this moment

with all the "jinx murdered her mom" talk its easy to forget that jinx also directly, and cruelly, targeted caitlyn, tried to kill her, kidnapped her and held her hostage for who knows how long. it's not just anger that caitlyn feels towards jinx. it's a trauma response. and like, welcome to the club, caitlyn! most of the arcane cast are acting out of trauma. but i better not see people think her trauma is somewhat lesser than some... other.. characters.

[with-my-calamitous-love]

LEAVE THE WARMEST BED I’VE EVER KNOWN

katsuki bakugou x reader

on a cold winter night, you gain news that your ex boyfriend and pro-hero dynamight has returned from a work trip out of the country. coincidentally, he’s calling your phone right now.

part 1/2

inspired by ‘tis the damn season

everything you learned about katsuki while he was away was against your will.

following in all might’s footsteps, and right after one messy, icy breakup, katsuki left to do hero work in the united states. if you wanted to know who he was hanging with, what girls he was supposedly kissing, or who he was replacing you with, you could have asked. seeing his life in footnotes, on instagram stories and through headlines was the kind of cold that fogged up windshield glass.

theres a lingering ache in your heart, put there by the ache in katsuki’s.

your breakup felt inevitable, more than anything. circumstances, timing, stress… one second, he’s loving you. the next, he’s telling you he needs to think things through. and right after that, he’s on a plane to los angeles with kirishima.

it was almost nice, not having to see him at the agency or anywhere else. you wouldn’t be tempted to call his phone, since the international bill would only break your heart more. you couldn’t go to his apartment because it’d be empty- if you’re not counting the phantoms of lost love.

the 2 weeks he was gone felt like an eternity on your end. you blamed the time zones, though you knew they weren’t capable of freezing time and making your heart ache more each minute.

and with the first snowfall of the season, katsuki bakugou lands back in his home country.

he thanks the attendants in his private jet, shoving his already warm hand into his pockets as he steps out into the brisk air. its colder than he remembered, as if the world felt the same loneliness he was experiencing.

its 10pm, and the snow is glistening against the moonlight like a mirrorball. the sky is blanketed by clouds, a pink hue washing over katsuki as he steps out of the airport and into the night.

he stares at his contacts for a second. he intends on calling an uber.

but either his thumb slipped, or he missed you too much to care about the cold pricking his fingertips. each could be true.

you’re in the process of turning up your heater when your phone lights up through the dark. fingers peeking out the sleeve of your sweater grasp the device, nearly dropping it to the floor when you see who’s trying to reach you.

as if on instinct, your thumb hovers over the green button, before ultimately letting it go to voice mail.

after a hot shower to drown out the chill, you find him calling again. this time, you sit on the edge of your bed, finally resigning to pick up.

you don’t say anything first, wanting to hear him first. maybe you had to make sure this wasn’t some twisted dream.

“…hey babe.” katsuki says, his gruff voice lingering with a soreness in his throat that can only come from prolonged exposure to the cold. that, paired witb the familiar nickname despite the circumstances, makes you clutch your phone.

“hey, kats.” you say, shifting on your bed to get comfortable. after all, any emotional night with katsuki bakugo was destined to be long.

“when did you land?” you ask, fiddling with your fingers. you hope he doesn’t hear the trepidation in your voice.

“an hour ago.” he says, stifling a sniffle like a child would. you almost laugh, knowing him too well. he wasn’t the kind of guy you could forget easily.

“i just needed to hear your voice.” he admits, more to himself than to you. crimson eyes watch the way the snowflakes fall to the ground, dancing around in the wind. he remembers how much you love snowflakes. how you’d always try to catch them on your tongue, and how stupid he thought it was. the things he’d give to go back to that.

the uncharacteristic vulnerability in his voice makes your eyes water. it was something about the cold that brought out the aches in people. like holidays that linger like bad perfume, you both could run from the hurt before getting lost in the snow. you escaped into your warm apartment, away from the world, while katsuki escaped into crowds of adoring fans away from home.

whats funny is that both of you remember how the other left.

the cold air pricks at katsuki’s fingers while he waits for a response. he almost thinks the connections gone out, when in truth, your holding back tears.

with a shaky sigh, you speak. “lets… call it even, then.” you whisper, but he’s captivated by your words like a firework show. “i wanted to hear you, too.”

the breath of relief katsuki lets out can be seen in the cold, night air.

there was about 100 thrown out letters you wished you could send him. you could vomit words onto paper, send them out into the winter air and let the wind deliver your confessions to him.

and honestly, he wants you to. more than anything, he wants to sleep in with you, pull the blankets over that shield you from the cold just for old time sake. and if you don’t want him to stay this time, then he won’t ask you to wait.

if this doesn’t work out, he’ll go back to LA. he’ll let his so called fans write books and stories about him, about his heroism and his nobility without knowing how much his heart hurts on the inside. they’ll wonder about the only soul who knows what that hurt feels like. the only soul who knows all the smiles he’s faking: you.

he hopes that he only breaks his own heart, wanting to spare you from it. if he could, he’d leave you the warmest bed you’ve ever known. he’d call you babe for the weekend, and love you warm against the winter chill.

if somewhere, in his heart, katsuki’s love for you despite the breakup remained the same, then it was the same for you, too. if its okay with you, its okay with him. you could call it even. you’re missing his smile, and you want him to hear you out.

you might have to, with what he’s about to say next.

“…i’m outside, babe.”

part 2 soon 🫧