#it just means someone who keeps the peace

[thescriptorium]

thinking about caitlyn kiramman and how her lack of words are so fundamental to the end shape of her character. cait doesn’t say “i’m sorry” when Vi yells at her about being Ambessa’s puppet, she yells “i know” because she’s intelligent enough to see the spiral of events but not enough to know how to stop it. she doesn’t say “i’m sorry” but the very next scene she attempts to make peace with jinx. she doesn’t say “i’m sorry” but she calls off the guards so Vi can secretly try to save her sister—a terrible plan but one that Vi needs to do.

caitlyn isn’t surprised to find that jinx escaped. she expects Vi to be locked away by her sister so that she won’t chase her. because that’s the doomed tragedy of them.

everyone knows Jinx can’t be saved except for Vi.

Vi wants so badly to believe her love will somehow save her sister but it never will. her fatal flaw is that she will always try and she will always fail. and then caitlyn knows Vi will unjustly blame herself, so she’s there at the cells to ground her and remind her that this is how it’s always been. you’re getting predictable.

and then vi finally understands that caitlyn pulled all the strings for this. that she gave her another chance to open a cell and go after her sister, even knowing it would never work. it’s an apology and it’s cait saying “i know who you are.”

caitlyn kiramman doesn’t use words, she takes meaningful action because she’s only half the charismatic councilor her mother wanted her to be. she’s grown up an outsider and keeps a careful mask for everyone except violet, which is why season one opened her up so magically. she’s naturally stoic and reserved but she’s bold.

and then vi has to kiss her right then in the cells. because meaningful action means so much more than words to someone like her, who just wants to be of service to the people she loves. what caitlyn did was a reciprocation of her love language. and then Vi acts more by instantly showing her love, giving caitlyn all her love, because she’s the only person in this story willing to accept it. without hurt or heartbreak, vi can pour this massive heart she has into the only hands capable of understanding it. of being tender with it.

because caitlyn knows that vi is devoted to such a massive fault, but it doesn’t deserve to be punished. not any longer.

caitlyn kiramman doesn’t use words, but she keeps the burden of jinx locked away in her heart. all so that vi can finally know what a safe home and peace feels like ♥️ AUGH

[literaryvein-reblogs]

How do I write basic movements, I'm not a native speaker so it gets hard for me to define basic bodily movements. Even if it's as simple as reaching out and taking something off the counter

Facial expressions, gestures, and eye gaze are often identified as the 3 major types of body language, but other aspects such as posture and personal distance can also be used to convey information.

A few common gestures & their possible meanings:

Pursed lips. Tightening the lips might be an indicator of distaste, disapproval, or distrust.

Lip biting. People sometimes bite their lips when they are worried, anxious, or stressed.

Covering the mouth. When people want to hide an emotional reaction, they might cover their mouths in order to avoid displaying smiles or smirks.

Turned up or down. Slight changes in the mouth can also be subtle indicators of what a person is feeling. When the mouth is slightly turned up, it might mean that the person is feeling happy or optimistic. On the other hand, a slightly down-turned mouth can be an indicator of sadness, disapproval, or even an outright grimace.

A clenched fist can indicate anger in some situations or solidarity in others.

A thumbs up and thumbs down are often used as gestures of approval and disapproval.

The "okay" gesture, made by touching together the thumb and index finger in a circle while extending the other three fingers can be used to mean "okay" or "all right." In some parts of Europe, however, the same signal is used to imply you are nothing. In some South American countries, the symbol is actually a vulgar gesture.

The V sign, created by lifting the index and middle finger and separating them to create a V-shape, means peace or victory in some countries. In the United Kingdom and Australia, the symbol takes on an offensive meaning when the back of the hand is facing outward.

Crossed arms might indicate that a person feels defensive, self-protective, or closed-off.

Standing with hands placed on the hips can be an indication that a person is ready and in control, or it can also possibly be a sign of aggressiveness.

Clasping the hands behind the back might indicate that a person is feeling bored, anxious, or even angry.

Rapidly tapping fingers or fidgeting can be a sign that a person is bored, impatient, or frustrated.

Crossed legs can indicate that a person is feeling closed-off or in need of privacy.

Open posture involves keeping the trunk of the body open and exposed. This type of posture indicates friendliness, openness, and willingness.

Closed posture involves hiding the trunk of the body often by hunching forward and keeping the arms and legs crossed. This type of posture can be an indicator of hostility, unfriendliness, and anxiety.

The term proxemics, coined by anthropologist Edward T. Hall, refers to the distance between people as they interact.

Just as body movements and facial expressions can communicate a great deal of nonverbal information, so can the physical space between individuals.

Hall described 4 levels of social distance that occur in different situations:

Intimate Distance: 6 to 18 inches. This level of physical distance often indicates a closer relationship or greater comfort between individuals. It usually occurs during intimate contact such as hugging, whispering, or touching.

Personal Distance: 1.5 to 4 feet. Physical distance at this level usually occurs between people who are family members or close friends. The closer the people can comfortably stand while interacting can be an indicator of the level of intimacy in their relationship.

Social Distance: 4 to 12 feet. This level of physical distance is often used with individuals who are acquaintances. With someone you know fairly well, such as a co-worker you see several times a week, you might feel more comfortable interacting at a closer distance. In cases where you do not know the other person well, such as a postal delivery driver you only see once a month, a distance of 10 to 12 feet may feel more comfortable.

Public Distance: 12 to 25 feet. Physical distance at this level is often used in public speaking situations. Talking in front of a class full of students or giving a presentation at work are good examples of such situations.

Source ⚜ Some Additional Resources:

Anatomical Movements

Types of Body Movements

Human Body Movements

Hope this helps with your writing! Definitely have trouble with this at times as well.

[rinawantstosleep]

"I don't like your stupid, white hair." 

"And I don't like your boring, brown hair, buddy."

"W-well... well, I don't like your ugly, doo-doo face!"

"Your mama does." 

The two could go bickering like this for hours on end if you let them. What may seem to be a mutually digressive arrangement is actually an oddly adorable bonding in disguise. Satoru and your son put on a front of being annoyed at the other's presence, but you've never seen them apart for longer than a few minutes at a time. They've grown on each other; much like how moss grows on a statue that's been lingering out in the open. An indispensable cycle of life that's truly inevitable. 

"No, she doesn't! She doesn't! She likes... sof- sofis... sofistogated guys."

"You mean sophisticated?"

"Shut up!" 

You'd been terrified that your little one wouldn't have a father-figure to rely on anymore after you divorced your husband. However, it was something you had to do for his sake. The child deserved to live in an environment that wasn't always reeking of alcohol, where he wasn't subjected to the constant, drunk yelling of a pathetic excuse of a father who couldn't get his shit together and lazed around at home all day while you did all the work. If that meant that you'd have to raise him on his own, then so be it. At least he'd be raised properly. Signing those papers was, by far, the easiest decision you'd ever made. 

"I'm not shutting up because a kid in clothes too big for him is telling me to."

"You... you're the one always wearing tight clothes around the house to impress my mama."

"No, that's because I'm ripped. Gotta show off what I've got. And your mama loves that." 

"Oh, yeah? That means you show off your... your - um... ugly, doo-doo face!"

Would you regard it a miracle that Satoru just so happened to stumble into your life around that very time? Well, relatively. Meeting him wasn't something you'd planned, nor anticipated. The kind stranger who offered to pay for your order at a café a year ago has somehow, thanks to quite a romantic sequence of events, turned into your boyfriend; a rock to lean on for when you need the support. And, also, someone that your little one can look up to (with the fun, bonus benefit of the pair getting into silly, childish quarrels nine times out of ten). What is Satoru if not a three-hundred-and-thirty-six-month-old toddler, too? Puts your five-year-old to utter shame with the way he acts. 

"Enough. Baby, we've been over this before. Behave."

"But, mama, he's being a meanie!" "But, babe, he's acting all pretentious." 

The responses come simultaneously: one is high pitched and whiny, and the other is your son. Sometimes, you have to pause and ask yourself how you haven't gone insane yet. It's the love that keeps you from falling apart. How could you ever harbor any other feeling for these two, except for wanting to cherish them? You just... need to work on a pet name that doesn't apply to the both of them at once.  

"I don't want to hear it. Sweetie, finish your lunch. And, Satoru?" 

"Yes, honey-who-loves-me-and-my-'ugly, doo-doo'-face?" He's smirking, snickering, while saying this, the sly bastard. When will the pair ever relent on trying to one-up the other? 

"Why have you got one of my hair ties on your wris- never mind. Don't forget to change the sheets in our room. I'd do it myself if not for the meeting I need to get to in an hour." 

"Yes, ma'am." 

Cue a tiny gasp. 

"But, mama..." The voice of your little one breaks the peaceful silence at the dining table once again. His legs start kicking back and forth - a sign that he's growing restless - from the chair they're dangling off of. He's got a protest already forming up in that head of his. "Toru said he'd take me to the skate park today. And he promised to get ice cream after."

Toru, huh? That's new. You can't help the smile that paints itself on your lips. The two have been getting along pretty well, it seems, contrary to all the bickering they do. That's always nice to know. It's amusing to see the dynamic they've built. One second, they're riling each other up to no end, the next, they've already formed a secret alliance to go out and have fun together. How cute. "Is that so?"

"Mhm! So that means we need to leave riiight after I finish my lunch. Don't get mad, okay?" 

It's the small things like these that warm your heart. Some sacrifices can be made if it's in regards to this adorable (step, even though you haven't married Satoru yet)father-son moment. The sheets are insignificant right now. "Awwh. Of course I won't get mad, baby. It's good for you to want to spend more time with Satoru. Isn't he a fun guy?"

"... maybe." 

. . . 

"Just make sure he's safe out there. Helmet and gear on at all times, no big ramps. And don't let him eat too much sugar. He'll get hyper. Once the rush dies down, he'll get cranky -"

Satoru's arm wraps around your waist before you can finish your sentence, pulling you overwhelmingly close to his frame. Instinctively, your arms move to wrap around his neck, just the way Satoru likes it. Oh, how he wants to just throw everything else out the window and drag you to the nearest room with a lock in place.

"You -" A quick peck to your lips, followed by a nibble on your bottom lip. "- worry -" Another peck. "- too -" Another. "- much." Then, an unexpected bite on the shell of your right ear. "I'd never allow myself to let that little demon get hurt; or hyper."

Large hands wander across the curve of your back, resting firm on your butt. Satoru doesn't want to expose your son to the way he's squeezing your plush flesh with his long digits, so he shifts to have your back pressed against the wall. A perfect opportunity to kiss you - which the man can't help but seize. What else is a smitten boyfriend to do while waiting for your son to get ready and come down from his room upstairs? Lips against lips until one of you pulls away for air. "He's safe with me, okay?" 

"Okay." 

"Atta girl. Now, you go that meeting of yours. And, tonight, after we both get back- oww."

"Groooss! Don't kiss my mama, or you'll make her ugly! Like youuu!"

"Baby, no. Don't kick Satoru's ankles-"

"I'm saving you, mama."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

[rokon24]

thinking about caitlyn kiramman and how her lack of words are so fundamental to the end shape of her character. cait doesn’t say “i’m sorry” when Vi yells at her about being Ambessa’s puppet, she yells “i know” because she’s intelligent enough to see the spiral of events but not enough to know how to stop it. she doesn’t say “i’m sorry” but the very next scene she attempts to make peace with jinx. she doesn’t say “i’m sorry” but she calls off the guards so Vi can secretly try to save her sister—a terrible plan but one that Vi needs to do.

caitlyn isn’t surprised to find that jinx escaped. she expects Vi to be locked away by her sister so that she won’t chase her. because that’s the doomed tragedy of them.

everyone knows Jinx can’t be saved except for Vi.

Vi wants so badly to believe her love will somehow save her sister but it never will. her fatal flaw is that she will always try and she will always fail. and then caitlyn knows Vi will unjustly blame herself, so she’s there at the cells to ground her and remind her that this is how it’s always been. you’re getting predictable.

and then vi finally understands that caitlyn pulled all the strings for this. that she gave her another chance to open a cell and go after her sister, even knowing it would never work. it’s an apology and it’s cait saying “i know who you are.”

caitlyn kiramman doesn’t use words, she takes meaningful action because she’s only half the charismatic councilor her mother wanted her to be. she’s grown up an outsider and keeps a careful mask for everyone except violet, which is why season one opened her up so magically. she’s naturally stoic and reserved but she’s bold.

and then vi has to kiss her right then in the cells. because meaningful action means so much more than words to someone like her, who just wants to be of service to the people she loves. what caitlyn did was a reciprocation of her love language. and then Vi acts more by instantly showing her love, giving caitlyn all her love, because she’s the only person in this story willing to accept it. without hurt or heartbreak, vi can pour this massive heart she has into the only hands capable of understanding it. of being tender with it.

because caitlyn knows that vi is devoted to such a massive fault, but it doesn’t deserve to be punished. not any longer.

caitlyn kiramman doesn’t use words, but she keeps the burden of jinx locked away in her heart. all so that vi can finally know what a safe home and peace feels like ♥️ AUGH

Learn More

[strawberrygirll13]

I care about you

Dazai x Reader

Pt 1

Warnings: Depression, self harm, mentions of suicide attempts, mental illness.

The restaurant was quiet, save for the occasional clinking of plates and murmurs of other diners. Candlelight flickered softly, casting a warm glow over the table. Across from you, Dazai sat back in his chair, his arm lazily draped over the backrest, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You know,” he started, swirling the wine in his glass, “if this steak were my last meal, I think I���d die happy.”

You set your fork down, a sense of unease already creeping in. “Dazai…”

He didn’t seem to notice the warning in your voice, his eyes gleaming with something darker. “But,” he continued, his voice calm, “if I were to go, I’d want it to be something more dramatic. Something… poetic. Maybe a leap into a river. Or from a high-rise at sunset. You know, something that would leave an impression.”

You couldn’t keep the tension from building in your chest. “Dazai, I really don’t like it when you talk like that.”

He paused for a moment, the grin still playing on his lips. “Oh? Why not?” he said, tilting his head, seemingly unfazed. “It’s the truth. I’ve tried a few things, you know.”

Your fingers tightened around your napkin, and you felt a cold chill run through you. “What do you mean ‘tried a few things’?”

Dazai leaned forward, his gaze sharp as he looked directly at you. “Well, let me think... I’ve tried hanging myself, drowning myself—Yokohama Harbor, to be exact. It was freezing, but strangely peaceful. I really thought it would work that time. But no, a fisherman pulled me out before I could go under for good.” He chuckled softly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Pathetic, huh?”

You felt your heart drop, but he kept going, unperturbed. “I also tried jumping in front of a train once. The timing was all wrong, though. I only got clipped, nothing serious. And then there was the time I tried poisoning myself, but the drink was too weak. Didn’t do the job. But you know, the one that came closest? Cutting my wrists. I really thought that one would do it. I got pretty close, but again, I ended up surviving.”

Each attempt, each method, he listed it so casually, as if they were simple anecdotes, nothing more than stories to amuse himself. The weight of his words pressed down on you, suffocating, until you couldn’t breathe. You felt a mix of disgust and helplessness, your stomach twisting in knots. This wasn’t just dark humor; this was the product of something deeper, something broken. And it was eating at him.

“Dazai,” you managed to choke out, your voice barely above a whisper. “Please, stop. I don’t want to hear this. This isn’t funny.”

He raised an eyebrow, as if surprised by your reaction. “Why not?” he asked, genuinely curious. “It’s just a little dark humor. Surely you, of all people, aren’t disturbed by some harmless stories?”

“Harmless?” You stood up abruptly, unable to sit through it any longer. “It’s cruel. It’s wrong. I don’t know why you think this is okay, but it’s not. I care about you, Dazai, and hearing you talk like this…” You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “It makes me feel awful. Can you not see that?”

He looked at you for a long moment, his smile never wavering, though his eyes were colder than usual. “Cruel?” he repeated, amusement still in his tone. “You’re being dramatic. It’s not as though anyone would care if I actually died, anyway. Hell, the world would probably be better off without me. It’s not like I have anyone who would mourn me.”

You shook your head, a knot forming in your throat. This wasn’t just about his words anymore; it was about the way he saw himself. The way he thought of his life as something so expendable.

"And you know," he added, almost as an afterthought, "I’ve been thinking about finding a beautiful woman to share my final moments with. Someone who wouldn’t mind a little poetic death. I’ve been looking for someone who’d be willing to… you know, commit double suicide with me. My dear friend, you’d do perfectly." His grin was wider now, predatory, and it made your skin crawl.

You stared at him, unable to process how casually he could say something so horrifying. “Why would you say that to me? Why would you ask me something like that?”

He laughed, but it was an empty, hollow sound. “Why? Because you’re one of the few people I actually respect. I thought you’d find the idea appealing. You’re beautiful, aren’t you? You would make a perfect match for me in the end.”

Your hands shook at your sides, but you didn’t back down. “No, Dazai. No. I don’t find any of this funny. You’ve made me so uncomfortable tonight, and you did it on purpose, didn’t you? You wanted to make me feel bad. Well, congratulations, you’ve succeeded.”

He blinked at you, for the first time showing a crack in his indifference, his smirk faltering for a split second as he processed your words. But before he could respond, you turned and grabbed your coat, slipping it over your shoulders.

“I’m leaving,” you said, your voice firm but quiet.

Dazai didn’t say anything. He just watched as you moved toward the door, his gaze unreadable. The air between you had shifted, and you couldn’t quite understand it, but you knew one thing for certain: You couldn’t sit there and let him pull you into his darkness.

With one last glance at him, you stepped out into the cold night air, the weight of the conversation lingering with you, but you didn’t turn back.

The days following that tense dinner were markedly different. You kept your interactions with Dazai strictly professional, your usual casual conversations replaced with curt, pointed words. Whenever a task required communication, you went through others—Kunikida, Atsushi, anyone else who could serve as a buffer between you and him. Dazai, however, wasn’t one to let things go unnoticed, especially when they disrupted his carefully cultivated routines.

You knew he’d noticed the shift—he wasn’t an idiot. But instead of apologizing or addressing it directly, he chose his usual route: mischief.

It started small. A sly remark here, an exaggerated sigh there. When you ignored those, he ramped it up. During one meeting, he’d kept dropping pens onto your side of the table, leaning over to retrieve them with the kind of smug grin that made you want to throttle him. When you didn’t react, his antics escalated.

The breaking point came one quiet afternoon when you returned to your desk only to find his desk… wasn’t where it was supposed to be.

He’d moved it.

Right in front of yours, so close the two desks were now touching, effectively making it one long, cluttered mess of books, papers, and his personal junk. Your side was spotless, as always, but his was overflowing—documents spilling over onto your workspace, a half-eaten bag of snacks perched precariously on the edge, and his coat draped lazily over your chair.

You stood there for a moment, staring at the absurdity before you, willing yourself to stay calm.

“Do you mind?” you finally asked, your voice cold as you folded your arms.

Dazai, leaning back in his chair with a lopsided grin, didn’t miss a beat. “Not at all. Cozy, isn’t it?”

“It’s not cozy,” you snapped, narrowing your eyes. “It’s invasive. Move your desk back.”

“But I like it here,” he replied, spinning his pen between his fingers. “Better lighting. Better company. Well... not bettercompany, but you’re here, so it’ll do.”

You clenched your jaw, refusing to rise to the bait. Instead, you sat down, pushed his papers to the far edge of your desk, and went back to your work.

This didn’t deter him in the slightest. Over the next hour, he kept finding ways to encroach on your space—tossing paperclips onto your side, humming loudly, even nudging your coffee mug with his own until it was teetering dangerously close to the edge.

Finally, when it seemed like he might actually topple it over, you shot him a glare. “If you spill that, I swear—”

“You’ll what?” he interrupted, leaning in closer. “Yell at me? Ignore me some more? I think you’ve got the ignoring part down pretty well already.”

You didn’t respond, turning back to your work with tight-lipped determination.

His frustration, though, was becoming harder for him to hide. You could see it in the way he kept drumming his fingers on the desk, in the exaggerated way he sighed every five minutes, in the way his usual lazy demeanor seemed a little too deliberate, like he was trying too hard to act like this wasn’t bothering him.

And then, he started writing notes.

At first, he didn’t even try to be subtle about it. He scribbled something down on a piece of paper, folded it neatly, and slid it onto your side of the desk.

You ignored it.

A second note followed, then a third. You didn’t open any of them, and the more you ignored them, the more frustrated he seemed to become.

By the fourth note, he didn’t even bother folding it anymore. Instead, he scrawled the words in large, dramatic letters across a sheet of paper and held it up directly in your line of sight.

“ARE YOU STILL MAD?”

You didn’t look at him, but he kept the note there until you finally sighed and muttered, “Yes.”

He blinked, clearly not expecting an actual answer. Then, with a grin, he grabbed another sheet of paper and scribbled again. This time, he slid it across the desk to you.

“WHY?”

You stared at the note for a moment before crumpling it up and tossing it back at him. “You know why,” you said, your voice quiet but firm.

For once, he didn’t have a quick retort. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, his grin faltering ever so slightly as he watched you go back to your work.

But, true to form, he didn’t stay quiet for long. Moments later, another note landed on your desk.

“CAN I MAKE IT UP TO YOU?”

You didn’t respond. You didn’t trust yourself to, not yet. And so, the silence between you stretched on, heavy and unresolved, while Dazai sat across from you, bored, frustrated, and—if the look in his eyes was any indication—just a little bit lost.

The silence between you two stretched unbearably as Dazai fidgeted with his pen, occasionally glancing at you, though you didn’t spare him a single look. Despite his antics, you were determined to hold your ground. He deserved to stew in this. To feel the weight of your anger and hurt.

Yet, as the minutes ticked by and the tension grew thicker, you found yourself caving. Not entirely, but enough for curiosity to override your stubbornness. With a sigh, you picked up your pen and scribbled something on a piece of paper, sliding it over to him without looking up.

“Did you mean it?”

Dazai, for once, didn’t respond immediately. You heard the faint rustle of the note as he picked it up, followed by a pause. Then, slowly, he scrawled something down and pushed it back toward you.

“Mean what?”

You stared at the words for a moment before writing again.

“That you want me to die with you?”

When you slid the note back, you refused to meet his gaze, your fingers gripping your pen tightly as you waited for his response. The air between you felt suffocating, heavy with the unspoken weight of the question.

It took him longer this time. You heard the soft scratching of his pen as he wrote, then paused, then wrote again. Finally, the note landed back in front of you.

“Yes.”

Your breath hitched as you stared at the single word, simple and honest in a way Dazai rarely allowed himself to be. When you finally looked up at him, his expression was unreadable, his usual playful grin replaced by something quieter, something that almost looked like vulnerability.

“I wasn’t joking,” he said softly, breaking the silence. “Not entirely, at least.”

Your throat felt dry, and you weren’t sure what to say. For all the times Dazai hid behind humor, behind his endless games and tricks, hearing him admit something so dark, so raw, left you momentarily at a loss.

“Why?” you finally asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He shrugged, though the motion felt forced, his usual air of nonchalance cracking at the edges. “Because if I had to go, at least with you… it wouldn’t feel so empty. It’d be poetic, don’t you think? Two kindred spirits, disappearing together.”

“That’s not poetic, Dazai,” you said firmly, anger creeping into your voice. “It’s selfish. It’s—” You stopped yourself, exhaling sharply. “It’s cruel that you would suggest that.”

His lips quirked up in a half-smile, but there was no humor behind it. “I told you, I’m a selfish man. You should know that by now.”

Your eyes narrowed, but you didn’t reply. Instead, you leaned back in your chair, the note still clutched tightly in your hand, as the weight of his words settled over you.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, Dazai,” you began, folding the note neatly and placing it in front of him, “but unfortunately, I do not want to die. And I’d prefer it if you could refrain from doing so either.”

You stood up, your chair scraping against the floor as you grabbed your bag. “I need to use the restroom. I’ll be back in a minute.”

But before you could take a step, his hand shot out, quick and instinctive, his bandaged wrist wrapping firmly around yours. It wasn’t harsh or forceful, but it was enough to stop you in your tracks.

“What the hell?” you blurted, glancing down at his hand, then back at him.

For the first time since the conversation began, he looked genuinely caught off guard. His grip on your wrist wasn’t calculated; it was almost desperate, as though the very thought of you leaving—even temporarily—was unbearable.

“I… You’re not going anywhere,” he said, his tone lighter than his expression betrayed. But the crack in his voice, subtle as it was, didn’t escape you.

Your brow furrowed. “Dazai, I work here. I’m just going to the bathroom. I’m not running off into the sunset. Good god, you have issues.”

His lips curved into a faint smirk, but it lacked his usual humor. “Issues? That’s putting it lightly, don’t you think?” He released your wrist, his hand lingering in the air for a moment before he let it drop back to his side. “I guess I just don’t like the idea of you walking away from me… even if it’s just to the restroom.”

“Dazai,” you sighed, softening your tone despite yourself, “I’m not leaving you. I’ll be back in two minutes.”

His eyes flicked up to meet yours, a flicker of something vulnerable passing through them before his usual mask slipped back into place. “Promise?” he asked, leaning back in his chair with a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You gave him a flat look. “I’m not promising anything. It’s a bathroom break, not a grand betrayal.”

But as you walked away, you couldn’t shake the weight of his touch—or the way his voice had faltered, even for just a second. Something about it lingered, clawing at the edges of your mind like an unanswered question you weren’t sure you were ready to ask.

A few hours later ~

The office was quiet now, save for the faint ticking of the clock on the wall and the rustling of papers as you gathered your things. The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, leaving the room bathed in the soft glow of a single desk lamp. You glanced over at him. His desk—still obnoxiously pressed against yours—was cluttered with papers he hadn’t touched all day. He’d sat there for hours, throwing the occasional quip your way, but you hadn’t said much in return.

It wasn’t just the silence that made the air feel heavy; it was the weight of his words from earlier. He wanted you to die with him. The thought lingered, intrusive and stubborn, no matter how much you tried to shove it aside. You couldn’t understand how he’d asked you something so selfishly, so casually, as if it were just another joke in his endless repertoire.

Shaking your head, you slid your bag over your shoulder and moved toward the door. You didn’t bother to say goodbye.

“Wait,” his voice called out, stopping you mid-step. You turned to find him standing now, hands stuffed into his pockets as he leaned against the edge of the desk.

“What is it, Dazai?” you asked, your voice tinged with exhaustion.

“Let me walk you home,” he said, straightening up and taking a step closer.

You blinked at him, the question catching you off guard. “Are you going to say some weird shit?”

His mouth quirked into a half-smile, though it lacked the usual cockiness. “You know, probably. I mean, it’s me.” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck as if he were suddenly unsure of himself. “But… I won’t ask you to, you know, do that with me again. Scout’s honor.” He held up two fingers in mock sincerity.

You narrowed your eyes, considering him for a moment. “Fine,” you said finally, letting out a small sigh. “But only if you promise.”

“Promise,” he repeated, a flicker of amusement returning to his voice.

As you pushed open the door and stepped into the cool night air, he fell into step beside you. Something about the way he kept just a half step behind, letting you set the pace, felt quieter than usual—almost careful. It wasn’t like him. Then again, nothing about today had been.

The street was quiet as you and Dazai walked down the path, the only sounds being the soft crunch of your footsteps against the pavement and the occasional rustling of leaves in the trees. The streetlamps above flickered on, casting a dim, golden light that illuminated the sidewalk in a soft, almost melancholic glow. The night air was cool, a refreshing change from the stuffy office, and you relished the brief quiet that came with the walk.

You didn't mind walking. You’d never been one to rely on a car, especially when the journey gave you a little peace of mind. Besides, the apartment was only about a 20-minute walk away, and you had plenty of time to clear your head. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

As you walked in silence, your thoughts wandered. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between you and Dazai today. His words from earlier still echoed in your mind, but it wasn’t just that. Something about his behavior had felt off—a bit too distant, a bit too… real.

It was strange, but despite everything, you couldn't deny you had feelings for him. Not that you really had a choice, considering how often you saw each other. But you were realistic about it. The idea of him ever feeling the same was almost laughable. He was too much of a mess, too much of a broken puzzle for you to figure out. And even if he did have feelings for you, you weren’t sure it was something you could trust.

The walk continued in silence, and you pulled your coat tighter around you, keeping your thoughts to yourself. But then, without warning, Dazai held out his arm for you.

At first, you were confused. You didn't know what he meant by the gesture. But when he huffed, his voice edged with a hint of impatience, “Come on, I’m not going to bite you,” you could feel a wave of hesitation wash over you.

Before you could respond, he looped his arm through yours, locking it there with a firm but gentle grip. It surprised you, but it wasn’t unwelcome. For a moment, you just walked, trying to process what had just happened.

As you did, your gaze slipped over to him. The soft glow of the streetlights caught his brown hair, highlighting the faint tousled mess of it. You’d always admired the way it looked, even when he didn’t seem to care much about it. You wondered, though, how much of his body was covered in bandages. His neck and wrist were always covered, but what about the rest of him? Did he hide it under those clothes, or was there more to it?

The thought made a knot form in your stomach, and you quickly shoved it away. You hated the idea of him harming himself. The thought made your chest tighten, and you didn’t want to think about it—not now, not here, not with him.

“What are you thinking about, Y/N?” Dazai’s voice broke the silence, his tone casual, though there was an edge to it.

You looked up at him, startled, but there was a strange softness in his expression that made you pause.

“Nothing,” you muttered, not wanting to admit to the tangled thoughts swirling in your head. “Just... you know, thinking about work.”

He raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "Really?" he teased, but there was something more guarded in his eyes now. "Because you seem distracted."

You went quiet, your eyes shifting away from his, not wanting to meet his gaze anymore. The cool night air suddenly felt too heavy as the silence between you both stretched on.

Dazai noticed immediately, his pace slowing as he watched the subtle tension build. He didn’t push it at first, but after a few moments, he muttered, almost absentmindedly, “I hate how you don’t let me into your head.” His voice had a quiet frustration in it, like a gnawing irritation that wouldn't let go.

You stiffened, the words from earlier still replaying in your mind. You knew he wasn’t going to drop it, not without pushing the issue. You didn’t want to discuss it, but you couldn’t stay silent either. "Well, it’s kinda difficult to let someone in who has basically said in their own way they want me dead." You kept your voice steady, trying not to let the vulnerability slip through.

The words hung in the air, and Dazai didn’t immediately respond. His arm, still locked with yours, shifted slightly as if he were considering his words carefully.

Then, he spoke. "Y/N, my darling, you and I have two very different perspectives on death." He paused, allowing the weight of his words to settle between you. "To explain it in the simplest terms, despite how morbid it may seem to you... it is a compliment."

His tone was strange, detached, but also oddly earnest. It was as if he truly believed that what he was saying made sense. And for a moment, you wondered if he even understood how much his words stung.

You didn’t know what to say, so you stayed quiet, your steps slowing to match his. The city seemed farther away now, the night air colder.

"It doesn’t matter how you intended it, Dazai," you said, your voice firm but not unkind. "You are not well. The way you think… it’s all twisted."

Dazai let out a laugh, sharp and self-deprecating. "Oh, I’m very aware," he said with a smirk, though his eyes betrayed something softer, something less cavalier.

The rest of the walk passed in silence. He didn’t let go of your arm, keeping it interlocked with his, as though he feared letting go would shatter whatever fragile thing existed between you both. The city lights grew sparse as you reached your apartment building, and he walked you right up to your doorstep. Even then, his arm stayed linked with yours, his grip firm but not forceful, as if he wasn’t ready to let you go.

Dazai finally stopped, taking a deep breath. His hesitation was unusual, almost unsettling. "Can I ask you something?" he said, his voice softer than usual.

You sighed, fishing your keys out of your pocket. "I’m not going to say no, am I?"

He smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. "When you say you care about me… do you mean it?"

You froze, caught off guard by the question. He wasn’t playing this time. There was no sly grin, no teasing inflection. His eyes, brown and deep as they were, searched yours with an almost childlike vulnerability.

"For someone as smart as you are, you’re being quite moronic right now," you said, your voice gentler than your words. His expression shifted slightly—confused, maybe even a little hurt. You softened, letting out a breath. "Of course I care about you, Dazai. I care about you a lot."

He blinked, processing your words, before making a quiet "Oh-ohh" sound, like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with the information. It was such a Dazai thing to do that it made you smile despite yourself.

Sliding your key into the lock, you turned it and pushed the door open. But before stepping inside, you hesitated. Something tugged at you, a feeling you couldn’t quite ignore.

"Oh, hell, screw it," you muttered under your breath before turning back around. Gently, you reached up and cupped his face, your fingers brushing against the bandages on his cheek. His eyes widened slightly as you leaned in, close enough to see the flecks of gold in his irises, and placed a soft, lingering kiss on his lips.

When you pulled back, his expression was one of pure shock. His mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out. You gave him a small smile, your hands still resting against his cheeks.

"Why don’t you think on that, Osamu Dazai," you said, your tone light but meaningful. Then, pulling away, you stepped inside and closed the door behind you with a quiet click.

For a long moment, Dazai stood there on your doorstep, the night air brushing against his face, his lips still tingling from the kiss. Then, slowly, a small, genuine smile curved across his face—one that no one else would have recognized.

[latexb0n3z]

Alright yall… this might be the most vulgar fic I’ve written thus far. It’s dirty and weird. Here’s a little snippet. You can read the rest on Ao3 if you like it.

Double Claimed

Wade had no business being here.

He knew it, the brass knew it, and every mutant in the unit sure as hell knew it. But none of that stopped the military from sticking him—plain ol’ human Wade Wilson—in the middle of a mutant special ops squad. “Resource integration,” they called it. A real bright idea to slap someone without claws, fangs, or superhuman anything into the middle of a unit bred for war.

His mouth, though? That was a weapon all its own.

He hadn’t started out in special ops. Hell, he’d barely passed basic training, scraped by with a mixture of charm, luck, and an unsettling knack for violence when the situation called for it. A few successful black ops missions later, someone decided he’d be a good fit for the mutants. Maybe it was his ability to keep his cool when things went south. Maybe it was his penchant for making enemies want to throttle him instead of finishing the job. Or maybe they’d just run out of better options.

Whatever the case, he was here. Here, with six mutants who could crush him in a heartbeat if they decided he wasn’t worth the trouble. And judging by the way Victor Creed looked at him half the time, that wasn’t entirely off the table.

The mission was simple, but simple didn’t mean easy: a long recon op deep in the kind of terrain that turned men feral. Weeks with no end in sight, no backup, and nothing to do but sit in the dirt and wait. No bars, no women, no distractions. Just the squad, their gear, and an ever-mounting tension that seemed to thrum in the air like an unspoken challenge.

Victor was the worst of them all. Not just because he was built like a freight train—towering a full head taller than Wade with arms like tree trunks and a grin that promised nothing good—but because he was bored. And a bored Victor Creed was a dangerous Victor Creed.

Wade wasn’t exactly tiny himself, standing at a respectable six-foot-one and built solid, but next to Victor? He felt like a damn paperweight. The guy looked like he’d been carved out of a mountain, and every movement was slow, deliberate, like he was conserving energy for the moment he decided to break something—or someone.

And Wade, ever the idiot, couldn’t stop poking at him.

The camp was quiet tonight, the fire reduced to glowing embers. Most of the squad had turned in, leaving Wade alone with his thoughts—or so he thought until a shadow moved in the corner of his vision.

“Out here all by yourself?” Victor’s voice rumbled through the stillness, a low, lazy drawl that made the hairs on the back of Wade’s neck stand up.

Wade turned to see the man leaning against the flagpole, arms crossed, a faint smirk playing at his lips.

“Can’t sleep,” Wade said, shrugging as casually as he could manage. “Figured I’d enjoy the peace and quiet. Didn’t realize it was so popular.”

Victor chuckled, the sound deep and rough. “Peace and quiet, huh? Doesn’t seem like your thing.”

“What can I say? I’m full of surprises.” Wade grinned, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Victor pushed off the pole and sauntered closer, his sheer size becoming more apparent with every step. Wade stayed where he was, tilting his head back slightly to meet the man’s gaze.

“You’re a cocky little thing,” Victor said, his tone almost amused. “But I guess you’ve gotta be. No other way a guy like you survives in a squad like this.”

“Yeah, well, charm and good looks go a long way,” Wade shot back.

Victor laughed again, this time louder, and Wade felt his pulse quicken. The sound wasn’t threatening, exactly, but there was something about it—something that made him feel like prey.

“Good looks, huh?” Victor leaned down slightly, his grin widening to show just a hint of fang. “You sure you’re not compensating for something?”

Wade snorted, his bravado kicking in. “Please. I’ve got nothing to compensate for. If anything, I’m probably overqualified for this gig.”

Victor’s eyes narrowed slightly, the smirk never leaving his face. “Is that so?”

The air between them shifted, heavy with unspoken tension. Wade wasn’t sure if it was the lack of sleep, the weeks of isolation, or just plain stupidity, but he didn’t back down.

“Yeah,” Wade said, his grin sharpening. “And you’re not exactly subtle, are you, big guy? All that muscle, all those claws. I bet you’re just dying for a reason to use them.”

Victor tilted his head, his expression unreadable now. “Careful, Wilson. You don’t want to see what happens when I do.”

Wade’s heart was pounding, but he refused to let it show. “Maybe I do.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. The fire crackled softly in the background, the only sound breaking the silence. Then, Victor straightened, his grin turning wolfish.

“You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that,” he said, stepping back. “But don’t push your luck, kid.”

“Who’s compensating now?” Wade muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

Whatever game Victor was playing, Wade was more than willing to see how far it went.

Victor paused as he stepped away, his broad back cutting a shadow against the dim glow of the fire. For a moment, Wade thought that was it—that whatever tension had coiled between them was just another unresolved standoff in the desert night.

But then Victor glanced over his shoulder, his yellow eyes gleaming with something feral and sharp. He didn’t say a word. Didn’t need to. The faint twitch of his lips—half smirk, half snarl—was invitation enough. He was courting him, inviting Wade to do this little primal dance of his.

Wade hesitated, his usual bravado faltering under the weight of that look. It wasn’t just a glance; it was a command. One that promised danger and something Wade couldn’t quite name but found himself craving anyway.

Victor turned and walked into the dark, disappearing further outside camp, behind an outcrop of rocks without another word. Wade let out a slow breath, his pulse already hammering in his chest.

“Yeah, this seems like a smart idea,” he muttered to himself, though his feet were already moving. He knew Victor wouldn’t kill him… whatever it was he had in mind.

The firelight faded behind him as he followed Victor’s path into the shadows, the sounds of the camp falling away until it was just him, the crunch of his boots, and the faint, predatory stillness ahead.

He found Victor leaning casually against a tree, his arms crossed over his chest, but there was nothing casual about the way his eyes locked onto Wade.

“You always this obedient?” Victor asked, his voice low and rough.

“Obedient?” Wade snorted, forcing himself to keep it light even as his heart tried to beat its way out of his ribcage. “I am a lot of things, obedient is definitely not one of them. Ironic right?— considering the point of this whole military thing is obedience.”

Victor came closer, his movements deliberate and unhurried, like a predator stalking its prey. Wade stayed rooted in place, though every instinct screamed at him to move.

“You’ve got a big mouth,” Victor said, closing the distance between them. “Maybe too big for your own good.”

“Yeah, I’ve been told.” Wade’s voice wavered slightly, and he hated himself for it.

Victor stopped just inches away, towering over Wade like a goddamn mountain. His hand came up, claws glinting faintly in the light, and for a split second, Wade thought he was about to regret every decision that had brought him here.

[paigesbasketball]

A prank to Remember

paige x reader

warnings: None just fluff!!

It was the evening of your three-year anniversary with Paige Bueckers, and the city lights of New York glistened all around you. You had spent the day together—enjoying each other’s company, sharing laughs, and talking about how much your relationship had grown over the past three years. But something felt a little off.

You had planned the evening to be special—dinner at your favorite spot, a quiet walk through the city, and then, who knows? But as the night wore on, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Paige wasn’t quite as excited as you were.

You’d been waiting for her to mention the anniversary, but she hadn’t brought it up once. The closer you got to dinner, the more distracted she seemed. Checking her phone every few minutes, answering texts, and acting a bit distant.

You decided to ask her, trying to hide the doubt creeping into your mind. “So, Paige… do you know what today is?”

She glanced at you with a raised eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Yeah, of course. What’s today?”

“Do you remember?” you pressed, trying to keep your tone light but nervous.

Paige looked at you, her face the picture of innocence. “I mean, I don’t know. I guess I’m a little distracted with all this stuff going on. What’s today?” she asked again, playing the role of someone who genuinely had no clue.

Your stomach dropped. No way. She forgot? You swallowed hard. “It’s our anniversary, Paige. Three years.”

She paused for a second, her face completely blank as if she had no idea what you were talking about. “Wait, seriously? Our anniversary is today?”

You froze. Is she really playing me right now?

“No way. How could I forget?” she said, pretending to be surprised. But her playful smirk and the twinkle in her eyes told you otherwise. You felt a mix of confusion and disappointment. Had she seriously forgotten?

“I thought we were doing something special tonight,” you said, your voice tinged with frustration. “But you seem like you don’t even care.”

Paige chuckled, reaching out to hold your hand. “I do care. I swear. I just wanted to prank you a little. I’ve got something planned, okay?”

“Really?” you asked, still unsure if she was just messing with you.

“Really,” she said, grinning ear to ear. “Just trust me.”

Paige led you through the streets of the city, and the further you went, the more you began to question everything. She hadn’t really said anything to reassure you, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment. After everything, had she actually forgotten your anniversary?

Finally, she stopped in front of a small park that was tucked away from the busy streets. The air was crisp, and the only sounds you could hear were the distant city hums and the soft rustling of the trees in the gentle breeze.

“I know this is a little different than what you expected,” Paige said, giving you a soft, reassuring smile. “But just trust me.”

As you stepped into the park, you saw fairy lights strung across the trees, illuminating the space with a soft, magical glow. The atmosphere was quiet, peaceful, and intimate—nothing like the hustle of the city outside. A blanket was laid out in the center of the park, with candles flickering around the edges, and a picnic basket beside it.

You stopped in your tracks, your heart racing. “Paige… What is this?”

She motioned for you to sit down, her smile growing even more tender. “I knew you’d think I forgot, so I decided to surprise you. You always know how to make me laugh, and I wanted to make sure this anniversary was just as special as you are.”

You sank down onto the blanket, still in disbelief. “This is perfect,” you whispered. “You really got me good.”

Paige sat next to you, pulling out the basket. She unpacked your favorite snacks, poured two glasses of wine, and set everything up with a small, playful laugh. “I know, I’m a little sneaky. But I had to make it memorable.”

As the two of you talked and laughed, the moment felt perfect—until Paige suddenly stopped, her eyes shining with something deeper.

“Hey, I have one more surprise for you,” she said, her voice soft, serious, yet filled with excitement.

You turned to her, your heart starting to race again. “Another one?”

“Yeah,” she said, her hand shaking just a little as she reached into her jacket pocket. “I’ve been holding onto this for a while, and I couldn’t think of a better moment than now.”

Your breath caught in your throat as she pulled out a small velvet box, the soft glow of the fairy lights making the moment feel even more magical. You blinked, trying to process what was happening.

“Paige, what is this?” you asked, your voice trembling with emotion.

She smiled nervously, her eyes never leaving yours. “I know we’ve been through a lot over the last three years, and I know life gets crazy sometimes. But what I know for sure is that I want you by my side, always. No matter where we go, or what happens… I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Your heart was pounding now, and you couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Paige Bueckers, the woman you loved, was kneeling in front of you, holding out a ring.

“Will you marry me?” she asked softly, her voice full of love and sincerity.

Tears welled in your eyes as you looked at her, speechless for a moment. You never expected this—especially after the day of pranks and uncertainty—but in that moment, it felt like the world had paused just for the two of you.

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Paige grinned and slipped the ring onto your finger, her face lighting up with happiness. She kissed you softly, her lips lingering a little longer than usual, as if she wanted to savor every second.

“I love you,” she murmured against your lips, her arms wrapping around you.

“I love you, too,” you whispered back, pulling her close.

As you both sat there in the park, surrounded by the soft glow of fairy lights and the sound of the city in the distance, everything felt perfect. The prank, the surprise, and the proposal—it was everything you had dreamed of and more.

Three years together, and you knew that this was only the beginning of forever.

[kybercrystals94]

Gift Wrap by @lonewolflupe

This gift is for @totallywizard07 — you requested the Batch camping with a healthy serving of fluff ☺️ Thank you for being a wonderful part of this fandom community! You are fantastic!

The Last Island Wolf

Read here on Ao3!

Rated: G | Words: 745

@galactic-gift-gathering

“...and they say,” Omega concludes, leaning into the glow of the flickering firelight, “that the spirit of the last island wolf returns every full moon to search for the one who claimed him, the man with dark eyes.” 

Silence disturbed only by the crackling laughter of the campfire follows for several long moments before Crosshair retorts, “That is the most ridiculous story I’ve ever heard.”

“It’s a Pabu classic,” Omega argues with a smile. “I hear it everytime I go camping with the Hazards.” 

“But it’s not true,” Wrecker says, and after a beat, “Right?”  

Omega shrugs. “Maybe. I mean, there have been sightings over the years. Unexplained shadows and noises. Lyana even said that one night, Shep woke up because he felt hot breath on his face. But when he opened his eyes, nothing was there.” 

Crosshair huffs and rolls his eyes. “That’s a load of kark.” 

Hunter stands up and stretches his arms over his head, looking out into the darkness beyond the perimeter of their camp. “Good story, Megs. I don’t believe a word of it, but it got the job done. Wrecker’s scared.” 

“I am not!” Wrecker protests. 

Omega laughs. “Don’t feel bad, Wrecker. It scared me too until I realized that the island wolf doesn’t come for dark eyed girls. You boys on the other hand…” 

“But wait, I only have one dark eye,” Wrecker says, “So I’m safe too, right?”  

Omega considers, looking up at the star scattered sky. “Mmmm…that’s true. I guess only Hunter and Crosshair need to worry about it, then.” 

“Oh, yeah, I’m shaking in my boots,” Crosshair drawls and Hunter chuckles. 

As the Batch settles in for the night, Crosshair realizes that this is the first time he’s been out camping without someone keeping a watch shift. During the war, someone always had eyes on the camp. And after the war with the Empire, it was protocol, although he’d never been able to fully sleep with anyone but his brothers keeping watch. Now, they are on Pabu. There are no threats, no reason for someone to stay awake alone for hours. He’d gotten used to it in their house, with four walls and locks. Camping on the other hand…

“You alright, Cross?” Hunter asks, and it sounds sincere until he adds, “Scared the island wolf might get you while you sleep?”

Wrecker laughs and Omega giggles. 

“Absolutely petrified,” Crosshair snarks, turning over in his bedroll to face the woods, but he smiles when the comment gets another burst of sniggering from his siblings at his back. He is happy they feel safe here, that his brothers seem secure in the fact that they can all just go to sleep.

He wishes that such security extended to himself as well. 

Crosshair listens to their breathing even out, listens to the fire crackle and snap hungrily, listens to the wind in the treetops. He watches shadows stretch in the moonlight and dance in the firelight. It is peaceful. It is safe. He even has his firepuncher nearby, just in case this is all an illusion. But it’s not, this is their new reality. Safe. Content. Home. His eyes feel heavy, and he wants to sleep. But he can’t seem to allow it.

“Cross?” Hunter’s voice is soft, groggy. “You still awake?” 

He almost doesn’t answer, pretends; however, Hunter is impossible to fool. Kriffing enhancement. 

“Yeah,” he says, rolling to his back. 

“Why?” 

“Dunno.” 

Hunter hums. “I think you do.” 

“I’m not tired,” Crosshair lies. 

Hunter sits up, props his forearms on his knees. Crosshair watches the movement out his peripheral, keeps his gaze skyward. Hunter mutters, “It feels strange not having someone on watch, doesn’t it?”

Crosshair hides his surprise behind a retort, throwing Hunter’s own joke back at him. “Why? Scared the island wolf might get you while you sleep?”

Hunter’s voice curves around a grin. “Maybe.” 

“Hmm.” Crosshair swallows. “Me too.” 

Or a Separatist, or a clanker, or the Empire…

“I’ll take the first watch,” Hunter says, decidedly. “I’ll wake you when it’s your turn, and you can start early meal.” 

“There’s no need for a watch anymore,” Crosshair reminds him.

Hunter shrugs. “Well, someone’s gotta look out for that island wolf…”

Crosshair smiles. “Right.” 

Silence falls between them, not empty, but an unspoken acknowledgement. Hunter has always had the uncanny ability to know exactly what his brothers need, whether they admit it or not. 

Kriffing older brothers. 

But thank the Maker for them.

END

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[httpvomitello]

can we have a similar one to „All for one we fight together“ in Bayverse but they find out with the NYPD after the second movie that Shredder has a wife who is pregnant meaning she may end up giving him a Shredder Part 2 and they meet her and she’s a really nice lady Shredders wife=Us

Hello, hello! I'm glad you liked that fic, and I hope you like this one too ~ ♡♡♡♡

Shadows of Redemption *⁠.⁠✧

It had been a few months since the city was saved from Krang’s alien invasion, and things had finally started to settle down. The turtles were back to their usual patrols, the NYPD was trying to rebuild trust after the chaos, and April and Casey were enjoying some much-needed normalcy.

The news came through a quiet tip to April from a contact in the NYPD. "You’re not gonna believe this," April had said when she told the turtles, her voice low and disbelieving. “Shredder has a wife. And she’s due in a couple of months.”

"You're kidding," Raphael said, incredulous, leaning back against the couch in their lair.

Leo frowned, his arms crossed. “If this is true, it could mean trouble. A child could become a legacy for him.”

“Hold up,” Mikey interrupted, waving his hands. “Are we saying Shredder had time for romance between being a crime lord and an alien’s sidekick?”

Donnie adjusted his glasses, ignoring Mikey’s comment. “If this is accurate, the NYPD probably considers her a potential threat.”

April nodded. “They’re keeping an eye on her but haven’t made a move yet. They don’t want to draw too much attention.”

“Sounds like we need to meet her ourselves,” Leo said firmly.

The meeting was carefully planned. Through April’s connections, they arranged to approach her in a not public, neutral location.

When you arrived, the turtles, hidden in shadows nearby, were surprised by how… ordinary you looked. There was nothing about you that screamed “villain’s spouse.” If anything, you looked nervous, glancing around as you waited for April to approach.

When April introduced herself, you smiled warmly, though there was a guardedness in your eyes. “I’ve heard of you,” you said softly. “You’re the reporter who’s always getting into trouble.”

April laughed nervously. “Guilty as charged.”

You looked down at your hands, resting protectively over your belly. “Let me guess. You’re here because of my husband.”

April hesitated before nodding. “The NYPD is… concerned. And so are my friends.”

At the word “friends,” you glanced toward the shadows, as if sensing the presence of others.

“I figured someone would come eventually,” you said quietly. “But I promise you, I’m not a threat. I just want to live in peace.”

When the turtles finally revealed themselves, stepping out of the shadows, your reaction wasn’t fear or anger. Instead, your eyes widened in recognition.

“So,” you said, your voice calm, “these are the famous mutants my husband was so obsessed with.”

Raph narrowed his eyes. “You say that like you’re not on his side.”

You sighed, your hand instinctively rubbing your belly. “I’m not on his side. I never was.”

Donnie tilted his head, clearly intrigued. “Then why marry him?”

You hesitated, looking down for a moment. “When I met him, he wasn’t… this. He was ambitious, yes, but not cruel. At least, not to me. By the time I realized what he was truly capable of, I was already trapped.”

Mikey frowned. “Trapped how?”

“Do you think someone like Shredder just lets people walk away?” you asked bitterly. “I wanted to leave, but he wouldn’t allow it. When I found out I was pregnant, he claimed it was ‘proof’ we were meant to be together.”

Leo’s expression softened, though his voice remained firm. “Why not go to the police?”

“I’ve tried,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “But his reach is everywhere. Every time I tried to run, he found me. Now, all I can do is protect my baby and hope… hope that he doesn’t grow up to be like his father.”

The turtles exchanged glances. You didn’t seem like a threat—far from it. You were kind, intelligent, and clearly terrified of the man you’d married.

“I don’t want my child to inherit his legacy,” you said firmly, meeting Leo’s gaze. “I want him to have a chance at a normal life. To be good. But I can’t do it alone.”

Raph crossed his arms. “So, what? You want us to play babysitter?”

“No,” you said quickly. “I just need to know that, if something happens to me, my baby will be safe. I don’t trust the police. I don’t trust anyone. But you…” You paused, looking at them with something like hope. “You’re different. You fight to protect people.”

Leo stepped forward, his tone resolute. “We’ll help you. We won’t let Shredder use you—or your child—for his plans.”

Tears filled your eyes, and you nodded gratefully. “Thank you.”

In the weeks that followed, the turtles kept a close watch on you, often checking in to make sure you were safe. You and April became fast friends, and even Casey found himself warming up to yourl.

Donnie built a secure monitoring system for your apartment, ensuring no one couldn’t sneak up on you. Mikey brought you snacks and joked about teaching your baby how to skateboard someday. Raph remained gruff but secretly went on extra patrols near your neighborhood, just in case. And Leo, became your rock, always assuring you that you weren’t alone.

When the day finally came for you to give birth, the turtles were there—hidden in the hospital’s shadows but ready to protect you his remaining followers tried anything.

As you held your newborn son in your arms, tears streaming down your face, you whispered, “You’re going to have a better life than he ever wanted for you. I promise.”

[comfysofti]

Some thoughts on The Fury because im absolutely obsessed with her and still can't get over the fact how much she was expanded

Aka me rambling about how I see her chapter, whatever, idk how else to call this-

Everything's under the cut

(｡>﹏<｡)

No matter how you get Fury, through Tower or Adversary, it's always circles back to her inflicting her pain on you. But is she wrong for doing that? I don't really think so

"This one is desecration. She placed the weight of her agony on you, yet it is she who unwound herself. There is passion and empathy buried under her unfeeling skin. She will make for a weathered heart."

What is desecration?

Desecration - the action of damaging or showing no respect towards something holy or very much respected

In one way or another, we do desecrate her. Or lead her in doing so to herself. In Adversery, despite there being multiple scenarios leading to Fury, we still desecrate her or lead her to desecration by denying her what she wants, what she believes we want too - a good fight. Even if it means dying over and over. To get one of her achievements, you have to kill her, even if for a brief moment. Her bloodlust, and us, the player, not satisfying it, leads to her desecration in a way. Overwhelmed with anger and agony, Fury from Adversary still thrives for combat and is, rather ecstatic if player defyingly keeps approaching her, and tries to fight her even as we're getting unwound

In terms of Tower this is more obvious. There's only one way for us to get to Fury through her - make her force her hand on us, someone she sees as something lowly. She believes herself to be an unstoppable god, something holy and sacred. And how dare we, not only, hurt and defy her authority, but also make her force her hand on us? She's arrogant and selfish, so when this happens, she feels like she was tainted. Like we - a mere mortal, nothing but a rock under her feet, tainted her very being. Overwhelmed with anger she wants to take revenge on us, for denying her ascension and turning her into Fury. She believes it's all our fault. For we tainted her flesh, for we dared to break the leash she was using on us

Either of them can end up unwounding you. Atom by atom. And when she does so, she wants to make us understand her. Her pain. Her change

"are you still there? Are you still you?"

Fury from Adversary starts to unwound us to make us continue the fight. To return the spark of bloodlust. Fury from Tower unwounds us to hurt us and destroy us. But is that what they truly want? Just our suffering and nothing else? In the endless cycle?

"What is a person? Is it their body? Is it all of their body? Pluck the eyes, peel the skin, strip the tendons, mince the meat, grind the bones. When it is all gone, do you still have who you started with?"

We changed her drastically. We changed her into this monster of flesh, only capable of pain and hurt. Only capable of unwounding and hurting and destroying and changing. But never healing. She isn't something positive. She's pain, anger, hatred

She wants us to understand how much pain we had brought upon her flesh to make her into this monstrosity. She unwounds us. She changes us in ways that makes it impossible for us to exist. Just like we did with her. She wants us to understand, yet we can't

We only feel pain from her actions. We'll never understand her. Because she can unwound us time and time again, but in the end of the day, we'll never know what she's thinking. We'll never truly know her pain. Unless we would share body and mind with her

That's why she unwounds herself as well, trying to fuse us together. She presents herself to us at her weakest, most naked form. Offering her very heart for you. To make you one. To make you truly understand. To feel what she felt. To see what she sees

But before we're able to do that, she's taken away

"Do not mourn her - she has finally found peace."

She found her peace once she was reunited with Shifting Mound, but even after she was, we still can't understand her, can't we?

[antianakin]

@theneutralmime

"Peacekeeper" isn't an official job title, at best it's like... PART of the job description, a way to kind-of boil down what they do into something easy and simple to explain or understand. It's also vague, probably intentionally. They're peacekeepers, they keep the peace, in whatever way that ends up being necessary. Sometimes it might mean helping a queen escape her planet so she can get to the Senate and ask for aid. Sometimes it might mean protecting said queen from assassins as she launches a rebellion to take her planet back from invaders. Sometimes it means being sent in to mediate a treaty between two conflicting groups. Sometimes it means going to investigate whether a planet's request for resources is legitimate. Sometimes it means running an army during a galactic civil war.

The Jedi answer to the Senate, THAT is a part of the job description. Pre-Palpatine, there does appear to be a certain level of leeway in that relationship where the Jedi could handle some things on their own or internally depending on the issue, but after Palpatine takes over that seems to become less and less true and so they become forced to simply do whatever the Senate asks them to do more often. We see them fighting against this in AOTC towards the beginning, with Mace and Yoda arguing that they're not supposed to be soldiers, especially not on their own, and they won't hold out forever.

This isn't something we see explored in the films very often, but there's been some comics and books that tell us that the reason the Jedi answer to the Senate is because it allows them legitimacy and resources and power they wouldn't have otherwise. And when I say power, I mean things like the power to actually mediate an official treaty that means something legally. They have the power to send for Republic aid officially and be LISTENED TO. They have the power to help a planet or system join the Republic. Without this relationship to the Senate granting them these things, they're basically just charity-workers doing grassroots work that might help with short-term problems but won't necessarily achieve long-term solutions. The Jedi give up a certain amount of freedoms in order to be able to provide better help to the galaxy AT LARGE. They're not a third party at all, and that's entirely by design.

There's a comic set during Anakin's padawan years where Obi-Wan manages to bring the Republic to a planet by essentially sending back a report implying that there's some kind of dangerous substance on the planet that needs to be dealt with immediately. Anakin realizes that Obi-Wan sort-of "lied" to the Republic and asks why and Obi-Wan explains that it got the Republic HERE in a way nothing else would have and the hope is that, as they're looking for this dangerous substance, they'll be able to provide the actual assistance the planet needs just by being there at all. Anakin asks why the Republic would come just from Obi-Wan saying there MIGHT be a dangerous substance on the planet and he says that they didn't come for him, they came because a JEDI called. THAT'S the sort of power that the Jedi are granted by choosing to make themselves answerable to the Republic. Obi-Wan is capable of bringing a ton of Republic aid to this planet on nothing but a "maybe" simply because he's a Jedi.

There are certain things they choose to give up in order to HAVE that kind of power and one of them is the freedom to just go anywhere they want and do whatever they want as an organization. Which means if the Senate decides to ask a Jedi to be a bodyguard for someone and there's no really good reason for them to say no, then they're a bodyguard for someone that day.

It's supposed to be a SYMBIOTIC relationship, one that only works when there is a certain amount of balance. The Jedi help the Republic maintain peace and the Republic provides the resources and legitimacy and power the Jedi need in order to make a real difference in the galaxy. It's supposed to be, ultimately, good for BOTH of them.

You can also add in some even more niche things like how working with the Republic gives the Jedi a certain amount of safety and security because if they're answerable to a higher power that ISN'T Force sensitive, it presumably makes people less afraid of them or worried that the Jedi will just take over. Attacking the Jedi has consequences beyond just pissing off the Jedi because the Jedi can get the entire Republic involved in the issue if they wanted to, so that can act as a deterrent to people wanting to hurt them. The Jedi gain so much more from being answerable to the Senate than they lose.

The problem is that when Palpatine ends up in charge, it starts unbalancing that relationship and it's no longer symbiotic because he's taking advantage of the Jedi very intentionally. He's putting them in positions that force them to be something they're not supposed to be, he's putting them in dangerous positions that cause many of them to die, and he's using his power over them to take away their autonomy over themselves. And people look at THIS relationship between the Jedi and the Senate and then question why the Jedi would ever put themselves in a position to be taken advantage of at all without realizing that the relationship between Palpatine (and Palpatine's Senate) and the Jedi ISN'T THE NORM. It is very intentionally NOT THE NORM. Palpatine is taking advantage of certain checks and balances the Jedi had set up with the Senate and the Chancellor that have worked up until that point and worked pretty well so far as we know.

Certain people in charge of Star Wars these days would have you believe that the Jedi working for the Senate means that they were always supporting corruption, or that the Jedi got so comfortable that they didn't NOTICE when it started becoming more corrupt and difficult to work with, and they blame the Jedi for being "part of the problem" instead of recognizing that the Jedi were the only ones trying to FIX a relationship that had done a lot of good for the galaxy for thousands of years instead of just immediately abandoning ship for their own purposes.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[vanweezer]

very very personal, just insight into where im at w my family and things that bother me/have encouraged me to move out

"i know youre moving out so im just gonna say no ones kicking you out and if you feel like this is something you have to do then ok"

thanks! i know im not being kicked out! but yknow i kinda yet a weird vibe when your out of touch husband takes me to a cemetery to yell at me, tell me im just like my father/dont give my father "the time of day", and that im "mean to people who care about me" in front of his dead mother's grave in a poor attempt at guilting me out of speaking my mind. but no yeah thanks for stating the fucking obvious that im leaving on my own terms

[parkitaco]

i had to go look up what you're talking about lmao but like the anon was obviously a mean spirited asshole but you straight up asked people to tell you their opinion on your steve voice....

yk what anon i see where ur coming from but i also said be nice. and that's a real fucking easy thing to do. so you can fuck off too <3

[spacedlexi]

me collecting every vague line about minnie to piece together what kind of person she really was pre-delta

[adragonsfriend]

Look I couldn’t find the gold star “u didn’t interact at all" version to reblog with this, but,

Internet Silver Star:

This is the best I can do sometimes, and I think it does a lot to improve the experience of everyone involved, so *silver star*