#just tired of being shamed by people who refuse to see the flaws in their own fave while many of us have to acknowledge the flaws in ours

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

The Host | Yandere Zoldyck Family

“I’m so happy, we were able to locate the portal so quickly! Now you all can return to your world without breaking the space-time continuum!” You mused, happily sipping on the piping hot tea in front of you.

Whether you liked it or not, you wouldn’t have refused this cup. After all, it was specially crafted for and given to you by the reclusive Zoldycks. It was an honor—more like a miracle that you were being served an un-poisoned cup of tea. 

You were used to prickly (read as: murderous) anomalies that were ejected into the aimless void of time. As per your occupation you housed and befriended said anomalies until it was time that they returned to their dimensions.

When you were selected at the end of your life for this position, the galactic overlords in charge assured you that this was a duty perfect for you. That no matter what, your tenants would find themselves comforted by you during their time there. 

You begged to disagree even though none of your tenants had successfully ended your life yet. You prepared yourself for the day they one day would. 

“Yes, it will be a shame to lose contact with a host as pleasant as you.” 

Zeno smiled, closing his eyes as brought his own cup to his mouth. Letting a hand fall over your heart you silently thanked him. Another hand reached for you tearing your attention away from the former head.

“It is a shame your work keeps you so busy!” Kikyo cried, holding your hand. Gingerly running the pads of her fingers over your knuckles. 

“Ah, but I feel as though I haven’t worked a day.”

“Oh, so you’re saying you like this job of yours?” The old man raised his brow.

“Of course! When I’m not hosting I’m free to do what I please and the guests that come by always make things interesting.”

Memories of the various visitors came to mind as you smiled; Kikyo puckered her lip in a pout. Her clutch on your hand had gotten slightly tighter, nothing alarming but noticeable.

“But don’t you feel overworked? Tired? Lonely?”

“There’s always the other people in the town.”

“Really? I wouldn’t have expected them to have any intelligible conversation.”

You dismissed the slight towards your community, it’d be impossible for her to realize their worth within the year. Granted they weren’t particularly strong or inquisitive; it wasn’t like they were built to be outstanding anyway. Nonetheless, they were kind to you and always understanding when it came to the guests. Not once have you needed to send a complaint to upper management. Everyone played their prescribed roles without fail.

“They can be really pleasant, once you get to know them.”

Zeno sighed, “So you say but I can’t imagine you not caring for them. You're always so forgiving.”

“Well…they have their flaws.”

“Ah! You’re too humble (Y/n)! The least they can do is honor your contribution to their pathetic lives!”

“Thank you, Mrs. Zoldyck but a cake every once in a while is good enough for me.”

“Ah! So simple (Y/n), it screams you no nothing of luxury!”

“Really I feel as though I’ve almost been overwhelmed with it with the Zoldycks here.”

“Please! If you could see the Zoldyck Estate in our world, you’d truly know luxury!” 

You let her continue, chatting with her and Zeno, who occasionally chimed in. It was time to enjoy their company for they’d be gone before you knew it. 

____________________________________

“Ne (Y/n)! Alluka wants to hold onto your jacket for a bit is that alright?”

“Oh? I barely noticed I left it behind but sure.” 

You continued to walk side by side with Killua making your way to your destination. The wind was cold. Wisping at your cheeks and nose as you mesmerized yourself with the smoky puff your breath made. Catching cat-like blue eyes watching you with amusement you stopped, replacing it with an embarrassed smile. 

He snickered. “What? Don’t stop on my account.”

“Oh Killua you're the only kid that makes me feel like a silly child again.”

“Eh?! You make it sound like I’m the reason you’re just childish anyway.”

You playfully hummed. “Hm. Maybe I am.”

You shared a laugh before letting your eyes begin to wander. Looking past the trees of the park to admire the clouded sky blending into the freezing lake. Despite having walked this path millions of times before, it never failed to take your breath away. Making you sigh in awe, you minded the frozen droplets hanging off the naked branches; looking as though they were a part of some artist’s canvas.

Even the rosiness that danced at your cheeks brought by your body’s attempt to warm you in the frigid season, felt magical in its own right. It was easy to lose sight of your path as your feet remember the way; allowing you to drift. 

But before you could go too far the warmth of another hand-a smaller hand in your pocket brought you back. Looking down in surprise at the blushing owner looking away from you. You chuckled intertwining his smaller, rougher hand with yours as you walked with a pep in your step. 

“I-I’m just keeping my hand warm. Where I’m from it never gets this cold.”

You smirked. “Sure!” 

You didn’t believe him and he knew that. But that wasn’t the point anyway. 

“You two seem to be getting along well.” 

The monotone voice stopped the both of you in your tracks. Standing in a slim-fitted insulating jacket was the eldest of the Zoldyck children. Standing precisely on the crack in the sidewalk he demanded you meet at. You didn’t miss the annoyed click of Killua’s teeth. Or the blank foreboding stare directed at a specific pocket of yours.

“Yup, Killua offered to walk me to our meetup spot. If you’re alright with it, I wouldn’t mind if he came with us.”

Illumi robotically tilted his head, his eyes still trained on the same spot it had been focused on since he started watching you. 

“I doubt Kil would find any enjoyment in where we’re going.”

Killua's eye twitched. “Oh? Where are you going?”

“Somewhere for adults, I’m sure you’d find it boring.”

“Really try me,”

The two intensely held each other’s gaze, vaguely conveying that this may need your intervention. With a well-timed sneeze, you might have saved yourself and the whole park from their ‘playful’ exchange of blows. Illumi seemed to back down first stepping closer to your unoccupied side where he waited for his brother to leave. 

Said brother didn’t look all too convinced. Squeezing his hand in yours brought his attention to you, already smiling in silent reassurance.

“Hey, take care of my sweater for me ‘kay.”

The silent message was heard as Killua, who begrudgingly released your hand from his hold. With a final glare towards his brother, he’d begun to leave, watching as you turned and waved to him as he went. He also watched as his brother slipped his hand into your opposite pocket. With a final click of his tongue, he moved at speeds practically impossible for the human eye back to the apartment you’d organized for him and Alluka. 

Making your way wordlessly out of the park, finally stopping within the toasty insides of a ceramics shop. With the unmolded clay in front of you and the guide having finished their instruction, you finally giggled at Illumi. 

“I’d hardly call ceramics an adults-only event.”

Illumi didn’t laugh, he didn’t even look up from the shape he was focused on molding. 

“I would. He isn’t a part of this so it isn’t bizarre for it to be considered an adult event.”

You decided to keep quiet about the toddler two tables down. Instead, you poked your head over the assassin’s shoulder to see what he was making. Glad you hadn’t started working on your own creation, you pulled back the raven locks that were spilling dangerously close to his work in progress. 

Missing the slight stutter of his fingertips as he registered the soft, gentle hold of your fingertips he continued. Opting to focus solely on his creation with more intensely.

“I’m so glad I brought a hair tie for this exact moment.”

“...if you don’t hurry up your clay will dry and your money will go to waste.”

“Ah. So money conscious.”

Finished with a nice low ponytail, you scooched back into your seat; prepared to begin your own creation. Sparing a glance at Illumi, you expected he’d be laser-focused on his work but instead he was staring at you unapologetically. While you found this wasn’t uncommon for him it didn’t change the fact that it was still odd. 

“So uh what are you making?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I’m just asking, are you worried I’ll make fun?”

“My finished product will be more than enough to answer you, right?

“I guess so.”

You had an inkling of worry that he’d create something graphic and horrific. But you had to remind yourself: he wasn’t Milluki. Who unapologetically, on multiple accounts, scarred surprised you with animal entrails, graphic posters, and concerning digital art that bore striking resemblance to you.

Speaking of striking resemblance…you had a glorious idea. 

____________________________________________________

“So…what is it?” 

You hated to ask but you had to. The ceramic resembled the bare requirements of a face colored by a paint color akin to your skin tone. Somehow when you turned your head to the left side you saw a screaming face but when you turned your head to the right it looked as though it was smiling. 

“....” 

He just stared at you blankly (as he usually did) but you could tell there was something unfamiliar. He turned his head away from you as he reached for his creation back. 

“If you can’t tell than it shouldn’t matter.”

“Don’t be embarrassed, I’m sorry!” 

You held the…thing in your hands with care as you bore witness to the rare sight of an embarrassed Illumi. 

“Even if I don’t know what it is I think it’s beautiful in its own right.”

“Don’t lie its unbecoming of you.” 

“I’m not lying!”

You let him snatch it from your hand and tuck it in his pocket. Smiling to yourself, you found comfort in that he didn’t immediately toss it into the trashcan by the doorway. Catching up with his quick pace you held you’re wrapped creation to your chest. 

“I would like to continue on now.”

“Don’t just sweep it under the rug! It’s all about growth.”

_____________________________________________

“Here you are Kalluto!”

He was doing what you had suggested: finding his own style. Alas, he still found himself taking the most buried articles of clothing from your closet and posing in the mirror. If you had noticed you didn’t say much, when you let yourself into the room he’d been given. 

“I made it just for you.”

The vase had a pink hue, with speckles of purple. He liked it but he was curious why he was gifted this. 

“I based it off the color of your eyes. I saw the shade being offered and I thought it’d be a perfect souvenir for you.”

His cheeks were overtaken by a hot crimson as he gingerly accepted the small vase. He loved it! Holding it close to his chest he almost missed the presence of his eldest brother outside his room. Judging by the slim-fitted jacket, his hat, and his pointed stare at the gift itself told Kalluto everything he needed to know. So that was his decision, for his day out with you? The ceramics shop?  

The image of you crafting something while smiling along with him. Hands touching one another while you both crafted something beautiful. Your attention solely focused on him. 

He’s so jealous. 

“Thank you. It looks beautiful.”

“ I’m so happy you like it! I was worried I wouldn’t get the color right but looking at you now I see I’m right on the mark.”

Kalluto’s cheeks never changed from heir red color, causing him to tuck his head into the collar of the shirt he stole from you borrowed. Sending a cautious look at the figure in the doorway he took a gamble. He put the vase down, quickly moving to nestle his head into your stomach almost immediately having your arms wrap around him. He didn’t bother locking eyes with the observer, instead pretending to be fully enveloped by your attention. 

If he did have a problem, Kalluto could argue that his time with you was limited. Therefore nothing was off the table. Not when their access to you would be gone forever. He’d rather it not be that way.

__________________________________________________

“Silva.” 

The call of his wife had the current head of the Zoldyck family, wordlessly asking what she needed. Nonetheless, he responded in kind. 

“Kikyo.”

The two of them were seated a ways apart from one another each sipping on their respective drinks as the candles slowly burned. 

“We need to talk about (Y/n).”

“What is there to talk about?”

He knew what she wanted to talk about. Those of any authority within the Zoldyck family already had a gray consensus about their host. All that was needed was definite words, so that they could be a united front on the subject. 

“On the topic of (Y/n) coming with us.”

Silva crossed his arms. 

“We cannot.”

“Why not? All of us like them! They show promise in maintaining the family, they’ve even convinced Kil to come home more often!” 

He wanted to grit his teeth but he didn’t. Only brought his cup to his mouth for a pensive sip.

“No, they’d never survive training. Let alone our world in general.”

He maintained his composure as he parroted Zeno’s consultation. Even as his wife slammed her own cup on the tray and opened her mouth to protest. He knew she’d ask because he had asked. 

“Mr. Silva. Is it okay if I call you that or would you rather it be Mr. Zoldyck?”

It amazed him that such a meek, small, weak host would have made him even consider bringing you along with them when they returned. Their host couldn’t be farther from them brimming with compassion and mindfulness that brought out a side the family had long since fought against. 

It shouldn’t have enamored them as it had. But it did. Leaving everyone in the family vying for their attention. With them the family’s prowess in killing meant nothing and it didn’t do any favors in garnering positive response. 

But it was for that exact reason Zeno mused that they’d never fit in the Zoldyck family. Even if they chose the route of marrying you into the family it would diminish your time with the everyone. Favoring the one they’d marry over all others. It’d be so unfair

“Husband, this opportunity to attain a sliver of another world would benefit the Zoldyck family! Even more so as a tenant or as a servant under all our care! It wouldn’t impede the family’s strength and their rules to serve would make them an asset to explore.” 

“And have them reach a butler’s strength alone. At their level?”

Kikyo hung her head covering her visor with her hands as she resisted the urge to weep. Silva refused to look at her, focusing intensely on the still liquid in his cup. The pain in this revelation was mutual. 

“Mr. Silva, did you go to aquariums when you were younger?”

“For missions.”

“What about on your own?”

“What would be the purpose of that?”

“I don’t know, to see the animals. To learn about them.”

“What use would learning about these animals do? If there is no time that I’ll be within their biome it would do nothing for me to retain this information.”

“Isn’t it nice to just be in awe though? To just fathom loosely about the world we barely have begun to discover?”

The image of their excited face illuminated by the tank was the moment Silva’s first felt that emotion. It reminded him of meeting Kikyo, of having his heir, of establishing a budding lineage. He learned that feeling was better not left ignored for it could very well determine the safety of the ones he felt it for. 

He’s seen it in his children, in all his children, so he could only see what he could control spiraling for the others. He could only think about the repercussions for when they returned home. There’d be no way to cull it easily; with you being literal dimensions apart.

Kikyo’s sulking stopped abruptly her hands folding to sit on her lap.

“Perhaps there is a way to bring them without breaking the rules.”

Blue eyes look at her expectantly.

“The Zoldyck’s have not encountered anyone worthy enough to consider adoption.”

“Adoption?”

“Yes, the process hasn’t been used within the family before…if it were to be implemented–” There was something hopeful within her voice and a twitch of a smile on Silva’s lip. 

“Then the rules that qualify the one adopted would be entirely up to the head of the family.” 

Silva attempted to resist the smile that spread across his face, as he leaned back onto his hand. How apparent would it be that their host had such an impact on them since they left the mansion? But even so, this was proof that they should have their host after all. 

“I’ll have to check with Zeno…but perhaps it might be a veritable solution.”

____________________________________________

You were glad you spent the night before sobbing your heart out. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be able to smile through the Zoldyck’s goodbyes. Granted none of them, except for Kalluto and Alluka, were even close to shedding a single tear. Nonetheless, you hugged them all trying to calm yourself. 

The otherworldly energy spewing from the portal never made you nervous before and yet your hair was standing on end. Your tolerance for fearful situations had decreased significantly as you got to know the Zoldyck family but it never completely went away. You weren’t an idiot. 

They were a family of assassins. 

It’s foolish not to expect threats on your life at every other turn. But this had an effect on you on a deeper level than that. This was more unsettling. 

Was it the amount of place-holding spirits killed during their stay? Or the physical planet of this dimension lurching as it coughed up one of the most murderous families to stay here? Or was there something wrong with the integrity of the dimension itself?

You were tethered to the realm and it was tethered to you. For the most part, it only means you have a loose idea of what’s to come with the weather or an effect on a guest’s actions. But in times of dire situations, you’ve had the world reach out to you. At this point, you were already looking for a sign. 

But that wasn’t your main focus not when the younger ones were keeping you occupied. Hanging on your arms were Alluka and Killua; the latter was playfully mirroring the former. 

“Aw (Y/n)! We’ll miss you so much!”

“Yeah! We’ll miss you soooo much!”

“Ah Killua at least you could pretend to be serious about this.”

Spying Kalluto a ways off clutching the vase you had made him you gave him a small smile. 

“This relocation didn’t turn out to be a complete waste.” 

Milluki spoke up, unabashed as he pulled along a cart of all his anime and gaming memorabilia. You could see the invisible sneers of disgust from majority of the family, Killua didn’t even bother hiding his. 

“For once I’d agree,” Illumi chimed sending a bottomless look in your direction. “There were plenty of…unexpected trades to learn in a world devoid of hunters.”

“Thank you?” You shrugged.

Zeno let out a chuckle putting a thoughtful hand on your back. 

“I think all of us in the Zoldyck family have learned quite a bit.” You had to fight the tears now.

“For that we thank you.”

The entirety of the Zoldyck family bowed to you, leaving you to fight tears at the demonstration of respect and love they had for an average-dimensional host. Fanning at the water building up in your eyes you bowed and thanked them yourselves.

“You guys! Get over here and give me hugs!” 

You made sure to hug every member of the family even if they made unsettling comments as you did Milluki. 

Getting the timing perfectly right the portal opened to its full size, the electric blue illuminating everyone’s faces. You could smell the atmosphere of the Kukuroo mountain and the forest upon it. All that was left to do was for them to enter. 

“Alright now as stated before time has only been an hour in your world. Now you will be coming down from the sky but I’m sure you all will manage.”

“Thank you for everything (Y/n).”

You bowed your head to the patriarch missing the devious glint in his eyes.

“Of course.” 

Starting with Silva they each dove into the portal, leaving you to stand by yourself in the field of sunflowers selected as a gateway. Turning away from the flashing portal you could finally address the world’s message for you. The surrounding grass began to lay down unnaturally, spelling out a word. 

“They–”

You bent to down watching as the green blades folded into more words, filling your heart with trepidation as it spelled slowly.

“--will not–”

The blades continued to fold slowly as the sunflower stems frantically sprouted from the ground. Not bothering to wriggle free from the stems wrapping around your wrists, you tried to hurry the world’s spelling. Why did you feel like you needed to rush?

“-let you go–? Wait what the he-” 

Before you could finish a translucent, glowing, and golden dragon, like one from Japanese folklore came out of the portal. Wrapping around your entire body it skillfully carried you into the shrinking portal. Only stopping for a short time to wriggle free of the sunflowers that were simultaneously pulling at your limbs.

Now on the other side of the portal, you were being pulled backward. Your front looking at the endless sky watching the portal shrink and close, slicing the desperately reaching sunflowers and their stems. 

Something within you seemed to break but before you could dwell on that you finally tried to register what was going on.

“AHHHHH!”

Diving with you in it’s coil the dragon was rocketing in the direction of a mansion. All you could do was hold tight as the dragon slowed to a stop. Gently letting you lie on the floor, taking a moment to ground yourself you barely registered the booming voice.

“Congratulations (Y/n), you’ve been inducted into the Zoldyck Family.”

“W-what?”

“As the adopted of the Zoldyck, you’re duty to the family is to be protected and to participate in the family to the best of your limited abilities.”

“Wait—”

“Per your lack of Zoldyck blood, your title as the adopted is willing to change for the family’s convenience.”

“HOLD ON!” You stood up fully holding your shaking hands out as you began to process what this would mean. Before you can get a word in Kikyo runs up to you, shoving your head into her chest as she rocks your unsteady form. 

“Rejoice my (Y/n)! Now for all the care you’ve given us, we get to take care of you!”

“Mother, you’ll smother them.”

“Ah big brother, don’t need to get jealous I’m sure you’ll get your turn.”

“I know that.” 

Unable to speak or look too far away, you felt Alluka and Kalluto grab at your pant legs. No doubt they glared at one another as they vied for your attention.

“(Y/n)!” ”(Y/n)!”

Being no help at all Killua wasn’t too far behind, ”Oi don’t hog them all.”

Whether it was the exhaustion of dimensional travel or losing air within your mother Kikyo’s breast. Beginning to lose consciousness you could barely make out the ghost of a smile on Silva’s face. Zeno withheld no courtesy, smiling happily as he turned away.

After all, you were home with them. Where you belonged. 

Surely the Zoldyck family could handle the dimensional repercussions of claiming their host.

[moonagedaydreamsofrhiannon]

IN DEFENSE OF TRAVIS MARTINEZ:

Because I’m sick and tired of seeing travis hate everywhere I go.

“Travis was sexist.”

Did he spout some sexist rhetoric in the beginning of the show? Sure. But it’s important to recognize that: A) he changed, and by season 2 he completely stopped, B) he was a teenage boy in the 1990s, and that kind of rhetoric was normal at the time, C) most of his sexist macho tough guy attitude was a complete act that he likely put on to compensate for his insecurity about his own masculinity, and internalized homophobia. (More on that later.)

(Also let’s be real, Travis is basically one of the girls anyway and I’m tired of pretending he’s not.)

2. “Travis didn’t care about Javi.”

Did we watch the same show??? Granted Travis may have had trouble expressing his feelings (also related to his insecurities about masculinity, likely learned from his father, as well as growing up in a patriarchal and homophobic society), but he cared deeply about Javi. In S1E4, Travis literally DUG UP HIS DAD’S GRAVE, through horror, tears, and vomit, in order to retrieve his ring to give to Javi. When Javi disappeared, Travis kept looking for him every day for months, and never gave up, even when logically it would have seemed impossible for him to still be alive. He comforted and reassured Javi when neither of them drew the card. He cradled Javi’s dead body and ate a bite of his raw heart (which was a metaphor for how much he loved him, and a parallel to Shauna eating Jackie’s raw ear.) Maybe Travis wasn’t always there for Javi in the way he needed, but he absolutely loved him, and it’s important to remember that Travis was also a traumatized, grieving, kid who just lost his dad.

3. “Travis slut-shamed Nat.”

As we are literally shown in the show, Travis was not trying to slut shame her, he asked how many times she had done it because he was embarrassed about the fact that he was a virgin, and worried that she would judge him, or that he wouldn’t measure up because he was more inexperienced than her. When she told him she hooked up with Bobby Farleigh, he did not get mad at her because she slept with another guy (he already knew about that, and was fine with it), he got mad because she hooked up with his bully, and then lied to him about it. I don’t blame Nat for this, she didn’t know about it at the time, and didn’t want him to get mad once she found out, but I also don’t blame Travis for being hurt and embarrassed and upset with her for lying about it.

4. “Travis was just kind of a dick.”

Sure, but so were all of them. He acted like kind of a jerk in the first season. So what? Shauna had an affair with her best friend’s boyfriend, lied to her about it for months, and refused to apologize. Misty tried to drug Coach Ben. Nat faked his brother’s death to him (yeah, she was trying to help him move on, but still not cool). All of them called him “Flex” (y’know, the nickname that was used to bully him for years). None of them are perfect or nice or likable all the time, and that’s ok; that’s the whole point. They’re realistic, complex, flawed, morally gray and sometimes unlikable people. They’ve all done bad things, but nothing Travis did is worse than what anyone else on that show has done. He was a traumatized teen whose dad literally just died. Also, me personally, if everyone around me was constantly calling me the mean nickname that was used to bully me since middle school, I would also probably act like a little bit of a dick.

5. “Travis is a straight man.”

Wrong. (Also not really a valid reason to hate someone… But most importantly, just wrong.)

Travis Martinez is clearly a bisexual.

So many of his issues: the insecurity, the bullying, the macho tough guy act, the whole weird complex about his masculinity, all of it stems (at least partly) from the fact that he’s bisexual and has internalized homophobia. The whole “Flex” thing is just thinly veiled homophobia. The main reason why he got bullied is because Bobby Farleigh spread a rumor about him getting back surgery to better suck his own dick. The unsaid implication there is that he’s a man who sucks dick, which is inherently queer, even if it is his own. If you look even slightly past the most surface level interpretation, it’s pretty obvious that Travis was bullied because of homophobia. His performance of stereotypical toxic masculinity was clearly over compensation for the fact that he doesn’t fit into the box of traditional straight masculinity, and was a reaction to the bullying from his peers, abuse from his dad, and internalized homophobia from growing up in a homophobic and patriarchal society. As the show progresses he starts to unlearn that toxic masculinity and internalized homophobia, and he allows himself to be more vulnerable, emotional, and feminine, and as a result, he becomes stronger, more confident, and more respectful of the people around him.

As for Travis being a man… Is he though???

In season 1, Travis is a man (narratively speaking); there is a clear distinction between Travis/Coach Ben and the girls. However, in season 2, we see a stark shift in how Travis is depicted. The separation between Travis and the girls pretty much ceases to exist. Narratively speaking, there is no distinction made between Travis and the other girls; they are one entity—one hive mind. Instead, the emphasis is now placed on the distinction between Coach Ben and the girls/Travis. When Coach Ben watches the Yellowjackets eat Jackie in horror and disbelief, Travis is right there with them, dressed in ancient greek robes along with the rest of them. In season 2, Coach Ben is the only real Man of the group (Travis has narratively become one of the girls, and Javi is just a boy, not a man) and he is shown staying separate from the rest of the group, and growing more and more uncomfortable with the cultish dynamics, while Travis, on the other hand, becomes more and more integrated with the group, as he falls deeper and deeper into cult beliefs, until he is a full-blown devout Lottie worshipper. Of the three males on the show, he is the only one who actually participates in cannibalism with the other Yellowjackets. Also he lost his virginity to a lesbian.

Whether or not you choose to believe that Travis is transfem (I do) you cannot deny that, at least narratively speaking, Travis is literally just a girl.

6. Travis is a victim.

I don’t know why nobody in this fandom seems to acknowledge this, but Travis is a sexual assault victim and I’m tired of people constantly overlooking and ignoring that fact. In Doomcoming, the girls (excluding Jackie, Nat, Tai, and Van) chased him down, sexually assaulted him, and then tried to kill him. That’s not something that’s up for debate or denial, that is literally canon. Stop pretending it didn’t happen. Stop pretending it wasn’t assault. Stop shaming him and making fun of him for struggling with sex, or not always being able to get it up. That’s a normal trauma response after being assaulted/raped. You guys are literally proving the point. This kind of treatment from society towards masculinity and male victims is just playing into the patriarchy and toxic masculinity, and is exactly what made him act the way he did in season 1 in the first place!

[strawglicks]

i genuinely cant believe how insecure and almost saddening graham's ending cutscene is. im so serious

Graham's IMMEDIATE reaction to losing is trying to project onto the toons. Instead of admitting defeat, he tries to twist the situation to make it seem like the toons are the ones who've lost the battle.

The fact that Graham cant handle any imperfections in the first place is horribly insecure. someone who's really confident in themselves should be able to admit their flaws and still be happy with themselves. But that's not the case with Graham. He can act confident all he wants, but he's really lying to himself if he can't accept his own flaws and imperfections.

This entire cutscene is Graham projecting his own embarrassment onto the toons. HE'S embarrassed to have lost his own battle. HE'S embarrassed to have gotten burnt out so fast. But he tries desperately to flip the situation to run away from his own shame.

This is a fat lie. Deadass.

I see people speculate abt this line and what his "other forms" could be, but nah he's just lying. Graham was giving his all in this fight, given by how exhausted he is at the end to the point of passing out. It's WHY he's ashamed to have lost, because he was genuinely trying his best and giving it all he had. Yet, he STILL didn't win and it destroys his pride. And in an attempt to save that pride, he lies about "just getting started".

More projecting onto the toons. Graham needs a breather himself, given how he literally faints at the end of his battle. But he can't even admit his own exhaustion or allow himself to be tired because he has this idea that he needs to be perfect. He's built his whole "brand" on being "perfect", so when those flaws start to inevitably show, it shatters this image he's created for himself AND others. He will inevitably be embarrassed and humiliated again and again, merely by his own flaws that he really doesn't NEED to be ashamed of. But he will be ashamed of them because of this "perfect" image he desperately wants to be. It's just self-destruction.

Despite his attempts to flip the situation and project onto the toons, he collapses at the end of his fight from exhaustion. Graham pushes himself to the maximum and then forbids himself from feeling tired, which. Golly! That's unhealthy.

This cutscene, more than reeking insecurity, is also just self-destructive. Graham refusing himself a break and working himself to exhaustion just to prove his worth is so unhealthy, not to mention twisted companies like Cogs. Inc WILL leech off this behavior in an employee and use it to keep them working nonstop. It happens a lot IRL when employees pride themselves on constant productivity because it's what jobs like to see. And those jobs will take advantage of those qualities to keep employees productive with little regard to said employees' health. Graham's pride is destroying him.

I never see people talk about how truly insecure or unhealthy Graham is. I'm all for sillies and poking fun at Graham, but real talk this is a really underrated aspect of his character, and something that should be explored when discussing how companies like Cogs Inc. hurts their employees. Jobs love workers like Graham, but that's. not necessarily a good thing. Esp when they love the workers bc of how hard they'll push themselves without taking breaks. It's an easy trap to fall into when you're trying to impress your employers, especially when you're desperate for a job. (and graham WAS desperate for this job, as seen in MOTM.)

anyway, heres a doodle i thought was fitting

[twitteringthings]

Yoneda-Sensei

Just some thoughts…

In order to craft a story as rich and as layered as saezuru, you have to be a person who really gets humans. You know? And in order to make characters this realistic and this tragic, you truly have to understand the motivations and deeply rooted traumas that drive the human spirit. Along with the truths they bury so that they may move forward. In order to create a story like this, these primal and honest human traits must imbue every action and thought process of each character. And at this, Yoneda is a genius.

Many other stories or manga that I’ve read present the reader with a characture of what a person is. Their ideals too manufactured, and understating of life too naive. I find this leads to stagnant protagonists, cliche character archetypes, pseudo-conflicts, and a predictable/flat storyline. This is especially why I love how the characters are actual adults and not some cliche teenagers. They’ve lived through much and are aware of the true nature of the world they live in.

Saezuru is unlike anything I’ve read if I’m being honest. The core of what makes this story so successful and passionately loved is that Yoneda-Sensei allows these characters - these people - to control their own narrative. It’s their love story after all. Do you know how easy it would be to say “okay, it’s been 12 years, I think it’s time to wrap this up and give the people what they want. I’m tired.” This is the very idea she rejects. I know she is probably wanting to work on a new series and that we are nearing the rising action/climax, but I am so glad she isn’t rushing it. She simply refuses to - that sex scene could have been five pages, but they needed to do what THEY NEEDED TO DO! It is so cool to see an author allow her characters to develop at their own pace. She’s spent all these years truly getting to know them herself and so, she tells their story with integrity.

It is their own motivations, flaws, and decisions that drive the story, Yoneda doesn’t impose her own will onto them. She doesn’t allow her own idea of what the plot should be control the characters actions (if that makes sense - this is getting kinda meta lol). The story purely responds to the decisions of the men who it follows, whether they are born from greed, jealousy, lust, anger, Yashiro’s explosive temper tantrums, or love. Sometimes the characters don’t even know why they do the things they do - because that is real life! And I cannot express how well it allows the story to flow. I’ve also noticed that this allows for the story to mimic real life under the context of “Nothing is truly black or white.” In traditional storytellings, there is obvious right and wrong, blatant heroes and villains. But in Saezuru these lines are sometimes blurred, what can I say…true art mimics life. And that is why you must pay attention to every nuance or you’ll miss a core theme.

The topics of childhood trauma, rape, assault, sexual abuse, being thrown into a world of ruthless men, parentless children, homosexuality amongst wolves, fearing one’s own feminity, self-hatred, lovelessness, hopelessness, shame, grief, guilt, being hurt by and hurting the ones you love, and the true nature of love as paradox are all topics needing to be dealt with using the highest sensitivity and empathy. And Yoneda-Sensei has proved that she is an author who can handle these nuanced and difficult topics with grace. And it’s so cool that she trusts us readers to empathetically understand these characters as well!

As Yashiro says, “People are full of contradictions. They’re lonely and then they’re not, they’re missed and then they’re not.” So simply put. This very understanding of the human condition is what makes Yoneda-Sensei an amazing storyteller in my book.

This story could play out for another five years and I wouldn’t mind.

Thanks for reading!

<3

[unpopularbunny]

This lowkey been a long time coming if I’m being honest. I am also a massive fucking hypocrite because I will avoid Baku/kiri/reader fics but this??? This right here??? 🙇‍♀️ I’m on the floor baby. (Ngl this has like a pinch of body shaming in it, just wanna preface by saying I do not hate any specific group of people based on any physical trait they may have. I just want more love for big girlies.)

Pairing: chifuyu/reader/baji

You already know: reader is a fat girl!!!!! everyone’s an adult, no set timeline, fuck it we ball 🏀, paranormal slutivity, your fave mans is a whore, public shenanigans, reader lowkey under the influence but there’s no dub/noncon, no beta reader again so if u point out any flaws ur being mean to me and if ur mean to me I’ll die, reblogs make u SO big brained 🗿🗿

Minors: ur mama know what you doin? I’m telling 💥

A/n: I’ll add a readmore when i get home and can make sure tumblr wont eat my post when I do.

🌹🌷🌹

you just wanted to be different for once. To ignore years of mass media telling you how to dress, to feel wild and FREE. you wanted tight revealing clothes and makeup all over your face, you wanted men to jaw drop and double take at the sight of your hips swaying.

This fantasy never got far and you never predicted you’d end up between two friends who always shared in the name of brotherly camaraderie.

Leeeets take it back about a week.

You weren’t by any means conservative in your day by day fashion, you just didn’t dress how you truly wanted to. You were always worried about the stares you’d get, stares that dared to ask ‘does she know she’s embarrassing herself?’. As time went on the urge to free yourself from the confines of stretchy jeans and sweaters was too much to ignore any longer. All it took was one night of drinking at home for you to blow nearly half a paycheck on clothes that were one inch away from getting you in legal trouble. You felt justified in this, it was your turn damnit!!! You were tired of hours doom scrolling on your phone and watching all the pretty skinny girls be drowned in affection, you wanted to make people notice you. You wanted to make men think about you as you walked passed, you deserved attention and people to fawn over you.

Needless to say, the next day you realized how fucking delusional your thinking was the night before.

You nursed a headache all through the day and when you got home you were greeted by your roommate in the livingroom looking like the cat that caught the mouse. Next to her on the couch was a plastic package, she shook it at you wiggling her eyebrows and you snatched it from her before she could even ask and shuffled to your room. You could hear her cackling. It’s not like you had any kind of bad blood with your roommate, you two were actually childhood friends, you just didn’t want anyone to see your secrets.

You showered and stood in your room, staring at the package on your bed before deciding fuck it and ripping it open. You couldn’t even remember what all you ordered anyway. Most of the articles of clothing were black, save for some racy sets of underwear you thought looked cute. You refused to believe any of it could fit you, it seemed so….small. There was no way in hell you were going to give up now though, you spent all that fucking money so there was no reason not to try the clothes on.

A mistake really.

They fit you far too good.

Sure, it was tight, but not uncomfortably so, in fact the tightness felt comforting in a way? The tops hugged your curves and even though your tummy peaked out at the bottom, you thought it looked cute in a way. The skirts wouldn’t stay down, rolling up your ass when you paced your room, you’d definitely have to wear a jacket with those. The pants needed belts, your waist to hip ratio was too different for them to stay up. They felt tigh and constricting on your hips and thighs, but there was plenty of waist room. After posing a bit in your mirror you sort of lost yourself for a bit. Falling in love with your curves and admiring how your body had so many wonderful attributes.

You almost screamed when someone’s knocked on the door.

You failed to lock it and it was your downfall.

Your roommate was all gasps and awes’ at your state. She paced around you like a tiger and assaulted you with compliments, no matter how you tried to shush her and make excuses, she wouldn’t hear it. She made you re-try on all the clothes so she could see them all. It felt like you were back to school shopping with your mom, except this time she wasn’t forcing you into bullshit khakis and polos. It actually turned into a bunch of fun as she gave you tips for accessorizing and hair styling.

When all was calmed down and you two were on the couch she took your weakness and vulnerability as a chance to strike like the snake she is.

She insisted you two go out this weekend!

You couldn’t even shoot her down, she had just spent the last hour boosting your ego and self esteem that you mumbled out a small ‘I guess’. She clapped her hands in glee and started firing off names of bars and clubs and she got the same responses from you every time ‘you pick’ and ‘I’ve never been there before.’ The most you told her is that you wanted to go somewhere you wouldn’t be recognized by coworkers or other friends and colleagues.

She just threw her head back and laughed, saying that you wouldn’t be recognizable with those clothes on anyway.

You couldn’t help but feel a little paranoid about what she had in store for you.

🌹 🌷 🌹

The week went by too fast for your liking and every time you tried to back out of the plans you were strongarmed by your roommate. She wasn’t going to let you go that easy. When Saturday arrived you tried avoiding her, but she was more determined than you’ve ever seen her.

You gave in and let her do with you as she pleased.

She picked out your outfit from the new clothes you bought and dug around your closet for some platforms you’d bought years ago but never worn (amazingly they still fit regardless of your calves.). She styled your hair and even did your makeup (you still got to pick the colors (: ), you felt like a sacrifice being painted up before the ritual.

How close to this assumption you were.

The club she dragged you two was some hole in the wall in shibuya with low lights and loud music. You were sweating before you even went in and it was only hotter once you two were inside. You could feel the bass shoot through your entire body and you felt so nervous and couldn’t look anywhere but the floor. Your friend ordered you both a few drinks, or rather ‘liquid courage’ she dubbed it. You were thankful for it, seeing as after a few drinks you felt much more comfortable in your skin than before. Your friend excused herself to the bathroom and you smiled and waved her off as she went, taking a few more sips of whatever new fruit concoction was in front of you.

After a few moments you were occupied on both sides by two new people. You glanced to your right and had to look up to see the man, Jesus Christ, even with platforms on he still had a few inches on you. He had long silky black hair, brown eyes, and a smile so sinister you would normally feel scared. You smiled right back and when you glanced to your left you were a few inches taller than other man. This man had short cut black hair, the cutest green eyes you’d ever seen, and ear piercings. Speaking of ears, the tips of his seemed to be tinted a little….pink?

You weren’t sure what to do now that men approached you first so you went back to looking down at your drink and sipping at it. You were a little hunched over and caught bits and pieces of the men having a conversation over your head. ‘You like this one?’ ‘Baji don’t objectify women like that, its kinda gross.’ ‘I’m just trying to help is all’ His laugh caught you off guard and you jumped.

“Eh? What’s wrong girlie? Did we scare you?” You glanced to your right and..baji? Was leaning down into your personal space. When you leaned back you were leaning into his friend, who didn’t exactly seem to hate your body pressing into his.

“No- you’re just a little…close is all” you were surprised anyone could hear you over the music.

“C’mon baji let’s le-“ baji waved his hand and chifuyu stopped.

“Wanna dance with us?” He was pressing himself against your side, his hand gliding up your thigh towards your hips. He laughed at the confused face you responded with, “yeah girlie, both of us, unless that ain’t your type thing. I just assumed on account of how you dressin and all.” You couldn’t tell if your face was hot from being drunk or the embarrassment.

You should feel outraged at the fact that he assumed you were a loose woman but…..was that such a bad thing? You wanted to feel desired, you wanted to be lusted after, and it was happening. He wasn’t using force, in fact his hand was merely resting at the small of your back rubbing small circles. You were still in a public place so it’s not as if he could do anything to you, you didn’t dress up to weigh the pros and cons. You downed the rest of your fruity drink and nodded, relinquishing yourself to whatever ungodly fate awaited you.

“Atta girl,” He took one hand while his friend took your other and gently led you away from the bar, “we’re gonna have so much fun with you tonight sweetie.” It was like micro-dosing danger. Every smile and laugh having some sinister undertone.

But god was it fun.

🌹 🌷 🌹

You got the hang of dancing in clubs a few years ago, it wasn’t hard, it didn’t take any special skill. You just needed to know what to do with your hips and hands.

Which you were currently struggling to do.

You’d danced with other men before, but mostly one at a time, never quite….like this.

You had your back against baji, his hands were on your hips to guide you. He was guiding you to sway against him, every so often pressing his hardon against your ass. one of your arms were up and behind you, wrapped around his neck to keep him close. Your other arm was front of you, draped over the shoulder of his more reserved friend (who you still had to get a name from), whom was doing things that contradicted the cool demeanor he gave off. He was pressed as close as he could be, his pelvis pushed against yours so you got a good idea of the fun he was having. Even if he didn’t do the best job of showing it. He was so close his nose would brush yours every so often and you expected him to kiss, but he didn’t. His hands were at your waist, holding a little tighter than expected, as if he were giving your exposed flesh squeezes here and there.

Something about this felt so shamelessly erotic.

You were so wrapped up that you didn’t give a thought to your friend who had gone to the bathroom, she probably had seen you by now and didn’t want to interrupt. You felt so transfixed on the green eyes infront of you and the hands sliding down your waist to your thighs and pulling up the edges of your skirt-

“Shhh don’t make a scene-“ you had seized up but Baji’s guiding hands kept you moving, “you like this don’t you?” It was his friend, his voice was much firmer, “That’s why you’re here, like this, between us. You want it.” His hand was under your skirt and sliding up up up. So fucking slow that you shifted just to get his hand between your legs faster. Just as his fingers brushed the forming wet spot on your panties, you could hear baji laugh against your neck on the other side of you.

“How the fuck are you so good at spotting the good ones chifuyu” was that his name? A man had his fingers pressed against your clit and you’re just now learning his name?

“Eh? What do you mean so good?” He shot back, his hand was in your panties, rubbing and petting at your clit while having a normal conversation as if you weren’t between them.

“Look at her!” You moaned and grinded against chifuyus hand, doing your best to make them focus on you again, “Perfect size to split between us and such a cute cheeks!” One of baji’s hands came up and pinched your cheek for emphasis.

“Do you honestly believe that every decision i make is backed by some deep analysis?” He laughed, “I guessed!” You arched as two fingers slid inside of you and curled, any noise you made was cut off by chifuyu kissing you. His kiss was desperate. The fingers inside you moved, slowly and carefully- god his tongue was inside your mouth now and you were suffocating but your head was absolutely floating. It was just so hard to keep focus on your surroundings. So many sensations- you could feel slick beginning to coat your thighs as his hand moved faster and you got sloppier. When he pulled away your lipstick was smeared on his mouth and there was a hazy look in his eyes. He buried his face against your neck on one side and baji was on the other. Chifuyu hand was between your legs and one of bajis hands had found it’s way under your shirt and was giving your nipple an unforgiving pull and twist. You three were pressed so close together that no one could really figure out what was happening, not that anyone was going to stop it.

They owned the bar after all.

Chifuyu tilted his hand and when his thumb brushed your clit your legs wobbled and baji had to focus on keeping you upright against him. Chifuyu smiled and laughed, the first you’d seen tonight, and you felt embarassed all over again.

“Hey! Don’t go falling apart on us sweet heart, we aren’t even close to being done with you yet.” Baji was encouraging you and the whine you let out only encouraged him tenfold.

Rather than fight against the waves and risk drowning, you went with the flow and closed your eyes and relaxed into them. You’d never had such a lavish experience of having two pretty boys give you attention like this. It was way past overstimulating but not in a bad way, you’d worry about that in the morning. Right now you your moans were escalating with the music. When said music began to dip but your voice didn’t follow suit, one of bajis hands wrapped tightly around your mouth while chifuyu increased pace.

“Thaaats it,” chifuyu whispered into your neck, “Make a mess for me.”

“You might wanna hold on tight girlie,” Baji mocked, “He overachieves.” You moved your arms so both of them were wrapped around chifuyu.

You had never been more thankful for loud ass music more than now. Had it not been for whatever club mix was on, everyone would hear the sloppy wet lewd noises of the three fingers that were buried inside of you. Any words or pleas you voiced were muffled and baji took on the sole responsibility of holding you up while chifuyu gladly drove you to climax.

They were both so goddamn obscene in their own right. Not only did they casually whisper conversation to eachother about all the wonderful things you three could get up to together, but they each had individual plans for you. Baji wanted to try having you all to himself for a day to see what other kinds of clothes he could put you in and then rip off of you. Chifuyu mentioned something about ‘giving support’ under his desk while he had stressful days at work. Baji definitely agreed with that and had the fucking drive to ask what you felt like inside.

“Inside? Like heaven.” Chifuyu made it sound like a sin, “She’s so slippery and soft.” Stop stop stop! “What about her mouth?” As if on unspoken command, baji shoved two fingers right into your mouth and pet at your tongue. You drooled so easily and licked without hesitation.

“She’s already drooling,” He shoved his fingers deeper, he did it so fast you gaged and coughed, “Gag reflex? We can fix that sweetheart.” Danger alarms began to fire off in your head, unfortunately they went ignored in lieu of the heat in your lower stomach. You were so close and desperate you just let them carry on, anything to keep the fingers inside of you.

Your whole body seized up when you came and you were truly astonished you didn’t blackout completely. They laughed in amazement at the sight of your eyes rolling back and the way you arched. You were putty in their hands, laying limp back against baji but still holding onto chifuyu.

Maybe going out wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

[talldarkandroguesome]

17th of Sun’s Dawn, Fredas

The worst has happened! That it should come to this! That I should have no choice but to comply!

Oh cursed morn that forces me to have to face such hardships and to bear myself before such a gauntlet of misery and shame. That I would be stripped down before one I trust and be made to eviscerate myself. To have to hold the most fragile piece of myself before him and wait as he analyzed and judged my every flaw!

Surely his words of comfort and reassurance were merely to cover his disgust and loathing of my inner thoughts and feelings! For Luayl forced me, I would say trick if it was not that I must do it willingly. I had to consign myself to it. For something of this magnitude he would be able to tell my lies too easily. Not when he already found me so worn down.

And so it was, I had to tell him of my dreams. My terrors sent straight from the machinations of Vermina Herself, for it is too cruel to think I might put such visions upon myself.

Luayl compelled me to tell him of the dreams. When I tried to say that I was fine, he told me that he had hoped that my time spent on holiday would have eased the dark circles beneath my eyes, but that I looked just as uneasy and exhausted as when I left.

I tried to say it was just being tired from the traveling, that teleportation does not agree well with my constitution, not a lie. He would have none of it. Damn his eyes, of course the one who taught me best to lie and conceal would be the one to confront me. It is so hard, especially when he would place a hand upon my shoulder and thigh. He knows what he does to me. It was to ensure I could not hide it from him.

Eventually the truth had to come out. And so I spoke of the contents of my dreams. He pushed and probed again and again until I got so angry with it all that I just spat it all out at him.

Then he was overly gentle and consoling. He tried to soothe me and tell me that what happened with the Thalmor was not my fault. As if I do not already know! Yet the only one to blame was dead before my tortures even stopped. 

He tells me that it sounds from my descriptions of the many dreams over the last months, that I have some sort of fear or stress concerned with those who I believe I must protect. That I have guilt for my past failings. That somehow I am combining past guilt and anxiety over the health and safety of people I care about. That I am putting some sort of undue pressure upon my own shoulders.

Damn him for so easily plucking out truths I do not wish to share.

He refused to even continue with the regular training and spent the whole of our time just talking about my dreams and feelings. I tried again and again to hurry to other topics, but he refused, the stubborn netch. Every time I tried to change topics, he only dug his heels in deeper. Infuriating.

I did not know if I was more angry or worried or sad or... there were just too many feelings. I hate them. So uncomfortable! He refused to even be seduced and let me lose myself for a moment. No, we had to talk about it.

Of course I am sure he thinks he is helping, that the words would be healing. They only hurt. Is this supposed to fix things? Is this progress? It feels like just forcing me back to that place. To remember. I keep getting these little memories of things I had not even recalled. A strange smell that I had forgotten I had taken in at the time then. Or a sound that suddenly rings in my memory.

When it was all over, I just ended up feeling empty. Like I lost a part of myself. Not the sort of freedom of release I have heard people speak of. It felt like someone had stolen something away from me. The memories taken, but the hurt remaining, now without the context the memory had created.

And still I see in my mind’s eye the image of my own son superimposed over the bodies of the Thalmor’s victims. The screams from the next cell over mixed with my son’s voice. With Avon’s. And then it moves to that look on Ervis’ face when I put my sword through his chest. That look of anger, betrayal, fear. And then that goes to people I care for, too.

Tears of anger and sadness and guilt flowed for but a moment. Then they stopped and I couldn’t let go of it. Just felt it swirling within me like a whirlpool, growing thicker and sharper in my chest. I thought I might lose myself to it. I did not know if I was going mad. It felt a touch like madness, or what I have heard of it.

And then, when the time was up, I had to go back to those awful courtship meetings. Back as though nothing were wrong. As if I was just fine. As though I was not falling apart on the inside all over again.

I can hardly bear it! How can I go along with such a farce? There are so many more important things in this world. And I need to be there for them. And yet I cannot seem to rest. And when I try it is nothing but the most awful things. The worst of mortality flashing before my mind. These awful tortures that reside within my mind and nowhere else.

Luayl must think me mad. Maybe he is even correct. It feels that way.

I could sleep an entire day. I am exhausted. I want to rest now. Truly rest.

Yet I can find none. Perhaps this is what drives the undead to madness, the lack of rest. Shall I be doomed to be as they are, only with a living body?

[hartbreak-motel]

If you're a Seb stan here to bitch about what a horrible human Tommy Lee is because of all of the horrible shit he did over 20 years ago:

We know.

We fucking know. We are well aware of what Tommy has done and will not condone or excuse his past behavior. It was unacceptable and Pamela deserved better than to be treated in such a grotesque manner by both the media and her own husband. Being a fan of an artist's work, does not mean we support their poor behavior.

As you grow older, you realize things aren't black and white. I'm well aware that these men whose music got me through my formative years and continue to get me through tough times have done things that conflict with my own morals. It's easy to just say you should only consume art made by folks whose moral compasses align with your own, but the reality is, it's complicated. A good chunk of the classic rock fandom understands this and wrestles with it from time to time.

Which is why I find it rich to see so much shaming and finger wagging coming from fans who don't seem to take issue with the fact their fave who spent the better part of the pandemic traveling and living it up while the rest of us were still in lockdown, is willingly portraying Tommy in a unauthorized docuseries, one that Pam herself does not wish to be made. A series that had to literally make up a Mötley Crüe song because they couldn't secure the rights to the music. A series whose tag line is "the greatest love story ever sold" and if the marketing and trailer are anything to go by, makes a joke and a mockery of the trauma Pamela and her family had to undergo. A series produced by a man who got Katherine Heigl blacklisted and covered for his friend's sexual misconduct for years. Sebastian is a talented actor, but he is a complicit participant in what is quite frankly, a sleazy and exploitative show.

No, I am not equating domestic violence with complicity in an exploitative series because that is quite frankly like comparing apples and oranges. But it doesn't change the fact that both Tommy's past actions and this show are trashy. The main difference is that most of us Crüeheads can at least recognize that. So while you enjoy your trash, let us have ours in peace and stay out of our tags.

[valwentinefics]

Altruism Ch.1 (Zemo x Reader x Bucky)

A/N: Here it is ya’ll, my thank you for 100 followers series! I know 100 isn’t a lot in the grand scheme of things but I’m just a random girl who’s super insecure about her writing, so having 100 people who like it is really exciting for me! Thank you! 

This chapter is just setting things up, don’t worry there’ll be more romantic things in the next chapter onward.

Masterlist

Warnings: spoilers for tfatws ep 3

Y/n walked into the mechanics garage with soft careful steps, not sure if she had gotten the right address. She glanced down at her phone, double checking. Yep, this was the right place. The garage smelled of gas, the scent almost making her dizzy as she approached the bickering voices that bounced off the concrete walls. It took a few moments to recognize them, but once she did the tension slipped out of her body and she closed the pocket knife she had been wielding. She walked around a car and to the two men, who didn’t acknowledge her presence if they noticed it. 

“I don’t like how casual you’re being about this, this is unnatural.” Sam looked around, exasperated. “And where are we man, what does Y/n have to do with this?” He questioned, giving Y/n a small nod hello that she returned with a friendly wave.

Before Bucky had time to speak, the click of a door opening rang throughout the garage, turning everyone’s attention to the shrinking shadow of a man approaching, only to be revealed as Zemo once he pushed past the clear plastic divider. Sam looked shocked, moving forward swiftly to confront the man.

“Woah...woah, woah, woah! Hey! What are you doing here?” Asked Sam, held back by Bucky. 

“Did he not tell you the plan?” Asked Y/n. “Bucky you need to tell people your plans, it's rude to not.” Y/n scolded, feeling bad for Sam having to be shoved into this. She side eyed Zemo as he approached, side stepping closer to the arguing men to get away from him.

“I didn’t want to tell you because I knew you wouldn’t let this happen!” Bucky explained as if that was a good reason to hide something so big.

Y/n watched as Sam and Bucky bickered about Zemo, wishing she had the guts to say no to people. She was a pushover, and saying no to a friend just felt rude, especially a friend like Bucky who was for the most part alone. It was perhaps her fatal flaw, her inability to say no to someone in need. It made her a great nurse and an even better friend, but a not so happy person. Sometimes she wished she could just yell no to the next person who asked something of her, but the fear of saying to outweighed her need to have alone time to rest and feel better.

“If I may…” Zemo began to say something, taking off the prison guard hat. Y/n had to admit, objectively and not out of her own opinion, he looked good in the uniform.

“No!” Shouted both Sam and Bucky simultaneously, fed up with him already. Y/n could see why they needed her around now, they would lose their patience with him quickly.  

“...Apologies…” Zemo said, looking down. Y/n almost felt bad for him. Almost.

“When Steve refused to sign the Sokovia accords you two backed him. You broke the law and you stuck your neck out, for me. I’m asking you to do it again.” Bucky said to both Y/n and Sam.

“And I will Bucky, don’t worry we’re friends, I have your back!” Y/n smiled at him, wanting to turn around and leave. She really didn’t want to do this, but they were friends after all and that meant sticking her neck out for him.

“I really think I’m invaluable-” Zemo began, clearly not learning his lesson from the last time he spoke.

“Shut up!” Sam sighed, tired of Zemo already. “Okay if we’re going to do this, you don’t make a move without our permission.”

“Fair.” He replied

Sam looked at him, he also seemed like he didn't really want to do this “Okay Zemo… Where do we start?” 

Zemo smirked a bit before leading them through the plastic divider and to a room filled with many old and expensive cars. Y/n was too focused examining them to listen to what the others were saying, figuring she would just figure it out eventually. She walked around an old red car, admiring how shiny it was despite how long it must have been since it was driven. She was too focused on admiring it to notice Bucky's approach.

“Thanks, for saying yes. It means a lot.” Thanked the stoic man who put his hand on the side of the car, only to pull it away when Y/n gave him a pointed glare because he would smudge it. 

“Anything for you Bucky, you know that.” Y/n smiled at the super soldier. “But are you sure about this? About Zemo? He could turn on us at any minute.”

Bucky nodded. “I’m sure. We need him Y/n, he’s our best chance at taking down the Flag Smashers.”

Y/n sighed. To be honest she sympathised with the Flag Smashers, having just become accustomed to a new normal, only to be kicked out of their new homes and tossed onto the streets, but she didn’t voice her opinion to Bucky, she knew he’d disagree

“Whatever you say Bucky…” Y/n sighed, looking down until Bucky’s hand touched her shoulder. He was about to say something when Zemo’s voice interrupted and his hand jerked away.

“We’re going to need to scale a ladder of lowlives, first a mid level fence named Selbie that I still have a line on, from there we climb.” Zemo stated, holding a jacket and a light brown leather bag in his hands. He glanced back to the three people behind him, Y/n throwing Bucky a nervous smile before rushing to follow Zemo.

-

“So all this time you’ve been rich?” Sam asked as the four approached Zemo’s private jet. Y/n was shocked. From how he dressed last time she saw him, Y/n had assumed he was just a normal middle class man.

“I’m a baron Sam. My family was royalty until your friends destroyed my country.”

Y/n felt shame deep in her body as Zemo greeted his pilot and they boarded the plane. She didn’t know much about Zemo. She didn’t know his motives for doing what he did to her friends, but she did know that as a result of her friends actions his country was destroyed and she felt terrible. She sometimes at night still felt the pain of the wounds of the sokovian citizens burning into her skin as she took them from them. 

That was her power, to take the wounds from others and give them to herself with only slightly accelerated healing to compensate. Y/n became nothing but a glorified nurse to the Avengers, only receiving words of thanks for her efforts and nothing more, other than Bucky and Steve of course, they were above and beyond making sure she was okay, especially Bucky. She had long accepted that the other Avengers were too busy to truly make sure she was okay like those two had done, but it and the pain she could still feel from the Sokovian incident were both factors in why she retired after the Avengers own civil war.

She looked up from her lap, finding herself in the seat across from Zemo, who was watching her with his head slightly tilted. She must have been lost in her thoughts for a while as per usual, seeing Sam doze off and Bucky with headphones in looking out the window. Y/n crossed and uncrossed her legs, looking around the plane with nothing to do. She was too nervous to bite the bullet and start a conversation with Zemo. Luckily for her, he spoke up. 

“We’re going to Madripoor.” Zemo stated, his voice causing Y/n to look him in his eyes. “You seemed a little out of it while I was explaining it, I assumed you would like to know.” 

Y/n was hesitant to reply, not knowing if she should be having a conversation with him. “Thank you.”

Zemo took a sip of what Y/n assumed was champagne judging from the glass. “If you don’t mind my asking, what were you thinking of?”

Y/n didn’t see a reason not to tell him, letting out a small sigh. “I was thinking of Sokovia…” Zemo’s head tilt looked as if it was encouraging her to go on. His eyes had a strange way of making it seem as if she was the only person in the world when she spoke. “My power… I used it a lot back then… I tried to do the best I could to help the civilians.”

For a few moments  Zemo looked as if he was looking through Y/n and back at that day before replying, snapping out of whatever mindset he was in for those moments. “Your power. Is an interesting one, but I’ve always wondered… You do so much for other people. What do they do for you?”

-

Tag list: Let me know if you would like to be added

[ofmythsandmadness]

to be called beautiful | d.h.

❛ do you ever miss, having someone around to love you?❜

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

SUMMARY: vigilantes!au. you push the boundaries of your relationship, and ask for a wish you know won't be given back. (or — it's late, and after another night of patrol, loneliness sets in deep.) WARNINGS: slightly nsfw??? mentions to sex, no descriptions. it's not a sexual story, just a part of an inner monologue. WORD COUNT: 2.6k+ NOTES: reposting this in hopes it shows up this time (pls pls pls i'm gonna cry). i've been writing a whole other series that is a totally different writing style, but i've been trying to work out my emotions in small, focused pieces like this one when i can't focus. i might develop this into a small ficlit series of it's own, bc i think it's kinda fun — but we'll see how this goes.

THE BEAST THAT IS YOUR LONELINESS has been your burden for too long to say.

It's hold on you is a familiar ache, one you've felt for years, like a chronic tight tugging on your heart that refuses to give in no matter what you try. But you still refuse to name it for fear of coming to terms with the implications of it all. That you're really alone in this life and you're terrified of what that means and the fact that you can't have what your childhood stories promised would be yours.

Like the fool you are, you cling to the idea that it's just passing notions. You'll get over it one day. The flitting daydreams of a fairytale romance better fit for a vanilla Hallmark flick suck, but one day they won't hurt so bad. You'll numb and find a way to fill the void. And you try, you really do, pushing it down for the quick release of meaningless acts and walks of shames and cold bedsheets.

Sex is a toxic friend. You choose it's pull when your heart aches most and the loneliness begs for your breath to the point where every gasp of air is a privilege, not the bare minimum. It's not what you crave. There's no romance, no love. It's a trade and one that always leaves you feeling robbed of something you're not sure you ever even had.

You rarely remember their names. You know they probably won't remember yours. And why would they? The shudders, the whimpers, the cold moans that amount to nothing but crumbs of a supposedly passionate act only pass an hour, then they're gone. Or you're gone, if you're lonely enough to risk it. A bit of fun, a breath of pink and white and the feeling of someone pulling you closer, begging for your skin against theirs.

And then, it's all grey again. And you're alone at your apartment, washing your body free of the marks some stranger dared to press into your wilting skin, wondering what it would feel like for a lover to kiss you that same way. Running your fingers over every inch that has been caressed by so many faceless guests, trying to hold yourself in the way your foolish heart pounds for. But it's never enough. Your hands don't cup your flesh, don't mould and kiss and promise the carefully knitted lies any lover had dealt you in the past. And you're as cold as ever when they fall back to your sides. Nothing enflames your skin like you wishes it could — like those you wish would.

It's a discontent you live with. Just as you're sure millions of others do. That's what life is; you push yourself through the day, through your mundane day job and your taxing nighttime hobbies (because you sure as hell can't claim what you do as real work if your only pay is in blood and tears). You cling to the good times that happened too long ago to remember clearly, and make the moments that you're alone with your thoughts as small as possible.

But there's no time to consider all that now.

You scrunch your face up as tight as you can, squeezing your eyes shut to the point where you see stars, exploding like confetti in some absurd black void that hides behind your lids. For a moment you hold the pose, watching the stars erupt, until the position hurts too much and you have to release.

Surroundings blur and then clear as your eyes readjust from their disassociation. You stare blearily at the random coffee shop you and your 'associate' chose for the night. It's just as generic as the last five visited, a thousand shades of brown and red and weary smiles the bored baristas wear just for a cheap check that'll barely cover their asses. It's worn and empty; no one's hear except the two of you and the workers who probably hate you for being here so late.

Normally, you would feel like an asshole staying so late. But you can't bring yourself to move, or even suggest to. It's all too heavy. And even if it's in brooding silence, you don't want to leave your partner. Not yet, you beg the universe, just a few more minutes.

And, speaking of—

"What's got you so blue today?"

You blink. Look over to him, only to see him already watching you.

There's really no point lying. He always unravels you too quickly, too easily — it's the detective in him, unravelling anyone and scooping their truths from shivering flesh. Some sort of childhood trauma response he developed into another super power.

You used to hate it. Now...if you concentrate hard enough, his sharp gaze feels like one of a lover's.

"Don't know what you mean," you tell him, foolish and flustered. "I'm just fine."

"Bullshit. You've sighed a dozen times in the last five minutes."

"Tch. No I haven't."

"Did too!"

His teeth glint, white and clashing against the full pink of his lips. You wish you could denounce all the times you wondered what it would feel like to have them graze against your keening skin — but not even all the gods could cleanse of you of those thoughts. Those desperate, pleading, melancholic memories stain; he can't see them, but you do when you look close enough. And you can't escape it, much as you try.

"Seriously, though. What's up with you?"

Your gaze falls down to your hands, eager to escape his allure, though it's not a great distraction. It only makes you more bitter, really, taking in all the flaws that litter your weaponised limbs. They're calloused from a million fights. Your knuckles are scarred, aching from wounds you reopen every other night. A thousand scars from a thousand scrapes, cuts, slashes and grazes linger on once perfect skin. You don't know how many there are, anymore, only that you wish you could wipe them off. Start over, have a clean slate. Erase all your mistakes and be beautiful again.

"I'm just tired," you lie. It's tense and pitiful; you know you've screwed it up the second the words leave your lips. "S'all."

"Ri-i-ight, and I'm the goddamn queen of England."

The absurdity of his retort makes your lips twitch. It's not enough for a smile, your self-inflicted misery makes sure of that, but it's a seed of something. "Wow. Didn't know I was in the presence of royalty."

"Yeah, yeah. Shut it."

"My apologies, your highness."

"Shut up, you little shit," he grumbles, but it's as soft as you get from him. It's practically a cry of love — or your foolish mind paints it as such. You take his teasing insults as promises of adorations and his arguments are poems of lust and infatuation that tug on your heartstrings in ways you know they shouldn't.

You're partners, for crying out loud. Professional coworkers (if you call the bloody mess you two create work). You don't get to miss him, or crave him, or love him like you do.

"Something happen to you?"

You watch his own hands fold and unfold on the table. The long, delicate fingers stand out on a man like him; someone who paints himself in only sharp angles and cutting lines. But you think they match him well. They promise life. Bleed hope, even in the raised scars that lace his skin like your own. You've watched those fingers grip a blade, launch it into flesh, pull and push and dig and rip and take and committed acts of atrocity most people would run from. You know he probably thinks of his hands the same way you do. But you think they're beautiful.

"Nah. It's...it's nothing. Really."

You can't see his face, but you imagine his narrowed eyes and furrowed brows asking for an answer you're just not willing to give. "C'mon, just tell me. Can't be that bad."

Your body laughs. You hear it from some place far away. It's cold and hoarse; you wonder how long it's been since you've heard a genuine laugh from yourself. You wonder if he notices (and wishes he did, foolishly, frivolously...).

It's probably stupid, but you go for it.

"You ever miss having someone?"

Something creaks; his chair, groaning as he shifts his weight. One of his fingers taps against his empty coffee cup; idle music for a restless soul.

"Like, in what way?"

"I..." Your nails dig into your palms. This was a mistake, but one you have to follow through with. He won't accept silence after something like that. "In the cheesy, domestic sorta way? That whole, havin' someone to come home to, someone who you can talk to, someone who..." the words stick like molasses in the back of your throat. Try as you do, they refuse to give themselves to him, so you have to substitute. "Just, someone who likes you, past your body or, or whatever."

"Oh."

"Sorry." It's your turn to shift in your seat, awkwardly searching for something to occupy yourself with as this uncomfortable energy you've created carries on. But your cup's empty, and you don't have the cash to ask for another overpriced latte. "Forget about it. Let's talk about somethin' else, yeah?"

He doesn't answer that. In fact, he doesn't say anything at all for a moment, long enough to make you wonder if you've just crossed the line of no return. You can't bring yourself to look at him, hell your cowardice is painful enough to make you wonder if you should just make a run for it, say au revoir! to the bond you've built with this knife-obsessed robin hood and crush your heart forever.

It's tempting, and you consider it, but then he fills the silence.

"I miss Eudora sometimes."

Finally, your gaze tilts up. Your eyes meet his lips. He's not smiling anymore.

You guys don't talk about exes together. It's a forbidden topic, same as family or childhoods or the number of people that have cut you open and bled you dry for fun. It's too personal, and in this line of work, personal doesn't fly. But you know Eudora Patch, because this line of work requires a couple run ins with people like her, and because your partner in crime has never learned how to stop his emotions from bleeding into his expression.

"Not because I still love her, but y'know..." his fingers wave aimlessly. "It was nice, when it worked. I liked having someone to sleep with. In a non-sexual manner." His lip curls a little. "Guess the sex part was nice too, though."

You nod. "Yeah, I get that. It's...it was nice, having someone who knew you. Who wanted to make you feel good, not just for themselves but 'cause that sort of things matters."

"Mm."

"Y'ever consider pursuing that sort of thing?"

He shakes his head. His adamancy is a truck smashing into your heart — though you know you should have expected no less, it still hurts. "I can't. It never works, with people like us. Y'know?"

"Yeah. Makes sense." You want to say more. You probably should say more — but you doubt he wants to hear your woes about intimacy, and the pathetic ways you crave affection you probably don't deserve. "Yeah."

"Why?"

"Hm?"

His brows knot. "Why're you asking? Someone do somethin'?"

"What? No."

"Cause, like, if someone's hurt you, I'll—"

"I'm fine," you promise, and without thinking, you reach across the table to pat his hand. To reassure him like one would a lover. But just before your fingers meet his, the bitter reminder that he's not yours sets in and you draw back. Your hand falls a couple inches from his own. "And I can take care of myself, if I wasn't. Don't worry."

He chuckles mirthlessly. "Y'sure about that? You're still the dumbass that tripped over her own feet twice walking down an empty sidewalk, and—"

"—oh, you are such an asshole, why can't you just—"

"—so if you need someone to cut a bitch, I'm available."

You soften slightly. Try to smile, even if it's a false promise and probably hangs like a broken door on mismatched hinges. "I appreciate that. But I'm okay. Think I'm just tired, and a little lonely."

"What, I'm not good enough for you anymore?"

Bitterness seeps onto your tongue; it speaks before you can shut your lips around it. "You're fine as a partner against crime. But you're not anything otherwise, are you?" It feels like a taunt. You hadn't meant it to be — though, maybe you had.

If he takes your jeer poorly, though, it doesn't show on his face. He's still smiling and watching you, eyes simmering with a joke you wish you were in on.

"It doesn't matter though. Having someone's too complicated, 'specially for fools like us. Sometimes it's just..." you don't have a good answer. Not one he'd want to hear, anyways. "I just miss it sometimes. It'd be nice to have someone to talk to, or eat breakfast with in the mornings."

He nods slowly. "Yeah. Was nice, having another body around."

"Yeah. Ha. I," you stutter out a chuckle. Tug at your lip, nibbling at the cracked skin that comes with your long nights. "No one prepares you for how lonely adulthood is. Like, I'm half tempted to make friends with the takeout guys, just so I have a friend at all."

"We're friends."

"You know what I mean," you mumble, swallowing the bitter 'are we?' that almost makes its way off your tongue. "It was just nice when I had the time, to have a person around. Someone to like, hold hands with, or-or call me beautiful, sometimes. I-I can't remember the last time called me that, any..."

Fuck.

You hadn't meant for that last confession.

He wasn't supposed to hear that. It's too personal, too personal, too fucking personal for someone you don't even know.

Everything trembles; you're shaking like an avalanche, ready to sweep it all away under some snow drift. Never to be seen again. But you can't do that, there's no taking back the way your voice cracked as it reaches it's last word, and how your hand slips into a fist, ready to charge even though there's no punching your way out of this fumble.

You crack. Stumble out of your seat. Before he can talk you're moving, throwing a couple bills (too many for your poor wallet, you'll pay for that later) down and mumbling something about heading home. Your head's spinning and you just want to sit down again, pretend like this never happened and ask about some meaningless moment in a meaningless day that you wish could be yours and his, not just—

"—text me when you're goin' out again," you say, high and nervous. "I'll be around."

You turn.

"You don't have to leave."

"I got work tomorrow. Early."

"Thought you had the day off?"

Fuck, la deuxième acte. "Taking a shift for someone."

"Oh." He doesn't believe you. He would be a fool to. But he agrees anyways. "Okay."

"See ya, Kraken."

He doesn't answer you back. It's probably better that way.

BONUS

Many hours later, you're in bed, finally dozing off. You've rinsed off the filth of the night and resigned yourself to a barely adequate rest alone, too tired to consider what usually makes your mind race. It's been a long day; let future you contemplate all the ways you've screwed up.

Just as you're about to fall asleep, however, there's a small ping! that immediately wakes you up A notification sound reserved for only one person.

You groan but still roll over. Your heart may be a humiliated, burning mess, but it still beats for him, much as you've tried to stifle it.

kraken // 2:36 am. you available at 11p tomorrow?

kraken // 2:37 am. got word somethin going down at east docks, wanna check it out before it gets bad.

Relief is a sweet blessing. You exhale and smile into the darkness. He's still a professional, even if you seem unable to understand what that means.

you // 2:40 am. for sure. meet me at my place whenever and we can prep.

You leave it at that. Whatever he has to say after that, cannot be too important to waste your precious hours of sleep. So you roll over and shut your eyes and let yourself forget about the empty space that fills your place.

It's a decision you regret the next morning, when you wake up and realise what you missed.

kraken // 3:31 am. you ever get lonely for someone, feel free to let me know.

kraken // 3:32 am. might not make a great boyfriend, but i'll eat breakfast with you. so long as you're cooking.

A/N - I had a whole idea for two tired vigilantes (like what Diego does in season one, but partnered up) who both are really lonely and tired of life and all it's shit, and rely on each other more than they'll ever admit, and...I'll probably never write it, but this was a fun bit of that. two lonely emotionally deprived assholes who can't accept that maybe they can be loved and the person who wants to is right in front of them. :)

[taechaos]

I was totally not stalking your blog :D, and caem across this drabble of the notebook were Oc is insecure about her body ans how jk would react, and it was so ummm good?, amazing?, fantastic? and now im kinda wondering how that same situation would go but with Tae from the idea series, only if it is okay

oh thank you so much :DD ALSO I'M SO GLAD YOU ASKED BC THIS IS RLY EXCITING 😫😫 love me a stalker tho

ps not proofread cuz its 5 am lOLLoL

Nights are dreadful. You've been having trouble sleeping for some time now, each day going to sleep a little later than the day before, and normally you'd be worried about your sleep schedule for when you eventually go off to college, but you're not. You dread the night because not only do you toss and turn until the sun rises, but because of the overthinking that comes with.

Your hormones are toying with you, from the self-deprecating thoughts to breaking out. If the blemishes and the scars aren't enough, you feel heavier. Normally, you wouldn't care so much for these factors because it's the cycle of life and mother nature, and usually there's no one around to judge you; but Taehyung is in your bed every night, and he sees you every day.

Now, you didn't use to care so much about Taehyung's thoughts about your appearance because he's your step-brother. That was until you began harboring some feelings for him due to a few turn of events, and well, now you're insecure and care about what he thinks. And he's around you all the time, so he's destined to judge you at some point.

These thoughts, along with the fact that you don't like yourself so much right now, are not helping. They're haunting, if anything, and you turn on your side in the dead of the night with Taehyung sleeping on the other end of the bed.

At least you thought he was until he smacked your hip over the blanket with a grumble. "Stop fucking moving, damn." He doesn't sound like he just woke up, instead his tone is alert and slightly irritated. Nights with you have been disastrous because he can't cuddle you from how many times you switch positions and the way you refuse affection. He's stopped himself from slapping you multiple times for whacking his hand away or your witty remarks. Such a bitch.

"Go to your own room then," you huff in a hushed voice and roll your eyes. Your back no longer faces him when he pulls on your shoulder, prompting you to look up at him with crossed arms. He's not impressed with his empty gaze; clearly tired after a busy day and still up at 4 AM. He props his elbow to lean his cheek on his fist.

"Are you afraid I'm going to fuck you in your sleep or something? That was a one time thing– okay, maybe more than once," he rolls his eyes when you look at him sarcastically with high brows and low lids, "but it's not like I'll do it again! I respect women and consent and all that good stuff now, so with this reassurance, let's fucking sleep already." He taps your cheek before throwing his arm over your chest and snuggling his face into your shoulder, his figure practically covering half of you. You don't move as he blows out a deep breath through his nose, clearly relaxed while you still have your eyes open.

A moment of silence passes, and Taehyung whose sense of time is greatly flawed, peeks an eye open to see if you're asleep after twenty seconds of waiting. "Are you awake?"

"No, Tae, I sleep with my eyes open," you spit and he immediately flicks your forehead with his finger. You whine at the sting. The sibling energy irks you when you think about his impact on your sleep schedule, and so on...

"No wonder you always look like a zombie nowadays," he sighs with a shake of his head before joking, "Ugly."

The only sensible reason as to why tears well up in your eyes instantly is that your period is approaching. That must be it, you convince yourself and purse your lips to stop the gradual trembling. It simply isn't the best time to joke about your appearance, because lately your heart intends to take everything so seriously. You hate your current sensitivity, but you can't exactly lower it on a scale.

So you just hold it in.

Taehyung waits for a response for a whole minute before squinting at your side profile. He can see another layer building up on your eye, and he holds himself up by his palm to get a closer look. "Are you good?"

When someone tries really hard to hold back tears, it's so easy for them to break down just by hearing the question: "Are you okay?" Taehyung isn't so empathetic in his approach, but the result is the same when you blink. It's 4 AM for God's sake, people play truth or dare after midnight for a reason. It feels just so intimate at this time, and you can't help the one sob that slips past your lips.

Your step-brother stares wide-eyed at you before bursting out in laughter. "Oh my God, don't tell me you're crying because I called you ugly?"

"Shut up," you demand with a wavering voice. Not the best time to be mocked either.

"Princess, I was kidding," he straddles you by sitting on your thighs to lean down, hands palming your flushed cheeks as he chuckles. "You cry so easily."

Taehyung is arguably either the worst or the best consolation by how he makes your sadness feel so out of place; stupid and worthless.

"I know I look like shit, okay?" you hiccup and slap his hands away to wipe your tears. "You don't have to be around me all the time if you find me so ugly. You know I'm insecure. Wh-why would you say that?"

He clicks his tongue and brushes away the hair strands sticking to your face. "Because I didn't know you'd be so offended by it. Princess, take a joke; I was just commenting on your eyebags. You look like a fucking raccoon."

Your cries get a little more heartwretching when you struggle to breathe over your hiccups and sobs. "You're so mean!" you cover the top of your face in shame. "Do you enjoy watching me cr-cry?"

"Kind of," he scratches the back of his head with a sheepish grin. Your sudden temporary silence makes him sweatdrop and avoid eye contact. "Okay, listen, no, I just don't feel bad about it. I mean I would be mad if someone else made you cry, but you're crying over a joke–"

"Just leave," you cut in with a sniffle. You stare at the ceiling as your lips fall into a hard line. Though you know you'll change your mind later, right now he's more toxic than you can bear. Every word he says cuts deep. "You're making it all worse."

"Okay, wait," he holds up his hand with a sigh. "Tell me what you're insecure about. Your body? I'm the only one who'll ever see it, so who gives a–"

"You called me ugly."

"You are gorgeous, okay?" he emphasizes each word and closes in on your face. "There is nothing I don't love about you. Ugh," he shivers, "didn't mean to sound romantic."

You're growing sleepy as the aftermaths of your breakdown, and you can only muster a chuckle at his genuine distress.

"Well, I already started, so I'll go full simp mode, your body is a temple, queen. Scratch that, you're my fucking goddess. I want to worship you, but someone's been too busy crying and staying up to notice my sexual frustration for the past week."

A laugh escapes you at his antics that you only get a glimpse of every now and then. You know he doesn't know how to comfort you or take care of you when you cry, but his humor works in his favor.

"By the way, I can't believe you didn't let me touch you," he scoffs. "I was going to start doing it in your sleep again, but you wouldn't even do that! Then you go around, bitching and whining about being ugly like a stupid girl."

"Stupid? I–"

He cuts you off by pressing his index finger on your lips. "Don't talk. You're pretty and sexy, especially when you cry. Let me do the thinking for you, stupid girl. Do one thing right and go to sleep, I'll take care of the rest."

[murder-raven13]

My Haikyuu Ships pt. 3

A/N: Part 3 because I am a hoe that procrastinates

Warning(s): cursing, not proofread, this has again become kind of relationship hcs, loooooooooooooooooooog, I added another ship because my memory sucks

Word Count: 3,401

Part 1 Part 2

Tanaka x Ennoshita

So, Ennoshita is calm and collected but also very insecure. Doesn’t trust in his own skill or ability to lead nor the relationships he’s built with the team. Tanaka, on the other hand, is loud and confident and dedicated. He also refuses to let people talk bad about themselves or let other people talk bad about the people he cares about. This really helps with Ennoshita’s insecurity because Tanaka is brutally honest and Ennoshita knows that, so he believes Tanaka. And Ennoshita can keep Tanaka in line and on track. Tanaka is the type that’s only truly dedicated to the things he cares about, so other things tend to fall behind. School is one of the things that gets left behind. But Ennoshita is there to keep Tanaka on track, making sure that he’s doing what he has to to ensure that he can continue participating in his passions. They’re both really good together, covering the other’s weaknesses with ease and letting themselves lean on the other when they need it. Very sweet boys with a very soft, fun relationship. 

Yachi x Kiyoko

Okay, Kiyoko is a bit of an outsider and she’s not good at expressing herself. But she is sure of herself. She knows her capabilities and has confidence in her looks and, after a while, in her relationships with those close to her. But she’s never had a relationship with a female that she’s been sure of. Then Yachi comes along, basically worshipping the ground Kiyoko walks on, and completely anxious about literally everything. Yachi is a big ball of stress and love, and she turns to Kiyoko first, for everything. She believes in Kiyoko, knows that Kiyoko will always fit with her, doesn’t mind that Kiyoko has flaws because Kiyoko is perfect to Yachi. And Kiyoko helps Yachi build her confidence. They’re a very domestic couple, I feel. The kind that would be able to just sit in silence while they did their homework or just watch TV together every night. Kiyoko makes sure that Yachi doesn’t overwork or overstress herself by giving her massages and calming baths. Yachi makes sure that Kiyoko is happy and sure of their relationship, completely free with her emotions and her words whenever they’re together, by ensuring that Kiyoko knows Yachi is there, always, the peaceful shadow in Kiyoko’s life. They’re just neat together. 

Yachi x Ushijima

Ushijima is a very simple man and very devoted man. His partner’s needs and feelings are a priority to him, even though he may struggle to pick up on body language. He’s big and strong, but very gentle, astoundingly so for someone so brutal on the court. Yachi is pretty much the opposite. She’s tiny and unsure and anxious. And Ushijima terrifies her at first. He’s giant and strong and stoic. This boy does not look welcoming, especially to someone as tiny and panicky as Yachi. So, it takes a while. Ushijima doesn’t think much of her at first because she doesn’t seem like much but he sees her struggling with a near panic attack after she gets separated from the team one day and he just really can’t stop himself from wanting to protect this tiny human. He becomes a kind of balm, a protector that makes Yachi feel safe because, no matter how scary the world it, Ushijima is there to keep the brunt of it away. And Yachi serves as a constant reminder of Ushijima’s strength, a reminder that he’s needed, loved, for all the qualities about himself that he’s spent his entire life strengthening. 

Atsumu x Hinata

Can I just say disaster? [that’s gonna describe quite of few of the remaining ships tbh] They’re a disaster but, like, a good disaster. Atsumu and Hinata have the same zeal for volleyball and Atsumu fell in the love the first time they played a game against each other. Hinata took a little longer to fall. Together, though, they’re good. They have a place to channel all their chaotic energy. They mess with each other a lot, perpetual state of war via prank. Sometimes, much to the chagrin of those that know them, they keep score of who can prank the most other people. But most of the times it’s kept between themselves. This is a very fun couple. The kind that goes on spontaneous beach trips at 2 in the morning and plays until they can’t physically move. So in love with each other they sometimes forget other people exist. They’re both absolutely blinding, all radiance and sunshine, burning with so much passion that other’s have struggled all their lives to deal with them. They get lost in each other, reverent and worshipping and all to pleasantly blinded by the other.

Atsumu x Sakusa

Sakusa is mean, a meanie. He’s so mean to Atsumu. Most of Atsumu’s time is spent just pouting at Sakusa until Sakusa has to desperately try and hide the blush on his face. That pout is his favorite of Atsumu’s expressions and Atsumu has a lot of them. Sakusa hates being the in public eye but that’s unavoidable with his career. But Atsumu, glorious, blinding Atsumu is there to keep the crowds and the germs and all of it focused on him. He keeps the world away from Sakusa when Sakusa can’t deal with it. He’s always, always making sure Sakusa is comfortable and clean and happy. And Sakusa is the motivation Atsumu needs to truly take care of himself. Atsumu gets so focused on volleyball and being the best that he forgets some things, like resting and self-care and showering, all things that Sakusa is religious about. They make such a good couple because Sakusa needs Atsumu to be the light and Atsumu needs Sakusa to be his guiding hand. 

Osamu x Suna

Chill babies. Osamu and Suna are both so chill, or at least they both seem that way. Osamu’s chill is kind of fake. It’s not that he’s not chill, it’s just that he’s surrounded by things that push his chill into a little corner and beat it up. And by “things” I mean Atsumu. Osamu loves his twin, no doubt, but his twin is also the most exhausting person alive a majority of the time. They’re constantly in competition. They have the same face and yet Osamu is constantly preferred less by fans besides the fact that he swore he would be more likable than Atsumu because he didn’t want to be alone like Atsumu. So, the team and those that know Atsumu all prefer Osamu, but everyone else doesn’t. In comes Suna, who captures everything on his phone, and I mean everything. Every fight, every argument, every moment, everything. This lets Osamu look back at how he and Atsumu interact and realize how tired he is of it all. And Suna is more than willing to just lay there, doing nothing, when Osamu needs somewhere quiet to be. Suna is Osamu’s refuge from Atsumu, whose passion and attitude make him too much sometimes. And Osamu lets Suna chill. He doesn’t expect emotion or passion or anything chaotic from Suna, he just wants Suna to be Suna, a lazy little shit that likes to cause trouble whenever it’s easy to do so. Osamu, to Suna, is a partner, someone that knows him and accepts his limits, respects how he is a person. 

Osamu x Hinata

Okay, Hinata is really just like a nicer, more likable version of Atsumu’s energy. Osamu would be one of very few able to keep up with Hinata’s energy in a relationship without getting swallowed up in it. Osamu would be so supportive of Hinata’s volleyball career, would undoubtedly practice when Hinata begged him. He doesn’t mind, he misses the game. But Hinata never tries to pull him back into volleyball, he understands what Osamu is passionate about and supports the fuck out of it. Loves Osamu’s food, constantly bragging about it. Osamu can go nowhere with Hinata without turning bright red at some point. Also constantly bringing people to Osamu’s restaurant. The team won a game? Onigiri Miya. Someone got engaged? Onigiri Miya. Man has no shame. And Hinata’s so cute and famous that this really does bring a bunch of people to the restaurant [Osamu is salty about it and so is Atsumu]. 

Ushijima x Hinata

So, I’m a whore to enemies to lovers and I’m a whore for height differences; what you gonna do about it? Nothing because nothing can be done. Hinata has similar energy to Tendou, except Hinata is much nicer than Tendou and a different kind of chaotic. Hinata is unfiltered passion and confidence. Ushijima is concentrated passion and confidence. The two of them together are constantly challenging each other because Hinata never stops striving to be the best, a trait Ushijima greatly admires. And Hinata is always so impressed with Ushijima’s skill and power and size, loves that he’s found another volleyball idiot to be with. Hinata drags Ushijima into life experiences and Ushijima brings Hinata home whenever he’s drifting too far. They’re a very strange couple to others because their energy is so different. Definitely the couple whose house is more plant and volleyball stuff than anything else. Hinata will definitely tuck himself into Ushijima’s side until he’s almost completely hidden, may have once gotten into Ushijima’s hoodie with him, because he’s a little shit and Ushijima cannot say no to him [and he doesn’t really mind have Hinata so close].

Yachi x Oikawa

Oikawa is used to girls fawning over him. But Yachi is too shy to do so. Literally will not admit she finds him pretty. She just kind of ignores him, which pisses Oikawa off because this small, adorable girl won’t even spare him a glance and that’s never fucking happened before. Honestly starts pursuing Yachi because she didn’t seem interested at first. The first time she calls him pretty, he blushes, which was not a reaction he was expecting from himself. Realized he liked this cute ball of nerves more than he was originally supposed to. Yachi helps Oikawa realize he doesn’t need to be fake all the time, that not everyone has to life him, because he has the people who matter. And Oikawa helps Yachi become more confident, more sure of herself, more comfortable with defending her ground [she has to in order to deal with his damn fangirls]. Oikawa is a clingy ass person, but he understands that that makes Yachi a little uncomfortable in public, so he cuts back on the PDA, until there is a guy talking to Yachi, then he’s all hands on deck. Will definitely save Yachi from stressful situations. Loves that Yachi brings him lunch every day. 

Suga x Ushijima

Suga hates him at first. It’s so funny. Because Ushijima is just captivated because Suga is pretty and kind and caring and so observant, if not the greatest setter. He’s got a bond of trust with his teammates that Ushijima admires a lot. And Suga is willing to do whatever it takes to win, even if that means he has to step into the background. But Suga hates him because he thinks Ushijima is perfect. It’s not true hate, just irritation. But it’s enough to keep Suga away. And then Suga starts realizing all the ways Ushijima is far from perfect. He’s stoic and bad at talking and communicating and all together a disaster at social interaction because he’s so brutally honest without thought. And Suga starts to like him, how could he not. This man is a mess and handsome and Suga’s a little whipped. It’s Tendou that gets them together because Tendou notices that Suga’s feelings have changed and knows that Ushijima’s crush has not. So, he sticks them together and, true to character, Ushijima confesses without much thought [despite the fact that he blushes]. Together, they’re a very mature couple and I do not mean that Suga gets any less meddlesome. I just mean that they’re relationship is very domestic, very stable. Their relationship is a constant, a comfort, something to always come home to. And Suga has his school students and Ushijima has his volleyball career and then they have each other. Works very well. 

Bokuto x Hinata

Bright disaster bois. Can I just say good luck to their friends. These two are constantly feeding off each other’s energy. Hinata hypes Bokuto up and Bokuto pulls Hinata forward. All the time, constant movement with these two. They’re almost never home. Either at the gym practicing, out getting ice cream, at an amusement part, or trying to get themselves lost. They’re impossible to keep up with, but so fun to watch. They’re such a happy couple, always smiling, always laughing, always with a new story to tell. Little explorers. But always together. People can see it, too, how utterly bright the two of them get together. It’s actually ridiculous, Kageyama hates them [he thinks they’re cute but he would literally rather die than admit it]. 

Tanaka x Yamamoto

Chaos personified in a relationship. They’re both threatening appearance wise so whenever they go out together, they’re absolutely avoided by everyone. But they’re so nice all the time. Constantly giving out compliments, definitely the couple that will talk about attractive people they see on the street together. Also definitely the couple that is constantly hyping each other up, in everything they do, even like brushing their teeth. They’re stupid. Always having fun together. 

Matsukawa x Hanamaki

These two both have resting facial expressions that aren’t actually indicative of what they’re feeling. This, on top of their personalities, means that these two are the ultimate pranksters. They can keep a poker face like nobody’s business. Absolutely impossible to read. And, unlike some of the other prankster couples, these two do not prank each other often. No, no, no. They team up on other people. Like demons. No one is safe. If you are around, you are a potential target. And they love it. It makes them laugh and its something they can unfailingly do with the other. It’s a bonding thing for them, would definitely make pranking people a date. Other than that, though, they play a lot of video games together. Plus, the lack of emotional expression of the other’s face has never thrown either of them off because they rely on body language and other cues because they themselves understand that the face isn’t always reliable. Very understanding and super in tune with each other. 

Aran x Kita

So, y’all remember when Aran got onto Kita for questioning if it was okay or normal for him to feel happy? That was the Moment. Aran lives in Japan, but he is black and his name is foreign. Because of this, he’s been an oddity his entire life. That doesn’t mean that people don’t like him or that they make fun of him for it, in fact, plenty of people react like the Miya twins. But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s an oddity and that people react to it. Kita is also an oddity, not because of his name or his ethnicity, but because of his personality. He doesn’t act like a child and is super dedicated to a strict routine that includes keeping everything religiously clean. Not a lot of kids are like that. And Kita himself has said that he thinks more like an adult than a child, he’s aware of the fact that he’s not like his peers. This helps connect the two of them. They don’t react to each other for what makes them odd, they’re simply friends. Kita has never thought much of Aran’s name or the fact that he’s black and Aran doesn’t mind that Kita doesn’t exactly act like a child. They trust each other, they rely on each other. And they found their common ground at first in the fact that they’re both different in some way.  

Takeda x Ukai

I have shipped these two from the very first conversation I saw them have. Ukai was irritated by Takeda, but admired and acknowledged his unwavering persistence. And Takeda went full creep and learned everything he could about Ukai so that he could manipulate him into coaching the team. Like, this meanie does not give up. And Ukai both hates and loves this trait. Because this adorable teacher should not be able to make people bend to his will like this, dammit. And Takeda is adorable, Ukai knows [he pretends he doesn’t]. Takeda knows that Ukai is a big softie despite his appearance, that he cares a lot more than he lets on, and that he is, legit, a concerned parent half the time [what other kind of person gets onto children all the time to make sure they’re eating properly?]. He also knows that Ukai is smart and dedicated and cares a great deal about his family. So, once Takeda had his sights set on Ukai as a partner, Ukai really couldn’t [and didn’t want to] say no. They become Parents, no questions asked, but not like real parents, like the uncles the kids are always left with. [Ukai thinks he’s smooth-he is not, Takeda finds this adorable and won’t say anything about it].

Tsukishima x Yamaguchi

The only reason this ship made it to the third part is because I wanted a childhood friends to lovers in every part. It really is law. Please, Tsukki is such a grumpy baby and Yamaguchi is such a stressed out puppy. Tsukki is soft for this man and this man alone. Literally cannot actually be mean to him. Yamaguchi knows it to [whenever Tsukki tells him to shut up, Yamaguchi knows that it’s for one of two reasons: Tsukki is flustered or Yamaguchi is doing something Tsukki finds cute and is flustered]. Yamaguchi is a walking protector, will snap at people for attacking Tsukki even if he himself is terrified. And Tsukki has unwavering confidence in Yamaguchi’s abilities. They know each other. Yamaguchi knows that Tsukki is a big softies, that he’s insecure sometimes, that he loves anything strawberry flavored and anything to do with dinosaurs. He knows and he loves Tsukki for it all. And Tsukki knows that Yamaguchi is insecure and quiet and doubtful, but he also knows that Yamaguchi is dedicated and kind and everything he never thought he would find in another person. Yamaguchi is where Tsukki goes to feel safe being himself. And Tsukki is where Yamaguchi goes to feel secure. They’re safe together. 

Nishinoya x Yaku

Honestly, they’re both gremlin smols and I love them. They constantly learn from each other and push each other to be their best. Yaku is a team mom and Noya is team problem child. So, they work pretty well together. Noya gets Yaku to loosen up a bit and Yaku gets Noya to calm the fuck down. Noya lowkey makes him nervous sometimes but thats because Yaku is scared of his own feelings. Like, how can he like this wild mess so much? Please explain it to him, he would like to know. But he does love Noya, a whole damn lot, and he’s not doing anything to change it. 

Kyotani x Yahaba

I cannot believe I forgot to add their part. I’m mad at myself. Kyotani is a big scared asshole. He doesn’t want to let people close to him, he wants to be the best, and he definitely doesn’t want others to know enough about him to see him as anything but strong. So, being vulnerable isn’t his strong suit and he doesn’t let people in. His respect is hard earned, his affection even more so. But Yahaba is a pretty boy with a very strong center. He refuses to take any shit from any one. But he doesn’t act that way unless he needs to. And Kyotani needs him to act like that. And once he does, it gets much harder for Kyotani to believe that Yahaba is just a pretty boy. Yahaba can and will put Kyotani in his place. And Kyotani is constantly pushing Yahaba’s buttons, forcing him to reveal bit by bit how strong is personality actually is, how much he wants to be the best as well. Best bois. Mad dog and mad dog trainer. I love them. Probably my favorite Haikyuu ship, out of the 50 million I have.  

This is the last part, yay!!!

I have too many ships, some pls help me.

This post legit won’t save half of the tags. I’ve typed them twice and it won’t keep them on the damn post. So, I had to go with just one or two tags for each to make sure each ship was in the tags. 

[andersunmenschlich]

"Was I Abused" game

Copied and pasted from this post by @furiousgoldfish (to save space since you can't reformat anything in posts you reblog).

Is it accurate? Who knows! My memories of childhood are incomplete! Besides, a lot of these things seem frankly normal to me and not abusive at all... which, if they are abusive, is probably an especially bad sign. Hm. Anyway, on to the game!

Reblog and bold the things your parents have done to you! Italicize if you're not sure. (copy paste it all and then bold)

Physical abuse

parent slapped me to prove their point / teach me a lesson (I don't remember. It would have been loss of temper anyhow, not point-proving or lesson-teaching.)

parent spanked me as a “punishment” saying it was for my own good (Hey, I was raised full-on Michael Pearl TTUAC-style. This is foundational.)

parent pulled on my hair to force me to move

parent threw things at me while angry, things heavy enough to hurt me (Kind of? She and my sister were on my bed, top bunk. I was cowering on the floor. But I dunno if she was angry.)

parent trapped me in a room/corner so I couldn’t escape them (I don't remember. But I do know, in my very bones, that there was no escape from them. You couldn't run. You couldn't hide. And trying would only make things worse.)

parent hit me when I wouldn’t obey them / tried to confront them (To Train Up A Child, people.)

parent used a twig / stick / belt to lash at my body (Again—this is the Pearl technique. My parents broke a lot of wooden paint mixing sticks on me before discovering this whippy plastic rod about the thickness of a pencil! You could sharpen the end in a pencil sharpener, too. They had a ton of those, it seemed like. And a short one for trips outside the house; it fit in Mom's purse.)

parent grabbed me to force me to pay attention to them

parent pinned me down and physically prevented me from escaping (...Yeah. Again, this is the Pearl technique.)

parent brought me into situations where I feared for my life (I—look, it's not like the fears were rational or anything. It's just that the world is terrifying when you're autistic and so much hurts. And have been taught your whole life that "the world" is a terrible, dangerous place that can kill you both physically and spiritually. Yeah.)

parent made it painfully obvious for me that I’ll obey them or suffer injuries (I mean. TTUAC.)

parent threatened to beat me if I wouldn’t do as they say (This was the most basic part of my childhood. Like air. Under what circumstances would this not be the case? Unimaginable.)

parent forcefully fed me something I refused to eat (Does not letting you eat between meals, and putting the same food in front of you at each meal—over and over again until you either eat it or it grows mold—count?)

parent made an attempt at strangling / drowning / burning me

parent banged my head / body into the wall / furniture (To be fair, I hit him first. And it's not like I broke the table when his punch sent me across the room: I didn't hit it that hard. Just busted open the back of my head a bit.)

parent forced me into sexual activities

Emotional abuse

parent called me derogatory names and slurs more than once (Frankly, I'm still reasonably convinced that I am a monster. And evil. And I am definitely a fool, at least biblically speaking. "The fool says in his heart, 'There is no god,'" indeed.)

parent said my name mostly with hatred and scorn in their voice (To be fair, it was my name.)

parent degraded and humiliated me in front of others for fun

parent insulted and devalued something really important to me (I mean, in retrospect, it was dumb. Just a worthless paper model of a house, that's all. It wasn't even that great. I was a little kid, after all. So what if I'd spent all day on it? It was still garbage, really.)

parent deprived me of something that meant the world to me (I don't remember. I genuinely don't remember, but I still have trouble admitting that I care about anything because part of me is terrified that if anyone knows I like a thing they'll have a way to hurt me, and that fear has to have come from somewhere, right?)

parent yelled and swore at me in anger more than once

parent blamed me for things that were out of my control/not my fault (And they do feel bad about this now.)

parent shamed me for my physical appearance

parent guilt-tripped me for not pleasing them well enough (I mean, they tried. But good luck; I have no idea what guilt feels like. I bought a book about it because I was curious.)

parent regarded me as a burden, and shamed me for needing them at all (Hmm. I don't really do shame either. I was a burden, though.)

parent insisted I couldn’t take a joke after I was hurt by their insults

parent never comforted me / got angry if I reached for comfort (Again, to be fair: I'm autistic. I'm pretty sure they were just having trouble with my body language and facial expressions. Why else would they punish me for bad attitude when all I wanted was to be cooed at and fluttered over with the same concern they showed my siblings when they cried about their wounded knees?)

parent punished me for crying / showing fear / showing trauma symptoms

parent humiliated me for showing excitement and happiness

parent subtly let me know that my feelings and my problems don’t matter (They, uh. They don't. My feelings and problems are mine. Why should anyone else care? It's genuinely not their problem.)

parent got angry at me for feeling depressed / angry / tired / suicidal

parent blamed me for feeling depressed / angry / tired / suicidal (Who else's fault would it be? They're my feelings, produced by my body and brain, experienced only by me, in my own head. Dang if I see how anybody else could be to blame.)

parent compared me to cousins / other children to prove how I’m the worst (Dang you, Perfect Second Child. ... Although... in retrospect... that set-up wasn't great for you either, was it. Hm.)

parent decided for me how I feel when it was convenient for them

parent told me that I was crazy / delusional / need to be locked away (I don't remember. It sounds familiar. But I don't. I don't remember.)

parent threatened me with kicking me out / sending me away if I don’t change (Kind of? Does it count if you overhear your parents talking about it in their locked bedroom? Not their fault I was listening at the door, surely. They were genuinely considering it. I can't blame them. I was a terrible child.)

parent refused to accept my sexuality gender / tried to force it to change

parent required me to act normal to protect family’s reputation

parent isolated me from family activities they all enjoy (Nooo, haha, I did that all on my own.)

parent assured me that nobody will ever want me (I mean... "only a mother could love" is a saying for a reason. And if even my own mother couldn't love me, well! I don't remember whether anyone told me this outright. It just seemed... obvious.)

parent insisted that I was lucky and that I could have had it much worse (I could have!)

parent made me responsible for their well-being and made me the caretaker

parent insisted that their harmful acts were all done “out of love” (The subject of love was confusing. "I don't love you," "I hate you," "I have to love you because you're my child, so I love you—but I don't have to like you, and I don't, I don't like you at all" ...it was all very confusing.)

parent demanded I be available for their requests at any time (Well, yes, obviously. To Train Up A Child was very clear about this.)

parent punished me for trying to establish boundaries (Boundaries, boundaries. Hmm. Interesting concept....)

parent destroyed my belongings as a form of revenge (Revenge? I don't know. Consequences, I think it was. For keeping all my favorite toys on my bed, and nesting in them. So obviously they had to be thrown onto the floor. And at my head. Ahaha.)

parent made inappropriate sex jokes and comments in my presence

parent denied doing any of this and insists that all the blame is on me (I'm not sure they aren't right, honestly. As previously noted, I am a horrible person, and I was even more horrible as a child.)

Psychological Abuse

parent kept pointing out my flaws as proofs that I won't achieve anything (Mmm... was it them, or was it me doing this? Seems like they were always telling me how intelligent I was, how talented, how much promise I had. The voices asking why wasn't I doing anything, why couldn't I use the gifts God had given me correctly, why was I wasting it all, I'm the stupidest smart person ever, garbage, can't do anything right, etc., seem to have always come from my own mind.)

parent called me stupid, incompetent, ignorant, while withholding information that I needed to know in order to complete tasks

parent would change their side of the agreement at a crucial moment and then pretend it was obvious from the start

parent stalked me / distrusted me without any reason / invaded my privacy (I'm really not sure. What privacy? A four-bedroom house with twelve people in it has very little room for privacy. And if you have nothing to hide....)

parent attacked my insecurities and vulnerabilities in any argument (Dad's always been very good at this. It's his emotional intelligence, I think. Never been much of a cryer, but he can do it to me every time!)

parent forced me into degrading actions while they watched

parent threatened to leave me

parent regularly accused me of behaving the way they did

parent never acknowledged, praised or approved of my actions

parent always demanded they be acknowledged as right without any proof / explanation (Sort of? They had explanations. It's just that those explanations were often terrible. Not that my parents were aware of that.)

parent insisted that they’re a great parent using financial support as proof

parent insisted that I should be grateful for how good they are to me (Keeping me safe from the world! The evil, dirty, disgusting world, full of immoral monsters! Oh, the horrible things that could happen to me without their protection! ...Which is not entirely untrue, I guess. But... I dunno....)

parent gaslit me and tried to make me believe my memories weren’t real if I confronted them with what they did

Neglect

parent didn’t notice I haven’t been eating properly (Frankly, I preferred that. I never much cared for being forced to eat things that made me feel sick.)

parent didn’t notice I was sick / didn’t care for me while I was sick

parent didn’t notice I was injured (Eh. After the first few years of my life, that suited me just fine.)

parent didn’t notice I didn’t have clothes / shoes I needed for school (I didn't go to school.)

parent didn’t notice I suffered from trauma (Look, it's—it's the autism again, okay? Living in a world that hurts you horribly at unpredictable moments is traumatic. I didn't know it was trauma. I just thought it was life. So how could they have known?)

parent didn’t notice I was anxious and stressed (Oh, they noticed that.)

parent didn’t notice I was depressed (Once again—I didn't realize. So how could they? I'm really not sure this counts.)

parent didn’t notice I was cutting myself (Whipping myself, actually. With tree branches. Until the skin broke. Hmm, that was when I was in my early teens, though—as a kid I used to turn a little wooden rocking chair upside down and throw myself into the sharp ends of the rockers. To be fair, they might have noticed. Just... who really cares? I was a rough and tumble kid. Scrapes and bruises and cuts and what-have-you were to be expected. Anyway, there was no cutting; I never cut myself.)

parent didn’t notice I was suicidal (I wasn't. I'm not. I won't be. Mind over matter. Ha.)

parent didn’t notice I was being sexually abused

parent didn’t notice I was being bullied

parent failed to get me medical attention when it was needed

parent failed to teach me the very basics of self care

parent didn’t seem to notice any of my needs and feelings except the absolute minimum I required to survive (Uh. Anything more than the absolute minimum you require to survive isn't a need. You need to survive. Do you really need anything else? I mean, it's nice, a definite plus, but....)

when I notified them of these things, they denied it, accused me of lying, decided it wasn’t happening and/or blamed me for it

Financial Abuse

parent made me feel ashamed for needing money

parent made me feel like I was a financial burden to them (But I was. Come on, now. There's no way honesty counts as abuse. ...Is there?)

parent only gave me minimal money to survive (I don't—there were kids out there getting money from their parents? I mean, they're giving you clothes, food, and shelter already. What for would you need money? I must be missing something.)

parent made sure I never have a decent amount of money on me (Again—I never had that much money. Quarters from the Tooth Fairy: that was it. Money from birthday cards or whatever went in the college fund under their bed. "For your future." And I raided that stash later to buy books anyhow.)

parent took the money I earned from me

parent used the money to blackmail me (if you continue this way let’s see who will pay for your bus ticket!)

parent insisted since they “pay for my stuff” they have the right to control my behaviour and actions (and attitudes. Is this, um. Is this not true?)

parent had enough money for luxury but kept me without anything

parent refused to get my medicine / get me medical attention because it’s too expensive while they got everything for themselves (Nah, they didn't visit the doctor either.)

parent would keep me anxious over if they would pay my expenses or not

parent would make me do as much work for them as possible before they would pay for a necessity

parent kept me in the dark over family finances even when I was of age (Was that them, though? Or was that me? It's difficult to know what's going on with your money when you can't go outside during the day—so no bank visits—and you don't have the password to your bank account because you never asked for it, so you can't do anything online. Which was just as well, because my laptop was... not great. Almost certainly terribly insecure.)

parent would make sure I never have enough money to escape them

If you bold more than 5 things, you have been through abuse. For some particular ones, even one true thing on this list means you’ve been badly harmed by your parents. Also this list is not complete, there are many more abusive behaviours not listed here, feel free to add!

[obeyme-kaidii-writes]

Could I request an Asmo angst with fluff fic where MC is feeling insecure and questioning why Asmo loves them and Asmo comforts them? If you feel comfortable writing for him, of course, I know you said that you mainly write for Mammon and Levi 😁

Thank you for sending this request. ❤️ This is my first time writing a full length story for Asmo, but I think I did a pretty good job of capturing his personality. Please let me know what you think. ❤️

Perfect

Asmodeus x gn!MC

Words - 1724

Content warnings - some angst, lots of comfort and fluff

Prompt/Inspiration - anonymous request

Summary - Asmo asks you to be his date to a ball at Diavolo’s Castle, but you have some doubts about why he wants to be with you at all.

AO3

This had been such a stupid idea. Really stupid. How had you ever let him talk you into this? You should have seen this coming from a mile away. Or perhaps you did. Perhaps you knew exactly how this would all play out when he invited you to this ball, but decided to push those thoughts aside and keep living in your fantasy world for just a little longer.

You had stepped aside for just a moment to get a drink. And one moment was all it took. When you turned back around, there was Asmodeus just as you had left him. But as you took another step closer you saw that he was not alone. In fact, he was surrounded by a small group of very handsome demons, of all genders.

If he had been just talking, you don’t think you would have minded as much. At least, that’s what you tried to tell yourself. But he wasn’t just talking. He was laughing and smiling with his charm dialed up to 11. Everyone was mesmerized by him. And who could blame them?

You had never met someone as beautiful as Asmodeus. And it wasn’t just his beauty that drew people to him, though he always seemed to think that it was. He was attentive, thoughtful, considerate. If you needed something, he always seemed to know before even you did. Whether that was a new bottle of shampoo or a hug, he always knew. He pampered you and spoiled you, and you did the same for him. Hour long baths where the two of you take turns washing one another’s hair and massaging away all the day's stress weren’t uncommon. And you frequently fell asleep in his bed just so you could feel his fingers running through your hair in the morning.

But none of that seemed to matter right now. Right now all you could see was Asmo surrounded by a group of beautiful demons. And he just looked like he belonged there. You looked down at your own clothes, the exquisite, tailored outfit that Asmo had picked out just for you. It had seemed like such a good idea to let him dress you up. But all you could think about in that moment was how utterly foolish you felt. Lipstick on a pig, you thought.

And so you excused yourself, slipping into one of the many empty rooms that lined the halls of Diavolo’s castle. You didn’t want to let yourself cry here. You knew it didn’t matter how quiet you tried to be, someone would hear you. Probably Mammon, in which case all hell was sure to break loose when he’d turn on his brother for leaving you all alone like that. But it wasn’t Asmo’s fault. He hadn’t done anything wrong. He was simply being himself. His wonderful, perfect, sweet self. So you choked back your sobs, desperate to remain hidden.

Why had Asmodeus even brought you here anyways? Why did he insist on you being his date? He could have chosen from any number of demons. So why did he choose you? There wasn’t anything particularly remarkable about you. You didn’t have any special skills. You could sing a little, but who couldn’t? You could draw decently enough, but what did that matter? You didn’t excel at anything. You were plain. Simple. Ordinary.

And he was all the things you weren’t.

As your thoughts continued to turn darker and darker, you didn’t notice when a slender figure slipped into the room. You didn’t see them sit down beside you. And you weren’t expecting it at all when you suddenly found their arms wrapped around you. But as soon as you were in their embrace you knew exactly who it was.

“Why are you all alone here?” Asmodeus whispered into your ear.

“Oh just a bit tired I guess. All that dancing got the better of me. You know, being a human and all. Looks like I just can’t keep up.” You tried to laugh it off and make excuses for yourself. You didn’t want him to worry. You didn’t want him to feel guilty. There was no reason he should feel guilty when the problem lay entirely with you.

“Sweetie, you know you can’t lie to me. Tell me what’s wrong, hmm?” Asmo gently cupped your cheek with one hand and turned you to face him. You averted your eyes and refused to look directly at him, but you could still feel him staring at you, which only made you blush in shame. What were you even supposed to say to him? How could you possibly explain?

“I...I...um…” as you struggled to answer, Asmo rubbed your back soothingly. Gentle circles to help coax your troubles from you. He hated seeing you cry. The sight always broke his heart. He tried so hard to keep you smiling and to make your life as peaceful as possible. He happily would have pampered you all day every day if you let him, but you always insisted on returning his affection with your own. And he adored that about you.

Asmodeus had received plenty of gifts over the centuries. And more than enough attention. But it was always for some purpose. There was always a reason behind their actions. From simple things to just wanting him to pay attention to them, to more calculating things like trying to win his favor.

He wasn’t used to people doing things for him for no other reason than to make him smile. But you did. You were so completely selfless. You weren’t scheming or plotting when you’d give him a gift or pay him a compliment. You were sincere. Genuine. You told him he looked beautiful, because you truly believed it. You said you loved him, because he made your heart soar. You hugged him often, because you wanted to make sure he knew he wasn’t alone.

“It’s ok dear, just take your time. I’ll listen.”

“I um...I just felt...out of place. Like I didn’t belong. Social anxiety I guess.”

Asmo knew what you looked like when you were anxious because there were too many people or too much noise, and that didn’t look like this at all. This was something deeper. Something that had taken root deep inside your heart and wouldn’t be fixed by a simple change of scenery.

“But there’s more to it than that, isn’t there?” he said, keeping his voice low and soft.

“Yeah…”

“Go on.”

“...why did you choose me?”

“Choose you?”

“For your date. For this Ball. For anything really. I just can’t figure it out. And I...I look around and all I can see are the amazing people, well demons, that you know...and I’m just...I’m just not…” your voice broke off as you pulled away from Asmo’s hand and buried your face into your arms again.

Asmodeus wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He always told you how wonderful he thought you were...did you not believe him? Did you think he was just buttering you up to get something from you?

“So you think I’ve just been...lying to you this whole time?”, he asked.

“No! no! Of course not!” you almost shouted, as you snapped your head up to look at Asmo. How could he say that? That’s not what you meant at all.

“I just...when we are alone, it’s easy. It’s just us. But when we are out, like now, it’s...it’s hard…I feel like I’m the odd one out and I can’t figure out why you want to spend time with me in the first place. And I just keep waiting for the day when you finally figure out just how boring and plain and useless I am. You might not realize it now. But you will.”

“What makes you think I don’t already know?”

“What…” tears started to gather in your eyes again. Had he really already figured it out? Was this it? He was finally tired of babying you?

“Don’t look at me like that. That’s not what I meant,” Asmo replied, his smile gentle and kind, “I mean I know what those things are that you think you lack. I already know what you think are your flaws.

I don’t see them that way, though. I know I say all the time that I’m the most beautiful being in existence...but do you want to know the truth?

I think you’re far more beautiful than I am. Your soul shines brighter than any I’ve ever seen. You’re kind, and honest, and selfless.” Asmo leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“And you want to know something else?”, he asked, cupping your cheek again, wiping your fresh tears away with his thumb. You nodded slowly, unable to form the words needed to answer him.

“You see me. Really see me. You don’t get distracted by my looks. You aren’t affected by my charm. You just make me feel seen. Really and truly, seen. And no one has ever done that before. And I doubt anyone ever will again.

You might think you’re plain, or boring, but I don’t see it that way. There is no one else I’d rather spend my time with. No one else better suited to be at my side.”

By now you were crying hard, your vision so blurry with tears you couldn’t even make out Asmo’s face even though he was right in front of you. All you could do was reach towards him and let him pull you into a hug, tucking your head under his chin. Just a moment ago you were trapped so deeply in your own thoughts you regret ever leaving the house. But now? You were the happiest being in all three realms. You had someone who understood you and knew all the right things to say. You had never felt more loved than you did in that moment.

Asmodeus gently held you as you cried the last of your tears. And when your breathing had finally calmed, he spoke again.

“Now what do you say we go get you cleaned up so I can show everyone just how lovely my date is and what a perfect couple we are?”

You gave Asmo a small laugh as you pulled away, looking him in the eyes, a warm smile spreading across your lips.

“Yeah, I would like that.”

[afoolforatook]

Oh look... another rant about James Ironwood.....

I’ve gotten into this some before but I’ve been thinking about it a lot since Witch (I wrote most of this like that day, but then put off ever really finishing it, but in light of the preview for tomorrow’s ep…….I feel like I need to get this out, so…)

(still not 100% on how I said all of this but I’m making myself finish it even though I’m kinda foggy headed before the ep, so apologies if I missed some poor wording in anything)

So, Fear came on while I was in the shower and… Honestly, I’ve had a bit of a roller coaster with Fear over the past 12 months. I love the song, but something about it didn’t sit right with me at first to be honest, though I wasn’t quite sure what. 

It’s a gorgeous song. And the message seems like such a staple, good moral. It’s the whole  ‘the greatest thing to fear is fear itself’ idea; that we have to stand strong against fear; fear is the true evil and can cause even the best intentions to go wrong. 

But, the thing that always bothers me about those messages, or at least how a lot of people tend to interpret them, is the idea that we should judge a person’s morals ultimately by their reaction to fear. And specifically by them not handling their fear well. The idea that how we act in the face of fear is who we truly are deep down, that being truly ‘good’ means never letting that fear win, and if you do, then you must be weak, or a villain, or selfish, or a coward. 

And that has never sat right with me. 

(got long so rest under read more)

In a tags rant a while back I got into how, to me, James Ironwood is Qrow’s foil.  In the sense of ‘a character who chooses to be kind despite all their pain’. 

Qrow is that character people tend to love, who is torn down over and over and still pushes himself to be good and kind, and —that we have seen— he usually wins that battle. He has backsliding moments of course (the entirety of V6 is a good example) but even then, he doesn’t really fall into the deep end as far as letting his pain and fear turn him mean or controlling. He might not be particularly pleasant, he might be listless and blunt or even grouchy, but he still cares and he tries to keep to himself and keep his mood from making him outright mean (aside from hitting Oscar, which I’m not gonna get into here cause that’s a whole thing on its own and this isn’t about Qrow)

But here is James as a foil comes in. 

Qrow is the character who is pushed to his breaking point over and over, who hits rock bottom.  But he has the support around him to be able to keep getting back up, to keep having the emotional ability to choose to be good, to do the right thing. 

James? He doesn’t have that support. He has Winter and the Ops and an entire army under him, but he doesn’t have any real personal support. The closest we’ve ever really seen to him having peers or friends, is the hug with Qrow in V7, and Clover’s comment about trusting him with his life (and calling him James, which we’d just been told is only what his friends call him). 

And I don’t mean support as in someone telling him what he’s doing is right, someone backing him up in his decisions, making him feel better. 

Qrow’s support that got him back on track? It was Ruby standing her ground and telling him to stop treating them like kids he had to protect; to trust them to be able to do the right thing; to stop putting all the blame and responsibility on himself. It was calling him out on how he was letting his personal struggles affect how he treated and ultimately viewed the kids. 

James needs this too. He needs someone he trusts to tell him that he’s wrong, but that he can still try to make it right. (RWBY doesn’t count because, at the time that they stood up to him, he had just found out that Blake and Yang had, in his eyes, betrayed his trust. And for a man who is in a sharp spiral of having all his worst fears and paranoia confirmed, that means they can’t be trusted at all.)

We love the character who pushes and continues to be good and kind through hardship.  Who continues to do the right thing with the strength they have left. 

But everyone has a true breaking point. A point where they have pushed for so long and tried so hard, but then one thing goes too far and they don’t have the support to lean on, to help them keep fighting. And, despite having tried so hard to do the right thing, even thinking this still is the right thing, they react out of fear and pain. 

Ren called out Yang on her fear, and her masking it. 

We love the character who stands in the face of their fear, who meets it head on and doesn’t let it rule them. We love the character who gets back up over and over and chooses to keep fighting, their enemies, and their own fear and pain. 

But, what if one day, after years and years of fighting and pain and loss and paranoia and hard decisions, what if Yang gave into that fear, even just once? What if any of the kids did? What if they reached their limit and, even without realizing it, made the wrong choice because they were tired and afraid and hurting? And people got hurt because of it? Would that undo all the times they’d been ‘strong’ before? Would they be selfish, villains, cowards? Would they be weak?  

This is the problem when we see ‘giving into/reacting out of fear’ as a definite moral indicator. When we say that who you really are deep down is shown by the choices that you make when you’re afraid. 

Because it’s not.  

And that idea doesn't take into account all the times you’ve fought through that fear before. It doesn’t allow for the inevitability of being pushed too far, or the ability to come back from that breaking point. 

Yes fighting that fear, facing it head on, is brave. 

But no one, no one, can do that indefinitely, especially when they are doing it alone (emotionally).

Fighting that fear takes a lot of strength, that’s why it’s admirable, why it’s brave. It’s not easy.  But pushing yourself over and over, until that strength is completely spent, and then having to face that fear again when you genuinely have nothing left?

That doesn't make you evil or cruel or weak or a coward. It makes you human. 

James Ironwood broke. Not because of the machinery that is half his body; not because he doesn't have a heart; not because he’s selfish and thinks he’s infallible; not because he’s obsessed with power and too proud to admit he’s wrong, but because he pushed himself over and over until he had nothing left, and had no one to stop him, no one to snap him out of it. 

James Ironwood isn’t a coward. He isn’t just power hungry and unwilling to compromise. He isn’t incapable of compassion. He’s tired (I mean, look at all of V7), traumatized (his comment to Oscar in the vault about seeing things, and multiple other examples), a bit awkward (Penny telling him he was getting better at giving speeches), vulnerable (the hug with Qrow), understanding (telling the kids they didn’t have to stay at fight at the Fall), loyal (flipping his weapon around and refusing to attack when he thought Qrow was attacking him at Beacon). Not to mention still undoubtedly reeling from the pain and trauma of losing his other arm. 

He has fought his fear. 

Over and over. Until it wore him down completely. 

And we’ve seen nothing to make us believe he’s even properly addressed that trauma, let alone had proper time to process it ( and the conversation with the Ops about Tortuga all but confirmed this)

And the thing that I hate? That just really bothers me?

Yes. James is making awful, callous, choices that are costing lives. And he needs to answer for those choices. And he’s doing them because he is absolutely terrified, and he’s let that fear overshadow all other options. That fear has made him paranoid to the point that he trusts no one but himself to do what must be done to try to save anyone he can, even if it means abandoning others he’s meant to protect.  

But I hate the attitude I see from far too many people; that his fear,  and this inevitable loss to that fear, makes him weak, makes him a villain, a coward. That his reaction to that fear proves that he is just a power hungry dictator. Seeing people wanting to see him be shamed him for it, to laugh at how weak he really is for letting fear control him. 

We commend characters who push through trauma. We want representation for those who have fought trauma themselves. 

But real life? Actual people struggling with PTSD and paranoia, and just everyday fear?

They’re going to break. They’re going to wake up one day and be too tired to fight it, and if they don’t have the kind of support to help them get back to a place where they can fight, and think clearly, again —they’ll make bad, even hurtful, callous, decisions. Not out of malice or selfishness, but simply because they are afraid and unable to see the full picture clearly. 

And the way to help them isn’t to mock them for not being infinitely strong against their fear. It's not to tell them that, by submitting to their fear —no matter how many times they've beat it in the past— they have shown their true colors. 

The way to help them is by showing them that, even after their missteps, even IN the deepest part of their fear, they can find that strength again. They can come back and try to make things right. 

Fear is the enemy, maybe. But being afraid and not having the unending strength to fight that fear, does not make you an irredeemable villain. 

James’ flaw is that he sees himself as the grand hero. Not in the sense that he is infallible or better, but that he thinks it's his responsibility, his duty, it’s something he’s ready to make sacrifices for. And, with Oz gone, and RWBYJNROQ apparently against him, he has to believe that he can do it —he can save people— because if not him, who else can he trust?

And that kind of paranoia, on top of trauma, and unacknowledged fear, is so hard to fight on a good day, let alone after physical trauma, and under extreme stress, and having paranoia be proven right multiple times, triggering past trauma. 

People in power are still people, and will still have their own psychological reactions to trauma. Acknowledging that trauma and how it affects their decisions (and the reality of the nuance beyond ‘good’ and ‘evil’) and holding them accountable for their decisions are not mutually exclusive. (I’m not gonna get too into a whole thing about direct ties to real world politics and leaders, because I honestly don’t have the knowledge or energy, but let’s just settle that the fictional circumstances are completely different than real world, and that characters and actions have a narrative meaning and importance that is not how real world people and motivations work. Me saying that Ironwood’s trauma and how it affects his decisions is an important part of his narrative and the theme of trauma in RWBY is not saying that we have to take into account every trauma or psychological motivation behind the actions of real world leaders. ) 

The fact is that James shouldn't have had so much military power, or at the very least, not such seemingly unchecked control, since at least since the fall of Beacon (likely before as well, but we don’t know how much things changed). The fact that things were able to get so far without another military official of similar authority having input is a flaw in Atlas’ structure (not counting counsel members since it’s been made clear that IW is the military leader). 

I don’t in any way say that in a ‘traumatized/mentally ill people can’t ever be trusted with power’ way, but rather, that this is a man who has shown obvious signs of PTSD for years, with no apparent attempts or even opportunities to address and process his trauma, or likely even acknowledge it at all. 

Trauma and the lasting effects of it don’t automatically make someone unfit for leadership, but that is only as long as it is being addressed and managed properly, including having other people on the same level as you, so that your judgement alone does not control entire groups and their safety (that applies regardless of mental state but, my point here isn’t to get into complicated, real world accurate government debate)

My point is, I know how hard it is to, day after day, fight back that kind of looming fear and paranoia. How hard it is to tell yourself over and over that it is just that: paranoia. How hard it is to keep doing that, when even one or two things happen to seemingly reinforce that paranoia. Let alone when it’s huge things one after another after another. 

I know how exhausting that is, and my circumstances are infinitely less dire and large scale than what James has been facing for the last few years at the very least, likely much longer. 

The man broke under the pressure. And I don't fucking blame him. Of course he did. 

But he happened to also be in a position of power, in a system that did not have an appropriate distribution of power in place (really not just ‘happened’, because a large part of the stress that fed into this was feeling, and actually being responsible for countless lives, maybe even the entire world.)

James sees himself as a hero. Not in a bragging, overly confident way. But as his duty, his purpose. In that he must be unbreakable, he must be able to protect whoever he can at whatever cost. He has to win, or everything will be lost. It’s not arrogant pride. It’s twisted, tunnel vision, dedication. 

So, when everything depends on him, and giving into fear is unacceptable, even acknowledging his own breakdown would mean he failed. 

He doesn’t just think he is a hero, he thinks he has to be. But really, he’s just a man. And, anyone who refuses to even admit to their fear, who sees their fear as something to be ashamed and afraid of itself, is eventually going to lose that battle. 

And laughing at him for that weakness? Wanting to rub it in his face just how scared he really is? 

Like I get it, It know its fandom and we can joke. And honestly I'm not really talking about the jokes and memes (though I personally don't like some of them, but I’m not going to just say their inherently awful altogether) or the excitement to see the drama and action of his confrontation with Qrow. I’m not meaning the cathartic tension and messy emotions. I’m meaning people actually wanting to see this all be completely shoved back in his face and watch him be brought down a peg, watch him be humiliated or killed or whatever as a way of him ‘getting what’s coming’. Or just wanting to see him beaten and made to pay for being some power hungry cruel dictator, genuinely reveling in his falling apart.  

Like, y’all. It’s not going to be dropping him down a peg, or destroying some power grab. He is literally at rock bottom, backed into a corner. 

It’s just honestly very disturbing seeing people so ready to revel in the complete breakdown and possible demise of a (disabled) character with obvious and intentional signs of PTSD, who had previously always been shown to be a good, if somewhat short-sighted or misguided, person. 

And think about it, if you were dealing with that kind of overwhelming fear; if you were trying to keep fighting it off, and you saw someone having it shoved in their face just how scared they were, and how much damage that had caused, would you be willing to admit your fear? 

Or would you become even more afraid of not being strong enough and giving in to it. 

It's all cyclical. You’re afraid. You’re afraid of giving into that fear. You’re afraid of letting people down, of being hated, of being wrong, of hurting people, of becoming the villain in the end if you slip up even once and let that fear win. 

In essence you're afraid of being afraid. 

Yang has someone to acknowledge her fear in a safe way, she has the ability to admit how scared she is, and keep fighting anyway. Not denying her fear or feeling guilty for it, but accepting it and still moving on 

It's not that bravery is just being afraid and fighting anyway. It’s also admitting how scared you really are. Letting yourself be afraid, be terrified. And admitting when you've reached a breaking point. 

James isn't just not acknowledging his fear because he's too proud, or doesn't want to admit he is wrong, or give up his power. 

He thinks he can't afford to be afraid. That just being afraid, just admitting it, means he is too weak to do what he sees as his biggest role: be the hero. Just admitting how scared he is would mean that he's failed. 

Bravery isn't just being afraid and fighting anyway. Bravery is admitting that you are afraid and allowing that fear to be there as you keep fighting, without being ashamed of it. 

People aren't either just ‘brave’ or ‘cowardly’. Being brave takes something extra, something intentional. So does being cowardly. Not being able to do the ‘brave’ or ‘right’ thing, not being able to even tell what that is, or even doing the ‘wrong’ thing because it seems like the only option, or even the ‘right’ option,  doesn’t automatically make you a coward or evil.

Just because you aren't able to be brave, to be the hero, just because you make the wrong decision in the moment when you are terrified and alone, doesn't mean you are just a coward or the bad guy. That doesn't mean you've shown your true colors, and deep down you really are heartless or cruel. 

I'm not the biggest fan of the entire ‘Fear is the enemy’ thing. 

Because, if fear is the enemy, then how is the answer to then be afraid of fear? Fearing fear is still giving it power over you. If the worst thing you can do is give into fear, then the bravest thing you can do has to be allowing yourself to be afraid, working to keep that fear from making decisions for you, and forgiving yourself when you fail, and then just trying to do better. 

Everyone is going to be afraid. Everyone is going to make the wrong decision at some point because they made it out of fear. 

You aren't just allowed to be afraid. You are allowed to not be able to beat that fear 100% of the time. Hitting your limit, especially when you feel like you're doing it alone is okay. You can still come back. You can still try to do better next time, try to make amends for the mistakes you made. 

That doesn't mean you don't have to face the consequences of your actions. That doesn't mean the people directly hurt by your actions are obliged to forgive you. It's not an all or nothing thing. 

And none of this is to say that James is not at fault, that he isn't and shouldn't be responsible for his actions. That he shouldn’t face consequences. 

But his fear, his trauma, matters. It’s at the core of his entire character.  

At first, I was somewhat uncomfortable with Fear, because I thought it was saying that James was weak, wrong, the villain, for giving into his fear. That he was an example for RWBY about the dangers of letting your fear control you. That he was already lost because he had given in to his fear. 

And maybe it is, I don't know. 

But listening to it the other day, I noticed something hadn’t occurred to me before. 

‘But our greatest fear will be realized/ when we fall and lose ourselves to fear/ we become what we’ve feared all our lives’ 

Now, yes, this is all about looking ahead, about being ready to make the right choice in that coming moment. About being prepared ahead of time, and thinking about how you will act when you’re afraid. 

But this, and the chorus, also seem a bit reflective almost. It’s posed as future questions, but for James, he’s there already. He’s made the wrong choice. If you look at the lyrics from his perspective, it’s not about if it will happen. It’s about confronting yourself when it already has happened. 

James’ greatest fear is to realize he took the wrong path, he lost sight of everything but the most basic goal, he got so caught up in trying to be the hero that he missed how much damage he was really causing. In trying to be the hero, he became a villain. 

And, since the end of V7 he’s been having to face his worst fears (likely longer, but Gravity kicked it into high gear that pushed him over the edge). 

He’s faced (or believed he has) betrayal, physical trauma and further ‘loss of humanity’ and is almost certainly still in shock and/or pain from the injury and the brand new (likely rushed) prosthetic, not having Oz there (or ‘on his side’), events of the Fall reoccurring with the chess piece and the school being infiltrated, seeing Salem in his office and the loss of anywhere feeling protected, losing a trusted soldier/friend, Salem attacking, the world finding out about Salem and the possible aftermath, Atlas’ defenses failing.

He’s shut down, reacting out of desperation and fear, trying to salvage whatever he can (not to mention his semblance just making it easier for him to ignore his feelings or doubts and put blinders on). 

He’s alone, losing soldiers and control and protections and options. 

So, him truly realizing his mistakes, and having to face the reality of what he’s done, and try to fix things? 

That is the fear he has yet to face. He’s already met his first breaking point. Maybe this realization is the next, but maybe this time he’ll have someone support him enough to hold him accountable and help him come back. Give him the choice: prove he’s still capable of doing the right thing, and accepting his own weakness and need for help, or refuse to admit to his fear and truly become a ‘villain’.

--------------------

Also, at the end here I’ll tack on this total stretch of a theory that I couldn’t stop thinking about after Witch. 

Oz, Leo, James, Theodore (I don’t know how Qrow or Glynda would fit into this theory, just the headmasters.)

We say Leo fell to his allusion: he was cowardly and chose to protect himself despite the cost to others. 

So people think that James will fall to his allusion: He’ll be heartless. 

But it still to me just feels too straight forward for the Oz characters to just all fall to their original vices. 

But, in a way, Leo’s end (not his death, but his choices) was reminiscent of the wizard. He was being puppeted, hiding himself and the person really running things for his own preservation. 

So, if Leo fell to Oz’s flaw? 

Oz. Well, Oz was standing to protect his home, was caught up in sudden chaos and wounded (in his case killed) and flung into a new life.  

So.. if it’s a cycle… Oz got a ‘second’ chance, an awakening like Dorothy. Leo got the reveal of the wizard’s lie. 

What if James got the lion’s confrontation of his fears (not necessarily, and hopefully not, by dying. Also, James not dying could feed into a different progression than just the ‘headmasters dying’ pattern; Oz handed the reins over to Oscar, Leo acted to protect himself and died, maybe James is the one to have to directly face the consequences of his actions, including giving up his position). And then Theodore somehow getting a decision of heart. 

The other thing with Oz being ‘Dorothy’ in this pattern, is Oscar bringing up the ‘girl who fell through the world’ myth. Which feels very much like Alice in Wonderland. And L Frank Baum was influenced by Alice when creating Dorothy. So, what if Oscar’s allusion, at least in part, is Alice.

It’s all a stretch and I don’t know what it could eventually mean but, it’s just something I couldn’t stop thinking about last week. 

[sporesgalaxy]

Im tired of seeing my own text walls but whos ready for a frank silence x maddie discussion where he punchline is what if i was less kidding that we previously thought, just not in the main timeline. thats right gamers my brain worms are this bad

me: a lot of the reasons Silence and Vlad are drawn to each other have to do with their mutual insecurities and neuroses, and although it's not impossible that they could both work through their shit and be healthier people in a sustainable relationship, neither of them are really willing to change like that in present conditions

me: it's also a shame that Silence couldn't have met Maddie and Jack before she met Vlad, because they would have been a wonderful influence on her as, like, relatively healthy and supportive human people, which are in rare supply in the ghost zone and which silence was hardly around at all in life.

me: I've joked about it several times, but honest to goodness I think Silence could have a healthy romantic relationship with Maddie, and that they would be cute together. However I absolutely refuse to break up the Fentons because I have no desire to write divorce, and I like writing Good Dads and want to characterize Jack as a flawed and scatterbrained but ultimately caring and good dude.

me: what a shame it seems I am at an impasse. I'd really like to do something to represent Silence's canon bi status as something more than a joke, though.

The timeline Danny fucks up where Jack is halfa'd and traumatized by the Portal Incident and runs away, and Maddie ends up unnhapily married to a 100% human Vlad who's gotten every toxic ideal he's ever wanted in life and is all the worse for it, resulting in Maddie secretly continuing to research ghosts and likely not being very close to him in general: [exists]

me:

[phoenixtakaramono]

THE UNTOLD TALE - CH3 PREVIEW

There was an important takeaway to be had from tonight’s interaction: Shen Yuan had asserted his place as the lord of this residence and as Luo Binghe’s future ally.

Several thoughts had, however, been plaguing him ever since Shen Yuan gifted Luo Binghe the handscrolls, leaving like the composed gentleman he was while the half-demon pondered over the newfound revelations for the night. Those thoughts filled Shen Yuan’s brain with a renewed vigor that his exhausted body did not feel, roiling through his brain as he changed into his night clothes. Even now, lying down with his hands folded over his stomach, they consumed his mind as he stared up at the azure, gauzy canopy that looked eerily similar to the one in the guest bedchamber that Luo Binghe now slept in.

Wisps of hazy white rose from the lotus-shaped censer he’d brought to his bed. The coals within were still fresh in the copper, keeping him warm in the night, with the fragrance of sandalwood circulating within the room.

His unyielding companion, the blue text box, hovered above. Shen Yuan kept his gaze averted from it; he had read and reread the Chinese characters countless times that if he closed his eyes, he could still see the most recent notification engraved in his mind’s eye.

【Prediction! Future Event <<A NIGHT OF PASSION>> has been changed into <<LOADING CHEKHOV'S GUN>>. You have reached the conditions to clear the scenario. Countdown commencing. Reward: B-Points +50.】

The planes of his face were bathed in a soft blue glow as he ruminated. Shen Yuan couldn’t find it within him to feel any guilt or to throw blame at anyone other than himself. He’d unlocked the <<TRUE END>> main scenario and, judging by how the <<SYSTEM>> was not giving him a choice, he had to build that rapport between themselves and see that friendship through.

These are the seeds you’ve sown, Shen Yuan, he reminded himself. Improvise. Adapt. Overcome. He could only dig his hands into the soil and watch the seeds slowly bear fruit.

Bing gē—or, rather, Luo Binghe—was not a 2D character on paper; he was now a real person who breathed and talked and had a will of his own. Even so, Shen Yuan didn’t know the extent of the ramifications if an extraordinary “prodigy” gained self-awareness that he was the male protagonist of a fictional erotica series.

It’d be interesting. If someone found out one day that they were a precious existence in a world which catered to them, they’d naturally become arrogant. All the attractive people belonged to them, hearts were won over for no real reason, and enemies would be seen as less of a threat and more as an annoyance. Shen Yuan could envision it; Luo Binghe would probably behave more recklessly, confident in the fact that he was protected by plot armor. He’d be a spoilt menace in a male power fantasy world—until the novelty wore off, and then the boredom set in.

The corners of Shen Yuan’s mouth curved. He didn’t know how likeminded Luo Binghe was, but if he thought like he did, he’d exploit his advantages.

A protagonist’s existence was akin to a cockroach, dragged from door’s death each time without fail.

This was not merely a case of schadenfreude—another difficult foreign term he’d learned during his pursuit as a novelist—where he reveled in another person’s misfortunes. It was a well-established trope in all forms of literature that when a person was casually dropped into a life-or-death situation, they would resurface as calamities. Since Luo Binghe was an important main character, he would naturally benefit.

...Sorry, youngster. Shen Yuan raised a white flag in commiseration for him in his heart. I didn’t mean to conscript you, but you must continue to work hard. Nationalistic pride exists among many Chinese writers.

Even pre-enlightened Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky had not been exempt from that.

In most narratives, the protagonist’s role was to rise above the rest and “smash the system.” Shen Yuan squinted up at the UI, his eyes beginning to water from its bright glow. He blinked rapidly, but the strain in his eyes refused to ease.

He swore in his head. This better not be the sort of tale where he and Luo Binghe had to compete to establish who was the one true protagonist, having to assert narrative dominance. Shen Yuan had no intention of pulling aggro to himself.

Raising a forearm up to shadow his vision, he groaned. He declared to no one, “Airplane brother, you’ve done your first son a great disservice.”

(He’d done a disservice to the original Shen Qingqiu and Yue Qingyuan as well as among many others.)

The events that had played out tonight strengthened Shen Yuan’s conviction. He could now see how people easily fell for his act; the charisma of a stallion protagonist was potent. Even so, he had capitalized on goodwill—and Luo Binghe’s strange fixation—hoping continuous acts of kindness being demonstrated toward him would soften him toward Shen Yuan and prove his intentions were sincere.

Should he prove himself to be of use, surely even somebody like Bing gē would not discard him during his rise to power or see him as a threat?

The only method he could foresee showing his fellow protagonist that his services were indispensable was by lending him his wisdom—and his predictions on the account of Shen Yuan being a <<FORTUNETELLER>>. His goal to leave a favorable impression with the other protagonist was already well underway, with the aim of establishing how it would be in Luo Binghe’s best interests to remember Shen Yuan’s acts of compassion and to return them tenfold in the future unless he wished to owe the celestial favors.

He recalled the last question he’d asked of him before Shen Yuan left, regarding the compatibility of his fated one.

Would it be strange if I wrote a predestined romance, for once? As much as Shen Yuan favored subverting expectations, he was aware of what sold commercially. There was a structure that made their literature different from those in the Western market whose shocking narratives could not only arouse pity in their audience, but also a sense of awe, excitement, fear, and suffering.

Their protagonists were not always someone of high society; they often hailed from humble origins as a device for the writer to underscore the merits of working hard and to criticize the system—a fictional one though, to avoid absolute censorship by the Chinese government. Their heroes began as nothing more than a windblown leaf in the social structure and years of ethical traditions set in place. They started on the bottom rungs of society to draw people’s attention to their lives, to the injustice and unfairness, which made their struggles all the more impactful to the reader.

The fates of the leading characters were tied to the juxtaposition of the harmonious ideal of society and the reality of a flawed system. Chinese tales were inherently romantic oftentimes, with tragic conflicts written to emphasize the beauty of a bond and rousing sympathy and pity for their plight. The archetype of a tragic hero was meant to be presented so profoundly that great reverence would well up spontaneously in one’s heart.

In his opinion, Luo Binghe had suffered plenty.

Under normal circumstances, as Peerless Cucumber, Shen Yuan was the sort of novelist where it would not be considered strange for him to challenge the romantic notion of soulmates by making his leading characters comrades or adversaries instead of lovers.

It was like the overseas Inception movie; he’d satirized enough old and tired clichés, it almost became expected of him to subvert expectations for all of his publications.

Guilt weighed on his mind. While he understood the implicit reality of his situation, he still felt like he was, in some way, disappointing his audience. The shame he felt was bizarre.

He swallowed. “My cherished readers...,” Shen Yuan murmured to the void as though they could hear him, “forgive this writer if I don’t subvert your expectations in this aspect just this once.”

The harem was the closest Luo Binghe had to a family. After the parental kindness of the washerwoman was torn away from him early in his life, after having endured the unhealthy environment that followed, the only love and tenderness he received in his life came in the arms of beautiful women. Tokens of affection were given in the form of intimate acts. It was no wonder Bing gē’s character had ended up twisted. He collected lovers with a greed not unlike a hedonistic minister who accepted bribes.

What a complicated man. Shen Yuan’s heart ached for the “blackened hero.”

There were so many women in the harem. In the presence of Luo Binghe, each one was gentle, kind, respectful, and submissive. But it was unrealistic for one husband, who had undergone the traumas that he had, to share his heart equally amongst them and not expect any misgivings.

What this Luo Binghe needed was a foil to his temperament, somebody patient, charismatic, and well-educated. Since Luo Binghe would be uniting the Three Realms, they needed to be proactive keeping him in check from becoming a self-indulgent, fatuous ruler. They cannot be sensitive to criticisms and speculation. A sensible head was needed on their shoulders to guide their merciless husband in understanding right from wrong and from any sycophants looking to lead him astray. It was integral to help the protagonist maintain a harmonious empire so that, together, they could lead a golden age of reform.

Shen Yuan wondered if there even existed such an extraordinary person.

Luo Binghe’s reputation was already in tatters in the Mortal Realm on the account of having a demonic heritage and having razed down the great righteous sects. Whatever goodwill he’d originally cultivated with his deceptive “nice guy” act had to be regained. Winning the war against the son of heaven and finding a good match would be integral in swaying public opinion to his favor. In public, they must present a united front, ruthless against their adversaries but dependable towards their subjects. It was only over time that the Sacred Rulers would prove themselves worthy of being idolized and beloved by the masses.

The <<SYSTEM>> had said that he and Luo Binghe should work together and in the end, they would unlock the epilogue that blessed them with their star-crossed lovers.

Until such a person was found, he supposed he could step into the role as his counsel whenever Luo Binghe needed advice. It was like tossing a peach and getting a plum back. Celestial or not, Shen Yuan used to be the son of a family of manufacturing executives. His profession might have been as an author, but he was educated in the principles of economics. Aside from sharing the <<PROTAGONIST’S HALO>>, his modern knowledge and his knowledge of both novel series were his cheats.

Like the spring breeze that thawed the frozen soil, he would be someone who reached into the abyss and grabbed that bloodstained hand. He could set a standard for Luo Binghe to emulate as the type of wise leader he should be, and his handsome junior could learn from his modern examples and put some of them into practice for his kingdom.

He’ll enable him into becoming the best person that he could be. And maybe, just maybe, the new era might be salvageable and worthy of pride for generations to come for not only the immortals and demons, but for the mortals as well.

“I��d redeemed you once,” Shen Yuan declared, his lashes fanning against his cheeks. He closed his eyes in reminiscence of his own fanfiction, inhaling the light, woody scent of the censer nearby. “I can do it again.”

In the meantime, he reflected, I must collect more merits. I cannot be lazy and lag behind in accomplishments.

While Luo Binghe fought his battles, Shen Yuan would be fighting his own—whatever they might be. He would not be outshone by his junior in his own meteoric rise.

“...System?” he inquired drowsily, his voice barely above a whisper. Turning on his side, he stared at a faraway wall. The glazed white surface of the porcelain pillow felt cold against his cheek, its smoothness reminiscent of jade. “Can you hear me?”

Ping.

【This <<SYSTEM>> provides the Esteemed Host a 24-hour service.】

“I don’t remember Airplane brother going into detail about what the education system is like in this setting. Is it supposed to be historically accurate to the ancient feudal model or…?”

Ping.

As he listened to the long encyclopedic explanation, what he’d heard confirmed his worst fears. Education was the privilege of the elites. Immortal cultivators prioritized studying matters of the “spiritual heart” and Qi refinement, in the martial and mystical arts, breaking through the bottleneck of each cultivation stage until their dedication allowed them to reach the pinnacle that was the Ninth Stage.

With that narrow-minded focus on self-enlightenment, the basic education curriculum of the twenty-first century would be seen as innovative in the pre-established setting of this strange world.

In the early webnovels, Bing gē had stagnated as a late-stage Core Formation expert. Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky, in his laziness to research the many intricate nuances of the Cultivation World, had waved it all away by attributing his protagonist’s OPness to his ancient, heaven-fallen demonic heritage and to the deus ex machina that was his legendary sword. Even then, Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky still occasionally confused the Foundation Establishment with the Nascent Soul stages.

It wouldn’t be until the end of the series—after the outcry of the netizens—that the unsatisfied Luo Binghe made the breakthrough into the proper Nascent Soul stage with the help of his wives and their many gratuitous papapa scenes.

Then in the epilogue, the author had infuriatingly time-skipped all the way to the penultimate Ninth Stage, describing how Luo Binghe became a legend among legends who had finally attained eternal youth and aged back into his late twenties in his new immortal body after having miraculously passed the Heavenly Tribulations—disasters from heaven which were akin to nuclear radiation for those of demon blood. After an unspecified many years of rule, he’d left his legacy behind—with the uncountable size of his harem and a boundless number of his descendants “mourning the loss of a great and oftentimes misunderstood man.”

Just remembering it made Shen Yuan’s blood pressure spike dangerously. Taking deep, calming breaths, he rolled back onto his back as he forced himself to attain catharsis from listening to the mind-numbing exposition the <<SYSTEM>> was extolling to him like a history program. His fingers clenched the bed sheet.

Eventually he found himself feeling adrift, the words beginning to lose their coherency to him as he phased in and out of consciousness, his mind becoming wrapped in a haze of smoke. Soon his tense muscles relaxed.

The countdown had reached 00:00:00 when sleep finally claimed him.

Note: Small details of this scene might be subject to revision when the final draft comes out. Ch1-2 can be found on AO3. Link is in my bio!