#it makes him sad and angry to think about

[kxsagi]

HEYY I LOVED bllk characters when their gf says they'll sleep on the couch after an argument fanfic can you write about when u tell bllk boys to sleep on the couch after an argumenttttt

Feel free to ignore<3

“𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 😭”

a/n: thank you!!! post where gf! reader says she’ll sleep on the couch is here

ft. itoshi rin, isagi yoichi, itoshi sae, kaiser michael, mikage reo, nagi seishiro, shidou ryusei, bachira meguru, karasu tabito, ness alexis, otoya eita, aiku oliver

itoshi rin

"sleep on the couch." 

he just blinks. you could tell him to sleep on a battlefield and he’d still look at you with the same amount of passive aggression. 

“fine.” 

but that night? loudest passive aggressive sighs ever. every three minutes. 

you hear him dramatically shifting the blanket like he’s trying to fold a parachute. 

he keeps walking back and forth to the kitchen so you see him being miserable. 

eventually stands by the door like a sad victorian ghost until you break and call him back in. 

“i knew you’d miss me.” 

you throw a pillow at him and he smiles. 

isagi yoichi

you say it and this man is like 🧍 “... really?” 

tries to reason with you like it’s a team huddle. 

“okay i know i messed up but can we have a second half? maybe a redo? golden goal?” 

ends up quietly walking to the couch like he’s been benched. 

lays there with his arms crossed like he’s been wrongfully imprisoned. 

keeps refreshing your shared photos on his phone like it's going to heal him. 

the second you walk out for water, he gives you the biggest puppy eyes. 

you sigh and drag him back, and he’s like “thanks love, i was gonna get a cramp i swear.” 

itoshi sae

you tell him to sleep on the couch and he just shrugs. 

"kinda comfier anyway." 

oh. OH. you are fuming. 

he absolutely does it on purpose to make you more annoyed. 

but lowkey he's checking the bedroom door every five minutes to see if you'll come out. 

eventually sends you a text from the living room like: "come argue with me again. i miss your face when you're mad." 

you don’t respond. 

20 minutes later he peeks into the room, lays half of his body on the bed like a cat, and goes: “what if we… didn’t fight and made out instead?”

kaiser michael

"sleep on the couch." 

"haha. that's cute. you're joking." 

when you glare, he laughs, nervously. 

he starts walking toward the couch like he's headed to the electric chair. 

dramatically flops down, limbs splayed like a fallen protagonist. 

“i hope you're happy. you've separated a king from his throne.” 

texts you from ten feet away: "thinking of you. missing you. dying slowly. xoxo." 

at 3 AM, you wake up to find him curled up by the door like a golden retriever. 

“schatz, this floor is emotional torture. please.” 

mikage reo

he actually looks offended that you’d even suggest it. 

“me? on the couch? do you know how many beds i own?” 

but still does it with a dramatic sigh and a blanket over his head like a sulky prince. 

orders room service to the living room like he's at a hotel. 

sends you snapchats from the couch: "me, alone, heartbroken, eating soufflé." 

at 2 AM, he's in bed with you again like nothing happened. 

“sorry. i had a nightmare that you hated me. oh wait.” 

nagi seishiro

"... do i have to?" 

pouts like a child. lays on the couch with a big sigh, blanket halfway on, limbs dangling. 

sleeps for five minutes. comes back and lays next to the bed like a cat. 

mumbles something like, “if i’m close enough, it still counts, right?” 

you cave after ten minutes and pat the bed. 

he flops in without a word and wraps himself around you. 

“arguments suck. sleep is better.” 

shidou ryusei

laughs when you tell him. 

“damn, so i really pissed you off, huh? you sound kinda hot when you're angry.” 

does not go to the couch. 

instead, lays down on the floor beside the bed. 

“i’ll sleep here. like a punished puppy. see if you can resist this tragic scene.” 

at some point, starts fake-snoring obnoxiously loud on purpose. 

“babe i’m gonna get scoliosis. let me in.” 

you hit him with a pillow, but he grins. 

and ends up in the bed anyway, arms and legs wrapped around you like a koala. 

bachira meguru

gasps like you slapped him. 

“not the COUCH!! my mortal enemy!!!” 

drags himself there like he’s acting out a shakespearean tragedy. 

sends you dramatic selfies with captions like "farewell, cruel bedroom." 

makes a blanket fort and names it “meguru’s heartbreak castle.” 

sings sad songs until you peek out. 

“oh look! my favorite person! wanna join my castle of sorrow?” 

you roll your eyes but smile, and you end up under the couch fort with him, cuddled up and giggling. 

karasu tabito

you say “sleep on the couch” and he just stares at you for a second. 

then dramatically clutches his chest like “ouch. my favorite girl just assassinated me.” 

“how am i supposed to live, laugh, love in these conditions?” 

makes a whole production of walking to the couch. robe on, hood up, slippers squeaking. 

literally throws himself on it with a groan. “RIP karasu tabito, died of neglect.” 

keeps loudly fake-crying into a pillow like he’s in a telenovela until you yell at him to shut up. 

immediately perks up: “you miss me?” 

crawls back to bed and goes “thanks babe, i hated that.” 

ness alexis

freezes. short-circuits. like you just said the world’s most horrible sentence. 

“... the couch?” with puppy eyes. 

starts trying to fix things IMMEDIATELY. pulling out tea, snacks, compliments, an apology powerpoint. 

“i didn’t mean it like that. you’re always right. even when you’re wrong, you’re right.” 

but when he realizes you’re serious, he grabs a pillow and makes a little sad pile on the couch. 

“it’s okay… i deserve this…” (said in a sniffly mouse voice). 

you check on him and he’s sitting upright, staring into space like he’s been emotionally waterboarded. 

you give in after 20 minutes. he doesn’t even smirk, he just clings to you with teary eyes like “never again please.” 

otoya eita

“couch? oh baby, you’re kicking me out again? kinky.” 

you glare. he holds his hands up, backing off, still grinning. 

flops dramatically on the couch with the energy of a rom-com male lead post-breakup. 

“what are you gonna do without me over there? miss me? dream of me?” 

still manages to flirt from across the apartment. texts you: “thinking about you. and your legs. mostly your legs.” 

ends up sweet-talking his way back into bed by whispering apologies and kissing your hand like some tragic prince. 

“c’mon, i learned my lesson. also, the couch is bad for my back. and my heart.” 

aiku oliver

laughs when you tell him. “damn, you’re really mad, huh?” 

goes along with it, but not without a fight. 

“you sure you’ll be able to sleep without your personal heater slash bodyguard slash boyfriend?” 

turns the living room into a man cave. turns on soccer replays. 

but when he realizes you’re actually not coming out, he shuts everything off and just lays there in silence like a sad old man. 

eventually walks back in, shirtless, arms crossed: “look. this is stupid. i’d rather be next to you than be right.” 

and you’re like “whoa whoa since when are you mature?” 

he grins, climbs back in, and mumbles into your neck: “just for you.” 

© ���𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[fromdove]

MY JASON TODD PHYSICAL APPEARANCE HEADCANONS !

welcome to my ted talk. go ahead and sit your semi-literate goblin ass down and take notes, because i am about to paint you a portrait of this man so vivid you’ll think i dipped my brush in the lazarus pit itself.

HETEROCHROMIA. one blue eye & one green eye. im a very big and firm believer on this. this is my religion. this is my prayer. jason todd's eyes are my gospel, and I am the devoted disciple on my knees at the altar. he's always had them, before the lazarus pit & AFTER the lazarus pit. (although after the lazarus pit id like to point out that his eyes got a bit brighter especially the green!). i saw fanart once of this—just one image—and it was enough to send me into a trance. my jaw unhinged like a snake

LARGE SHARP ALMOND EYES. eyes sharp enough to cut!! real real real. sharp enough to gut someone in an alley. you get looked at by him and feel like you need to apologize for crimes you haven’t committed yet. yup that. they soften when he looks at you tho bc ur his amazing angel faced baby.

HIS GODDAMN JAWLINE. the kind you see on statues. could cut diamonds. so perfect. brutal. Pythagoras would rise from the grave with a boner, calculator in hand, shaking and crying overwhelmed by the sheer geometry of him. drooling. weeping & erect.

6'4!!!!!!!!!! MY MAN IS TALL. A GIANT. GARGANTUAN. and that’s the final word. idgaf. don’t come in here with that “canon says he’s 6’0” nonsense. fuck canon. canon is a lie built by cowards. they've screwed up my babies too many times to count. my Jason ducks under door frames and casts shadows over people trying to insult him. he intimidates every man in a ten-mile radius just by standing up.

BULKY. (not crazy bulky like those steroid obsessed body builder protein-powder-in-the-veins monstrous freaks but still jacked af. (like in this picture: click here and here) . he’s jacked like a Greek statue, like a renaissance painting of a war god.

white streak. white streak 24/7 for the rest of infinity. all night. every universe. every reboot. i don’t care. Non-negotiable. he got it from the one and only pit. he tried to cut it, dye it, tried everything to get rid of it at first but it just kept growing back and the dye would never work on it somehow ??/ so he just gave up lmao

OKOK his nose. my fave nose to picture jason with is an sightly upturned nose with a bump in the middle. do you guys know what kind of nose im yappin about? here is a visual: click here

ive seen fanart with jason with the j scar and i just think it fits his character and backstory. yes it was from that makeup-smeared tragedy of a circus reject. but fuck him!! this is about jason peter todd. my baby is still hot af anyways so.

SHARP CANINES. BITE ME WITH THEM. LORDDD MOTHERR GODDD. Carnivore-coded. was he born with them? is it a lazarus thing? either way theyre sharp little bastards. He tries to be careful, he reallyyy does but sometimes, mid-kiss, they slip. he nips you. he pulls back, eyes wide, guilt-ridden. you’re breathless. he spews like a million apologizes coz the last thing he wants to do it hurt u. but u dont care bc it feels so goddamn good... STOP ME)

Full lips that look like they’re always swollen from a brawl or a kiss.. with a slight cupids bow. god. yes. the corners/edges of his mouth are sharp (does that make sense?? help). he also has scars extending from the corners that look like smiles, they only stretch a few centimeters out. not that long at all. joker’s parting gift, poetic as it is cruel. OH AND he has the Toji scar !!! this one right here: click here

dark brown hair thats wavy & fluffy heeheheh (2c textured.) not straight, not curly, that luscious in-between mess that stays tousled and tragic and stupidly sexy no matter what. fluffy. thick. ruffles in the wind like he's some sad, angry prince. you run your hands through it and he pretends he doesn’t melt. he is NAWT a victim of the male pattern baldness epidemic. bye no no no no he doesnt bald thanks to the lazarus pit.

THICK DARK & FULL STRAIGHT BROWSSS. IDCCC THIS MAN HAS THICK BROWS. These brows have seen things. They furrow when he’s pissed (which is like always lmao), They’re intimidating, god-tier brows kinda brows. oh oh and theyre also kind of upturned !

his fingers. jesusususususus. Veiny. Long-fingered. Calloused. Worn. His knuckles are always scabbed (from fights). His nails are short, His fingers could snap a neck, but you just want them on your throat for different reasons. And the rings? Thick, heavy, sharp. Some brass. Some iron. they double as weapons. like i just know if someone pisses him off the rings are going to hurt like straight up fucking hell.

this man has long lashes. like long enough to collect dew. Thick enough to cast shadows. curled at the tips. his lashes are criminal. like wtf. theyre the kind that make mascara cry. they frame his eyes and face perfectly

scars all over. he has the autopsy scar on his chest, he has scars on his back too. his face, arms, legs, everywhere. bullet grazes, knife cuts etc..his entire body is a war journal basically

he has eye bags and dark circles which is a given considering what he does and his lack of sleep. They're not “oh, I pulled an all-nighter” eye bags, theyre bruised purpulish blue with a bit of red. u can seen some veins. his eye bags r a little puffy. this paired with his sharp eyes make him look very very intimidating to others but not to u, bc wdym intimidating? he's my angel?? he would never hurt a fly?? tf?

a few extra's!!:

A slight scar on his eyebrow from a fall off a fire escape in crime alley when he was 12. Never stitched it (despite the constant nagging from bruce & alfred). he said the blood made him look cool. (my angel baby i love him)

a voice that’s deeper than you expect. gravelly. like he chewed cigarettes for breakfast and chased them with glass. but it dips soft when he says your name. unbearably soft. traitorously tender.

faint cigarette burn on the inside of his left forearm. from back when he thought pain might be the only thing that made him real. said it was an accident. it wasn’t.

A barely-there tremor in his right hand. Old injury. Nerve damage.

[apricustar]

there’s been a lot of talk about the kitchen scene—a lot of people calling eddie abusive, cruel, and emotionally volatile. but i think what that completely misses—what it refuses to see—is the truth about grief:

grief is not gentle or pretty. it is often an angry, twisting, acridic beast that refuses to leave you. it comes out in sharpness, in silence; in saying exactly the wrong thing to the person you love most because you don't know how else to make them hear you.

that is what we see in 8x17.

eddie wasn't being abusive; YOU are completely misunderstanding that scene—and eddie himself; buck, too.

buck is psychologically self-referential. not selfish, exactly—more self-centered, but not in the egotistical sense—in the trauma-informed sense. it's an adaptive behavior that helped him survive a childhood where love had terms and affection and prerequisites. he learned to monitor every mood shift, every silence, every closed door—because if something went wrong, it had to be his fault. and this was reinforced by his parents' behavior towards him!!!

so now? everything still feels like it's about him. because it had to be. because that was the only way to feel safe. buck internalizes everything. when something goes wrong, his first thoughts are: what did i do? what did i miss? that's not ego, that's fear.

but eddie deals with emotion like a live wire. he bottles it up, he locks it down. he was taught growing up that's what it takes to be a man—don't cry. don't ask for help, grit your teeth and keep moving. he waits. he stews. and when it finally breaks through? it comes out like it did last night—sharp, reactive, a ribbon of hurt tying everything together.

and this is not new! eddie does this when he feels powerless. when something big is shifting inside of him and he feels helpless—when he doesn't know how admit the true feelings inside of him. so instead we get things like the grocery store fight during the lawsuit, accusing buck of sabotaging the showings earlier this season, and the kitchen scene.

same structure. same rupture. same desperate attempt to push back because he doesn't know how to pull in.

when eddie says these things to buck—you're exhausting, you're making it all about you—he's poking where it hurts, on purpose. all of it—every jab, every flare of anger—comes from a place of not knowing how to properly articulate the truth underneath.

eddie expresses his needs rarely, if ever. he doesn't ask for closeness—he tests for it. more than anything, in that kitchen, i think he was trying to provoke buck into something—a reaction, a fight, anything.

because buck has been so shut down, largely unreachable, and imagine being eddie—watching the one person you always turn to drift out of orbit. being physically closer than you've been to him in months, and still, he feels further away than when you were in texas.

how do you ask for someone back when you don't know how to ask for anything at all?

this is all that people keep missing when they reduce eddie to 'abusive' or buck to 'selfish'. they see the surface of their words, but not the wounds they're coming from.

on a fundamental level, buck and eddie are incompatible in how they handle emotion, communicate, and cope, but they are unshakably bound in how they love. because underneath all the misfires and misunderstandings, they are two people shaped by trauma and silence—by never being taught how to ask for what they need.

and still—somehow—they keep trying. with each other.

so when buck apologizes for being sad bobby’s dead and eddie snaps—he isn't rejecting buck's grief. he's rejecting the idea that buck's pain is somehow exceptional; he's saying: why aren't you here you haven't talked to me you haven't asked me how its been for me you're right in front of me and i can't reach you i want to do this together—

the scene wasn't abuse—it was human; a very raw representation of the way grief twists its way into every corner of your love, your relationships, your voice. it was love—sharp-edged and realistic in its imperfection and messiness, ever fighting to be seen.

eddie's feeling invisible and alone inside his grief; he's seeking connection. he wants buck to react, to be present, to talk to him.

the beauty of all of this is that after everything, eddie brings christopher for buck. its not just an apology. it's a gesture of reclamation. because eddie knows buck has been feeling isolated—not just from him, but from the entire team. buck himself expresses that everyone's been walking on eggshells, treating him like something fragile, like grief made him untouchable.

so eddie does the one thing he knows how to do: he acts. he brings buck his (their) son. he brings pepa. he brings family.

regardless of how eddie responded in the kitchen, he walks it back in the way he always does: through action. and wordlessly, he's saying: you belong you're ours you are wanted.

and no one gets to make buck feel otherwise. no one gets to be mean to buck.

not the team, and certainly not eddie himself.

buck and eddie are able to hurt each other as acutely as they do because they know one another. that is the risk of love: you open yourself to the possibility of pain; to be loved is to be known, changed, and vulnerable in ways you can’t take back.

eddie is able to be mad and feel these emotions and express them in these ways because he knows he—in his entirety—is safe with buck. even the ugly stuff. take note of this fight vs. how gentle eddie was with taking chris back from his parents. he can feel and act without filtering it first with buck. he can just be.

both buck and eddie keep choosing one another in a variety of ways—keep showing up, keep staying. even when they’re being harsh, even when they’re being unfair—even when they’re at their worst. they keep going, keep trying. love is persistence, dedication, devotion; buddie is all that and more.

[skarlaya]

8x17 Reaction

I’ve seen some… interesting takes on the episode, so I thought I’d share my thoughts after watching it twice because I think in the heat of the moment some people misconstrued a lot of what went down during the kitchen argument. This is going to be long so sorry about that in advance:

1- Eddie did not “almost raise a hand” to Buck, not even close. I watched this scene again multiple times after seeing the appalling takes people were sharing online… and they are completely unfounded. He grabbed his shoulder a little roughly (probably more roughly than Eddie himself intended to) and pointed a finger in his face… was this jarring? Yes. Was it violent? Absolutely fucking NOT. Could someone who has a history of trauma be triggered by that split second rough movement? Of course… just like I’m sure there are people who get trigged by something weekly on this show. If Eddie grabbing Buck’s shoulder while angry triggered you, then I can only imagine how triggered you must have been by Bobby slamming Buck into a wall in S1 while threatening him, and Chimney punching Buck to the floor in S5, Athena slapping Harry or Buck nearly breaking Eddie’s ankle because he was so caught up in his jealousy that he wasn’t in full control of himself while playing basketball. None of these actions make these main characters violent abusers. You know who was a violent abuser? Doug. There’s no comparison.

2- Buck was not afraid of Eddie in this scene and he did not flinch; we don’t even see Buck’s face when Eddie gets in his space but his head does not jerk back and he doesn’t move away, nor does his face show any sign of fear or discomfort when the camera cuts to his face when Eddie steps back. He doesn’t even show annoyance or anger about it, because he never for a second was worried Eddie would hit him

3- Eddie was not the only one being a dick in this argument. Buck came home with groceries that he picked up despite knowing Eddie intended to do the shopping, and he did that intentionally because he was mad that he found out Eddie got the EPFD job from Ravi. He’s mad and hurt that Eddie is leaving again but deep down he knew he would be, mostly he’s just mad and hurt that Eddie yet again didn’t tell him he was leaving (and this time he told other people first). Buck and Eddie have very distinct patterns when they argue and those are on full display here: Buck is passive aggressive with his intentional remarks and prods at Eddie to get a reaction, and Eddie lashes out and says harsh things

4- What leads Eddie to point his finger in Buck’s face is that Buck accuses Eddie of not being sad enough over Bobby’s death when he passive aggressively says “I’m sorry I’m sad that Bobby’s dead”. This is not Buck defending his own grief, this is him attacking Eddie’s grief by saying Eddie isn’t sad enough or not as sad as Buck. That accusation is what makes Eddie lose his cool for half a second, which is exactly what Buck intended because arguing with Eddie is easier than dealing with their shared grief

5- Buck actually IS making everything all about him right now, and I admit on my first watch I was pretty annoyed with Eddie for this line but on my rewatch it was obvious that Eddie is right. I think it’s hard for us to see that at first because we identify with Buck’s grief easier since Bobby was our “captain dad” like he was for Buck, and we also felt Buck’s helplessness at watching Bobby die. Leading up to the funeral, Buck was leaning on Maddie somewhat and was there to talk Chim into attending the funeral, but it seems like once the funeral was over and there were no more items on the checklist to get through he caved in on himself. We don’t see him reaching out to Athena or May or Harry to ask what they need or looking for ways to support them… he isn’t talking to Hen about her unique experience of having been in the lab quarantine with Bobby vs his own guilt over not being able to save them all or trying to help Chim cope with the knowledge that Bobby chose Chim’s life over his own… he isn’t letting Eddie work through the guilt over not being there when they needed him (and in light of this scene, it adds new context to Buck’s light and dismissive “hey, you’re here now” when Eddie told Ravi he should have been there… Eddie is trying to reach out and Buck is dismissing his pain, without realizing it). Ever since the funeral, he is spiraling exactly as Eddie said… he’s seeing the fact that the 118 isn’t eating together as his family abandoning him instead of recognizing that they all just need some time to process their grief in their own ways. He’s evaluating his friends to give their grief a score, and subconsciously he’s judging their grief scores against his own and each other’s instead of opening up and sharing their grief together. And he’s not happy for Eddie about the EPFD job, even though he would have tried to be before Bobby’s death (as much as it made him sad to think Eddie really wasn’t coming back now)… he’s judging Eddie for leaving again even though he knew Eddie would have to go back to Chris eventually, because how can Eddie leave him again after Bobby died, how can Eddie just move on when Bobby is dead? And he automatically accused Eddie of not thinking he did enough to save Bobby, when what Eddie is saying is that he blames himself for not being there when the team needed him. Grief is selfish, because it’s impossible for your feelings not to hang over everything else including how you think you’re looking after your loved ones. Buck is trying to live up to what Bobby told him in that the others would need him, but the way he is going about it is all wrong - he’s focusing on it through making sure he’s doing enough and not on what anyone (including himself) actually needs.

6- Eddie did not imply that Buck didn’t do all he could to save Bobby, that is not what “I don’t know, Buck, I wasn’t there” means. It’s not Eddie doubting Buck, it’s Eddie voicing yet again that he blames himself because he wasn’t there. He knows Buck did everything he could, but he also knows they can’t know how things would have gone if Eddie had been there inside the lab. But Buck has been so focused on his own grief that he still isn’t hearing Eddie when Eddie is trying to get him to understand how much he’s hurting over not being there so Eddie throws out a passive aggressive parting shot of his own

7- We’re not going to see a more in-depth apology for the kitchen argument because it’s not necessary for the narrative and we can assume they had a discussion off-camera in which Eddie reiterated that he was a dick and didn’t mean to be so harsh, and Buck in turn apologized for intentionally provoking a fight and being cruel with his passive aggressive words. They’re both at fault- Buck started the argument on purpose and Eddie ended it by being slightly more of an asshole. When Buck came home to find that Eddie came back, he forgave him instantly simply because Eddie came back - he saw him at his worst (see passive aggressive cruelty) and he came back anyway. He was absolutely going to still be a petty bitch about the note right up until he saw Chris, but he’d forgiven Eddie the moment he realized Eddie came back

8- The note was petty AF but Eddie is petty as is Buck. I’m sure Tim and the writers wanted the symbolism of Buck waking up to a goodbye note from Eddie like Eddie did from Shannon, but where Shannon never came home Eddie came back to Buck and he brought Chris. Buck should absolutely be a petty bitch about the note from time to time, though, because it’s Buck

Grief is messy, but like Buck once said to Maddie you lash out at the people you know will always forgive you (the people who love you). That’s simply a part of human nature, we’re flawed creatures.

[salty-autistic-writer]

Eddie says „you‘re making it about you“, meanwhile he’s the one making it all about himself. No one is allowed an emotion apparently.

„Oh, you are so dramatic again. You are so sad, I don’t know how to talk to you! Look how you act now, it makes me angry. Your sadness makes me angry! And what about me? I wasn’t there. I didn’t get to say goodbye. Maybe you didn’t do enough? Maybe I would have done better? You are sad but what about me? I had to tell my son!“

It’s still a one way street with him and yeah, I’m done with canon Eddie. Every time I think they can’t ruin him more, they do it.

[hqrbinqerruoo]

UNDRESSED - Rin Itoshi

───────── ⋆⋅꒰ა☆໒꒱ ⋆⋅ ────────

“I don’t want the children of another man to have the eyes of the girl I wont forget.”

───────── ⋆⋅꒰ა☆໒꒱ ⋆⋅ ────────

CW: none! I don’t think so?

“Lets break up.” A faint whistle in the background blew as you just stared at him. A giggle leaves your throat. This is a joke. This has to be a joke… right?

But the jokes not funny anymore as those words lingered for far more than a minute with nothing but silence interrupting those heavyweighted words. “I didn’t know you were so good at joking around, Rin!” You nudge his shoulder with a smile, playing his words off as a joke.

He just stares at you. And then back towards the game of the little children playing soccer. “Anyways, like I was saying—” Rin cuts you off.

“I’m not joking.” Surely, he must’ve been joking, right? Theres no way he called you over here just to break up with you.

“Are you being serious?” You ask, staring up at him for the first time since he ushered those three words. It felt like a thousand cement bricks suffocating your body with those three damn words. A light-hearted laugh leaves your mouth once again as he doesn’t reply to your question. “Why?” You question him once more.

Maybe you were in denial. Or maybe he’s just playing an April Fool’s joke on you! But it’s November— November 19th— too late for an April Fool’s joke.

“Because I don’t need you.” He looks back at you, almost like hes seeking a reaction from you but you only smile at him. “And I promised myself to only focus on football, nothing else.” Rin hears you humming as if you were ignoring his words.

“Y/N, I’m not joking. Don’t contact me again.” He gets up from the wooden bench, grabbing his equipment from his earlier practice. What a cruel thing to say.

“You’re so cruel, Rin.” You say, once again with that smile on your face. He turned around to look at you once more; he never understood how you could smile so much, even in the toughest situations but thats what he liked about you. Yet, he kept his pace as he turned his head forward, walking away from you like nothing happened.

The world spun. It felt like colors were all merging together as you pulled your phone out of your pocket, just to be met with a lockscreen of you and Rin. He wore a light smile with eyes closed as you kissed his cheek. Just then could you let your smile falter as you dialed somebody’s number.

—

Your mom was hysterical. She had rushed home from work just to console you after hearing the news of your breakup with Rin. “How could he even say that to you!?” She reprimanded the air, sufficing as a replacement of the younger Itoshi.

“Mom.. It’s okay. Seriously!” Another smile. “He just said he wanted to focus on his football career and thats alright.” A big sigh could be heard as your mom put a hand to her waist for the nth time in the past hour. “But sweetie, a man should never say that to you! Do you really think its acceptable for him to say you were basically useless.” You just laugh it off before faking a yawn.

“I’m getting tired so I’m gonna head to bed, k?” She just nods and lets out another exasperated sigh. It’s not like she isn’t sad that Rin Itoshi isn’t your boyfriend anymore, she was actually quite fond of him. He would often help around the house and would always care for you when you caught sick. She was just so angry for you— as her child— to hear that a man would say something so ruthless to you.

—

The next day, you made sure to wake up extra early. You were determined to take Rin Itoshi out on a date today. Of course you didn’t tell your mom because you knew she would be highly opposed to it. Logically, that man literally just broke up with you. But you were never one to give up. You even formed a plan to make sure it worked! And even if it didnt… Well, you would suck up the consequences later, then.

Before leaving the house, you take a moment to get ready. You want to look your best — not for anyone else, but for yourself. You put on that cute sundress you love, the one with light, airy fabric that makes you feel a little more confident. You curl your hair just a bit, letting loose soft waves that frame your face nicely.

You apply a touch of light makeup — a bit of blush to give your cheeks some color, a swipe of gloss that makes your lips look fresh and natural. You want to feel good, to carry a little brightness with you as you step out the door. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you take a deep breath. Okay. You’re ready.

You step out into the quiet street, heart pounding in your chest. The store isn’t far, but the morning air feels fresh and a little cool, giving you a moment to steady yourself before you go in. When you finally push open the door and step inside, the familiar scent of baked goods and fresh produce hits you. The store is quiet, just a few other early risers browsing the shelves. You walk slowly, your eyes scanning the aisles with purpose.

First, you head to the section where they keep the instant foods. You already know exactly what you’re looking for — a box of that warm, comforting Ochazuke you know Rin loves. You find it easily, nestled between other Japanese snacks. You pick up a box, feeling its weight in your hand, and look at the packaging — simple, homey, with that familiar green tea and rice illustration.

You pause, holding it for a moment, imagining Rin’s face when he sees it. You tuck it into your basket, then move on.

Next, you head to the manga section. It’s a small, neat display, with rows of colorful covers. You scan the titles, your eyes catching on one of his favorites. It’s a series you’ve seen him read before, always with a little smile on his face. You take your time, flipping through the pages, making sure it’s the right volume.

Then, with a deep breath, you head to the counter and rent it, feeling a little nervous as the clerk scans it and hands it over. You clutch it tightly, like holding onto a lifeline.

The walk to his house feels slower, almost deliberate. Every step is a reminder of what you’re doing — trying to reach out, trying to hold onto something you’re afraid is slipping away. Your mind races with thoughts, but you focus on the small act of kindness you’re about to give him.

When you finally arrive at Rin’s house, nerves tighten in your chest again. You ring the doorbell, and his mom answers with that warm, familiar smile. “Hello Y/N!” You try to keep your expression steady with a smile.

“Hi, Mrs.Itoshi. Is Rin home? I wanted to see him.”

Her smile stays, but a flicker of something else crosses her face — a hint of hesitation. She looks at you softly, then asks quietly, “Did he tell you anything about today?”

Your heart sinks. “No, he didn’t mention anything,” you reply, trying to keep your voice even.

For a moment, her smile falters just a little, and she looks down before speaking again. “He just left to a football camp today… it’s called Project Bluelock.”

You blink, caught off guard. “Oh, really? Did he—”

She hesitates again, then looks at you with a gentle but sad expression. “Did he ever tell you he was leaving for that?”

You blink in surprise. “No, he never said a word.”

Her face softened, but her eyes revealed something more — a quiet understanding. She looked away for a moment, then sighed. “I apologize on his behalf, sweetheart. It must’ve just slipped his mind!” She waves her hand around with a soft laugh to distract you.

It seemed like he didn’t mention anything about the breakup to his mother as her doltish behavior was apparent; yet her words felt like a gut-wrenching punch to your body. Maybe this is why he wanted to break up with you, so you didn’t have to worry, right? Stomach twisted in pain and confusion, but you kept your composure. “How long do you think he’ll be gone?” you asked softly.

She looked uncertain, fidgeting as she thought. “It could last four years, or maybe less. It’s hard to say when he’ll come back.” Well, that just crushed your guesses.

You nodded slowly, then bowed your head slightly, forcing another strained smiled, it was basically your signature from now on. “Ah, okay. Thank you Mrs.Itoshi! Have a nice evening.”

Without waiting for more, you turned and walked away from his house, feeling the heavy weight of it all settle in. He really left — not just yesterday, but for good, it seemed. And no matter how much you hoped, the truth was sinking in like a hook: he truly did leave you behind.

—

The soft glow of the evening sun seeped through the curtains as you stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the delicate necklace around your neck. It had been more than a couple of months since Rin’s absence had left you in that dark, quiet hole—months of feeling lost, trying to hold yourself together.

But now, finally, you were beginning to crawl out of it, taking tentative steps back into the world of normalcy. You’d been going on dates with other men, trying to remind yourself that life still moved forward, even if a part of you still felt broken.

And among all those attempts, one man named Oliver Aiku had caught your attention more than the others—his easy charm, genuine kindness, and the way he made you feel like you mattered.

Tonight was your second date with him. You weren’t sure if it was nerves or hope, but deep down, you knew this was different. Something about Oliver made you forget the ache in your chest, even if just for a little while.

You took a deep breath and stepped out of your house, locking the door behind you. The city buzzed quietly around you, but your mind was still tangled in memories you couldn’t quite shake.

Now, as you headed to the restaurant, that familiar mix of excitement and anxiety settled in your chest. You’d been doing your best to move on, but part of you still carried the weight of the past.

The restaurant was elegant, with soft jazz music floating through the air and candlelight flickering on every table. You were led to a quiet corner where a man was already waiting, his eyes catching yours with a gentle warmth. Oliver Aiku. A professional football player, a shining star in Japan’s U-20 team, and someone who seemed to understand how to make a girl feel special without even trying.

He stood as you approached, offering a charming smile and a hand that you took hesitantly. His grip was firm but kind, and as you both sat down, he kept your hand in his, his thumb softly tracing circles on your palm as he ordered for you.

The dinner was slow, filled with easy conversation, laughter, and that rare feeling of being truly seen—really seen.

Oliver was romantic in a way that made your cheeks flush, spoiling you with small gestures—flower petals on the table, whispered compliments, a gentle touch on your shoulder. It was comforting, the kind of comfort you hadn’t realized you needed.

As the night deepened and the candles burned lower, he leaned in slightly, his voice lowering to a more serious tone.

“I’ve got a big match coming up,” he said softly, eyes shining with anticipation. “Against a team called Bluelock. It’s in a couple of months—probably right around when I’ll be at my busiest. I’ve been training hard for it, and honestly, I want to make it special. He paused.

“I’d love to invite you to come watch, maybe even see the game in person if you’re interested.” He shot you a wink.

You blinked, caught off guard by how casual yet meaningful the offer sounded. A few months still felt like a long wait, but the way he spoke about it made it feel like it was right around the corner. Your stomach tightened at the mention of Bluelock. You recognized the name immediately—Rin Itoshi. The thought hit you like a sudden gust of cold wind. You froze for a moment, feeling the familiar ache rise again, but you quickly masked it with a small, polite smile, nodding politely. No, you wouldn’t let him see how much that name still haunted you.

Oliver kept talking, rambling about tactics and players, the passion in his voice making your mind drift elsewhere. You found yourself staring at the flickering candle flame, images of Rin’s face flashing behind your eyes. The way he’d always hold you in his arms, how he always called everybody ‘lukewarm,’ and even when he said those three damned words to you. But the memories blurred together, tangled with the present, and suddenly, you felt distant, disconnecting from the romantic man sitting infront of you, at dinner.

“Are you okay?” Oliver’s voice broke through your reverie, gentle but concerned. You blinked, realizing you’d been silent too long. You offered a small, reassuring smile. “Nothing’s wrong,” you said softly. “Just… thinking.”

He studied you for a moment, then smiled again, understanding without pressing further. You finished your meal, the night winding down slowly, the world outside fading into a quiet hum. When the time came for him to drive you home, he stood, holding out his hand. You took it, feeling the warmth of his touch as he helped you into his sleek, luxurious car.

On the drive back, he pulled you close, giving you a quick hug and a wink before kissing the top of your hands. “Can’t wait to see you at the game,” he said softly, his voice tinged with excitement. “I really want you to be there. It would mean a lot.” You nodded, feeling the warmth of his presence, but inside, the ghost of Rin still lingered, stubborn and heavy.

As the city lights blurred past the window, you wondered how long you could keep pretending you were okay—how long you could keep hiding the ache that never quite faded. Because some memories, some names, just refused to let go, no matter how much time passed. And as you stared at the passing streets, you couldn’t help but think about that game. Maybe it was a sign? About how it was just a few months away, and how, somehow, it felt like it was already shaping your future—whether you liked it or not.

—

The stadium was alive, but somehow, it felt distant—like a dream you didn’t quite want to wake up from. You step through the gates, and your eyes are immediately drawn to the massive, life-sized cardboard cutouts lining the entrance.

All the U20 Japan players, frozen in mid-action, their faces bright and confident. But the one that catches your eye, the one that makes your heart skip a beat, is Oliver Aiku. His calm smile looks so real, so familiar—like he’s right there, waiting for you.

You pause for a moment, your gaze lingering on his figure. It’s funny, isn’t it? How the one who invited you here is also the reason you’re trembling inside. You look past the cutouts, past the crowds, trying to steady your breathing.

It’s been over a year since Rin Itoshi shattered whatever hope you had left. And yet, somehow, you’re back here—drawn in by the game, by the memories, by the ache of something unfinished.

You make your way to get snacks—just a soda and some popcorn—trying to drown out the noise of your own thoughts. The stadium begins to fill, the roar of voices and footsteps echoing around you.

Soon, both teams pour out from their tunnels—blazing with energy, fierce and determined.

Then, your eyes catch him—Rin. Tall, focused, his sharp gaze sweeping the crowd. You see him, and for a moment, your breath catches. He turns slightly—just enough—and you swear, for a brief second, he looks directly at you. Maybe it’s just your mind playing tricks, but you catch a flicker of recognition in his eyes.

And just as quickly, he’s gone, replaced by the figure of Aiku. Calm, composed, walking out with that gentle smile. Your eyes meet, and for a heartbeat, everything slows down—like the world is holding its breath. Aiku nods at you, a quiet “hello,” before he steps onto the field with his teammates.

The game began. It’s fierce, relentless—bluelock pushing forward with speed and precision. The tension between the teams is almost tangible, every pass, every shot soaked in anticipation.

You watch, heart pounding, as the score tightens. The air is thick with cheers, groans, and the raw energy of youth and competition.

The whistle blows, marking the end of the match. Bluelock is ahead—just barely—after what feels like the most nerve-wracking game you’ve ever watched.

The stadium begins to empty slowly, a gentle hum of departing fans as your phone buzzes suddenly—

AIKU- Meet me in the lobby when everyone leaves.

You swallow, nodding to yourself, and make your way through the quiet corridors, the emptiness almost surreal after the chaos of the game.

When you reach the lobby, there he is—leaning against the wall, a soft smile on his face that seems to carry a thousand unspoken words.

“I just wanted to see you,” he says softly, stepping closer. His voice is gentle but sincere. Without thinking too much, you find yourself stepping into his space, and he wraps you in a warm, genuine hug.

It’s not just a gesture—it’s a quiet reassurance, a moment of fragile connection.

He holds you for a beat longer than expected, then slowly pulls away, his eyes lingering on yours. He speaks again, quietly, almost like he’s afraid to disturb the moment.

“You looked good out there,” he murmurs, eyeing your flowy dress. “I’m glad you came.”

You want to say something back, but words feel unnecessary. Instead, you just smile, feeling a strange flicker of comfort amid all the chaos.

He hesitates, then finally, he says, “I’ve got to go now. The others are heading to an afterparty. But I wanted to see you. To thank you for coming.”

You watch him leave, your heart a little lighter, even as the echo of Rin’s shadow still lingers. Little did you know, Rin had seen everything—the hug, the exchange, the small, human moments that made your heart ache even more.

Later that night, you’re back at your house, standing in the quiet kitchen. The dishes are cleaned, the silence feels almost thick around you. Your mind is tangled, restless, and then your phone buzzes softly on the table.

You glance at it. Rin’s name. Your stomach tightens—an instinctive pull. You hesitate, then pick it up.

RIN— Meet me at our park.

He was sure you would come, just like a loyal cat that always finds its way home after wandering off out of curiosity. Even when abandoned and left behind, the cat’s love for its home and loyalty made it return, trusting that it was still a place of comfort.

This time, its return was because of its unconditional love, not just curiosity.

It’s late, but something urges you to go. You grab your jacket, step outside, and feel the cool night air. Shadows stretch long across the empty streets, and everything feels slow—like time is holding its breath.

When you arrive, there he is—leaning against the lamppost. His face is softer than you remember, but his eyes are guarded, like he’s been holding something back.

He looks at you, silent for a beat, then speaks quietly.

“Are you seeing anyone?” Rin asks, voice low.

You shake your head. “No.” It’s not like you were obligated to tell him the truth but who cares? Your ex who dumped you, the very ex that you’re still deeply inlove with, is speaking to you again. Maybe you were desperate but love knows no bounds.

He hesitates again, then asks, “What about Aiku?”

You shake your head again, with a small, quiet smile. You never really had feelings for Aiku—he was just someone to distract you. It was just a casual moment, nothing special.

Rin pulls out his phone and shows you a photo—Aiku, sitting between two girls, kissing him. You glance at it without much feeling.

“Who are they?” you ask softly.

Rin’s eyes flicker with something unspoken—regret, maybe. “Just some people from the party,” he says quietly. “I was curious, that’s all.”

He takes a breath, then, more straightforward than usual, says, “I’m sorry.” His voice is steady but unsure, like he’s still learning how to say it.

“For walking away. For how I treated you. I was scared—I guess I didn’t want to hurt you, or lose you…” He pauses, searching for your eyes. “In the end, I probably still did but-“

He cuts himself off. "..When I got invited to Bluelock, I thought I wouldn’t be enough to provide time for you. I thought it was better to leave.”

He looks down, then back up, a little awkward but sincere. “That’s stupid.” You reply with a smile as he looks up at you, the tip of his ears red from embarrassment. What a sweet sight.

His words hang in the cool air for a moment. Then he adds softly, “I never stopped thinking about you.”

You listen, feeling the honesty in his voice—clumsy, maybe, but real. “I just couldn’t stand it when I saw you and Aiku.. the thought that another man could have children with the eyes of the girl I would never forget.” He instinctively cringes at his own words. It was cringey, but it was true so in some sort of way, Rin felt it was validated.

“Not saying that you’d ever have kids with such a lukewarm bastard though…” He looked away, shy. How cute.

Another smile from you, followed by a laugh that Rin could never get tired of. “I forgive you,” you say quietly as you slowly lift a hand to his face. A gentle caress to his cheek as he leans into like its the most natural thing in the world.

Rin nods, a faint, uncertain smile on his face.

Under the quiet glow of the moon, you realize that sometimes love isn’t about perfect words or grand gestures. It’s just about trying—about being brave enough to say what’s true, even if it’s messy.

You stand there for a moment longer, silent but connected. Then, quietly, you turn back toward home, feeling just a little lighter—hope flickering inside, maybe this was the start of something real.

Maybe love is simply about trying.

[chaifootsteps]

I have been kicked out of my own home TWICE, I know what it's like to lose everything you loved and being unable to see your family member. NOT ONCE did I ever act like Stolas, I was extremely grateful for my friend's family housing me, my mother and sister. You shouldn't treat the person who literally saved you from living on the streets like some butler.

I get that for Stolas, who's lived his whole life having everything to suddenly having nothing is very hard to adjust to because I felt like that the first time, it was one of the lowest points in my life but he didn't ever thank Blitzø ONCE for giving him food and shelter. No, he had the audacity to ask for more expensive meals, make classist remarks to the imp's holiday and trash the office of an imp who worked hard there to put food on Stolas' own plate.

I HATE the excuses his fans come up with to rationalizing Stolas' attitude in Sinsmas. "He has a special diet so we can't judge him for that", BULLSHIT, he was shoveling sad spoonfuls of miserable cereal in the episode Ozzie so he can obviously consume other foods. "He's depressed so he's not thinking well", I was depressed too but at least I made sure that I was grateful to the one housing me instead of just complaining about how poor I was. "He's having a meltdown over not seeing his daughter so it's a justified crashout," I had my moments where I was incredibly angry at my circumstances where I did things out of anger I will never be proud of but I would have never have taken out my frustrations on the possessions and workplace of my friend's family especially when they entrusted me with the job of handling it.

Not everyone has the same experience of being nearly homeless and we all deal with it in our own ways but being ungrateful and inconsiderate to the people who's kind enough to make sure you can live under a roof, feed you and help you get back on your feet to build a new life for yourself has NO excuse. The least you can do for them is say the words thank you to them and somehow, with every opportunity Stolas was practically handed to on screen to say it, not once has he taken it.

This, this, this. Some of the excuses the stans make for Stolas's behavior show give you the impression that they barely understand how to interact with other humans, much less analyze a cartoon.

Most people who find themselves with nothing know enough to show some level of basic gratitude. Hell, even the ones who end up pawning their hosts' radios and stealing from their medicine cabinets say thank you before that happens.

[young-waverer]

i think that the parallels between this fight and the ones in 8x09 are really interesting. both times, eddie accuses buck of making everything about himself, but that's only true in 8x09.

when buck was being a dick in 8x09, it wasn't that he wanted eddie not to leave; he wanted to know eddie didn't want to leave him, that eddie cared enough for this to hurt, even if it was something he felt he had to do. and although it manifests differently tonally in eddie, the fight in 8x17 is rooted in the exact same feeling. eddie wants to know buck needs him, and he wants to know buck is in the trenches of grief right there with him.

i think we're meant to understand eddie is in the wrong and lashing out in 8x17, just like buck was in 8x09. we needed to see both buck and eddie be irrational and messy and sad during this season, because we needed to see that both of them are equally invested in their relationship. when they're in conflict, it's not that buck is an immature asshole and it's not that eddie is angry and withdrawn. it's that they both need and love each other so much that they feel hurt when they think the other doesn't also need and love them as much.

[simherewriting]

buck's not wrong. eddie's not wrong. grief is not a competition and nobody gives a trophy to the successful because there's no right way to do it.

living your sadness or grief openly and without thinking you would be an inconvenience is so not possible for some people that when you see someone tries to do it you get angry. not at them but at the fact that they're able to do it. it feels like they do something forbidden and you are the witness and you're afraid of being caught but you want to be able to do it too. you envy the chance you never had.

that whole scene is eddie telling buck that he wants to grieve together because on his own he doesn't feel like he deserves to do it. he wants buck to let him in too but like all of the other times he waits to be heard without saying it directly because he can't ask for it directly.

buck getting defensive makes him understand that he won't get it and that is so consistent with the 8x09 argument because he is only like this open or wanting to open with buck. it probably feels like kind of a rejection.

(i see the finger pointing and shoulder holding as trying to make buck see him and it being this much of a thing is because it feels like directed to our face too because of the camera angle which i loved btw.)

whole dynamic in buddie arguments is one of the best written parts of this show. it makes sense when you think about how they grew up. it always feels so real.

when they finally identify the wall that feels like appear out of nowhere when they need each other the most and destroy it they will be able to get through hard times easier. because they both will feel they have every right to reach and ask. it is about time.

[tgmsunmontue]

A picture is worth 1000 words - 18/?

Hangster post-TGM events, Jake and Bradley becoming friends on Instagram through increasingly competitive thirst traps.

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN ELEVEN TWELVE THIRTEEN FOURTEEN FIFTEEN SIXTEEN SEVENTEEN

PART EIGHTEEN

                “You look happy…” Jake looks up and grins at his sister because yeah, he is happy. He was already happy. Bradshaw, Bradley, being here, is just amplifying all of it. “It’s nice to see you like this.”

                “I wasn’t sad.”

                “No. I know you weren’t,” Kara says, and she kicks at him in annoyance. “It’s just… You can share your happiness with him. That’s nice.”

                “Yeah, I guess it is.”

                She rolls her eyes at him and he laughs, annoying her has always been one of his joys in life and she knows it too.

                “Thanks for inviting him.”

                “Anytime. Anyway, it was easy. Especially once Natasha told me Bradley would drop everything and come if I did…”

                “Oh… I didn’t realize you and Trace had been chatting.”

                “That’s okay baby bro, you’ve been a little distracted staring at Bradley.”

                “You’re two minutes older!”

                “I note you don’t dispute the staring…”

                “You’ll just call me out for lyin’,” Jake mutters with a sigh, because watching Bradley is definitely one of his favorite past times, especially now when he gets to touch. And already if Bradley notices he’s looking he’ll come over and touch Jake, quite frankly it’s a very nice reciprocal arrangement they’ve got going, for it being all of a day old. He knows he’s only got Bradley here for a finite period of time, but he tries not to focus on that. Wants to enjoy their time together.

                “Is it time to make forts Uncle Jake?”

                “Uh…” he freezes, because his bedroom is usually the scene of fort building, and right now his bedroom is definitely not somewhere for his niece and nephew. His eyes fly to Kara’s and she’s making a face, lips sucked in to stop the outright laughter she clearly wants to let loose. Jake can’t even find it in him to be upset or angry. He’d made a throw away promise earlier in the week about building forts anyway, but…

                “How do you feel about building a tree house instead?”

                “A tree fort!” Andy says, eyes going wide.

                “Yeah. A tree fort,” Jake agrees, feeling a little manic, and Kara is now laughing silently. Kaleb has appeared in the doorway, already hot and dusty from being out working already.

                “You building the kids a fort?”

                “Apparently,” Jake muses, but Andy is climbing on him, excited and he knows he’s no longer got a free day to spend with Bradley. Ah well. They do have all night.

                “What are we doing?” Bradley asks, coming through the hallway door and he’s freshly shaved, informing Jake that morning that he had subpar shaving equipment and maybe he did need to teach him. Jake had told him he’d let him, which had just made Bradley blush and now Jake’s going to try and make him do that more often.

                “We are making a tree house!”

                “No! A tree fort!” Andy corrects.

                “You’re going to have to fix the fence if you’re thinking of using the old oak tree as your base. You are going to build it there, right?”

                “It’s where our dad built our tree house, it’s perfect really,” Kara says, but she’s directing her words to Bradley who’s looking interested.

                “You ever built a tree fort Rooster?”

                “Nope. But I’m good at following directions.”

                “Oh, I know.”

                Kara’s snort of laughter reminds him of where he is and he’s pretty sure his cheeks are as pink as Bradley’s.

[gothamite-rambler]

When death isn’t enough for your enemy, but you’re Batman and know how to put them into a coma.

Joker and Batman stood face to face, six feet apart. Joker reached for a sneak weapon, but Batman anticipated the move. With a swift throw, he launched a batarang that wrapped around Joker’s legs, knocking the clown to the ground.

Joker (mocking): Are you going to kill me?

Batman (walking over): No… You want me to kill you, and that makes me not want to. You do deserve a fate worse than death honestly. Does that make you mad?

Joker (with an angry smile): N-No! Your bratty first rat tried to kill me, and the second went insane because I killed him. You’re weak—unlike… them.

Batman: This is a sick wish you have, kind of sad. I live rent-free in your head. But funny thing is, when you’re locked away, I forget you exist.

Joker: Oh please, I’m your greatest enemy.

Batman: That doesn’t mean I care about you or obsess over you… anymore, at least.

Joker: Whatever you say, ‘defender of Gotham.’ You continue to be a disappointment to everyone around you.

Batman (nonchalant): Probably. I have a lot of bridges to rebuild.

Joker: Your… your son must truly hate you for letting him die and for letting me live.

Batman: He’s forgiven me for his death. You’re right about the second. It’s unfortunate I can’t give him that one last wish, to end your life. I did try, remember that?

Joker (stammering): N- No. Ow!

Batman kicked Joker in his hip to silence him.

Batman: So much time has passed since then. And in that passing of time, you formulated a plan to use against me when you die. You want me to kill you, so a domino effect you’ve planned will drive me insane and then I’ll become you.

Joker: Turn me into you… no.

Batman (nodding, his tone turning more malevolent): Oh, you definitely were, I figured as much.

Batman tapped his foot, poised for the first strike.

Batman: I’ve always wondered why you want me to kill you so badly. It’s not just because you think you deserve death—though you do. I can admit that. No, I think it’s sadder than that. You have no one you can call a friend, cause you salted the ground of every relationship you did have.

Joker: …You have no proof—

Batman (interrupting): I found your plans a few months ago, moron. The notebooks, sketchbooks, schematics. For an unhinged clown, you’re quite the planner. You intended to take out some rogues—Riddler, Mr. Freeze, Two-Face, Harley. The woman who put up with your nonsense for years would die at your hands.

Batman’s tone hardened as he reached for his cowl, slowly pulling it off, his eyes narrowing.

Batman: Then, to really set me off, you planned to kill Catwoman and Jim Gordon. I didn’t like reading those notes, Joker.

Joker (trying to hide his fear): I can tell.

Batman: After that, I would’ve broken your neck and you’d find a way to poison me with a new experimental Joker toxin. Without anyone to talk sense into me, I’d spiral further. You even planned for me to kill my oldest sons and Oracle, to keep those close to me silent about my descent into madness. I really didn’t like reading that, especially when you involved my youngest son, excited for me to turn him into a ‘Joker gremlin’… I may sound calm, but inside, my rage is a volcano ready to erupt.

Joker: You should be proud of me, Batsy. I didn’t miss a single detail.

Batman nodded slowly, contemplating his next move.

Batman: You go after my friends, I let you live, you kill my son, I let you live, you shoot one of my friends, I let you live. Many call me insane for just tossing you back into prison every time and darn it... they might be right. So I thought, what if you were alive, but immobile, stuck in an endless sleep and alone for years.

Joker: I don't like that plan.

Batman: You don't? That's so good to hear. You know, I love that you know who I am outside the mask, and you won’t tell anyone. That makes what I’m about to do so much easier. Even if I beat the life out of you and drag you back, you’ll never reveal who I am. That makes me so very happy.

Batman’s smile wasn’t one of warmth, but more like that of a demon possessed person from the horror movie Smile.

Batman: I won’t kill you. Death has always been too kind for someone like you. And by my hands, God no. Plus, let’s be honest, I’d kill every other petty goon and villain in Gotham for the smallest nonsense. I’ve accepted that.

Batman sighed, then pulled out duct tape from his utility belt. He crouched down and firmly taped Joker’s mouth shut.

Batman: I didn't say anything about comas and since you planned to use me to wipe out my entire family, and the only man I can truly call my friend, I’ve come up with a better plan. I’m going to try every way I can to beat you into a coma over the next hour. No one’s stopping me, and yes, I’ll make sure you live through every second of it. Feel every bit of pain. Aren’t I just so considerate?

Joker muffled a feeble plea for death.

Batman (talking to the clown like he was a child): I know you want me to kill you. Maybe I should consider that.

Joker (hopeful, muffling through the tape): Really?

Batman (teasing): Noooo.

Without warning, Batman grabbed Joker by his shirt collar and slammed him to the ground.

Many hours later, at Arkham Asylum…

Doctor: He’s going to be eating through a feeding tube for about seven years. Seriously, what did he do to him?

Jim: I stopped questioning his plans the second he got the second Robin. For some reason, he even sent me a cake afterward.

[fawnyflower]

Having Trouble - little!nat + cg!lottie

word count: 1212

-> summary: Nat has a bad experience that makes him afraid to be small again. Luckily, Lottie is there to help!

-> he/him nat she/her lot, boyre, babyre!nat, some discussion of nat’s childhood + ptsd, very very VERY minor mentions of accidents + padding, negative thoughts about self + agere in general :(, cursing, s2 adult timeline living together at the compound

When Nat regressed the night before, it had been… really bad. Lottie hadn’t been home — something about needing to head out for fertilizers and seed starts without Lisa tagging along — and a bang outside had scared Nat so bad he was two years old again, hiding under the bed in wet pants and trying to remember to breathe. By the time Lottie came home, he was so worked up that he didn’t recognize her at first, convinced that she was one of the dozens of people his mom and dad used to bring over to drink and let out their anger on Nat with. So… he really didn’t want to do that again. He didn’t want to be small anymore in general. He wanted to be high, drunk, whatever, just to keep the fuzziness and sadness and brokenness at bay.

Lottie wasn’t having that. She’d just come home, done with her workshops for the day. She’d cornered him, made him have a “chat” with her — Lottiespeak for “an intervention” — and now she was trying to talk him into regressing tonight “to cope”.

“Are you sure you’re okay without it, Nat?” she asked, concern painted all over her face.

“Yes,” Nat nearly hissed, prickling at the implication that he couldn’t take care of himself. (He couldn’t, not really, not the way he needed, but he didn’t want to admit that.)

“It’s just.. I’m just worried about you,” Lottie said. Her hand inched closer to his on the bed. He didn’t yank his away just yet. “You weren’t doing well last night, and you’ve been avoiding me all day. What do you need, Natalie?”

That did it. “I don’t need shit, Lottie!” he snapped, pulling his hand away. “I don’t need you to watch me! I don’t need you to enable my weird psychosexual bullshit! I’m a grown adult and I don’t need anything from you!” His eyes stung. He swallowed and tried to ignore the ache in his throat. He didn’t look up at Lottie. He couldn’t. This was what he wanted; for her to finally leave him alone so he could ruin his own life in peace.

“Nat,” Lottie said, softly. Disappointed, but not angry.

Nat’s eyes filled with tears. Without even thinking about it, he was leaning into Lottie, letting her hold him and rub his back.

“‘M sorry,” he mumbled into her shoulder. He could feel himself starting to slip, and he was terrified, but at least she was warm and loved him. There were worse fates. “I didn’ wanna yell, ‘m sorry….”

“It’s okay, baby,” Lottie reassured him. “I know you’re just feeling some big feelings.”

Nat sniffled. “You gonna leave me?”

“No, honey, of course not. Never.” She kissed his forehead. They sat in silence for a moment before Lottie spoke again.

“Nat…what happened last night?”

Right. He’d never actually told her. He’d just cried into his blankets and fallen asleep on her lap once he recognized her again, and they hadn’t spoken about it since then.

“Um…” he tried, “I, um, got scared…” when I saw you, his brain finished for him.

“Can you tell me what scared you?” Lottie asked gently. Nat almost wanted to laugh. What didn’t scare him, after all he’d been through?

“There was a…a noise, and um,” Nat told her, then squeezed his eyes shut at the violent reminder his brain provided, “when I saw you, I didn’t…um.” He took a breath. “I didn’t recog-ize you. Thought you were gonna hurt me.”

Lottie exhaled a sigh. “Oh, baby.” she murmured. “That must’ve been so scary.”

Nat nodded shakily, squeezing her tighter. “So I don’ wanna be little anymore.”

“That bad, huh?” Lottie said, and Nat started to cry again. “Oh, bub, shh, it’s okay. It was scary but it’s over. You can be little and I’ll take care of you. I’ll keep you safe from anything scary, I promise.”

“‘ven though I’m bad?” Nat managed to say between sobs. Lottie’s face crumpled.

“Sweetie-“ Nat winced at the nickname - “buddy, you’re not bad. Not at all,” Lottie said firmly. “You were just scared. I’m not mad at you at all, okay?”

“Okay, Mama,” Nat said softly. He didn’t believe it, but he was tired of fighting. He wanted to be held by his mama and to take a nap.

Lottie smiled at the name. “Thank you, bubba. Do you wanna get dressed in your jammies and lie in bed with me? We can have a story and you can have a sippy.”

Nat nodded. That sounded wonderful. Lottie picked him up — not without significant effort, but he was kind of small — and rearranged him on the bed, so he was lying on his back and she was standing. She grabbed his wolf stuffie (Ginger 2) from the bedside shelf she lived on. When she handed her to him, he grinned and hugged her tight. “Hi, Ginger,” he murmured into her fur, feeling really small, but safe, and loved. This was nothing like last time.

Lottie returned almost immediately with his favorite clothes for when he was feeling super small: her oldest t-shirt, worn-out and giant on him but comforting, a pull-up, and his fuzzy blue striped pajama pants. In her other hand, she held a bottle (having somehow figured out that he was too small for the sippy she’d promised) and two of his favorite picture books. She made quick work of dressing him after popping his blue pacifier into his mouth, and changed into her own pajamas as well. The second she sat down in bed again, Nat was on her, clinging with all four limbs to her.

“Hi, kiddo,” she hummed, happily adjusting to let him cling as she lay down.

“Mama,” Nat babbled behind the paci, pressing further into her. “Mama…” He wasn’t thinking in words anymore, not really — he was just happy to be with his Mama. He bonked her chest with his head, beaming.

“There’s my happy guy,” Lottie said adoringly, pressing a kiss to his hairline, “I missed you, little bug.”

“Buh...” Nat replied, informingly. Lottie giggled. “You feelin’ silly, bubby?” Nat didn’t respond, just snuggled closer. “Okay. You’re just feeling really small, huh?” Lottie murmured.

In lieu of a response, Nat pointed at the bottle of milk Lottie had set on the table, whining a little. Lottie caught on, of course, and easily rearranged herself so she was leaning against the headboard and Nat was cradled in her lap. She replaced his pacifier with the nipple of the bottle, letting him hold it as he suckled. Once she felt sure he could hold it himself — his little hands were clutching it tight, his eyes closed in contentment — she took out one of his stories and started to read. As she read, she watched Nat’s face relax, all of his troubles and worries vanishing for the moment. She couldn’t turn back time, but she could give him this. That was something to be grateful for.

“Good night, Natty,” she whispered, once he’d fallen asleep with a half-finished bottle in his hands and a smile on his face. She leaned over him to turn out the bedside light, making sure to kiss both him and Ginger on the nose on the way. “Mama loves you so, so much.”

[litsenn]

I was reading this post by @wendeeesaucy with the interesting addition by @michanvalentine and I wanted to add my two cents, but since you can't to put videos in an reblog, I need to make my own post.

It's a very interesting take about that "I love you" line in Act 1 and I like what is said about it in the aforementioned post (I recommend reading it). I've already talked at length about this whole dialogue and the irony in Astarion's behaviour, so I won't repeat myself here. I just want to say that what makes this "I love you" even more fascinating, is Astarion's reaction when you refuse to spend that second night with him.

He doesn't get angry, he doesn't even insist. Worse. He looks sad, disappointed, and he sounds absolutely down-hearted. Honestly, his reaction here breaks my heart.

He's surprised, he wasn't expecting it. And it's not just a question of pride.

At first he's sarcastic, an instinctive defence mechanism to pretend it doesn't matter.

Then, it feels like he's realising that he had found something special in you, and he opens up a little.

Had he clearly acknowledged how special this first night was before this moment? I don't know, but he clearly is embarrassed. He hesitates, he reflects, his diction is faster than usual: "Thattimewasspecialtome" - he almost mumbles it, barely articulating the words. He shows a vulnerability we have never witnessed in him so far at this point of the adventure.

Then, he has this moment of dissociation, right after he tells you he'll remember you.

He escapes to his mental world for a moment, the harsh truth hitting too hard: you're rejecting him, rejecting the only thing he thinks he's good at. You're making the first night nothing more than a one night stand. Just a meaningless fuck.

It's not surprising that his last "dear" sounds so bitter. He won't have a fine evening.

It seems like you just crushed down the few hopes he had dared to have. And maybe he hadn't realised it until now, but he looks and sounds so disillusioned and hurt that I can't help thinking that at this point, he had started to imagine something else could be possible with you.

And now the first sarcastic line about his "broken heart" doesn't sound so acerbic anymore. Maybe you didn't "break" his heart, but you definitely hurt it.

And this simple, apparently mischievous answer, suddenly appears as much more meaningful. It's exactly like this "I love you", the other side of the same coin.

You think he's jesting, and at first you don't know if he's scornful, bitter, playful... But when you take a closer look at it, you realise there's some truth in it. Maybe an exaggerated truth, but still "something real".

[johanna-swann]

Not to make it all about Buck, but the way the character dynamics were portrayed last episode made me so sad for him.

In 8x16 we got the scenes with Maddie and Chimney. Maddie's got her own shit going on, but she took the opportunity of Buck showing up at her house to check in and make him feel seen and loved. Chimney was focused on his own grief, he was angry, he felt guilty, but he didn't put that on Buck. It was a really emotional and great scene that showed Chimney's grief and how he can be open with Buck and accept his advice.

Those scenes perfectly demonstrated Buck following Bobby's "orders" while still giving him connections. But this week I just got the impression that Buck is alone, both from what was directly said and by contrast.

Everybody has someone who they can go to and who will talk to them, even beyond their spouses. Athena has her children, Hen and Karen who all check in with her. Eddie drops by Henren's place and they keep the conversation light, but they can talk openly about several big topics. Chimney gets continued support from his wife, he also spends time with the Wilson-Han children and takes all three of them out to the movies and he briefly chats with Hen.

They all have their own complicated details to work through that could get awkward or even uncomfortable depending on who they bring it up to.

Hen bringing up to Athena how she was offered the Captain's position - meaning she'd replace Bobby in a way - probably made her at least a little nervous, but they talked about it and it was fine. Athena being angry at Chimney is probably complicated for Karen, but she reaches out to Athena about it anyway to make sure she's okay. The way Madney talk about Bobby, how the existence of their kids could've been the detail that convinced Bobby to sacrifice himself, how Maddie is grateful Bobby saved Chim (instead of himself), all of that is emotionally complex and they talk about it. Hen and Karen confront Eddie about his living situation which he explains away quickly and it's no big deal, but they don't just let it slide even though the topic could be difficult for Eddie.

What I mean to say is: These conversations aren't easy. They're complicated and hard and exhausting, but the characters still reach out to each other and take care of each other anyway. Because they love each other and they're family. Sure, Chimney and Athena are at odds right now, but this episode showed again how beautifully interconnected the firefam is. Or can be when the writers decide to show it.

Somehow this doesn't apply to Buck. For some reason he's the one who's too hard to handle, so they don't reach out to him and they don't talk to him and they don't take care of him. And they won't tell us why.

"He spirals after the funeral" -> Okay, so show us the ways in which the team thinks he's spiralling. All I saw and heard about was him checking in on his friends and crying while talking to his dead father figure which a) seems like a very normal thing in that situation, not a spiral, and b) none of his friends know about the confessional.

"He's being weird with this grief assessment thing" -> So they're avoiding him because his grieving is weird? Chimney suddenly took up running which he hates, avoided talking to people and almost missed the funeral to get drunk on vodka instead, but Buck using questions from a psychological questionnaire about grief to check in on his friends is too weird?

Eddie implies that all of them talk about Buck, but not to him because they think it might upset him more. Ergo, they know he's already upset and not okay right now. They're all worried. But if they think he's spiralling and not properly processing his grief, isn't that all the more reason to talk to him?

I think if this was brought up next episode by Buck, maybe him getting angry how no-one will just talk to him, they could do something interesting here, but that's not what's going to happen. At most they will give Buck a moment where he admits to someone that he's been trying to repress his grief, he will cry about Bobby and the person will tell him that he needs to properly grieve because he can't avoid the pain, only delay it. But at this point I'm not even holding my breath for that scene partner to be a family member. They might put the priest in there again for all I know or, hey, maybe another extended family member like Bobby's mom or Mr Lee. Maybe Brad is still around.

Buck feels like the family is falling apart, like they're pulling away, but the truth is that the family is very much still there, meeting for coffe, taking the kids to see a movie, talking about Bobby over baby furniture. The only one they're pulling away from is Buck and it is a blessing that Buck hasn't realised that yet.

[esstrellaa123]

Kisses 💋

Alr, Simon Riley who kisses you casually cause it calms you.

It’s simple reason. The way it started even simpler.

—————

“Really Simon?!” You shout at him, throwing his shirt at him.

He says nothing, watching you pace, hurling insults he knew you didn’t mean in his direction.

“I ask for one thing. One fucking thing!” You say derisively, stepping up to his face, annoyed he hasn’t said anything.

“What do you want me to do?” He asks calmly, looking down at you. His eyebrows slightly raised in amusement.

“Stop leaving your shit on the ground!” You exclaim, heavy breathing.

“You always have an attitude.” He speaks calmly, looking you over.

It makes you squirm, but you’re too angry to worry about why your insides feel so warm under his scrutiny.

“Maybe I wouldn’t if you weren’t so-” you start, feeling the anger bubble more as you spoke before he cuts you off.

He kisses you. Only for a moment. Just a peck. But it feels like more- longer.

You splutter up some words you’re sure don’t make sense as he pulls his balaclava back down.

You’re left standing there dumbfounded as he returns to his side of the room, quietly cracking open a book, delving into his own world.

It was the first time it happened and- unbeknownst to you- surly not the last.

——————

You two weren’t dating. That much was apparent. But it could get a little confusing when he blurred those lines of lieutenant and sergeant. It definitely confused the 141 when you two were caught in the act.

Well, you felt caught, Ghost simply brushed off their bombarding questions, guiding you away from the crowd.

When questioned about it later, you didn’t have much to say. What could you say? ‘Oh yeah, he kisses me because it helps me feel better because I’m an utter wreck without him’? No. That simply wouldn’t suffice.

——————

Sure, maybe you got jealous. But it was all within reason. You told yourself this anyway. He thinks it’s the best form of entertainment. Watching you squirm and glare at anyone who seems a little too friendly.

You never did anything about it however, he could just tell in the stiffness of your shoulders and tone. The curt one you used that was different from your usual attempt at silent treatment.

Clipped, he decides on as he asks you a question to which you respond in a snippy tone.

“What’s with the attitude? Hm?” He asks, entering your space. Backing you up against a wall. You don’t notice until you look away from his gaze, trying to get away from him. But of course, he doesn’t let it happen.

“I don’t have an attitude.” You respond curtly, accepting the fact you wouldn’t be able to get away.

“No?” He asks, but you know it’s not a question. You respond anyway.

“No.”

“I think you’re jealous.” He says casually, tipping your head up with his forefinger under your chin.

“I didn’t ask what you thought, now did I?” You ask, glaring back at him.

You hear a small tsk under his breath as he tilts his head at you.

……

Silence engulfs the both of you as he studies you. You watch, your irritation palpable.

After seeming satisfied with what he found in your murky eyes, he presses his lips to your forehead, muttering something about you not having to worry.

Maybe not in so many words, but the message is clear. Even when he backs away like nothing happened.

You don’t have to worry about him and someone else. He’s yours even if he doesn’t say so.

——————

It’s almost become routine for you to bother him until he gives you what you want.

Sometimes, you’ll just come up next to him and glare up at him until he kisses your forehead.

You’ll knock your head into his arm until he acknowledges you.

Maybe if you’re sad he’ll kiss your cheek and let you hug him. They aren’t reciprocated, but he feels nice to hug.

Wrapping your arms around him- or trying to- is like floating. His smell enveloping you so fully you wouldn’t mind being mailed to the darkest parts of his mind. You want to help him the way he helps you, but you aren’t sure how.

Or if you’re feeling extra fiery, he’ll press a firm, long kiss on your lips to shut you up.

They’re the ones you like the most. The ones you think about on your days off. The ones you think of when you know you’re giving him attitude and he’s already teetering on the edge.

Maybe you like his anger.

The kisses are nothing to him (you think?) but heals everything in you, so he has no problem with doing it. Even if someone is looking. Which is most likely the case, but he has no shame.

Maybe he thinks the blush on your face after every one is kinda cute…

Perhaps he does it for his own enjoyment too, not just yours. But he’d never admit that. Not to himself or you. Especially you.

[lura-valentine]

Hint

Set in the world of My Hero Academia / Boku no Hero Academia

Ongoing story – updates will follow

Multi-chapter fanfiction

Chapters will be linked as soon as they’re published

All characters belong to Kōhei Horikoshi, except for Rain and the mysterious man

Ship – DabiHawks × feminine OC

–> To Rain's Profil (OC)

Please note: English is not my first language, so there may be some small mistakes.

Concept of this fanfiction

Since the final war with the League of Villains, Touya has been dying. The doctors gave him only a few weeks, if at all, a few months, but the stubborn son of fire surprised everyone when he was still alive after 16 years.

He was only a shadow of his former self, trapped by vital machines, but something was keeping him alive, as if there was something else he needed to know...

Overview

Part 1 ☆ Part 2 ☆ Part 3 ☆ Part 4 ☆ Part 5 (W.I.P)

Rains Part

The weather had changed, and thick drops of water rained mercilessly onto the roofs of the city, the rhythmic drumming breaking the silence of the night. Rain landed heavily on one of the taller buildings, her wings trembling from effort and anger. She pulled the soaked hood over her head and staggered forward a few steps, then sank to her knees. Her fingers dug into the rough concrete and a hoarse sound escaped her throat - a mixture of frustration, pain, and the echo of old memories.

Keigo's face, his words, his determination to stand in her way... "If you want Fischer, you’ll have to get past me..." The scene played over and over in her head. His look, that mixture of sadness and strength, had hit her hard. She could never forget him, and she knew that a part of her would never let him go. But why did he stand up for this man of all people? Why couldn't he understand?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a powerful flap of wings. She felt the cold presence before she saw him. The mysterious man landed a few meters behind her, his wings spread threateningly as he looked at her. Drops of water ran down his hood and his turquoise eyes glowed with anger.

"What the hell was that down there?!" His voice was loud, his words piercing the darkness like a knife. "You could have killed him! You had him right in front of you, and yet... nothing. Why did you hesitate?"

Rain took a deep breath before rising to her feet. She turned around slowly, her hands shaking slightly, but her voice was calm and firm as she spoke. "I had my reasons, Kaji."

"Reasons?!" He took a step closer, his gaze icy. "Your 'reasons' almost cost us the entire mission! We had him in our hands, and you... you let some sentimental crap stop you from finishing the job?!"

Rain held his gaze, even though her eyes shone with sadness and tiredness. "I won't let anything stop me, Kaji. I don't make my decisions lightly." Her voice grew cooler. "Perhaps you should learn that not every mission goes perfectly. But no, you don't know any different, do you?"

“What does that mean?” asked Kaji, his voice getting louder, but Rain remained calm.

"You're just like your father," she said, and there was something in her voice that Kaji couldn't quite read - something bitter and painful at the same time. "Impulsive, always angry when things don't go the way you want them to. Do you think that will help you?"

"My father?" Kaji's eyes narrowed and his wings twitched uncontrollably. "You never spoke about him. Not once. And now you're making comparisons like that?"

Rain closed her eyes for a moment, as if trying to organize her thoughts. "Because there was nothing I wanted to talk about, Kaji. Your father was complicated... and I did enough to protect you from the shadows of his past."

"Protect?!" Kaji laughed bitterly, his voice now shaking with emotion. "From what? From the truth? From yourself? Or from what he really was? Tell me, finally tell me who he was!"

Rain was silent. Her hands clenched into fists, but she held his gaze. "You're not ready to know yet."

"Not ready?" Kaji stepped closer, his flames beginning to dance faintly around his hands - blue and ice-cold. "I'm not the little child you can control anymore. I have the right to know. Or are you trying to tell me he was just as much of a coward as Fischer?"

That was when Rain lost it. She took a step toward Kaji, her face inches from his. Her red eyes glowed like hot coals. "Stop saying things you don't know! Your father was many things, but he was never a coward. And you... you're just as stubborn as he is." She breathed heavily, then lowered her voice. "Maybe I should have told you the truth. Maybe I should have told you that he..." She stopped, her voice breaking, and she turned away abruptly.

Kaji was speechless for a moment. It was the first time he had seen Rain like this - broken, vulnerable, unsure. "Mom..." He sounded calmer now, almost gentle. "Then at least tell me why you hesitated with Hawks. Do you know him?"

Rain took a deep breath, as if the words were a heavy weight she had been carrying for years. She turned to him slowly and looked deep into his eyes. Her red eyes were filled with a weary clarity. "I'm sorry, Kaji," she said quietly, her voice rough with all the unspoken feelings. "I'm sorry for keeping the truth from you for so long. I know you're old enough to understand who your father was. You will get your answers, but not here."

Kaji wanted to say something, but he stopped. It was as if he absorbed the weight of her words and it seeped into him.

"For the next step in this mission..." She paused and closed her eyes for a moment, as if preparing for something, "...I would have had to tell you who your father is anyway. The person we are going to now will recognize you immediately and they will ask questions."

Rain looked at the rain falling like little blades on the roofs and then continued. "This person is our only chance to catch Fischer. She is the only one who can still help us."

Kaji nodded, and despite the anger and confusion building up inside him, he knew Rain was right. There was too much at stake for him to continue to argue.

Rain took one last deep breath, then turned to him. Her black wings spread in the cold, damp air. "Ready?" she asked, not hiding her determination, but her eyes betrayed how difficult the moment was for her too.

Kaji, still unsure what exactly to think of this whole drama, nodded. "Yes."

With one last look at the rain-soaked ground, Rain took off, her black wings beating once, and she rose into the sky. Kaji followed her, his bluish, shimmering wings breaking through the rain as he flew by her side into the darkness of the night.

Hawks Part

The rain fell in heavy curtains, turning the city streets into glittering mirrors. The light from the lanterns reflected in the puddles, offering an unreal contrast to the grim reality of the night. Hawks pulled his raincoat tighter around himself as he climbed the wide stairs to the police station. Shoto walked silently beside him, his shoulders slightly tense but his gaze as calm and focused as ever. The old stone walls of the station seemed even more oppressive in the darkness and rain than they already were, and the heavy wooden frame of the front door creaked under Hawks' hand as he opened it.

Inside, it was warmer, but no less bleak. The smell of wet fabric, stale coffee, and old paper hung in the air. Police officers scurried through the corridors with files in their hands, and the low hum of conversation was the background music that permeated everything. Hawks shook himself slightly, water dripping from his coat as he walked purposefully toward reception. Shoto followed him without a word, his footsteps echoing dully on the stone floor.

"I have to see Kenji," Hawks said curtly to the receptionist sitting at a small desk. She just nodded and pointed to the door at the end of the hall.

Hawks knocked twice before entering. The police chief, a tall man with a dog's head and sharp, piercing eyes, sat behind a massive desk covered with reports and files. His posture was as straight-backed and authoritative as ever, but when he saw Hawks and Shoto, he put down the file he had just been looking through and motioned for them to sit down.

"Hawks. Todoroki," he greeted them with a brief nod. His voice was deep and rough, with a certain authority as always. "I assume you're here because of Fischer."

"Exactly," Hawks replied, sinking into the chair in front of the desk. Shoto stood silently, arms folded, watching the exchange.

Kenji took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "I have to admit that the situation is... difficult. We have him in custody, but without solid evidence, we cannot keep him for long."

Hawks nodded slowly. "I know there is no evidence at the moment. But we can't just let him go. Fischer has more dirt on his hands than meets the eye. We just have to dig deeper."

Kenji raised an eyebrow. "And what is this assumption based on?"

Hawks leaned forward slightly, his voice becoming more serious. "Someone I trust has made these allegations. She says that Fischer..." He paused for a moment, as if he was having difficulty saying it. "...that he is smuggling children across national borders under the guise of his logistics company."

Kenji stared at him, his eyes narrowing. "These are very serious allegations, Hawks. Who is this 'trustworthy person'?"

Hawks looked briefly at Shoto as if seeking support, but Shoto said nothing, his gaze remained cool and observant. Hawks turned back to Kenji. "Her name isn’t important. What matters is that she doesn't lie. If she says something, she has reasons for it."

Kenji snorted slightly. "Hawks, we both know how this works. Without proof, these are just words. Even if we dig deep into Fischer's past, there is no guarantee that we will find anything."

Shoto, who had been silent until now, took a step closer. "But if he were really innocent, he wouldn't react in such a panic," he said calmly. "Since his arrest, Fischer has done nothing but yell at his lawyer and try to pull strings to get him out.That's not the behavior of someone who has nothing to hide."

Kenji sighed and ran a hand over his face. "I understand your concerns. But this is no longer a heroic matter and we are working on evidence, not gut feeling."

Hawks leaned forward, his gaze burning into the police chief's. "This isn't a question of heroism, Kenji. This is a question of responsibility. You know as well as I do that some people are so good at hiding that they're never caught because no one has the courage to look closely. Fischer is one of those people. And if we let him go now because we don't want to dig, he'll go into hiding."

Kenji studied him for a long moment before grumbling quietly. "Fine. I'll put together a team to look into Fischer's enterprise. But if we don't find anything, Hawks, then he's free. I'm not going to go against the law, no matter how much you trust this person."

Hawks nodded, his expression showing no sign of triumph. "That's all I ask. Dig deep, Kenji. You'll find something."

Kenji looked at him once more before turning to Shoto. "And you? What do you think?"

Shoto shrugged his shoulders almost imperceptibly, but his voice was firm. "I trust Hawks and I think Fischer gives us a lot of reasons not to let him out of our sight."

Kenji stood up and tapped his hand lightly on the desk. "Then I will start the investigation. But remember: without results, this is over."

Hawks also stood up, his coat still slightly damp from the wetness he had brought in. "Thanks, Kenji."

Kenji just nodded and Shoto opened the door before they both stepped out into the hallway. The rain hadn't let up and the blurry points of light from the city could be seen through the windows. Hawks was silent, but his mind was racing.

Hawks closed the door of the police station behind him and a cold draft hit him. The rain had not let up, it still pelted heavily on the asphalt, stretching over the world like an endless curtain. The street lamps cast a dim light on the soaked vehicles parked in the parking lot, and the puddles beneath reflected the dull colors of the sky. Hawks pulled up the collar of his coat and shoved his hands deep into his pockets as he walked down the steps.

Shoto kept pace beside him, his face calm but thoughtful. He said nothing, and Hawks was almost grateful for the silence. There was too much going on inside him and too little he could put into words.

When they got downstairs, they both stood for a moment under the canopy, where the rain wasn't falling directly on them. Hawks leaned his back against one of the pillars and looked at Shoto out of the corner of his eye. "Shall I drive you home?" he finally asked, his voice sounding rougher than usual, almost hoarse.

Shoto shook his head without looking at him. His hands were in the pockets of his coat and his eyes seemed to be following the rain that was falling in endless streaks. "No, thank you. I prefer to walk. I... want to think a bit."

Hawks raised an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. "Thinking? About what?"

Shoto hesitated for a moment before answering quietly, "About that man. The one with the blue ice flames." He lifted his gaze to meet Hawks’s with quiet intensity. "He was strong... dangerous. But something about him seemed... familiar to me."

Hawks nodded slowly, his eyes moving to a dark spot in the distance. "Yes... He reminded me of someone too." His voice became even quieter, almost like a whisper. "But sometimes it's better not to pursue such thoughts too deeply. They often lead to places you don't want to go."

Shoto let the words sink in for a moment before turning away. "Maybe. But I feel like I can't ignore these thoughts. Something about him... it won't let me go." He turned back to Hawks, his gaze piercing. "Thanks for offering to drive me home. We'll keep in touch about Fischer."

"Sure," Hawks said with a faint smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Take care, Shoto."

"You too," Shoto replied shortly before turning away and walking out into the rain. His dark cloak quickly became heavy from the wetness, but he walked away with firm steps, his silhouette slowly disappearing into the darkness.

Hawks stood there a moment longer, water droplets sliding along the edges of his coat, watching Shoto's figure disappear into the hazy mist. Then he exhaled quietly and turned toward his car.

The drive home was silent. The rain drummed on the roof of the car, the streets were empty, and the city lights passed by like blurred memories. Hawks held his hands loosely on the steering wheel, but his thoughts were far away. He saw Rain's face again, the determination in her eyes, but also the sadness that she could never completely hide.

When he finally reached the underground parking garage of his apartment building, the weather felt like a curse that had followed him all the way home. The garage door slowly closed behind him, and the crackling sound was muffled as he turned off the engine and got out. His footsteps echoed on the cold concrete floor, and he pushed the elevator button with a tired finger.

The elevator ride was short, yet it dragged like a lifetime. The mirror in the cabin showed his face, marked by tiredness and something he couldn't quite put his finger on - or didn't want to.

When he unlocked the door to his apartment, the silence was almost oppressive. Hawks took off his shoes and left them carelessly next to the door. The jacket of his suit landed on a nearby chair, its soaked corners leaving small marks on the wood.

He shuffled into the kitchen and switched on the light, which cast a cold white glow over the countertops. His fingers found the switch of the coffee machine as if by themselves, and the familiar whir of the machine filled the room.

Without waiting for the coffee, he went into the living room. The large window front offered a view of the rainy city, but Hawks paid no attention to it. His steps led him to the simple pedestal above the fireplace.

With a slow movement, he unfastened the sword from his belt and lifted it onto the pedestal. His fingers lingered on the scabbard for a moment, as if it had a weight of its own that was more than just metal.

"I miss you," Hawks murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper. The sound was lost in the steady sound of rain hitting the window panes. The room remained cloaked in shadow, lit only by the faint shimmer of city lights bleeding through the rain-streaked windows.

"I miss you too, Keigo." The words were quiet, almost timid, but they hit him like a thunderclap.

Hawks froze. His heart skipped a beat, only to then thunder in a wild, uncontrollable rhythm. His thoughts exploded, racing around like birds suddenly startled from sleep. This couldn't be happening. This shouldn't be happening. His apartment was locked. How could—

Slowly, almost hesitantly, he turned around. Every muscle in his body was tense, as if he were about to fight at any moment. But what he saw took his breath away.

She stood on the threshold between the hall and the living room.

Rain.

The first impression was like a punch to the gut. Its outline was familiar – far too familiar for his heart not to react to it immediately. She looked more mature, and her shoulders now visibly bore the weight of years. But her face... her eyes... those deep red, intense eyes that glowed even in the twilight – they remained the same.

Hawks said nothing, he couldn't say anything. The words caught in his throat, frozen in the heat of the emotions coursing through him.

Rain took a tentative step forward. Her arms hung indecisively at her sides, as if unsure whether to wrap themselves protectively around herself or reach out to him.

"You..." She cleared her throat softly, her voice shaky, nervous. "You didn't lock your balcony door again, Keigo."

A faint, almost apologetic smile crossed her lips, but vanished immediately. "I... we stood outside for a while. I didn't know if I should really go in, but... I wanted to talk to you."

Hawks didn't move. He just stared at her, as if she might vanish into smoke at any moment, like a memory too beautiful.

"I..." Rain inhaled, her voice vibrating with the pressure of emotion. "I'm sorry. For just leaving. For leaving you... and Dabi alone. I should have explained it to you, I—"

A beep suddenly broke the tense silence. The coffee maker in the kitchen chimed in with a shrill sound, tearing Hawks out of his trance.

His head jerked to the side, then back to Rain. Something inside him broke – a dam he'd held for 16 years.

Without another word, without even thinking about it, he walked toward her. With two firm steps he stood directly in front of her. His arms wrapped around her. Strong, desperately searching for support.

Rain gasped in surprise, her lips parted, but no sound came out. She felt his heartbeat pounding against her chest – felt his fingers clawing at her back, as if he were afraid she might vanish into thin air again.

"You're back..." Hawks stammered hoarsely, his face pressed against her shoulder, his voice fragile, barely a shadow of what it once was. "You're really back..."

Rain stood stock still, overcome by the force of his emotions. Then, slowly, she put her arms around him. Hesitantly at first, almost shyly. But when she felt the trembling in his body, heard the pain in his voice, she held him tighter.

Tears welled in her eyes, burning hotly as she realized what this moment meant.

He had missed her as much as she had missed him.

From the shadows of the hallway, hidden between darkness and dim light, two turquoise-blue eyes flashed.

Kaji stood motionless in the darkness of the hallway leading to the entrance. He didn't speak a word and barely dared to breathe for fear of being discovered.

The scene before him felt unreal, and it punched him in the gut.

He had never seen his mother like this before. Not so... vulnerable, never so lost.

Rain Black had always been a force of nature to him—unflappable, cool, and calculating, with eyes that never trembled even in the darkest hours. She had taught him never to show weakness. Never to trust too much, and certainly not to love unless you were ready to bear the pain of loss.

But now she stood there... looking as if she would break at any moment... wrapped in the arms of a man Kaji didn't know. Hawks – Keigo Takami.

Of course he'd heard of Hawks – the former hero who once soared the skies with his wings. The man who lost his Quirk in the war against All For One and saved countless lives.

But no one had told him that this man had once lost his heart to Rain. Or that he was part of that repressed chapter that also included his father.

The weight of this realization pressed heavily on his chest. It was as if a lost mosaic was finally coming together – piece by piece, in slow, painful clarity.

A soft creaking of the wooden floorboards made him wince. Slowly, almost hesitantly, Rain moved.

She didn't completely break the embrace, but took a half step back, just enough to meet his eyes. Her hands remained on his chest, as if seeking support, her gaze boring into his.

"I..." she began, her voice rough, as if covered in dust after all these years of silence. "I wanted to come back, Keigo. I tried, honestly."

Her lips trembled, but she forced herself to continue. "But I couldn't. Back then... The League, the heroes, the war... It would have been too dangerous to come back, and I had to—"

Her voice trailed off, as if she had to pause for a moment to find the right words between tears and grief.

"I had to protect him.”

Last Part <– | –> Next Part (coming soon)

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