#kinda getting sick of presenting all the shit I do to prove to them I am in fact audhd

[confusedspaceotter]

Me, trying to explain to my co workers why they shouldn’t treat me like neurotypicals(ie I just want them say what they mean because I don’t understand jokes/sarcasm because I’m AuDHD):

How most of them(neurotypicals) responded:

[lowkeyrobin]

Hii!! Is it possible to request a Minho x Reader Angst fic? I don’t have any real ideas for what i just rlly like angst😭

Anyway make sure you’re looking after yourself!!

YES 🙏🙏 I concocted the perfect idea for this so I hope you enjoy! ; thank you for requesting!! ; I wrote like a good chunk of this in geometry and physical science so this is actually kinda good lol ; also this is so damn long for me what the FUCK. ; also a bit of inspo in the end thanks to she by jelly roll...

MINHO ; they

summary ; minho loses you again

warnings ; language, guns & gun violence, explosions/bombs, death, he rips off your wckd jacket & top (not sexual), and a panic attack

disclaimers ; top ten most unneeded deaths in cinema

track ; she, jelly roll (again, not a word)

word count ; 2.5k

masterlist

Minho lost everything he'd been able to remember once he left the Glade, including you.

You were a smart thinker, which confused him as to why you stayed back with Gally and the other skeptics who didn't want to find escape in the maze. He tried so hard to convince you to come, but with such little time, he couldn't.

He'd spent months imprisoned mourning the loss of your presence. He didn't know how to function without you. He wondered where you were all the time, if you were even alive or not. He'd been wishing the best in your fate, in the scorch and back in the hands of WCKD. He missed your dorky smile and infectious laughter, hoping one day he could hear it again, even in the stars that he oh-so-missed gazing with you.

Your name scorched his heart every time it was spoken. Your face was engraved in his brain, to the point every time he thought of or imagined you, he'd fight back tears to stay strong. You were weaponized against him, being used to create false memories and episodes to help them find a cure.

Every time he'd wake up from a real dream where you were present, he'd end up in tears, to then have to cradle himself back to sleep. He'd been confined like this for months, then another few days before the bust. It was so, so much worse in the Last City, he'd rather have died in some horrific train crash then have missed his chance at freedom.

However, you survived. Gally did, too, though, even after Minho pierced his chest with a spear.

You'd joined some revolution gang together, learning to use guns and join the ranks. You'd been given bulletproof vests once you proved your worth, officially becoming part of the team.

Reuniting with Thomas, Fry, and Newt was a story in itself, but knowing, or at least hoping, that you'd see Minho again made your heart race in your chest. Gally took Thomas and Newt out to explore the perimeter of the city, letting you reconnect and catch up with Fry and get to know Brenda and her father figure Jorge.

Brenda grew fond of you quickly, liking your badassery and passion to overthrow WCKD. She knew you weren't into trying to kill innocents and understood that you wanted bullets in Janson's and Paige's heads, and you were willing to do it for free.

You showed her and Fry how to use the electro-guns, two you'd stolen from WCKD guards that defended the city walls. They're good for torture, but it was never your taste of tea, you left the others to do the sick shit. You wanted your friends back, you didn't even know they'd been free up til earlier today.

Once the trio came back, they set up a plan that you and Gally jumped in on to deflect and suggest ideas. It was set for tomorrow night, and you didn't know how to process it. You try not to think of Minho the rest of the night, which you awfully fail at, as you'd fallen asleep thinking of him.

You play out your role over and over again, overthinking every single detail down to the grade of gun you'd have strapped to your side. Gally, now your close friend after all this time together, could see your nervousness and anticipation.

"You okay?" He asks, leaning on the railing to your shared bunk bed. You slept on the bottom, him on the top.

You nod, arms sprawled over the top of your pillow, basically holding it like it was going anywhere. "I'm good. Nervous"

He nods, "It'll be alright, we're gonna get him back"

You'd stolen WCKD gaurd suits, your first priority. You and Gally walk around the perimeter of the building post getting the kids on the bus. Your masks are up to avoid any real guards noticing that you're fakes. He holds his bulky gun across his chest, while yours is angled with the safety on across your back. A hand rests over the pistol on your side.

You can feel your heart pounding behind your ribcage, the anticipation of seeing Minho and taking down WCKD killing you. Gally pats your shoulder for reassurance and nods forward silently, wanting to pick up the pace.

You notice explosions in the distance, firey flames illuminating the sky.

As you walk under the main area, you notice a fire extinguisher land in the modern pool, splashing water into the air as it sinks to the bottom. You hear yells, then three bodies plop into the pool. You and three other guards behind you run to the scene, while you and Gally lag behind, knowing who just showed up.

Thomas, Newt, and Minho rise out of the water, floating over to the side after Thomas sends Janson, standing in the bay of the window, maybe twenty stories high, a middle finger. They wade over to the edge and pull themselves out, guards hold them at gunpoint, leaving their faces shaken and in despair.

Gally acts first, shoving one of the guards into the pool, then you pistol whip the one on your right, and you together knock out the last guy. The boys stare at you two, confused as to why two guards had apparently saved them, their questions are quickly answered as Gally rips his mask off.

"Hey"

"Oh, you bloody genius!"

"Oh, shit"

"What the hell?" Minho mutters.

Laying your eyes on him again, even though that mask, it brought you nearly to tears. Seeing his eyes, so tired, his body clearly so weak from the mental and physical stress, your heart broke for him. You make sure your handheld gun had the safety on before tucking it away properly.

"Long story" Gally replies to Minho, knowing what he was thinking.

Minho, still in genuine shock, adrenaline coursing through his veins, looks to you, wondering if you were maybe Brenda or Fry. You bite the inside of your cheek before pulling your mask off, softly smiling at Minho.

Newt and Thomas smile, Newt much more weak, as he was beginning to crank out.

"Y/n?" He questions in disbelief. "How- am I dreaming again?"

You quickly pound the boy into a hug, the moisture from his body rubbing off onto your red and grey outfit. The mask lays on the concrete, where Gally kicks it into the water, same with his.

You hear him begin to sob, holding onto you so tightly in fear you'd disappear like all the times before. You rub his back with your dominant hand, which trails up his spine toward his nape.

"I thought you were dead" He cries, "They've been using you in those simulations-"

"It's okay." You softly speak, "We have to go, you can tell me all about it later"

He nods, eyes still widened in shock and confusion as you follow the other three as they quickly flee the scene.

You take cover by some bushes, leaving Newt on the side to rip his jacket off as he sweats profusely. The veins in his neck were bulging out of his skin, colored a matte black.

You couldn't help but stare, unable to listen to the others talk. You quickly rush to his aid, wanting to help him be the most comfortable he possibly could be.

You crouch down next to him, giving him some reassuring words that he'd be okay. You help him to his feet, where Minho is at your side.

Gally and Thomas lead the way as another explosion rings through the air near you. You duck your head as some loose shrapnel lightly hits your skin, thankfully not enough force given to puncture your face.

The explosions only become worse as you run through a little diner, having no alternate route around as the city was being blown to smithereens.

"God damnit, we said blow up the entrance, not the whole damn city"

Newt falls to the ground, too weak to walk as black ooze drips from his lips. Glass explodes behind you, in which you quickly shove Minho to the ground in front of you to protect him. You cover your head, letting the glass shards hit your protected back.

He gasps for air for a moment as Thomas and Gally prop him up against a safe wall, trying to talk to him. You and Minho follow suit, making a quick plan to go get the temporary cure from Brenda and Jorge, and run back to give it to Newt.

"Stay strong for me, okay?" Minho speaks, his hands on the blonde's shoulders.

He nods, his eyes clearly lost in a daze, his vision blurry and wobbly.

Minho pats his shoulder before standing up, letting you give him a nod of reassurance. You and Gally follow Minho, weapons drawn to protect him as he leads with his quick sprinting skills.

You three get one last look at Newt and Thomas before fleeing, working your way through the maze of buildings and explosions to get to your friends. Gally shoots a guard at his side while you do the same at about a 10'o'clock radius.

"This way!"

You follow Minho, the explosions so loud that they defeaned gunshots. The battery on your stolen WCKD gun runs out, and you toss it to the side, resorting to using your pistol to defend your friends. Another bomb nearly knocks you off your feet, causing you to stumble into Minho.

"Sorry!" You shout over the noise.

"You okay?" He shouts back, helping you balance on your feet again.

"Yeah!" You quickly reply, nodding forward for him to continue running to get the cure.

You make it down to the Berg, where Fry, Brenda and Jorge await your arrival.

"The cure!"

"We can't leave him here like this"

"We can't take him back-"

"We have to, please"

"It's too dangerous, we won't make it back to the Berg in time, or we'll get blown up carrying him!"

You stand at Minho's side, looking down at the blonde haired boy as he stands up. He wipes the tears from his eyes, looking at you.

"We have to leave him, Minho"

He nods, slowly placing the cure in Newt's cold hand. He takes one last look at him before turning away, waiting for anyone to speak and give orders.

Brenda speaks up again, deciding to get back to the Berg as fast as possible. You all follow her, guns out, ready to shoot whoever you had to at this point.

Minho turns to you as you run side by side, "Why are you here? Why are you putting yourself in the face of danger? To save me or something?"

You give him a little head tilt to act as a shrug, "You called"

"What?"

You shake your head, deciding to explain it once you were in the hands of safety. An explosion, which cause the ground to rumble beneath you, knocks you all off your feet and onto the hard concrete.

You all groan in pain, having fallen all over each other. Brenda had fallen onto Fry, and they both stumble to the side, apologizing to one another profusely. You'd fallen onto Minho, of course, and help him back to his feet.

You feel lightheaded, your face growing cold, odd for the amount of heat and fire and running around you'd been doing. You lean onto the boy, feeling woozy, as maybe you'd stood up to fast.

Then you fall to your knees, some invisible force knocking you down, your cargo pants ripping at the knees from the impact.

"Y/n!" You hear Minho shout, his voice echoey in your ears.

You hear three gunshots coming from each Fry, Gally, and Brenda. You look back, seeing a WCKD guard fall on their back after taking three shots to the head and chest. Minho's hands rest on your shoulder and on your cheek as he calls your name, asking if you're okay. You see his eyes glance down, where he quickly looks back up to not scare you.

You stand up, numb to any pain. He follows, making sure you're able to keep balance on your feet. He quickly rips off the bulletproof vest for you and your jacket, revealing the wound right under your collar bone.

You look down at it, then look back up at him, eyebrows furrowed. You look to the other three, eyes widened in shock and fear. Another explosion pops a few hundred yards away, shaking the ground again, though not enough to knock you all down once more.

Minho quickly shouts for anything he can use to keep pressure on the wound. He held his hand over it, as the bleeding was horrible at the moment. His hands are covered in your blood, considering the bullet that shot you went clear through you. You notice the bullet a few feet away, light flickering off of it as it rolls into the street where multiple bloody bodies lay.

Minho rips a piece of his shirt and stuffs it into the exit wound, ordering you to hold it there. He pulls you along as you continue running through the city. Your left arm rests over Minho's shoulders, not wanting to upset your other side. Considering moving, it would only agitate it more, and you were trying to keep pressure on the wound anyway.

As you reach the final yards to reach the Berg where Jorge and Vince wait, you collapse to your knees again, landing face first in the debris covered concrete. Minho falls with you, your weight having dragged him down. He tries to pull you up but notices the pool of blood forming around you. A thin, but large pool.

He calls your name over and over, then flips you on your back, where blood sputters out of your mouth. He quickly pulls you up, your back now held up by Brenda and Fry, who were quick to turn back. Gally crouches down on one knee and slowly removes the cloth from the wound, absolutely drenched in crimson.

"No, no, no, no. Not now! Y/n, get up, please," He pleads, watching Vince and Jorge rush to your aid. "They were shot by a gaurd, went clean through, there's so much blood-"

You reach your hand out to Minho as the men pick you up off the ground, where you stumble to walk with them. They practically carry you on their shoulders to the Berg.

Another explosion knocks you all to the ground again, leaving bruises on faces, arms, and legs as you're pounded onto the ground. You'd be lucky enough not to get AIDS at this point.

Minho stumbles to his feet, rushing to you as the men pick themselves up before you.

He notices blood spewing from the other side of your chest. He rips the extra layers of clothing off your torso, tossing your pistol to the side as well. Gally looks around, finger on the trigger of his gun, looking for a shooter.

"Stray bullet!" Brenda shouts, "Get them in there! Go! Thomas needs us!"

Minho places his hands under your arms and drags you into the Berg himself, all the children right in view of your slumped body. You choke on blood and air, feeling your face grow cold and pale. The liquid trails up into the aircraft, staining the hard metal red for the time being.

Vince jumps into the driver's seat, ordering the others to help you and how to before it's too late. Brenda stands next to him, trying to get any info out of Thomas through the walkies.

You wrap your arms around Minho, feeling the pain in your chest now as you grunt and cry. You squeeze onto the back of his shirt, the pain causing you to claw your fingers into him. He holds you, his heart breaking in two as you struggle to breathe.

The placement, it wasn't possible to keep you this time. It wasn't possible to keep you and be free in any situation, in any timeline, in any universe.

"I don't wanna say goodbye"

He sits on the beach every morning, talking to the sunrise as if you were there next to him. He didn't mind the sand that would pile up in his boots or the dusty grain that would stick to his hydrophoric hands all damn day if it weren't for the water there to wash it away.

His fingers traced over your name on the rock when he felt lonely, like you were magically there, hugging him again.

He'd never know for sure what you meant when you said that he called. He understood that you definitely didn't hear him call for you after awakening after nightmares, but maybe you did, he wouldn't have known. He guessed in a metaphorical sense, he did call for you, which you both knew, but it still confused him somehow. He wanted you to explain it all so he'd understand, like how you always did.

He regretted never being able to rant about all his feelings to you. He wished he had time to tell you about all he went through so you could reassure him that you'd protect him forever. You'd protect him from the nightmares and the scars, the mental baggage that would weigh him down forever.

He started crying himself to sleep after he began to forget your face.

He just wanted another hug, but your face was beginning to blur out. It sent him into a panic attack right there. No one was there to help him as he cried and clawed into the dirt, trying to ground himself again. He couldn't believe himself, he treasured you so much yet he was forgetting your face after merely a year after your dissapearance?

It didn't help that after a while, he began to forget your voice too, that hurt even more. He'd been forced to talk about his feelings to Thomas like a parent-child conference. He wasn't himself anymore.

His eyes were always swollen, eyebags dark and weighing his happiness down. He was depressed. Every smile he showed was just him trying to make his way through another day's work, distracting himself from the fact that he lost you, for good this time, he watched it.

He wrote letters to you with no address to send to. It didn't help whatsoever that he himself pushed you out into the sea once Thomas regained consciousness so he could say farewell. He watched it all, he knew you were gone this time. At least he had some sense of closure.

He had nothing left of you other than that WCKD jacket you wore, that haunted him as he slept. He only kept it because even with the logo of the corporation that tortured him for years and past the bullet holes in it, it provided him a little comfort that you were still there.

He found that telling stories of you to the younger kids helped.

"They were like the life of the party, bright smile, infectious laughter. They were the one everyone wanted to be around. You could see the sunrise in their eyes."

"Who were they to you?" One little girl asks.

"I don't really know" Minho shrugs, looking down at his hands for a moment.

"Where are they now?" A little boy asks, tilting his head.

"They're in the sky, they have been. They're stuck there. I hope I see them again" He replies with a little nod, looking up at the sun beginning to set up on the island.

"Why are they stuck in the sky?"

"They're afraid of coming down"

[mondothebombo]

Mondo 👉👈 could you explain all the ways you connect the song Home to Wytyaa?…. Like Important Lyrics. I have been listening to it a lot and I need to know for reasons. :)

oli you have no idea how long i’ve been waiting for someone to ask this. all the lyrics are technically important, and i may or may not have storyboarded scenes to this song in my head lmaooo. i’ve been wanting to talk abt this for SO FUCKING LONG so here we go!!!

Often I am upset that I cannot fall in love but I guess

This avoids the stress of falling out of it

jay doubting whether nya actually wants to be with him or if she’s just pitying him, when he wakes up from passing out in chap 6

Are you tired of me yet?

I'm a little sick right now but I swear

When I'm ready I will fly us out of here

this is jay noticing the others are getting worried and him sitting with all his bad thoughts, also as him talking to nya, kinda like “once i get my shit together and get over this, i’ll make things better”

I'll cut my hair

To make you stare

jay and nya both subtly subconsciously changing their appearances to separate themselves from what happened

I'll hide my chest

And I'll figure out a way to get us out of here

jay hiding his scars and trying to ignore everything for nya’s sake, intending to keep his promise of fixing his mistakes

Turn off your porcelain face

jays facade dropping and the others getting progressively more worried

I can't really think right now in this place

cole confronting jay abt his scars and jay getting overstimulated he lashes out

There's too many colors enough to drive all of us insane

jay freaking out when he gets high from the pain meds and yelling at kai for touching him the day after alec breaks his wrist

Are you dead?

jay seeing nya’s dead body when he looks at her

Sometimes I think I'm dead

jay/nya feeling the phantom pains

'Cause I can feel ghosts and ghouls wrapping my head

jay hearing nadakhan’s and the pirates voices in his head

But I don't wanna fall asleep just yet

jay having that dream

My eyes went dark

nya finding out abt the SA

I don't know where

My pupils are

jay looking in the mirror and hating his eye/scars

But I'll figure out a way to get us out of here

again, jay trying to be ok for nya

Get a load of this monster

He doesn't know how to communicate

this is most definitely jay thinking his friends hate him while he’s alone on the ship

His mind is in a different place

jay spacing out during scrap n tap, thinking of how the others see him

Will everybody please give him a little bit of space

transition back to him training with lloyd the day after he resets time and freaking out, accidentally hurting lloyd in the process

Get a load of this train-wreck

His hair's a mess and he doesn't know who he is yet

this is him stuck in the memories and believing everything nadakhan and the pirates said abt him, hallucinating and seeing nadakhan at random times

But little do we know, the stars

Welcome him with open arms

slowly fades to the present, where the others keep trying to prove they love him

Time is

nya and jay having the conversation where she talks abt the extent of her trauma

Slowly

jay and nya laughing together while lightly training in the middle of the night

Tracing his face

their talk w wu when he says he’s proud of them

But strangely he feels at home in this place

and finally, the last scene of chapter 7, where jay and nya come and sit with the others after their talk w wu, and jay finally cries with relief as he cuddles w the others

i hope i explained this well enough, please feel free to ask me if anything needs clarification :D

[psylunari]

For the ship ask game: kunikidazai, suegiku, atsulucy

NOTE: the post will be long as heck. I'll keep reblogging for every ship addition till I finish.

I'll preface this by saying, yes! I do ship all of these!

Kunikidazai

(nervous chuckle) buckle up, buttercup.

1. What made you ship it?

TL;DR: ironically enough, writing it made them take over my brain.

Mid-tier answer: It wasn't one specific thing. I watched the show and had 1 (one) plot bunny one year later (my most-read BSD fic). I was writing a MHA OC/canon thing at the time. While passionate about that OC/canon, it was a difficult fic, and I put it on hold.

Writing that knkdz fic proved itself easier. It was flowing. It forced me into a deep dive in their dynamic. The result is what you see.

Long answer: it took me 10+ years in fandom (legit) to like m/m ships. So it's kinda hard?? To watch things with m/m tinted glasses. AKA deliberately looking for m/m chemistry, or interpreting it always that way, or making it up in my head if I can't find it. If I come across a ship, I came across a ship. And I'm the same for any ship.

During my first watch of bongo straycats, I didn't ship much of anything. I looked at those two and went, “yeah, they're haha funny, if I were to ship something it'd probably be this”. I was done with the three seasons out, then, I “forgot” BSD.

I mean. Not that I forgot. I was in-between fandom phases with other stuff. So I didn't pay “the popular ships” much mind. They were there. A thing that existed. I didn't care for them.

Then it went like:

“Hey, I could use some change in my life, lemme style my hair like this anime twink.” “Fic idea for haha funny ship. What if instead of disappearing to commit the die, the anime twink was sick and didn't tell anyone?” ?????? “It is a CRIME that THIS dynamic is on the unpopular side, I'm declaring myself in knkdz hell till further notice and will do something about it.”

2. What are your favorite things about the ship?

TL;DR: they are multifaceted, their relationship is a deep rabbit hole of symbolism, and a blast to write about.

Superficial answer: complementary personalities + look good together + attractive + hilarious banter + suspicious moments + annoyances to lovers.

Heartfelt answer: I look at them from a complete perspective. Never one without the other, never caricatures of themselves. There's the caring domestic side, the dumb disagreements, the synergy and mutual respect, the defiance of internal values, the angst past and present… They are complex. The more you dig, the more you find. It's entertaining. It made the brain go brrrrr.

3. Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

It isn't often I come across interpretations I disagree with. Dedicated knkdz shippers and I are mostly in the same wavelength. My unpopular opinion, however, boils down to “I interpret both as some flavor of bisexual, not gay” and “mischaracterization”.

Will elaborate on the latter.

On Kunikida: headcanon as the fandom might, IMO, this guy isn't confident about love and sex. Let alone super liberated.

Picture this. Inexperienced + perfectionist + “dear diary, today I dreamt of my perfect wife” + “do girls not like me because I'm a nerd?” = pretty romantic, huh? And out of touch with reality.

Don't get me wrong. He does have carnal desires or kinks, I feel. I see him as shy and easy to fluster in the beginning. He takes time to relax and do his thing, being his own biggest critic.

On Dazai: he isn't helpless and definitely has an edge. I have a catboy agenda to set. Think like a cat's claws. Can and will scratch if unhappy, they're part of him, do not declaw the catboy. The feetsies are soft and adorable. They're also a part of him.

In the love aspect: when he LIKES someone, Dazai goes “brain.exe has stopped working” and does/says the stupidest shit. I think he orbits them out of no idea how to deal with it. Staying in the same space, wanting closure, not asking for it. Literal cat behavior again.

Now, in sex matters, he's shameless for… the most part. Not vulnerable all the time. He can flirt when it's for meaningless flings. What IMO WOULD make him cry is emotional stuff. Which may be tied to a sexual moment. Just not necessarily.

[whatyourusherthinks]

Cabrini Review

Ah fuck, it's my first Angel Studios movie. Never heard of them? Well, they are a Mormon faith-based movie company that uses crowd-funding to produce their movies. Naturally it's CEOs and film makers are all God-fearing, alt-right, dog whistle-spouting, propaganda-spreading Neo-Nazis. They're most famous for a movie that came out last year called Sound of Freedom, the "true" story about a guy who tried to end child trafficking by child trafficking. And then one of the film's funders got arrested for child trafficking. Can't fucking make that shit up. The only reason the theater I work at shows these movies is because the company and a distribution deal with Angel, the only people who come to see them are decrepit old bags who only watch to have their worst presuppositions confirmed and masochists who've lost their riding crops like myself.

TO BE FAIR, I was morbidly curious to see After Death, their documentary about proving the existence of the after life. (But it left the theaters before I had a chance to watch it.) And the premise of telling a story about a real life nun I've never heard of isn't a bad one. Glancing at Wikipedia it seems like the real life Cabrini wasn't caught grifting sick patients or stealing babies like certain other nuns. So maybe the movie is a decent retelling of the person's life. We shall see.

What's The Movie About?

This is a biopic of Francis Xavier Cabrini, an Italian nun who was the first Catholic saint from the US. The movie specifically follows a mission to New York City building an orphanage and then a hospital.

What I Like.

Cabrini was a good character in the movie. She was driven and stubborn, generally wise, kind to those less fortunate but didn't allow anyone to take advantage of her. Her plans to fund her various projects and protect her wards were pretty inspiring, not gonna lie. And I liked that they let her cry in a couple scenes and didn't give her shit for it (Even what she was crying over was kinda weird). I also like her friend Victoria, a prostitute who murdered her pimp is self defense then works with Cabrini. I was concerned that the movie makers were taking the piss releasing this on International Women's Day, but no the women characters are good. John Lithgow plays the corrupt mayor of New York who is cartoonishly evil and I kinda loved it. The set design and costuming was also pretty good. I liked all the top hats and cigars. There's some pretty neat scene transitions as well. Also the movie didn't try to pass off any reprehensible behavior as righteous, so it cleared the minimum requirement.

What I Didn't Like.

So Cabrini is a fine character in the movie, but she also has absolutely no flaws. I mean she's sickly, but that never really plays into anything in the plot or prevents her from doing anything. Actually I lied, the one part of the plot that is played into by the being chronically sick thing is she meets a doctor she becomes friends with, so her one flaw is a net positive. She's also followed around by 5 or 6 other nuns who get absolutely no characterization. I think they said one of their names once but I can't remember what it was. I also find it a bit funny that this Christian movie about a Catholic nun makes the Catholic Church a secondary antagonist. But they also try to present the story for being a bit morally grey, yet everything Cabrini does is entirely righteous and everyone trying to stop her is either racist, corrupt, or both. There was one scene where the editing made me entirely confused about where characters were, and the fact the shit started exploding didn't help. The message of the movie was "Start the Mission, God will provide the means." Not only is that just not how the world works, but the main conflict in the movie is Cabrini not having enough money to do any of the mission work she wants to do and has to convince other people to donate. "But Roan," Joe Buggknutz protests, "The means God provided were the donations from the people." But not only did Cabrini basically have to beg for all of the money, (which maybe you can argue is part of the mission but she's already taking care of orphans and supervising building places for sick and injured to go, which was her stated mission's purpose so it seems churlish to demand that she does more) but half the people she asks don't give her a cent! Thanks for coming through there God! "But- but the Lord works in mysterious ways!" Stop making excuses for your favorite imaginary friend you cuc-

Final Summation.

Cabrini is fine. If you can stomach the idea of making a glowing biopic of a missionary, you can watch this movie with no problems. I'm still not recommending it because fuck Angel Studios. But if your crazy relative sends you one of their free tickets that they try to unload on their audience, there are worse ways to spend two and a half hours.

[sweetsmalldog]

Castlevania: Nocturne Episode 6 liveblog

While the episode is loading I read the synopsis and hope Sypha or Trevor get mentioned if not by name by Sypha being how the Belmonts got Speaker Magic

Oooh moon

DROLTA!!!!

This is my favorite Drolta outfit now I love the blood red coat with the white pants

Idk what the horses are doing

Oh is that the Messiah?

Drolta’s hair looks so good

She’s got daddy issues for the fucking sun

Oh this poor lady

The shot of the snow white skirt spread around them while she drinks that poor woman’s blood is absolute cinema

“Please call me anything but grandad” This man has given me Trevor vibes if Trevor was old the whole time maybe it’s just a Belmont thing

Ritcher deserves these answers actually yeah why was his mom sending him to Tera and not you old man?!?!

I take back what I said about him having Trevor vibes Trevor was funny even when he was depressed at least

A deal?!?!?!

So you’re a stalker old man

It is a bit creepy

Tera has a lot to tell both these kids

What is it with the Belmont family always been alone and when they have family not being one

How many “Last of the Belmonts” has their been at this point?

I feel so bad for Maria and Ritcher. Tera is all they had and now they find out she’s been keeping this kinda of stuff from them, straight up lying to Maria about her dad and agreeing to never let Ritcher know his grandfather was alive and around

YOU OWE HIM SOME FUCKING BIRTHDAY PRESENTS YOU ASS

Ritcher my boy I’m adopting you too actually all your guardians keep hiding important shit, You and Maria are my kids now. Tera can visit but you don’t half to see her if you don’t want to

“Your a Belmont your not supposed to hide in a hut. And you’re not supposed to kill vampires for money” FUCKIN TELL HIM RITCHER

SYPHA MENTION LETS GOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“And she left you out” that’s so cold I love it

“I was the best magician the Belmont line ever produced” yeah and Sypha would be so disappointed in you now

Oooh this is why Ritcher can’t do magic either shit

“Evil will always win, Ritcher” ONLY WITH THAT FUCKING ATTITUDE

I hope Ritcher figures out how to use his magic again, I hope he proves his grandfather fucking wrong

Please don’t give into this Ritcher please

My son nooooooo

He looks far to fucking happy about Ritcher sobbing I fucking hate this guy actually

Ooooh Annette’s doing magic!!!!

Ritcher isn’t useless he’s just traumatized

“It’s the source of your fury but it’s not the source of your power” that’s such a good line holy shit

I love this contrast between Ritcher’s grandfather tearing Ritcher and the idea of the Belmont’s down with Annette’s mentor builds her up, speaks of her ancestors well and their strength and how hope isn’t lost

“There is light in this darkness”

Edouard voice coming in ;-;

Hi Olrox!

Why do they keep killing all the gay people?

It’s a bit soon to talk about immortality together Mizrak

“I’m not in love with you” damn ok

YOOO THEY REMEMBER!!!! ISACC WAS ALWAYS RIGHT HE KNEW HE KNEW!!!!

NIGHT CREATURE REBELLION LETS GO PLEASE

Maria my daughter he sucks he isn’t worth your time

I fucking hate the Abbot so fucking much

MARIA RUN GET OUT WHILE YOU CAN PLEASE

Olrox ripping this entire facade down I knew there was a reason I liked you

Hiiiiii Drolta <3

Please don’t hurt my daughter Drolta

NIGHT CREATURE REBELLION!!!!

OH FUCK OFF OLD MAN LIKE YOU CARE

Oh Ritcher-

Yeah you were a terrible father you fuck

DID HE JUST LEAVE HIS GRANDSON TO DIE?!?!?!

OH FUCK ITS THE GUY DROLTA WAS HANGING OUT WITH

IS HIS AXE A GUN?!?!?! THATS SICK

The old man is actually just pathetic ok

The flash of Julia fuuuuuuuck

Why don’t the vampires ever try to turn any of the Belmonts?

If Maria dies I will be distraut

HIS MAGIC IS BACK!!!!!!!!!!!! LETS GO RITCHER!!!!!!!!

THIS IS SO SICK!!!! THE ONE GLOWING EYE THE MUSIC CINEMA!!!!!

THE BLUE FLAMES!!!!!!

LETS FUCKING GO RITCHER LETS FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOOOOO

I may have a new favorite Belmont… sorry Trevor

“I half to live”

The sun rising and the burning river and the headband flowing in the wind I fucking love Castlevania this is so damn pretty

[seijorhi]

Inexorable ♕

My birthday present for my beloved wife @iwaasfairy​ and my contribution to her birthday bash collab you can find here. I love you, you’re incredible and I hope you like this i even wrote smut for you smh

Iwaizumi Hajime x female reader

tw: dub-con, stalking, unhealthy relationships, very questionable decision making, smut, nsfw, um... implied murder?

He’s sitting on the steps outside your apartment when you get home from work, a lit cigarette dangling between long fingers. He brings it to his lips, the bright cherry red tip glowing as he takes a nice, slow drag and you scurry on past.

Not a word passes between the two of you, but olive eyes follow you up the stairs regardless, just like always. His name is Iwaizumi – Iwa – but you only know that because you’ve heard his friends yelling it down the hallway. In the three months since you’ve moved in, you haven’t so much as introduced yourself to the guy, but like most strangers crammed into the same shitty place there’s some kind of a routine between the two of you.

Why he religiously chooses this time of night to take his smoke break is beyond you, but like clockwork you’ll arrive home, having walked back from the bus stop and Iwaizumi’ll be there waiting for you, cigarette in hand.

Well, not waiting, just… there. Black leather jacket with a hoodie underneath, there’s a cut above his eyebrow tonight that he hasn’t bothered to clean, a purpling bruise colouring his jaw. Whatever dealings Iwaizumi’s tangled up in, you don’t like to think about too much, but you know it can’t be anything good. His friends dress like him, all have the same ‘don’t fuck with me’ vibe. You’ve seen their scrapes and bruises too – the weapons that stick out from the waistband of their pants – though you’re always quick to avert your eyes when they catch you staring.

You’ve heard them snickering about it when you hastily dart past, all but slamming your front door shut. 

And it’s not that you’re scared of him. There are people who play at being dangerous, and ones who are. Iwaizumi doesn’t strike you as somebody who enjoys playing, and while you don’t doubt for a second that he is dangerous, he isn’t to you. He wouldn’t go out of his way to hurt or scare you – you’re not even a blip on his radar – but what Iwaizumi is, at least as far as you’re concerned, the reason your step quickens and you can’t bear to meet his eyes, is intimidating.

Tall and broad shouldered, with those piercing green eyes. You’ve only seen him smile once, though it was more a quirking of his lips than anything else – usually he just stares, his expression halfway between impassive boredom and a scowl. 

No, Iwaizumi doesn’t scare you nearly as much as the bouquet of flowers you find sitting on your doorstep, a handwritten note tucked in between the roses.

—

The calls come next. You block one number and he rings from another, followed by endless texts. Cute little messages you suppose are meant to brighten up your day. 

Hi baby, love the skirt you’re wearing today. You know blue’s my favourite on you, always look so damn pretty. It’s like you’re trying to drive me crazy haha

Morning babe, I was thinking about you last night. You remember that trip we always said we were gonna take in the summer down to the lake? I can’t wait to bring you there.

Why won’t you answer my calls? I just wanna talk to you, hear your voice again. Let me make things right. I love you.

Don’t you miss me? I miss you. So, so much… You look beautiful today, by the way.

Baby, I love you, but you really shouldn’t be staying out so late with your coworkers for drinks. I just want you to be safe.

They’re not all soft and sweet though. Sometimes he just sends you pictures, and those creep you out most of all.

You change your number, and it doesn’t make a difference.

—

It’s hard for you to try and convince yourself that you’re imagining the prickling sensation on the back of your neck as you go about your day. You know he’s watching you – the messages and the voicemails just drive that home, but what else are you supposed to do?

You can’t just pack up and run again, and what good is a restraining order when you have no proof he’s violating it – and by the time you do, it probably won’t help you.

Kazuma’s always had patience, but only up to a point.

The final nail comes the day you arrive home to find one of Iwa’s friends heading out from his apartment – the tallest, with the curly dark hair. Barely spares you a glance until he seems to think better of it.

“Didn’t realise you had a boyfriend, sweetheart.”

He says it so casually, but the words make you falter, a sinking feeling in your stomach. “What do you mean?”

And for a moment, he looks half surprised that you’ve bothered to reply – so far you’ve done nothing but pretend to ignore him and Iwa and every last one of their friends. But the mirth slips from his expression quickly enough once he gets a good look at yours, “Blonde guy with a shitty dye job, tall-ish. Saw him leaving your apartment an hour ago.” 

But to walk out of your apartment, he had to have first gotten into it.

“Guessing he wasn’t your boyfriend then,” he says, eyeing you with an odd look. But you don’t respond and after a short pause, he simply shrugs and continues on his way. 

You couldn’t care less.

Kazuma was in your apartment.

Leaving flowers at your doorstep is one thing, but now he has a key. 

And it feels like there’s somebody else moving your body as you stumble towards your apartment, your hand shaking so badly that you fumble and drop your own keys twice before you finally manage to slide them home and push your way inside.

It’s waiting for you inside your bedroom, sitting atop your pillow; a pretty blue box wrapped with white ribbon.

Your phone flashes to life a minute later; an incoming message from an unknown number. 

Did you like your present, baby?? I hope you don’t mind, I kinda borrowed a little something too… 

With your heart in your throat you watch those three bouncing dots as the image comes through. 

A pair of red lace panties – yours – scrunched up in his fist, wrapped around his–

Your stomach heaves, and you barely make it to the bathroom in time before you’re hurling your guts up.

—

You’ve always had an impulsive side, and more often than not it’s landed you into trouble.

So you force yourself to calm down and think before you do anything rash. You head to the police station the very next morning to file a report, fresh off a sleepless night. The officer seems sympathetic, but you know before she even opens her mouth that there’s nothing they can do.

There’s no proof of a crime committed; nothing was taken (nothing you can prove, at any rate) and because your door wasn’t tampered with and the windows weren’t smashed, there’s no evidence of a break in. She suggests changing your locks and going to stay with some friends or family for a few days and you don’t know whether you want to laugh or burst into tears.

And instead of going back to work, you call in sick.

Iwaizumi isn’t sitting on the front steps when you get back home, and why would he be? You’re not supposed to be home for another few hours – so instead you head to his apartment door and mustering every last ounce of courage you possess, you raise your fist and knock.

Silence greets you. 

You wait for a moment, a heartbeat, not daring to breathe, but there’s no answer. Which, really, shouldn’t be that surprising considering it’s mid-morning on a Tuesday, but you can’t help the crushing sense of disappointment that washes over you. The thought of trudging back to your apartment to sit and stew alone for the next few hours while you wait for him to come back makes your skin crawl. You can’t just sit still and twiddle your thumbs, not when–

Abruptly, the door in front of you swings open, and you find yourself face to face with a glaring Iwaizumi. His expression falters, momentary surprise flickering across his eyes at the sight of you standing in his doorway.

This time you don’t avert your eyes. Your heart’s pounding, your hands clammy and trembling by your side, but this is the only choice you have left. And so as a single eyebrow cocks and Iwa falls into a lean against the doorframe – the only invitation you’re gonna get – you steel your nerves, take a deep breath, and speak.

“I-I need a gun.”

To his credit, Iwaizumi doesn’t snort. “You planning on shooting somebody, princess?”

They’re the first words he’s ever spoken to you, and they make your cheeks burn, your stomach twisting into a knot. It’s not a dismissal, but there’s a tinge of amusement colouring his tone and you can’t help but wilt a little under the weight of his gaze. 

Better sense would tell you to turn around, walk back to your apartment and curse your own idiocy for entertaining this stupid idea to begin with But Iwaizumi’s staring at you like he’s expecting an answer and all you can think about is the fear that gripped your heart last night, how you couldn’t bear to turn the light off, half terrified that at any moment Kazuma would come back – and this time he wouldn’t be satisfied with just some panties.

You can’t live like this, and you can’t just pack up your life and wait for the same thing to happen in the next place, and the one after that. Kazuma won’t stop, you know that. 

“I…” you chew on your bottom lip, dropping your gaze so that you’re staring at his chest instead of those piercing green eyes. “I don’t, I-I’m not–”

“A killer?” he interjects, and you almost flinch at his bluntness“Yeah, no shit.”

Taking another breath in through your nose, you force yourself to meet his gaze, even as your nails bite into the palm of your hand and your heart skips a beat. “I just want…” but you can’t even bear to say the words aloud, not without your voice shaking like a leaf. “It’s for protection. I don’t know who else to go to. Please,” you beg.

Iwa exhales heavily, a crinkle appearing between his brows as he frowns, “This got anything to do with the blonde asshole that’s been sniffing ‘round your place?”

Your bewilderment must show, because he snorts, finally stepping back to let you inside. “Mattsun told me,” he says, answering your unspoken question. 

The unmistakably hard edge to his words takes you a little by surprise, but you nod anyway, gingerly taking a seat on the couch when he jerks his chin at it. “Oh, uh, yeah. He’s my ex, kinda. We… didn’t end well.”

It’s the understatement of the century, but you somehow doubt a man like Iwaizumi gives two shits about your past relationship with a stalker. Your fingers play with the hem of your skirt as the imposing man settles down beside you. “So does this mean you’ll get me a gun?” you ask. “I can pay you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I have some money–”

Iwa scoffs, cutting you off. “If you think I’m letting you anywhere near a loaded gun, pretty girl, you’re dumber than I gave you credit for.”

You reel back as if he’s slapped you. But Iwaizumi’s staring at you with that steely expression and blood rushes to your cheeks. Why are you surprised? Did you actually think he was going to help you – a veritable stranger – just because you have some sob story? Why even bother letting you in if he was just gonna make you feel like an idiot? And for a moment you forget the gnawing terror that’s kept you up all night, letting yourself become awash with indignation. You have no control over the hurt noise that leaves your throat, but the ‘Fuck you’ that follows; that one’s intentional.

You don’t have time to regret the insult as you jump to your feet; his hand shoots out to wrap around your wrist, jerking you to a halt the moment you try it. 

“I didn’t say you could go,” he tells you, and you can’t fight the shiver that rolls down your spine at the unmistakably commanding tone. “Sit.”

Wordlessly, you comply.

“Look at me.”

Again, there’s that harsh undercurrent in his voice that tells you he’s not asking, and you lift your gaze with a tense swallow. Iwa still hasn’t released your wrist, the warmth of his calloused palm searing against your skin. 

He doesn’t speak for a moment, olive eyes studying your face intently as you force yourself to sit still under the appraisal. “I said that I wasn’t going to give you a gun, not that I wasn’t going to help.”

Your eyebrows draw together in confusion, “What–”

“I’ll take care of it,” he snaps, cutting you off once again. And as you inhale sharply, you realise that it’s not anger you see burning in those pretty eyes, but sheer, unrelenting fury, an icy rage that you don’t understand, that terrifies you as much as it enthrals.

Because you feel like it’s on purpose. Like he’s finally letting you get a glimpse of what silently seethes beneath that impassive mask of his. Are you scared now, sweetheart?

“H-how much?” you ask breathlessly, eyes wide and heart pounding. 

“I don’t want your money,” he says quietly, his voice low and husky. And just in case there was any confusion as to what he does want, his other hand comes up to your face, a broad thumb tracing along your bottom lip as he cups your cheek.

Iwaizumi leans in slowly, as if he’s giving you time to shove him away and tell him that you’re not that kind of girl. Part of you – the part that’s terrified, frozen stiff and regretting the very moment you decided to step into his apartment and cross that line – wants to. Even now, as those hooded olive eyes drink you in, his warm breath ghosting across your skin leaving goosebumps in its wake, you’re afraid that it’s too late for that. You’ve opened a door that should never have been opened and there’s been a fundamental shift between you and him. There’s no going back for either one of you.

And the other part of you revels in it.

“Don’t kill him,” you murmur the second before his lips meet yours. “Not unless you have to.” You don’t even know if he heard you, and as Iwa deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours you find that you don’t care. You lose yourself to Iwaizumi as he leans closer, gently pushing you to lie back on the couch.

He isn’t satisfied with just your lips for long, planting hot, open mouthed kisses along your jaw and down the column of your throat, sucking on the sensitive flesh. His teeth nip at your collarbone as he busies himself unbuttoning your shirt, but your gasp sounds more like a needy whine than a plea for him to stop. 

He laughs a little at that, his chest rumbling against your stomach, but he makes no moves to slow down. Instead he turns his attention to your bra, his hands far less gentle with the delicate lace than he was with your shirt, and then his mouth is on your tits, licking, sucking, biting. Tomorrow, your skin will be littered with pretty red and purple marks, and judging from the single minded focus glinting in his eyes as he stares up at you, that’s exactly his intention. Iwa drags the flat of his tongue along the swell of your breast, circling it around your nipple before he sucks it into the wet warmth of his mouth, and the whimpering moan you give him in response is a thing of beauty. 

“Good girl,” he croons. “Such pretty, perfect tits.”

Your back arches when he cups the other in his hand, and you cry out when he roughly tugs the sensitive bud. He waits until the sting fades and you relax, sagging back against the cushions with relief before he does it again, harder this time. The sharp, searing pain ripples through you, your breath seizing in your chest as you try in vain to writhe away from his touch, but it’s followed by a flood of pleasure so strong it almost makes you dizzy. The fleeting kiss Iwa bestows on the supple flesh a moment later could almost be taken as an apology – if not from the satisfied smirk curling at his lips. He has no desire to be gentle with you, not today or any other day. That’s not who he is. 

Large hands ease down your side, reaching for the hem of your skirt. Iwa doesn’t bother trying to pull it off of you, merely flips it up, exposing your soft thighs and the delicate panties lying underneath. 

In an attempt to be helpful, you lift your hips to allow him to drag the lacy scrap of fabric down your legs and discard it, but Iwaizumi seems perfectly content with leaving them where they are. Even so, it takes you by surprise when his mouth descends on your cunt, the wet, pink muscle laving along the seat of your panties. You shiver in response, one hand instinctively reaching out to tangle in those spiky brunette locks, but if you’re about to tell him to stop teasing, the words are robbed from you when Iwa pushes the fabric aside and buries his face in the heat of your pussy.

His nose nudges at your clit and you jerk at the first lap at your folds, already shamefully wet for him. There’s no rhythm or rhyme to the way he eats you out, letting a long, thick finger slide into your cunt while he suckles and licks at your clit, but you can’t deny that it’s working. Your thighs tremble and quake beneath his hands, every second of his attention dragging you closer to unravelling entirely. And you’re awash with pleas, little whimpers and moans as he chuckles, the low vibrations making your fingers tighten in his hair as another burst of pleasure flutters through you. Your hips rise and fall against his face, desperate for more when he finally slides his tongue inside of your heat, eager to taste your cunt properly. You want more, you’re desperate and aching for it; but Iwaizumi’s grip tighten bruisingly against your thigh in warning. 

You’re at his mercy, and he’s in absolutely no hurry.

The first time you cum, it takes you by surprise. It feels like an endless build-up, Iwa’s tongue lapping at your pussy like it’s heaven sent, his mouth working diligently to drive you insane. Every touch feels unbearably good, from the long, slow strokes to the way he drags the tip of his tongue along your clit. Your toes are curling, your tits heaving with the desperate breaths you choke down, and all of a sudden his mouth latches onto your clitoris and he sucks hard at the swollen nub. You almost black out right there and then, stars bursting behind closed lids as pleasure wreaks havoc over your body. But as good as that feels, it’s not until you open your eyes and catch sight of the hunger blazing in Iwaizumi’s eyes that you tip over the edge, cumming into his waiting mouth with an earth shattering moan. 

At some point he must have let you go to rid himself of his own clothes, and your panties, but you’re boneless, basking in the afterglow as he shifts you once more, lifting one of your thighs up to hook your leg over his shoulder as he settles back onto the couch.

You just watch through hazy eyes as Iwaizumi gives his thick cock, already hard and flushed an angry red, a few cursory pumps. And his eyes are fixed on yours as he leans down, guiding the tip to your sopping cunt. 

“Fuck, you have no idea how long I’ve been dreaming of this, princess,” he grunts out. 

Warning bells sound in your head once more, your gut clenching uneasily, but any protests you might have voiced fall by the wayside as he slowly presses into you. It’s the girth, more than anything else, that takes you by surprise. It hurts, stretching out your poor, oversensitive cunt as his cock fills you up, inch by agonising inch. 

Iwa hisses from between clenched teeth and your eyes squeeze shut, trying to breathe through the pain. It won’t last long, you know that, and until it does you just have to grin and bear it.

You can feel it twitching inside of you, every ridge and vein, the way your slick walls hug his cock. His thumb strokes along your hip, soothing you as your face screws up and another whimper slips out. You think you hear him say something, praise maybe, or encouragement, but all you can focus on is the way his cock throbs inside your pussy when he finally bottoms out and stills.

And for a moment, he doesn’t move. A small kindness, letting you become adjusted to his size before he fucks you the way he’s dying to. 

“Look at me,” he says, and while his tone isn’t as sharp this time, it’s no less of an order.

Your eyes flutter open as Iwaizumi turns his head just a fraction without breaking eye contact, pressing a soft kiss against your calf. His eyes are glazed with feverish lust, pupils blown wide, almost swallowing up that thin ring of olive green entirely, and you wonder whether you should feel afraid right now.

You don’t have the words to describe it, the distant unease that seeps through you as you stare into the eyes of a man who’s clearly not in control anymore. If you screamed right now, tried to fight back or stop him, would it make a difference? 

Do you actually want to?

“You’re mine,” he growls out, drawing his hips back and slamming them forward ruthlessly as you choke on a scream. 

He’s relentless, hissing out curses as he fucks you like a rag doll, filling your wet, tight little cunt again and again and again. It’s all you can do to fist at the edge of the cushion, one hand wrapping around his back, your nails raking down his skin, drawing blood in their wake.

And Iwa doesn’t care, tossing his head back as he pounds his cock into your needy cunt, his balls slapping against your ass with every thrust. “Iwa,” you plead between gasping breaths, clinging to his broad frame. You don’t even know what you’re begging for, not as he grabs you by the hips and lifts you up, hauling you closer so he can fuck you deeper. And you can feel his cockhead rutting against your cervix with every vicious thrust, the painful stretch of your cunt as you’re forced to take his fat cock. It hurts, it does, but holy fuck you can’t focus on that when his fingers slip between your legs and he starts to rub at your puffy, oversensitive clit.

You’re whining, mewling, hips shifting as you rock against him, desperate for more friction. “Please, Iwa,” you moan.

The sound of it, the lewd slaps of skin against skin, the wet squelching as he drives his cock home again with an unforgiving pace would be enough to make you burn with embarrassment, but you don’t care because you’re quickly losing yourself to mindless pleasure. Every stroke fills you completely, it’s hot and thick and the drag of his cock against your plush walls, the way it kisses that sweet perfect spot with every thrust is driving you to insanity.

“Fuck!” you cry, clenching tightly around his length as you hurtle over the edge for a second time. You’re gushing, convulsing, back arched up off the couch, lips parted and–

Iwaizumi stops with a growl and you barely have time to process it before he’s flipping you onto your front, yanking your ass up into the air and hammering his cock back into your swollen, abused little pussy. It’s a bruising pace he sets as he chases after his own end, your name falling from his lips in harsh, breathless grunts. 

It doesn’t take long for his thrusts to become sloppy, your cunt sucking him in and pulsing around his cock. And you don’t have the mental capacity to beg him to pull out, not as his muscular chest collapses against your back, his arms wrapping around your waist and he pumps you full of his seed.

Neither one of you move straight away, both fighting to catch your breath and calm down in the afterglow of your orgasms. Your eyes flutter shut as he presses soft, sweet kisses to the back of your neck, your shoulders, anywhere he can reach. It’s an intimacy that doesn’t belong here, but you find yourself arching into it, a small, tired smile curling at your lips as Iwaizumi lavishes you with affection. 

And you can only whine softly when he finally pulls his cock out and stands, lifting your boneless form up into his arms, chuckling quietly when you bury your head into his chest. Your head’s empty, your thoughts a jumbled mess as he carries you into his bedroom, depositing you carefully onto the bed. 

Iwaizumi leaves you there like that, and when he returns a few minutes later he’s dressed again. He doesn’t smile, but there’s something oddly content about his expression as he stops by the doorway and takes in the sight of you; naked and thoroughly fucked out, curled up amongst his covers. 

“Iwa?” you ask sleepily, stretching your aching body to make yourself more comfortable as you nestle further into the soft mattress.

He doesn’t answer you as he strides in, but you watch through half lidded eyes as his expression hardens. Stopping by the bedside, Iwaizumi reaches for you. You think he’s going to cup your cheek again, maybe run his fingers through your hair, but instead his hand slides between your thighs, gathering up some of the cum that’s seeped from your pussy with his fingers and slowly pushing it back inside of you, humming when you whine and shift under him.

“I’m leaving for a bit,” he tells you, your gut clenching as you remember why you’re in this position in the first place. “You don’t leave this apartment until I get back. You don’t answer the door, you don’t tell anyone you’re here, you don’t leave this bed unless you have a goddamn good reason. Understand?”

Weakly, you nod.

“Such a good girl for me,” he breathes, and this time when he leans over he does kiss you, sweeping your hair back from your face before his warm lips meet your cheek. He lingers there for a beat longer than necessary before pulling away with a sigh.

And as the door swings shut, the sound of the lock clicking into place behind him, you begin to question whether you’ve made a mistake. You don’t doubt for a second that Iwa will follow through with his promise. Whether it’s tonight or tomorrow or a week from now, he’ll find Kazuma; him and his friends, and they’ll make sure he stays away. And until they do, you won’t leave this apartment.

There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach that despite your pleas, Iwaizumi’ll kill him. 

Not because that’s the only way for this to end, though you realise that that’s always been a possibility, but because of what you glimpsed in his eyes today. Stupidly, you’d thought you had Iwa pegged. But there’s something that lurks beneath that facade, something more dangerous than you could’ve possibly imagined and the moment you opened the door to Iwaizumi it sunk its teeth into you and now you’re not sure if it’ll ever let you go.

And as you lie back in Iwaizumi’s bed, covered in the marks he left behind you wonder whether you’ve merely traded one monster for another. Perhaps it was inevitable. Inexorable.

[stxleslyds]

Red Hood and the lost art of telling Joker to shup up.  

Okay, I know that I talked about Jason and Joker in a recent post but this is something different, I promise.

I really want to talk about how different Jason has been written since UtRH when it comes to him confronting Joker. Jason hasn’t been put in that position a lot but the times that he has, he lets Joker talk for far too long and actually pays attention to whatever he has to say.

The Jason vs Joker thing is basic in on itself and letting Joker talk isn’t exactly the problem here, the real problem is Jason letting Joker’s thoughts shape his future thoughts and decisions, I do understand that that’s exactly what writers want though, they want to build the problematic of: “Jason is just like Joker and the fact that he uses the name Red Hood only proves that Joker made who Jason is now”.

But the thing is that THAT problem is overdone at this point and the only time it worked was the first time it was brought up and it worked because Jason shut the Joker down.

Let’s see all the times (that I remember) the Joker and Jason have had a little chat and/or the times Joker’s words actually influence Jason’s thinking and decision making.

 Under the Red Hood – Batman (1940) #649

This is the first real confrontation we get to see between Jason and Joker after Jason’s death and it is beautiful. It's absolutely amazingly written, Joker goes on and on forever about how he killed Jason about how Jason is just as bad as him but that he is also just like Batman because he hasn’t killed him yet.

“You let me live after everything I did, you couldn’t pop my balloon. You just couldn’t. The apple doesn’t tumble too far from the paterfamilias. You are just like daddy-kins”

Jason lets him talk, yes. But he absolutely destroys Joker with what he tells him next.

“You couldn’t be more wrong about me. If right were a country on earth you’d be circling on the edge of the milky way. Yeah, I let you live but like always, every damned minute of your addled, posturing, psychopathic life, you think this is about you. You’re a worm. I’ve pitched you on a hook and dropped you into the brine. And I will beat the hell out of you Pagliacci because it was too much fun not to.”

“Listen to me Joker, I’m not you. I´m nothing like you. I know what I do and I know why I do it. You, you are, clinically speaking, a whack-job. But I know a secret, a good one.”

“You are not nearly as crazy as you would like us all to believe or even as crazy as you would like to believe. It just makes it easier to justify every sick monstrous thing you’ve ever done when you play the part of the mad clown. You are crazy, bubba, but you ain’t that crazy. Look at that. I wiped a smile off of Joker’s face. I have been waiting a long time for that.”

Everything about this is perfect, Jason gives Joker no room to mess with him. Whatever the Joker had planned on saying he had to eat because Jason wasn’t playing games and he was ready for any kind of lie the Joker had ready to tell. This is Jason Todd. He won’t let the Joker get under his skin because he knows the Joker and he, also, knows better. 

Red Hood and the Outlaws (2011) #15

Here Jason comes across Joker during the “Death of the Family” event. In this issue the Joker has information about all of the members of the “Batfamily” and he uses that to mess around with each one of them, in Jason’s case he insinuates that he was present in very specific moments of his life when Jason’s father got shot, when his mother overdosed and when he was on his own before joining Batman.

Jason doesn’t quite believe that Joker was there but as the reader, we can see this sort of sense of doubt in Jason. He hesitates a few times before resolving that the Joker is playing with him.

But as far as this issue goes let’s just say that what the Joker says doesn’t get to Jason, this changes though in the issue that follows up this story.

Teen Titans (2011) #16

This is where that story continues and where Jason starts to buy the story that Joker is selling.

Joker convinces Jason that he has his father and Tim’s father and that the only way for Jason (or Tim) to save their dads is by killing the other (Jason or Tim). Tim doesn’t believe it but Jason is ready to shoot Tim almost immediately.

However, Jason changes his mind about killing Tim just as Tim comes up with a plan for them to not actually have to kill each other. Here is where Lobdell’s writing shows all of its flaws, Lobdell is so desperate to show that Jason and Tim are besties that he forgets that Jason had no reason to stop trying to kill Tim to save his shit father because it is later revealed that Jason truly believed that Joker had found his father and had him captive. It wasn’t until Tim explained his thought process as to why those men weren’t their dads that Jason just goes “you realize, of course, the only reason I didn’t kill you right off is that I knew your big brain will figure out some way out of this” HA, nice save Lobdell but I see right through your bullshit.

Jason bought what the Joker was selling and that is the beginning of Jason’s downgrade when it comes to not playing Joker’s games.

Red Hood and the Outlaws (2011) #17

Well, in this issue Lobdell goes back to Jason kinda not believing what Joker told him, and Jason asks Bruce of all people if he thinks the Joker truly “made him or not”. Bruce says that he doesn’t believe that and that he didn’t have anything to do with the man that Jason has become either. For some reason, Jason is actually happy with what Bruce said and for a couple of moments, Jason goes back to being sure that the Joker knows nothing and that he is his own man.

It doesn’t last long though. At the very end of the issue, the trap that Joker had set up in Jason’s helmet triggers and Jason gets his face fucked up with acid or something.

But that’s not all because a hologram of Joker has something to say: “you were supposed to be my masterpiece from start to finish. But you were too stubborn to stay dead. So here is what we are going to do… You’re so determined to be your own man? Fine, let’s start with a clean slate”.

Basically, the Joker insinuates once more that he had something to do with who Jason was supposed to become and that Jason isn’t truly “his own man”, This is all a setup for a very dense storyline that will be continued in this run later.

Red Hood and the Outlaws (2011) #18

In this issue, Jason is in a coma after he is dosed with that gas in the previous issue. The Joker isn’t really present in this issue but he does make an appearance as part of Jason’s “nightmare” while he is unconscious.

That’s not all though, Jason has an illusion of Ducra (someone that he appreciates a lot), telling him that “after you left the All-Castle after you went back to the world you continued to let your life be defined by the actions of that man. You became a killer, lashing out at people who may or may not have deserved it. Eventually, you will hurt all those you have cared for. In that way, how are you any different from the Joker?”.

In this statement, there is a lot of wrongs that can come from two places, either bad writing on Lobdell’s part or just Ducra telling lies as a plot point.

“Let your life be defined by the actions of that man” is a sentence that horribly simplifies Jason’s thinking during the events of UtRH, because while he did resent the Joker, his real problem was with Bruce who had not avenged his death by killing the Joker himself. Also, Jason was doing other things back then, like being a pain in the ass for Black Mask and disrupting the drug trade in Gotham as well as trying to control the drug dealing to children. So that little sentence is just a gross misinterpretation of the true events which means that Ducra was wrong, and “she” continues to be wrong when she says that there might be no difference between Jason and Joker.

Luckily Jason thinks the same because he tells “Ducra”: “…don’t you dare compare me to that monster Ducra. I am nothing like the Joker! Nothing!”

Once again please don’t be fooled by Jason’s thinking because in the next issue it turns around really fast and really bad.

Red Hood and the Outlaws (2011) #19

Just a heads up this issue has a change of writer, Lobdell isn’t writing this arc, the writer that gives us this hellish story arc is James Tynion IV.

All that talk about Jason not being affected or not believing what the Joker told him is yeeted out of the window and it’s not a fun ride.

In this issue, Roy and Kory find a Jason that doesn’t know who they are or who he, himself, is. This is because S’aru that little floaty little shit took his memories away after Jason asked him to do so, well Jason asked S’aru to erase every memory that darkness has touched (Joker) and he does that. But him doing that is apparently erasing everything which, holy shit, how messed up is that?

But let’s take a look at what Jason says before he gets his memories taken away: “Not only did the Joker almost take my face, but he tells me he might have manipulated my entire life from the beginning! Even the good is tainted by him now. I can’t do it anymore. I can’t have that kind of doubt. If you take it away, I can go on living. I can keep fighting”. So, yeah that was a pretty emo speech. But the thing here is that if Jason is asking this dude to erase every memory that has been tainted by the Joker and he erases all of them then we might be facing one of two situations, either Joker has been messing up with Jason’s life from the beginning or S’aru is just a little bitch.

We will later find out in #20 that S’aru and Ducra planned the whole thing, meaning that they took all of his memories for ulterior motives not because the Joker had actually tainted all of them.

For many issues Jason has no memories and now that I am revisiting these issues, I now remember the twisted and completely insane plot they came up with for the “League of Assassins” and Jason being the “Chosen One”, everything was happening in this run, my god, it's like they wanted Jason to be the center of every single trope in writing history.

It’s in issue #26 that Jason asks for his memories back but the Joker having tainted his memories or not isn’t important anymore to anyone, including the writer (because he is too focused on telling this messy story), Jason (because he has enough problems at the moment) and the reader (because this book makes zero sense and it changes the story and motivations every single issue).

But there is another truth to be revealed in the next issue.

Red Hood and the Outlaws (2011) #27

Jason has planned along Ducra and S’aru to give up all of his memories to be cleansed so he could defeat Ra’s Al Ghul. But (there is always a but) Ducra says this: “Your greatest enemy returned and nearly took your face away from you. And in the process, shook your sense of identity to the core” “The final battle here will take place in the Well of Sins, and with all the doubt and fear clouding your mind, it would eat you whole”.

So yeah, now we have confirmation from Ducra that Jason had indeed let what the Joker told him cloud his sense of self and made him doubt who he was and if he really was in control.

All that back and forth for these many issues just to say, yes, Jason let Joker’s words affect him.

So here it is, let Joker get in Jason’s head to build the plot of a story, fantastic, the story was a mess because it had so much information, the mischaracterizations of Roy and Kory were at their maximum potential, and in this particular story arc not only are the events of Red Hood: The Lost Days officially erased from Jason’s canon but something quite out there is added to Jason’s canon from before he was even Robin (that’s a whole different story that I won’t be talking about here).

What an insane ride this arc was. Definitely not the kind of story I enjoy in a Red Hood book but that’s just my preference.

*This whole arc was written by James Tynion IV.

Red Hood/Arsenal #11

Joker is dead during the events of this run but the person who has something to say to Jason about how the Joker made the person that he is now is Duela Dent (“Joker’s daughter”, she isn’t his daughter she just found Joker’s face somewhere and she puts it on and “becomes” crazy, she is an incredibly weird character).

She says this, “You’re a lot like dad in that way” to which Jason says “He is not my father. He’s not even your father” but Duela continues by saying. “You’re kidding yourself if you genuinely believe that. Yeah, he took your life but look what you got in its place, you ingrate. You got your freedom. You were reborn.” 

Jason doesn’t fall for it or anything of the sort but once again writers are bringing up the Joker as the maker of the Red Hood and “suggesting” that what Jason has been doing and who he has become is all thanks to Joker. The idea of Jason having no free will is still present in this narrative, even when Jason doesn’t believe it.

Red Hood/Arsenal #12

I talked too soon because in this issue Jason is having some weird thoughts.

“Funny, isn’t it, so easy to call Duela “crazy” because she wears a dead man’s face. Because isn’t that what I’m doing? Before he was the Joker, he was the Red Hood. So maybe the line between men and the Joker’s daughter is a lot thinner than I’d like to admit.”

Here he is comparing himself to Duela and to the Joker to an extent, writers often bring up the fact that Jason uses the code name that his killer once had and they have people or Jason himself questioning why he uses that name.

Personally, I don’t think there is much to build from it (at least not from the perspective of Lost Days and UtRH), it was just a joke, a morbid one if you will. He wears the mantle of the person that destroys Gotham and fills its people with fear while he is trying to control the city’s drug trade and trying to keep the people safe in his own way. And the way he wanted to do it is almost the complete opposite of the way that Batman does things.

I just think that he is being ironic and acidic about the whole thing. He has obviously moved on from the fact that Joker killed him but he has issues with the fact that Batman has yet another child working with him while the Joker is still alive. And Jason really wanted to make Bruce suffer, so him taking the name and a similar appearance to how the joker used to look is also done to get a reaction from Bruce.

I really don’t think there is any sort of connection to make between Jason and Joker beyond that, much like there is no connection between the name Nightwing and the Court of Owls. Even though Lincoln March tried to convince Dick Grayson that he chose the name Nightwing because Owls fly at night and that meant that he was supposed to become a Talon and all that Dick still didn’t believe it because he knew why he chose that name and no one can twist his reason.

Red Hood and the Outlaws (2016) #10

Finally, I can stop re-reading New 52 books, I don’t enjoy it but I have to do it if I want to talk/complain about stuff.

This one is a little different because while Jason does talk with the Joker, the Joker isn’t really there he is just part of Jason’s imagination just like the Robin Jason that he is also seeing.

In this story, Jason is helping Artemis discover who she is but he gets captured in Qurac, yup that place, and worst of all from where he is being held, he can see the place where he died. All of that is helping Jason have some very vivid memories/illusions. He does actively hold a conversation with the imaginary Joker and Robin Jason though, and he is also having a lot of thoughts that let us know how the Joker affects Jason.

“This is why it was stupid of me to come back to Qurac. Even to help Artemis, even if I thought I could handle it. Physically, I am alone, but in my head? I’m drowning in memories of the worst day of what was my very short life. The day I was murdered.”

That’s what Jason is thinking but what I write next is what Jason’s saying as he talks to the imaginary Joker.

“Not interested in replaying this over again, like I have every night of my life since it happened Joker”

So, we are told that Jason thinks about that day very often, the Joker might not be involved much in Jason’s books but he definitely has a bigger role inside of Jason’s head. They chat for a bit up until Jason decides to “kill” the Joker, he knows, of course, that it is not real but it does give him satisfaction. (If only they would have let Jason actually kill the clown for real, or at the very least chase him just to show the reader that Jason does actually want to finish the job since the Bat won’t do it himself).

Having said all that, Joker’s imaginary death doesn’t last long because Jason is trapped in his mind and the Joker is basically functioning on a loop inside of it.

That is where the problem lies in this issue because Jason is letting us know that he is still heavily influenced by what happened that day and that he hasn’t been able to walk away from it. But once more that’s not the worst thing, because all of these thoughts have led Jason to think that he (in the present and as a fifteen-year-old) is the one to blame for having ended up dead. Yeah, it is messed up.

This is what Jason says to imaginary Robin Jason, “He is never going to die, Jason. Not here. Not in my mind, not if at some point I don’t stand up and walk away from my memories. From you.”

This is a major downgrade, from the Jason that we had in UtRH because that Jason had moved on from the fact that he had been killed what he was looking for was for Batman to avenge his death. He had other things in mind as well, like I said before in this post Jason had a lot of things going on, killing Joker wasn’t his only plan.

And this situation (written by Lobdell) is also very different from what was going on in New 52 where Jason being influenced by the Joker was used to build a plot. This is just a writer letting us know that this “new version” of Jason hasn’t worked out his problems when it comes to his death and his killer. That means that we are going backward.

After he realizes that he was unconscious all that time and that he was being tortured he does get his shit together in order to get out of captivity and go help Artemis.

The Joker and that whole thing that happened in his mind aren’t mentioned again, it was just for the reader to know that Rebirth Jason has unsolved issues with his death.

Batman: Three Jokers #1

Oh yes, here we are, we have arrived to that dreaded book, awful writing gorgeous art. In this book, the “Joker made Jason as he is now” trope is at its full potential; Johns drives this hellish truck of a book at full speed into our homes and then ends it by giving us one of the worst takes on Jason Todd’s characterization ever.

But first, let’s talk about the Joker and Jason interaction in the first issue. As Jason and Barbara are left alone with the Joker that they came across moments ago the Joker begins talking because that’s what he does.

He says this, “I’m the loop-de-loop, the hamster-wheel-of-doom. The cycle of pain each one of you is trapped in. Take “Red Hood” here, for example. Have you ever wondered why he uses my former moniker? Who in their right mind would take on the identity of their killer? Am I right?”

He is obviously being a little shit on purpose and is waiting to see if somebody will take the bait. Jason is the first to talk and he says this: “I took it because I’m owning what you did to me. You made me into this. I will be your destruction”.

Congratulations Jason, you took the bait, and now Barbara will fight with you over it.

Jason raises his gun to “break the cycle” and Barbara is like “please don’t do it” and boy is Joker having the time of his life! Both of these idiots are playing his game, Johns really did both Jason and Barbara dirty with this.

Here is where THE problem with letting the Joker talk is. This Joker got under Jason’s skin in seconds and Barbara did nothing while it happened.

This is what the Joker had to say. “Let’s look at the facts here bat-people. I bashed this boy’s skull in. I killed this Robin” to which Jason says “You didn’t kill me, you only made me stronger” which is weird because the Joker did kill him so I don’t know what kinda comeback that was supposed to be but Joker wasn’t done because he continues by saying “Yes, you crawled from the shallow grave I left you in. You lived on to fight another day. Hurrah! You survived because of your tenacity! Or maybe… maybe I beat you to a bloody mess… I took you right to the edge… because I wanted to leave you alive.”

Great that’s where the clown is going, just fantastic, more of the “I made you” but that’s not all because the Joker tells Jason that him having hurt Jason wasn’t because he didn’t like Jason, it was all about Batman, Jason doesn’t matter.

But that’s not the worse thing that was written in this awful book, Geoff Johns seems to have felt that the trauma that Jason went through in the original “Death in the Family” story wasn’t enough because he decided to add something new.

That’s why the Joker says this next, “Do you recall what you said to me while I was breaking your head in with that crowbar? As your blood streamed into your eyes and your skull cracked? Because I cherish those words. I’ll always cherish them. ‘Please stop! Please! If you let me live, I’ll do anything you say. I’ll be your Robin’” “And look at you now my little “Red Hood” shooting up people and making Batman’s life miserable! You are my Robin!”

What a nightmare Johns decided to put Jason and Jason Nation through huh? I hate this, this is the worst thing that has ever been written in a Jason Todd story (although I can say that about many things that were written in this three-issue book).

Jason kills the Joker after he says all that, Barbara does (for some reason) try to stop him from doing it but luckily, she can’t stop Jason.

But here is the thing, Jason killing the Joker doesn’t make me feel as satisfied as I would have liked, and it doesn’t feel that way because Jason let Joker talk for far too long and what Joker said ended up getting in Jason’s head and messing with him.

Batman: Three Jokers #2

Yeah, there is no rest for us, Jason Nation, in this issue Jason goes looking for another Joker to kill and he finds one but he gets captured. Johns really had to get Jason naked for Joker to torture him mentally and physically? Johns is, himself, a major red flag but that’s not what I am here to talk about.

In this issue the Joker that captures Jason has the same things to say as the other one, DC writers really have no imagination when it comes to building conflict between Joker and Jason, huh?

Anyway, Joker says this, “tell me something. Why would you put on that helmet and call yourself Red Hood after what we did?” Jason of course replies “Come on, is every one of you copycats gonna ask me the same thing? It’s a joke” the answer isn’t enough for Joker (the two of them that are here with Jason) so he continues talking. “A joke? We left you with brain damage and permanent nerve pain. Physical and emotional trauma so severe that the only relief you ever find is when you inflict pain on others. You and me, boy, we’re more alike than you’d care to admit. But you know that already. You nearly died and you blame the Batman. You hate him for it. Me too. You hate him most of all don’t you?”

Now, here is the thing, that whole thing is bullshit, none of it makes sense. From Jason having permanent nerve pain to Jason hating Batman the most, everything is a lie. And my confusion here is that I don’t know if I have to feel like Joker is doing it on purpose to be a little bitch or if Geoff Johns was on crack when he wrote this and he had actually never heard of Jason Todd in his life before.

The whole thing is a mess, it feels like he is writing Jason from an origin and story that we never read. I don’t know how to explain it, but the whole thing feels cheap, it’s a cheap trope and it’s a cheap take on who Jason Todd is, was, and will be.

The nightmare doesn’t end Jason Nation because these two Jokers have something else in mind, you see, if they said that they made the Red Hood when they killed Jason the first time, maybe if they kill him this time then he could possibly come back as the Joker. Yeah, this book did nothing for Jason.

Let’s make something clear, Jason does NOT hate Batman/Bruce for not being able to save him, he hates the fact that Batman/Bruce didn’t kill the Joker to avenge him. That simple thing doesn’t exist in Three Jokers and that’s why things like the ones that happen next are allowed to happen in this story.

Bruce and Barbara find Jason and when Bruce asks if he is okay Jason just goes berserk, he says: “Am I all right? What do you think Bruce?! You did this to me. You put me on this path. And I do hate you for it. For leaving me in the dirt. Replacing me one Robin after another without a thought.”

This, everybody is what you get when you mix bad writing with Jason being mentally manipulated by the Joker.

It's a shame that Jason is being treated this way at this point in time, in a book that came out in 2020 when Jason was able to shut the clown up with a knife and a couple of words back in 2005. What a downgrade.

At the end of this issue, Jason is safe and recovering but he still is in the same mindset, he says, “What the Joker said about how I’ve been on the path to being like them for years… they are not wrong. I don’t want to be like them though. I really don’t.”

It’s like a never-ending wheel of pain with this book. Jason is talking to Barbara when he says that and he is trying to look for comfort in her. And here is where the Jason/Barbara subplot begins and I only bring this up because something that happens in the next issue is based on the kiss that Barbara gave Jason but then was like “that doesn’t mean anything, I was just trying to comfort you”. Johns shouldn’t be allowed to write Barbara and Jason ever again.

Batman: Three Jokers #3

It’s in this issue that we find out the big subplot that Johns has prepared for Jason, are you ready for it? Yup, Jason should stop being the Red Hood because if he keeps it up, he will eventually become the Joker.

I know, I know! Jason would never stop being Red Hood, he is not on a path to become the Joker, that’s crazy! Jason’s Red Hood is a character on its own and he is amazing and just because he has different morals from Batman doesn’t mean that he is a bad guy! Right?...

“I’ll give up being Red Hood for us. I can be something else. Or I can be just Jason.”

To this day I cannot believe that those words supposedly were written by Jason Todd to Barbara Gordon after Barbara rejected him three times. The level of “what the fuck is this” is incredibly high with this one…

This whole book was a mess and I am so glad that it didn’t last longer.

Anyway, that’s it. In conclusion, Jason didn’t let the Joker get under his skin the first time they interacted after he came back from the dead but later when DC decided that UtRH was just too good of a book they came up with stories where Joker does get under Jason’s skin and Jason becomes convinced that he has no free will (or at the very least he doubts his free will) when it comes to him becoming his own man.

As I have said before, that for Jason Todd is a major downgrade. And it's one of the many things that hurts Jason’s characterization in current comics.

[alphadaddyderek]

Dude, just get out! (we both live here dumbass!) (sterek fic, smut, college au)

Stiles was initially excited to go to college. The freedom aspect of it in particular is what Stiles was the most excited about. Don’t get him wrong, he loves his dad, of course, he does. He didn’t mind living with him, he liked seeing him on a daily basis. He’s all Stiles has. Well, Stiles has Scott, but Scott is attending university in Arizona of all places. Meanwhile, Stiles is going to NYU, so, there’s not a lot of opportunities to see Scott or his father in person.

Not to fret though! Stiles was ready like Freddy to meet new people and, hopefully, make new friends along the way. That’s what college is all about. Supposedly, Stiles wouldn’t know but if all the movies are to be believed then that’s what college is all about.

He and his dad spent days driving up to NYU and then spent hours moving Stiles’ belongings into his off-campus apartment and unpacking. Stiles got a full-ride —thank god— so there’s extra money for him to be able to live in an actual, nice apartment instead of the dorms. His roommate was nowhere to be seen at the time, but that was fine with Stiles. He’d have plenty of opportunities to get to know him. Stiles’ dad left to stay in a hotel for the night because there was no way he was starting the trek back to Beacon Hills this late in the day. So, Stiles was left to his own devices in his new apartment.

Well, he was for about twenty minutes, then his roommate came back and...he’s kind of a dick.

He has a resting bitch face and he hardly likes to talk. Stiles doesn’t know if it’s because the guy doesn’t like him or if he’s just the quiet type. He’s starting to think that the guy doesn’t like him because every time Stiles starts talking he looks annoyed. The dick’s name is Derek and coincidentally, he also goes to NYU. He did tell Stiles his major, but wouldn’t tell Stiles what his favorite color was, which is just plain rude.

Anyway, Stiles isn’t going to let this Debbie downer ruin his college experience, no way!

Stiles decides the best thing to do is to just ignore him. Which is hard to do because the guy takes up so much space, like, he’s actually huge. And he always seems to be in the apartment when Stiles comes back from classes. Which is weird because, dude, don’t you have classes to go to? Nonetheless, he’s always there which means Stiles has to see him all the time and Derek can continue being an asswipe for no reason.

For example, Stiles sometimes forgets to wash the dishes —sue him!— and Derek will chew him out for it. Stiles didn’t know Derek was such a neat freak, but now that he knows he’ll leave more things laying around because Stiles can also be a dick when he wants to be. Maybe Derek should learn to be more personable, then Stiles wouldn’t have to go out of his character by doing such petty things. They’ve only been living together for about a week and a half and there’s already a turf battle going on. Stiles isn’t sure who’s going to win this battle, however, the sight of Derek tripping over one of Stiles’ shoes and the subsequent curse that flies out of his mouth makes Stiles not even care in the end.

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

After about a month, it's way more than just a battle. The turf battle has evolved into a war and now, no one is safe.

Derek continues being yucky and Stiles continues to do things to intentionally annoy him, except, now Derek is doing things to annoy Stiles. Like, eating all of Stiles’ Pop-Tarts or, and this is a cruel one, flushing the toilet while Stiles is in the shower. Unfortunately for Stiles, Derek buys gross ass healthy food for himself, and Stiles couldn’t choke down that food to save his life. So, what can one do to even the playing field?

Derek is sitting on the couch in the living room, watching some show about underwater caves. Stiles normally wouldn’t stick around because, despite what Derek might think, Stiles really doesn’t enjoy being talked down to by an abnormally grumpy man. This time though, Stiles sits down beside him. He can see Derek watching him from the corner of his eye, probably waiting to see what Stiles is going to do. Stiles likes to instill fear in Derek. Normally he acts like Stiles is nothing more than a bug he wants to squish under his overly expensive boot, but now? He’s worried. He should be. Stiles is going to pull out his ultimate weapon.

“So, whatcha watchin’?” Stiles asks, plastering a smile onto his face.

Derek gives him a suspicious look. “Why do you want to know?”

Stiles shrugs, smile still present. “I’m curious. This show seems interesting.”

Derek gives him an incredulous eyebrow raise, which is super insulting. Derek thinks all Stiles watches is Harry Potter, Star Wars, and superhero movies. Which is just wrong. But that’s okay. Stiles thinks all Derek watches are documentaries about how to be a functioning human in society, which, newsflash Derek, still needs working on.

A few minutes go by before Stiles decides to speak again. “So, you haven’t told me about your family.”

“That’s intentional.”

Stiles laughs. Derek thinks he can scare Stiles into leaving him alone. Unfortunately for Derek, Stiles has zero self-preservation skills.

“Come on Derek. We’re roommates. Don’t you want us to get along?”

Derek didn’t dignify that with a response —rude!— so Stiles speaks again.

“My dad is the sheriff of my hometown. Been that way for as long as I can remember. My best friend, his name is Scott, wants to be a vet. He goes to The University of Arizona. After that he’s not sure where he’ll go to get his DVM but he’s open to anything.”

Derek turns the volume up on the tv and Stiles bites his lip to stifle his laughter.

Ah, Derek. That won’t help.

“At first I was kinda skeptical about Scott becoming a vet. I mean, he’s a puppy himself, and I love him to death, but sometimes he’s ditzy. He’s a ditzy brunette. But after working at Deaton’s, Deaton is the town vet, for years he’s proved me wrong,” Stiles risks a glance at Derek and he’s scowling so hard Stiles is kind of afraid it’ll get stuck that way forever. “He and his girlfriend, Allison, are kind of having issues with long-distance but they’re high school sweethearts so I’m confident that they’ll work through it. They’re so cute together that it’s actually kinda nauseating. Like, sometimes their sappiness makes me sick to my stomach. I wonder when they’ll get ma-”

Derek abruptly stands up and walks out the room, slamming and locking his bedroom door, as if Stiles is the boogeyman who he’s trying to keep out.

Stiles snickers and grabs the remote to change the channel. Derek gets annoyed when Stiles talks, well, he shouldn’t have started this war then (it doesn’t matter that technically Stiles started it). Stiles has weaponized his ability to talk people’s ears off. So, Derek better watch out.

Hopefully, Derek won’t murder Stiles in his sleep.

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

Okay, so, Stiles thinks maybe this whole turf war thing is getting out of hand.

It’s been a total of 3 and a half months since they’ve been living together and Derek and Stiles are on edge around each other 24/7. Stiles has to shower around eleven o’clock at night so that Derek won’t burn him alive by flushing the toilet. Derek doesn’t have access to Stiles’ snacks anymore because Stiles hid them in the back of his closet. Derek stays in his room all day just so that Stiles won't have any opportunities to talk to him. They’re at an impasse, but Stiles has a feeling that the worst has yet to come.

A really bad feeling.

Stiles comes back from a particularly grueling day of classes to see Derek sitting on the couch...and he’s smirking.

That doesn’t bode well for Stiles.

“Hello, Stiles.”

“Uh, hey dude. Why do you look like a supervillain?”

“‘Cause I have a surprise for you.”

Yeah, that definitely didn’t sound good.

“Actually, I am a-okay. I really don’t need the surprise. I appreciate it though,” Stiles tries to make his way towards his room but Derek keeps talking.

“I normally don’t snoop through people’s things, it’s really not in my character, but after you left to go out last night, I heard some weird noises coming from your room. I was trying to ignore it at first, but after a while I went to see what it was. I was going to mention it this morning but you woke up before I did and by the time I had woken up you were already in class.”

Stiles had stopped in his tracks but he still hasn’t turned around to face Derek, because if Derek is going where Stiles thinks he’s going, Stiles is going to need to be able to book it into his bedroom as soon as possible.

Derek didn’t seem too perturbed by Stiles’ silence since he continues with his story. “Imagine my surprise when I found out that it was your laptop making that noise. Now, I wasn’t surprised by the fact that porn was playing, but what I was surprised at-”

Oh god.

“-was that the video you were watching was titled ‘bear fucks twink with huge cock’. And now I can’t help but question your hatred towards me.”

Stiles’ face is burning. He’s never been so embarrassed in his life, which is really a great feat because Stiles doesn’t get embarrassed by much. It’s not that Stiles didn’t notice Derek was hot, like, come on now, Derek is gorgeous. He’s not that much taller than Stiles but the size of his biceps? They’re easily the size of Stiles’ thigh. Derek is bigger than Stiles in every aspect.

Well, he’s not sure about every aspect. Stiles has never seen Derek’s dick outright, but he’s seen him wear sweatpants, and ooh boy, that bulge gives Stiles the impression that Derek is hung like a horse.

Stiles still hates Derek because Derek still has his asshole-ish ways. Case in point: right the fuck now. But, you can hate someone and still want to fuck them, right? Hate sex exists.

Derek is patiently waiting for Stiles to respond, and Stiles has never been good at staying silent, so it’s only a matter of time.

Stiles finally turns around to face Derek and clears his throat. “That- that means nothing. People watch shit like that all the time. Plus, you hardly qualify as a bear.”

It’s a weak excuse but, hey, Stiles is grasping at straws here.

Derek tilts his head to the side in agreement. “True, but if that was the case, why do you seem so nervous?”

Stiles can’t think of a reasonable response in time and Derek knows it.

Derek smirks again and Stiles really wants to knee him in the dick.

“Do you wanna fuck me?”

Stiles narrows his eyes at Derek. What the fuck is his endgame here? Why is he being such a dick?

Oh yeah, because Derek is a fucking asshole.

“Fine,” Stiles says through gritted teeth. “I find you attractive. I watch porn about big, hairy men fucking twinks because I want you to fuck me. Are you happy now? Jackass.”

Stiles storms into his room and slams the door. That’s a perfect example of why people can’t be pretty and nice. It’s genetically impossible.

Stiles lets out a sigh and dumps his backpack on his bed before stripping out of his clothes and getting into the shower. He stands under the spray for ten minutes, just praying to the cosmic gods out there that a black hole will appear and suck the whole human race into nothingness. After waiting for a few more minutes, and his prayers going unanswered, he washes himself then gets out to dry off. He wraps the towel around his waist and opens the door to find Derek standing outside his bathroom door. He shrieks (a very manly shriek by the way) and covers his chest with his arms, not that that’ll hide much.

“Derek, what the fuck are you doing?”

Derek’s eyes do the slowest sweep in fucking existence down Stiles’ body and Stiles feels his cheeks flush. Ugh, why are the cutest guys always assholes?

“I came to apologize. I was being a dick-”

“What else is new?” Stiles interrupts. Stiles is rewarded with another smirk.

“-and I took it too far. I’m sorry I embarrassed you.”

Stiles looks at Derek for a second. They’ve never apologized to each other when they did shit, and even though Stiles didn’t take it as far as Derek did, Stiles can’t stand here and act like he wasn’t also an asshole.

Stiles sighs. “I’m sorry too. I was also kind of a dick. Not as much as you, but still.”

Derek laughs a little, and Jesus H. Christ, how is a laugh sexy? “Apology accepted.”

Stiles holds his hand out for a handshake. Derek puts his hand in Stiles’ and they shake on their newfound not-friendship-but-also-maybe-not-complete-dicks-to-each-other-ship.

“So,” Derek starts after they drop their hands. “wanna have sex?”

Stiles might’ve actually choked on his own fucking spit, because what?

“What?”

“I asked if you wanted to have sex.”

“Where is this even coming from? You hate my guts. Every time I talk you look like you’re going in for a root canal.”

Stiles is so confused, he’s also getting hornier by the minute, but right now, the confusion is outweighing the horniness.

“I don’t hate you. Yeah you talk a lot, and it was so annoying at first, sometimes it still is, but I got used to your incessant chatter.”

Stiles knows he looks dumb, his mouth is gaping and everything. “I think maybe there was something in the water because I must be high. We’ve lived together for over 3 months and you’re telling me that you actually want to have sex with me?”

Derek shrugs. “Yeah. Just because you can be kinda annoying that doesn’t mean you’re not cute. Plus, people have sex all the time, that doesn’t mean we have to, like, date or whatever.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. Derek’s so romantic, how has Stiles been able to resist jumping his bones for this long?

“You just embarrassed the hell out of me, why would I ever want to have sex with you?” Never mind the fact that Stiles definitely does want to have sex with him.

“Maybe you don’t. If not, then fine. We can just go back to how things were. If you do, then we’ll have a great time.”

Stiles is still struggling to wrap his mind around all of this. Derek wants to have sex with him? In what universe does that make sense?

Apparently in this one.

Stiles does this sort of shrug that basically portrays well, what the fuck? Okay then. “Okay. I guess this is happening then.”

Derek smirks for like the fiftieth time in thirty seconds and if Stiles was a stronger man he definitely would’ve kneed Derek in the dick, but clearly, Stiles is weak.

Very, very weak.

“My room or yours?” Derek asks.

“Mine. Since it’s right there,” Stiles points behind Derek and, lo and behold, there’s Stiles’ bed.

Grabbing Stiles’ hand in a surprisingly gentle gesture, Derek walks the three feet from the bathroom to the bed to lay Stiles down.

Derek gets on top of the bed and is sitting on his knees by Stiles’ feet. He pulls his shirt off like he’s in Magic Mike or something before throwing it onto the floor without a care in the world. Jesus, it’s like his muscles have muscles. Stiles starts feeling a little insecure about his body. He’s got muscles, but, he’s not, like, ripped like Derek is. Stiles likes to think he has somewhat of a swimmer’s body.

Looming over him like a fucking creeper, Derek stares down at Stiles. “You know, you’re very pretty.”

Stiles refuses to admit that he blushes at that because he’s not pretty. If anything he’s handsome, some may even say gorgeous.

“Can you just get on with it?” Stiles throwing a scowl in Derek’s direction.

“Bossy. I kinda like that,” he strips his sweatpants off and throws them down too. Now he’s only in a pair of gray boxer briefs and, god, Stiles wants to suck his dick so badly. Which is weird because he’s really not all that experienced with blowjobs, he’s given maybe two blowjobs in his life. Whatever, Derek has a great dick okay?

Derek tugs at the towel around Stiles’ waist. “Is this okay?”

Stiles nods and then the towel is gone, and Stiles is laid bare for Derek to gaze at his leisure. And boy does Derek gaze. He does another slow sweep down Stiles’ body, except this time it’s even more intense because now Stiles is naked.

“You’re not a virgin right?” Derek asks while rummaging through Stiles’ bedside drawer and pulling out the lube. First of all, it’s rude to go through people’s stuff! Second of all, how the hell did Derek know his lube was there? Although, where else would lube be?

“Nope. There will be no deflowering of the Stiles today. Sorry to disappoint.”

Derek shrugs before popping open the lube. “I’m not one of those weirdos who pops a boner at the thought of popping someone’s cherry.”

Stiles chuckles, like actually chuckles. Who knew Derek was even capable of being funny?

Stiles pulls his legs up and hooks his hands behind his knees. The position exposes Stiles’ hole to the extreme and it makes Stiles blush. Just because he’s not a virgin doesn’t mean that he doesn’t get nervous or embarrassed during sex.

Derek knee-walks closer to Stiles and squirts some lube onto his fingers. He puts one hand on Stiles’ right thigh while the other one gently and slowly breaches his entrance. Fuck, his fingers are thick. Thicker than Stiles’ that’s for sure. Stiles definitely isn’t shy about fingering. He fingers himself all the time, but it’s been a while since someone else’s fingers were up there. Stiles is nervous and excited about it all.

Derek doesn’t spend too much time with the one finger, quickly adding a second one and that’s when it starts feeling good. Derek’s fingers are about an inch away from his prostate and Stiles is about to curse him out until Derek presses both fingers against his prostate and Stiles has to bite his lip to stop the loud ass moan that almost escaped his mouth. Judging by the look on Derek’s face, he knows he touched Stiles’ prostate, and being the asshole that he is, he has a cocky smile on his face.

After scissoring those two fingers inside Stiles for a few minutes, Derek adds a third finger. The stretch is definitely there, but hey, Stiles likes a little pain with sex. He can be kinky sometimes.

“Okay. I’m ready, come on,” Stiles says. He was starting to get impatient. He just wants to get dicked down already, damn.

Derek gently removes his fingers and gets off the bed to pick up his sweatpants. He reaches into the pocket and retrieves a condom out. Stiles’ mouth drops.

“So you just knew I’d have sex with you?”

“I didn’t know. I just hoped.”

That smarmy little bastard.

Derek gets back in bed and, finally, removes his briefs and...

Holy mother of god.

Well, maybe not the mother of god. That’s blasphemous as fuck. But! The sentiment is the same because wow. Stiles is glad he didn’t knee him in the dick because that dick is too gorgeous to cause serious injury to. He’s not like porn star big, but it is big and long too. And it’s uncut, which Stiles has a weird sort of kink about. He loves uncut cocks. Yeah, that’s a good-looking cock right there.

Derek unwraps the condom and rolls it onto his cock. He then grabs the bottle of lube that he placed on the bed and squirts more out before slathering a generous amount onto said cock. He makes Stiles move his hands before replacing them with one of his own, the other is at the base of his cock, lining it up to Stiles’ hole.

“You ready baby?” Derek asks.

“Call me baby again and I’ll dropkick you in the throa- oh fuck.”

Of course, Derek chose when Stiles was mid-threat to start pushing his cock inside. Geez, that is seriously a big cock, even the fingering didn’t make it burn any less. Derek gently pushes his cock in deeper before pulling it out, then he pushes it in a little deeper than he did at first before pulling it back out again. He repeats that until his cock is seated all the way inside, his balls to Stiles’ ass. Then he stops and waits. There’s sweat gathering above Derek’s eyebrow and some is even rolling down his temple. Needless to say, Derek isn’t as unaffected as he’s trying to be. Which makes Stiles feel kind of great actually.

“Okay, you can move now,” Stiles informs Derek. And when Stiles says Derek goes to town, he really means that.

Derek puts his other hand behind Stiles’ left knee and pulls out all the way, not even the tip is inside, before thrusting back in. Hard.

Stiles’ breath gets forced out of him at the movement. This truly is hate sex, kinda. Derek said he didn’t hate Stiles, but he certainly doesn’t like him all that much. At least, not yet. Who knows what will stem from this. That’s something to think about when Derek isn’t pounding him into the mattress.

Derek delivers a thrust that nails Stiles’ prostate dead on and Stiles makes this super embarrassing sound, like a high-pitched keen. He knows he’s not going to live that down after this.

After that, Derek is consistent with the hard abuse on Stiles’ prostate, and Stiles is getting close to orgasm embarrassingly fast. He isn’t too sure he’ll be able to last much longer. Although, Derek doesn’t seem like he’s going to be able to either. If the grunts and groans he’s letting out are anything to go by.

“Unh, fuck. Derek-!”

“Yeah, you’re gonna come?”

Stiles frantically nods his head and grabs his own cock to start stroking himself. Derek thrusts harder if that’s even possible, and within a few seconds, Stiles is coming all over his stomach.

“Fuck, Stiles,” Derek groans and thrusts one, two, three more times before stopping with a deep, guttural moan. He almost sounds like an actual bear and Stiles can’t help the giggle that escapes him.

Derek gives him a weird look but his lip quirks up in a maybe sort of smile. “What’s so funny?”

“Oh nothing,” Stiles gives him a shit-eating grin.

And since it’s already been established that Derek is an asshole, he grinds and his cock brushes against Stiles’ oversensitive prostate causing Stiles’ whole body to convulse. He slaps Derek’s arm.

Derek pulls out and lets go of Stiles’ legs. They’re sore from being in the same position for so long but Stiles can’t even care. He’s sated and all he wants to do now is take a nap. Stiles stretches his whole body like a cat while Derek disposes of the condom.

“Okay, that was fun. If you want to annoy me, I’ll be in my room.” And with that, Derek walks out of Stiles’ room to go to his own.

Derek was definitely a dick, but Stiles could deal with him. Especially if they continue to fuck like that.

Holy (not) mother of god indeed.

[smellsfaintlyofvanilla]

Hey~~ could you write Annie x reader? What I had in mind was towards the end of s1 when Annie was trying to climb up the wall, could she try and take reader with her because they always talked about being together? Kinda like when Ymir took Historia in s2, and I really love your writings 💕 thanks~

TAsdfhjksfadh you didn’t specify whether Annie made it over the wall with the reader or not so uh I just kinda picked one lol hope you don’t mind

Also, sorry this is a little late, I've been feeling just a little sick for the past couple of days.

Prove It

(Annie Leonhart x Reader)

AU: Canon

Warnings: Season 3 spoilers

Category: Mostly angst, little fluff

Summary: When Annie was outed as the Female Titan, she didn’t have a lot of options on where to go. And, as the fight between her and Eren progresses, it becomes clear her best option is to flee. Yet, there’s just one thing she can’t leave without. And it seems the feeling’s mutual.

Words: 3.1K

That wicked laughter.

It rung through the empty streets of Stohess, abandoned specifically for this military operation.

The goal? To lure out the suspected Female Titan, Annie Leonhart. Your girlfriend.

At first, you were violently against participating in the operation. You weren’t going to incriminate her, that would be incredibly faithless. Really, you wanted nothing more than for her to be vindicated, and to prove the the world the the “heartless” Annie Leonhart is a loyal soldier, not the traitorous snake they started to make of her.

It got in your head, most certainly. Within hours of the first discussion, ‘Annie Leonhart’ and ‘Female Titan’ had become synonymous with each other, and you hated every bit of it. You always defended her fiercely, because you could only hear so much distasteful talk towards her before you started to broil over with rage.

So, you agreed. You were going to lure Annie down in to the tunnel and prove once and for all that she wasn’t a monster. You could clear her of suspicion, and the two of you would go back to your ordinary lives with each other.

And oh, if only that was what happened.

But you watched in horror as Annie refused to go down the tunnel. She laughed, laughed, when you pleaded with her to follow you, that all she needed to do was come along with you to be unshackled from the scrutiny and doubt.

But her feet remained planted in her rigid stance of defense.

“Y/n...” She slurred out, laughter finally subsiding. “I’m glad I could be a good person to you.”

The slope of fear seemed to lose it’s steadiness, and the drop-off into the pit of empty horror occurred when she held up her hand to her mouth, preparing herself for the bloodshed to follow.

“You’ve won your bet. But this is where my bet begins...!”

The signal flare fired, and the countless soldiers waiting in ambush jumped from all angles. You watched, wide-eyed and frozen, as they restrained her and gagged her, like muzzling a dog. But, it was no use. Her ring, the silver ring she never let you touch, sprung up a spike out of it’s side, and a quick slide of her thumb across the tip opened up a bloody gash in her finger.

And then came the lightning.

Mikasa had thrown her arms around you and Armin, dragging you down into the tunnel to get out of harm’s way of the transformation.

You knew she had finished her transformation when the thundering stopped, and chunks of debris rolled to a stop at your feet, stirred dust slowly settling itself back onto the stone ground. For a moment, everything stilled, and only the ragged breaths of Armin and the sheathing of Mikasa’s blades were audible.

And then something moved.

You weren’t sure what it was, until around the corner, the light was consumed by a large shadow, growing closer and closer and absorbing more of the sunlight until it rounded the corner.

A fingertip. Then the finger. Then the hand. An arm—and it was traveling down the hallway, fingers frozen in a pose as if it were trying to grab onto something, something it couldn’t see.

“Shit!” You let out a terrified yelp and took off running, Mikasa hot on your tail and Armin stumbling closely behind.

It sought after the three of you, until a distant thump could be heard. You whipped your head around and stopped running, noticing the hand—ever present, it’s finger stretched desperately in an attempt at grabbing something, but it was no use. You caught a glance of it’s upper arm, flush against the wall of the curve.

She couldn’t reach any farther.

You let out of a sigh of relief, falling to your knees and gazing at it. It’s shaking fingers stopped, finally, and went limp into it’s palm in defeat, before slowly pulling itself out. You had no clue whether it was trying to grab you, or Armin, or Mikasa, or if it was planning on killing you or not. Bottom line, it was unsuccessful.

But then more thunder.

It seems Eren finally got his cue, because the signature yellow hues of transformation shone even into the dark abyss of the wrecked tunnel.

The three of you took a deep breath and shared a collective glance. Before long, the unsaid instructions were followed, and the three of you scurried out of the tunnel to witness the action.

And action it was—the first sight you were greeted with upon exiting was that of Annie delivering a decisive punch to Eren’s jaw, sending him flying backwards into the streets of Stohess.

Eren returned to his feet as fast as he could, and let out a menacing roar as he charged at Annie, arms low like a football player preparing to pounce on something.

He charged, but her feet remained planted, arms bracing for impact.

You watched as the two of them brawled furiously. You didn’t even notice that Mikasa and Armin had left your side—you hadn’t moved. You couldn’t find it in your heart to fight Annie, but neither were you going to fight Eren. No, all you could do was watch, helpless.

The battle continued fiercely, absolutely wrecking the city in the process. Building were destroyed and crumpled, streets of stone completely upended as one or the other got helplessly tossed around.

It came to a head as the fight eventually progressed to a wide, open space of stone, and the two of them were fighting hand to hand, both of them looking worse for wear. You shot your ODM gear into the roof of a nearby building, watching the fight with a slacked jaw. You had no clue how Eren was even standing a chance to Annie, since you yourself had seen how skilled she was in martial arts.

Soon, though, a decisive kick to Annie shin sent debris and rocks flying everywhere. Annie lost her footing, tumbling to the ground with a thump.

And you had been so fixated on Annie in that moment that you failed to notice the debris, and it was headed right towards your face.

Something—rigid and powerful—collided with your head, and you fell to the ground instantly.

Your vision was already fading, and you watched as tiny streams of crimson flowed over the shingles and down the roof—no doubt stemming from the newly opened gash on your scalp.

The distant clinking of the rock as it tumbled down the slope of the roof was the last thing you heard, and the world around you faded to black.

---

Through the darkness, a memory flashed through your mind.

---

It was dark out, of course it was. Shadis would never let you have leisure time at all when the sun was up.

You leaned against an lone oak tree, fingers brushing through the soft grass idly. The air was cold and crisp, and a soft breeze flowed through the air, just barely enough to rustle your soft hair.

Annie sat silently next to you, shoulder brushing up against yours. Slowly, she slinked her hand over yours, hesitantly grasping at your hand. You entwined your fingers with hers, and she looked away shyly.

She often had bouts of insomnia, lying awake at night for hours, unable to get her body to relax. And, the first night she tugged at your nightshirt, waking you up to go outside with her, she fell asleep in your arms due to exhaustion almost immediately.

So, it had become an unspoken ritual from that day on. She couldn’t sleep, she’d wake you up, the two of you would go outside, and talk or busy yourselves until sleep inevitably caught up to her.

But today was different. For whatever reason, something had been keeping her up for a lot longer than usual. You knew something was weighing down on her heavily, but you weren’t going to pry it out of her.

Deciding to break the tense silence, you squeezed her hand gently, getting her attention before you spoke.

“It’s nice out, isn’t it?” You observed. You weren’t talking about the weather per-say, but the thousands of white speckled stars that dotted the sky, and the bright, full moon that illuminated the grass and dirt beneath you.

“It’s cold.” She said bluntly.

You chuckled softly, her bleak attitude was so characteristic of her.

“I guess that’s true.”

More silence.

And then she sighed, bringing your hand into her lap to cusp it in both of her palms, clinging onto it as if it were grounding her.

“What do you plan on doing later in life, Y/n?” She huffed, leaning her head backwards against the back of the tree and gazing up at the sky. “You don’t possibly plan on staying in the military your whole life, do you?”

“No, of course not.” You sighed.

“Then do you have plans afterwards?”

You paused for a minute. She raised a good point, you didn’t really think of anything after the military. Deep down, perhaps you understood that by joining the Cadet Corps you didn’t have much ahead of you. You can only survive so many brushes with death before it’s your turn to go.

“I guess not...” You hesitated, deep in thought. You swallowed a lump in your throat before changing the subject. “Why, do you?”

Even through the darkness, you could feel the shrug of her shoulders against you.

“Not really.” She muttered. “Just... stay with the MPs, make a living wage, retire somewhere in the interior, and... relax. I just wanna... find somewhere to relax.”

She paused for a second. Clearly there’s something tugging at her mind, something she wants to say. So, you sit back and wait for her to find the confidence.

“Do you promise me that... sometime, after a while in the Scouts, that you’ll come back to be with me?”

The future between the two of you was always painted with uncertainty—whether the two of you could ever truly stay together. It would be difficult, between soldiers, to be able to settle down and stay together no matter what, especially from different regiments. But you could always try.

She exhaled shakily, struggling to get the words out of her throat.

“I just can’t imagine living the rest of my life without you. ‘Cause... if anything ever happened to you in the Scouts...” Her voice trailed off near the end, and you assumed she was trying to plan out her next words carefully, until you heard a small sniffle pass her lips.

Surprised, you turned to face her. She was trying to fight off the tears at the corners of her eyes, lip trembling as she struggled not to cry. It wasn’t until now that you realized just how tightly she gripped your hand.

“Annie- Annie it’s alright.” You stumbled, trying to comfort her. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was upsetting her—she was scared of living a life without you.

You hooked an arm around her lower back, pulling her closer to you and putting your other hand on the back of her head and guiding her to your shoulder.

“I promise you, no matter what, I’ll live. And one day, we can spend all our time together. I’ll go wherever you go, I swear.” You ran your hand through her hair, undoing the bun she kept it in and evening it out over her shoulders.

“You promise?” Her voice sounded shaky and weak, a vulnerability to it that she rarely showed. “No matter what happens to me, you’ll trust me and stay with me?”

“I promise. Of course I do.”

---

Warmth.

It was the first thing you noticed upon waking up. The second was darkness. You sat up, noticing how wet the surface beneath you was. And how how fleshy.

Your face paled in realization. You were in a titan's mouth.

You raised your arm up, cringing at the trail of saliva that connected you to her tongue.

Immediately, you searched for a way to get out. You didn't plan on leaving her behind, but you'd rather not be stuck in a place as slimy and dark as this either. However, your efforts were pointless, since her jaw was clamped shut, her teeth caging you in and preventing you from escaping. Your heart dropped a little, wondering if she didn't trust you not to run away.

Suddenly, you felt a large thump, the unexpected movement causing you to grab desperately at anything that would keep you grounded in one spot.

But then, another thump. And another, and another. It felt like running, almost, but far too slow. You pondered it for a moment, before you realized what was going on.

She was trying to climb the wall.

But then, the thumping stopped. She wasn't falling, thank god, but all movement has seized.

Hesitantly, her jaw started to open, giving ample space for you to squeeze through. A sudden thought came to you—she needed your help.

With no hesitation, you drew your blades and burst through the skin of her cheek, not even waiting for her to part for lips. Adrenaline pumping through your veins, you immediately search for the source of the problem. And you found it in the brute of a soldier, Mikasa Ackerman.

The girl was perched on Annie's nose, staring down at her. A quick glance to your side and you realized, with horror written all over your face, that Mikasa had cut off almost all of Annie's fingers—one more and Annie would easily lose her grip.

You understood, as soon as Mikasa drew her blades towards Annie's hand, you only had one option.

You shot your ODM gear towards her, not even caring when the hook dug into Mikasa's shoulder, causing her to yelp in pain as she turned to you.

She wasn't even given a moment to process as you came hurtling towards her, colliding with her shoulder and sending both of you flying through the air and towards the ground—fast.

Despite the small voice telling you that it would be easier to just ditch Mikasa, to release your ODM gear and let her fall, you shot the other hook into the wall, and your momentum halted to a stop.

She peeled her arms away from their protective guard around her head, processing that the two of you had stopped before looking up to you in surprise. You looked back down at her, an expression of sorrow in your eyes. It hurt you to betray her, and all of your comrades, like this, but you knew as soon as Annie placed her trust in you by opening her mouth that you only had one choice.

"Y/n what are y—!"

"I'm sorry Mikasa!" You yelled, trying to put aside your emotions for the time being. "I can't... I can't leave her, I promised I wouldn't!"

You took a deep breath, positioning on your finger on the trigger, preparing to release Mikasa from your ODM gear's bloody grip in her shoulder. "I'm sorry..." You muttered, before pulling the trigger, watching Mikasa tumbled towards the ground, her betrayed expression still glued helplessly on her face.

You decided that it would only hurt you to look at Mikasa—engraining that image into your head would certainly plague you later on.

You finally turned to look back at Annie, and your heart picked up a couple paces at the sight.

Her head was turned to you, watching—waiting—for you, her hand outstretched in your direction. You smiled, firing your ODM and flying into the palm of her hand, quickly climbing up onto her shoulder to allow her to finish her ascent up the wall.

You turned back one last time, looking over at the destroyed city, and the furious and betrayed faces of your comrades. You sighed, turning back around. That's in the past now, you thought. It doesn't matter. I... made a promise to Annie, I can't betray her. I can't...

---

The line of trees in the distance grew closer and closer as Annie jogged forwards, having made it over the wall and all the way to the forest inside Wall Maria.

She slowed down to a walking pace as she neared the trees, kneeling on the ground before releasing herself from the nape of her titan. Steam flowed from her body as she immediately collapsed forwards, and you instantly lurched forwards to catch her exhausted body in your arms.

"Grab on." You instructed, waiting for her to securely wrap herself around you before you flew through the air and onto a tree branch, making sure you were safely out of the reach of any mindless titans before you let go of her.

She took a deep breath, leaning against the wooden trunk of the tree to recollect her strength. After all, even as a titan, the fight had done numbers to her body.

You sat there in comfortable silence for a little bit, waiting for her to catch her breath while you idly readjusted the straps to your ODM gear.

Finally, she reached over to take your hand, grabbing it in both of hers just like she had during your conversation with her years ago.

"I'm so glad..." She sighed, voice weak and wavering. "I was so scared when I opened my mouth that you would just... run off without me."

Slowly, she shifted, wrapping her arms around your neck and leaning her entire body weight on you. You could feel some of the tension leaving her body as she sighed against you, burying her nose in the crook of your neck.

"I was terrified that if you found out my real identity, you would just leave me. I don't know how I would've handled it. I was just..." She took a shaky inhale as she continued, and you felt a few wet tears against your neck. "Scared. So... So scared..."

You set a comforting hand on her back, hugging her tighter in an attempt to sooth her.

"Annie..." You cooed in her ear. "I promised you, remember? I would never leave your side. I'm gonna stay with you for the rest of my life."

Her breathing started to calm against you, your words managing to ease her worries.

"Yeah," She sighed, pulling away from you. "I shouldn't have doubted you, sweetie."

You smiled and placed your hands on her shoulders, bringing her in for a quick kiss before wiping her tears with the back of your hand.

"It's fine. Just remember," You leaned in and hugged her, exuding a warm feeling that made Annie's heart swell with love. "I'll always be on your side, no matter what."

"God, I love you so much, you dork." She muttered, heat rising to her cheeks with a content smile.

You chuckled, "I love you, too."

MAN THIS IS ASS

This is what happens when you force yourself to write with a headache whoops haha

[wornoutmouse]

Baby Daddy Shigaraki fanfic pt2

It was a miracle that no one questioned the name put down when Shigaraki had to sign the birth certificate. You summed it up as fearing for their lives but it could be many things you try to convince yourself as the reality of your new life truly set in.

The after birth pain, though constant, was numbed whenever you looked down on your son's face. He had yet to do anything more than sleep, much to your annoyance. And was aggressive when breastfeeding  much to Shigaraki's enjoyment, "Just like his father." 

Dabi was the second one to hold Daiki after Komugiri but the look of horror on his face when you fully released the baby into his arms was one that deeply concerned you. "It's breathing." He whispered to you eyes wide.

You signal for Komugiri to stand close behind Dabi just in case he really lost it. "Yeah Dabi.....he is breathing...cause that's what living things do." 

Time skip

You sigh as you finally set Daiki down inside his new bed for a nap. His small face looked so delicate surrounded by soft lavender blankets. His whole room theme was a soft purple as preferred by Komugiri. 

You closed the door till there was only a sliver of light coming in just in case he woke up again, then you headed to your living room. 

Shigaraki sat on the couch shirtless and flicking through TV channels. "Why are you still here?" You ask as you walk to the kitchen to find your tea. "What do you mean?" You stir four teaspoons of sugar into your coffee. "I got Daiki under control, you don't have inconvenience yourself."

Tomura flicked through the channels once again. "You and Daiki are not an inconvenience, you're both my responsibility now." You release the spoon causing it to clink loudly against your ceramic cup. "I don't want you to force yourself to be here, you've obviously proved that you don't really want to be apart of this."

"Y/N come on now this again?!" "Yes this again!" Shigaraki groaned scratching idly at his neck. "I've already missed the hidden trailer off Daiki's life I'm not going to miss the prequel sequel." You groan softly, "Stop talking in video game terms you know I don't understand!"

Shigaraki stands up and walks to the kitchen now leaving only the island separating you. "Look you can hate me all you want, I don't care, hell I'm used to it. But you are not keeping me from my son." You shudder at the tone Tomura spoke at.

There were very few times when you've heard this voice and luckily it was never directed to you. This voice meant that what he said was final and he would not go back on it no matter who got in his way. "I would love to have you in his life Tomura, but I don't want what comes with it." You finally say, making Tomura throw his hands up in defeat.

"What do you expect me to do woman?! Make him tag along on "Bring your child to work day?" You turn away trying to contain your annoyance in fear of waking up the baby. "I'm giving you one chance to get your shit together, don't mess it up." Behind you, you could hear the steady steps of Tomura retreating, "And I'm giving you a chance to see how stupid you're being right now."

Before he completely walked away he stopped, "I am going to check on Daiki since it seems like he's the only one that appreciates my efforts."

Once you heard the familiar creak of Daiki's bedroom door you let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding. "How did I get like this?" 

It of course was on a Saturday, as all good stories do. You were working a waitress job at Denny's as a way to earn some pocket money for your first year in Japan. 

"Table 3 we got your Bourbon Chicken skillet, Fish and chips, two waters, and a cherry sprite." Your say setting down all your items before walking to the booth next to them. 

"Hello welcome to Denny's, what can I get for you all tonight?" Dabi at the time, had a nonchalant hand over Twice's mouth most likely to stop his internal bickering. Komugiri was navigating the kids menu with a then 15 year old Toga. Spike ordered some Fish and Chips as per usual and Shigaraki was starting at your tits.....

Shigaraki was staring at your tits.....

He was STARING- I think you get the point

"Hey birthday bitch what are you ordering?" Dabi said snapping Tomura back to the present. "Uh.. get me a steak skewer." Dabi gasped, "I spent all my time and hard work scrounging up money and you get a damn steak skewer for your birthday?!" 

The five stages of grief came over you internally as you had been standing there way past your recommended time. "If you guys aren't ready to order, I'll just come back-" 

"No no no, we are ready. Can we get chicken on a stick with a side of grapes and fries for the young lady. Steak and eggs for me...Dabi? Dabi leaned back simultaneously releasing twice. "We would like a 3-egg omelette-with some cock!" 

You didn't get paid enough for this.

"I'll get you the omelette but I'm afraid I'm out of stock for that last part." You smirk, putting down the orders so far. Dabi snapped the menu shut, "Do y'all have chicken tenders?" Dabi asked, looking at you hopefully. You nod and he fist bumped Twice for some unforeseen reason. 

"Uh get crusty over there a Supreme Sizzling Skillet." "Wait why can all of you get chicken but I can't?!" You wrote down the orders and glanced at Shigaraki who was now looking directly at you as if you held all the answers. "Okay for drinks?"

   As you got off work, you took the back alley entrance to the bus stop. "Hey." Your scream and toss a punch into the darkness effectively making skin to skin contact. "Ow what the fuck?!" "What do you mean what the fuck you're the rapist!"

Shigaraki's signature light blue hair appeared from the shadows almost glowing from the dim alley light. "Rapist? No, I'm more on the lines of stalker." You stand there for a moment rethinking your life choices. "Yeah okay well I'm going to go-" "Wait!" 

You feel half of a hand grip onto your wrist stopping you in your place. "I uh... Think you're cute and, ah crap what did Dabi tell me to say?!" 

As he mulled over his choice of words you hesitantly reach into your purse for pepper spray. "Uh I was wondering if I could get to know you?" He finally ended off staring at you expectantly. You looked back at him expectantly.

"I know this seems creepy but I'm not exactly good at talking to people that are not my friends so you're kinda boss level interaction." For a while your stare at each other as the cold fall wind blew past the two if you. Giving up, you sighed and pulled out a price of paper, "Look, if I wake up tomorrow and none of my underwear is missing and window is not mysteriously open, I'll give you a call, but don't expect it!"

And he didn't expect it. To your surprise, you never found any ominous signs of entry into your substitute home, and he never 'conveniently' showed up at your job. 

Even so, the very fact that you called him was during a moment of weakness. You were extremely home sick and you had just moved into your new home that was only equipped with a fully furnished bedroom and a microwave. 

When you heard the hesitant knock on the door you quickly put your cup of noodles down and opened the door. In your face was a rose...a single rose in a pot. 

Thats different

"It was short notice and it's not like any flower places were open.... So I stole it." You gingerly take the plant into your hands, "It's the thought that counts (?) Come in." You shut the door behind him and set the plant in the kitchen. 

"You must forgive the dryness of my home, I just moved in so there isn't much going on." Tomura hummed as he felt his bones relax as the warmth of the house filled his body. You stared at each other for a while, awkwardly sweating back and forth. Finally, you both opened your mouth to speak up.

"I didn't know I'd get this far so.."

You blink at each other before you double over with laughter. "Uh okay, well how about we watch a movie, get comfortable. The TV is in my room so I hope that doesn't bother you." 

You put on Wall-E for lack of better mood as Tomura hesitantly settled on your plush bed, hands clasped tightly between his thighs.

You two watch these movie in silence and shared popcorn. It wasn't awkward silence though, it was needed. A unspoken message saying that you both acknowledged that this was weird but it was a good weird. Both of you were willing to give it a try.

"Hey pass the popcorn." Tomura said blindly patting the air in front of you. "No you've ate most of it already!" You opted to keeping the bag as far as possible. "It's good popcorn now hand it over." You continue to resist but he was more stubborn.

Unable to think of any other way to save your beloved popcorn you clench your eyes shut and deliver a small peck to the tip of Shigaraki's nose. 

Almost as if shocked, he slides away holding his nose gently. You huff with airy laughter at his flushed face, "Told you, this is my popcorn." 

You smile softly at the memory wiping away a stray tear from your face. "One chance... I'll give him one chance."

You tiptoe to Daiki's new room and peek inside. It was too dark for you to see inside so you opened the door completely. You blankly look into the empty room before falling to your knees. "SHIGARAKI TOMURA I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!" You scream into the night air as you glared into the baby less crib.

"Man are you sure you should have him here? He's still a newborn and nothing's baby proof, hell this is a bar so it's far from sanitary!" Dabi said glancing into the baby carriage. Daiki sleepily gazed up at Dabi and babbled. 

"Y/N and I are going through a small set back so I decided to give her some space." Tomura unclipped Daiki from his carseat and picked him up holding his head in a four fingered hold. "We decided to give her some space isn't that right?" He cooed at Daiki who gingerly hit his nose.

"Dude stop, seeing you with a baby is giving me the creeps." Shigaraki glared as Dabi took a shot, "Ignore your uncle Dabi he's just mad he's not as cute as you."

Komugiri was washing dishes until a shiver went down his mystical spine, "I feel a disturbance in the force.

[fanmoose12]

catch me if you can

Сharacters: Hange Zoe, Levi, Erwin Smith, Kenny Ackerman

Genres: Mystery / Romance

Summary: The Ackerman duo. Just the mention of this name filled Hange with so many feelings. Mostly, when she reread the files of their cases over and over, until her eyes watered, she felt pricking annoyance. Sometimes, when she stared at the dead bodies of those scarce unfortunates who stumbled upon their crimes, she was filled with hatred and a pushing need for revenge. Hange couldn’t deny, however, there were times when she marveled at the impudence of their crimes. And, when she was investigating the Ackerman’s cases and saw just how meticulously planned they all were, she couldn’t help but feel something close to fascination.No one knew who they were. No one had seen their faces, no one knew their true names. Almost everyone knew of their crimes.Hange was determined to unravel every last one of their secrets. She will put an end to their crimes and then she will get the elusive Ackermans behind bars.

Chapter 7/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

The city he had chosen to stay in was terrible.

It was noisy, it was crowdy, and the constant heat was making Levi go insane.

And while the city’s loudness and the amount of people in it made it easier for him to blend in, get lost in plain sight and all that bullshit, the heat— the fucking heat, gods, it was killing him.

Levi didn’t like cold weather, despised all the layer of clothes he had to put on just to get to the nearest supermarket and buy instant noodles, he hated the snow with passion he carried since his childhood, he thought that winter was the worst season of them all.

Oh, how wrong he was.

The heat was making his skin crawl. Even in just tank top and shorts, he felt too hot. Drinking cold water, taking cold showers, none of it helped. Levi turned the air conditioning in his room on maximum, but the motel he was staying at was shitty, his room was shitty, and, as a result, the air conditioning was shitty too.

Levi was sick of it. His skin was constantly clammy and sticky, he couldn’t sleep at night, there was never enough air around him, and walking around the city during the daytime made him seriously consider whether he was actually a vampire.

The sun… could it really burn so much? It didn’t used to be so unbearable before.

But apart from that… Levi was starting to accommodate to his new life.

Leaving his hometown behind, he decided to let go of his previous habits too. He got himself a job - not a respectable, but at least an honest one.

Being a janitor in a shitty bar after spending most of his life as a thief was almost… therapeutic.

The vomit on the walls and piss on the floors were enraging him to the point of seeing red and sometimes he wanted to break a leg of every asshole who didn’t know when they had enough and went to make a mess in the toilet, but… working there was therapeutic nevertheless. And a definite improvement too.

At least, his life wasn’t in danger anymore and he didn’t have to run away from police.

Although, he wouldn’t mind running away from a certain police officer. Perhaps, this time he would let her catch him. Perhaps, then his heart would stop clenching in pain every time he thought about Hange.

Perhaps, then he’d be able to let go.

He tried letting go, forgetting about Hange, just as he tried to put behind his life of crime. Unfortunately, putting Hange behind proved to be that much harder.

Some nights, when the heat was especially bad, he felt especially lonely and the shitty whiskey at the shitty bar he was working at didn’t do the trick, he’d snuck a look at how Hange was doing. He’d open his phone, scroll through a news feed. If he’d get lucky, there would a recording of some press conference with Hange at the center of it all.

Apparently, she was doing well. Her shoulder was almost healed, although sometimes she still winced, when gesticulating too frantically. But the paleness in her face that was present when he had visited her at the hospital was long gone, and at the few press conferences that allowed Levi to catch a glimpse of her, Hange’s cheeks were adorned by healthy, rosy blush. Her hair was just as wild, just as messy, and her voice carried the same inspiring conviction.

Whether Hange found out the truth about him or not, he didn’t know, but she had moved past Ackermans’ case and during the time Levi was getting used to his new life she alredy solved two robberies.

She was working on a new case now, something about a young girl who had mysteriously vanished. Levi didn’t bother to find out the details, the name Krista Lenz meant nothing to him, but nevertheless, he wished that Hange would succeed. She deserved that, her quick wit and determination were meant to be recognized and celebrated.

That bright, happy smile on her face, the one she was sporting during the conference that discussed one of the solved robberies, it suited Hange so much. Levi wished she’d wear it more often.

He wished he’d see it more often, but well… some things just weren’t meant to be.

Strangely so, Kenny didn’t contact him even once. No obnoxious phone call, no mysterious messages or weird gifts. There was no sign of him for almost two months, and Levi would have started worrying, would have tried to contact the man himself, if… if Kenny wasn’t Kenny.

His uncle was like a cockroach, Levi was one hundred percent sure that nothing and no one could cause him any harm. And if there was someone who actually could do this, Kenny would have harmed them back, ten times worse.

Still, the thoughts about Kenny lingered at the back of his mind, and memories about Hange did the same irritating thing. It made Levi feel awfully nostalgic sometimes, borderline melancholic. And fairly quickly he found out there was nothing he could do about it. No amount of whiskey or dirty toilets could chase that sadness away. That sadness was a new part of his new life.

Maybe, it was better than always living on the edge.

Luckily, he didn’t feel so lonely all the time, his colleagues at the bar made sure of that.

And while his boss, a bald, gross man called Shadis definitely wasn’t a joy to have around, two others – a barmaid named Sasha and waiter Connie were so much better.

They were annoying in their own right, of course. Sasha had a weird obsession with food, Connie’s sense of humor left much to be desired, and together both of them were so damn loud, but for brats who barely stepped into adulthood, they provided a fairly enjoyable company.

They let Levi take his mind off certain things, and they kept him from falling into the abyss of loneliness and depression.

They also opened up the side of him that Levi wasn’t even aware of.

Connie had once mentioned in a passing that his mother had died years ago, and whatever happened to Sasha’s family, she wasn’t living with them anymore, sharing a small flat with Connie and another guy, Jean.

In Levi’s humble, unbiased opinion, Jean was a self-centered, pompous jerk. He wasn’t working in the bar with his two friends, and instead had involved himself in some shady shit with a local gang, which apparently terrified the whole neighborhood. Levi wanted to tell the boy that he was a fucking idiot, if he thought that messing with criminals was a good idea, but he doubted that Jean would listen. Luckily, Jean wasn’t around too often and visited the bar only, when he was miserable about some girl he had a crush on, or whenever he wished to get drunk for free.

It was a good thing that Levi barely interacted with Jean. The boy was so annoying. And also – too damn tall.

He didn’t hear about any other friends of theirs, and as far as Levi was aware, there was no actual adult watching over Sasha and Connie, so… he kinda, unwillingly, of course, took that task upon himself.

Obviously, he made sure to remain discreet. He didn’t want the brats to know that he cared, because he didn’t, naturally.

He claimed that he simply cooked too much food and the leftovers would go to waste, if he didn’t give them away, when he brought them pasta or soup. He mentioned his insomnia and pretended that long walks helped him sleep better, when Sasha and Connie went home after midnight. He lied about having experience in bartending when Sasha got stomach flu. He said that he was just accidentally passing by their apartment, when later that day he visited to check on her.

The brats were too dense to notice his subtle attempts anyway, or so Levi hoped. They had never brought it up, and that had to mean something, right?

And that time when Connie tried to fix Levi’s air conditioning, or when Sasha brought a whole jar of his favorite tea, or all those evenings when he felt blue and homesick and they helped him clean the bar and took him out to dinner, surely it was nothing more than a coincidence.

The brats had their moments, Levi had to admit, and sometimes their presence was almost pleasant.

But sometimes they made him wish they shut their mouths and never opened them again.

Right now, that desire was more prevalent than ever.

“Say, Mister Levi,” Levi hated when they called him that, it made him sound even older than he actually was. He told them to stop it, many times. But the brats didn’t care. He slowly raised his eyes to show that he was listening. As soon as he did, Sasha put a fist underneath her chin, forgetting about the important task of cleaning the glasses to stare at him curiously. “Do you have someone?”

“Someone?” he had an inkling of what Sasha was asking him about, but he didn’t wish to discuss that with the damned brats. He didn’t wish to discuss that topic with no one, ever. Because… there was nothing to discuss.

“Yep, someone!” Connie chimed in. “Like, hm, a significant other?”

“A beloved!” Sasha agreed, nodding enthusiastically.

Levi felt the migraine coming. “I don’t have any kind of someone,” he gritted. “And I never did.”

“Really?” Sasha tilted her head to the side, looking so skeptical that Levi was ready to get offended. Was he not convincing enough? “I thought you do. It’s just that sometimes—”

“When you think no one is looking!” Connie swiftly added.

“Your face seems so much softer, and your scowl almost disappears, and you look—”

“Just like Jean when he thinks about Mikasa.”

Who the fuck was Mikasa? And what face was Jean making? Levi couldn’t be making the same one, could he?

“But if you say there is no one,” Sasha sighed, returning to her task of cleaning glasses. Wearing the same sad face as she did, Connie went back to gathering dishes from the tables. “Then I guess we’re wrong.”

Damn right, they were. There was no one, and whatever face they thought he was making, it couldn’t possibly be related to a certain police officer from the other side of the world.

“And if there is no one you have to think about,” Sasha winked, like she was seeing right through him. “Then let me make you a drink. It’s a new recipe I found, it involves tequila, vodka and—”

Levi raised a hand to cut her off. “Just surprise me.”

Sasha nodded and went to work. She frequently let Levi taste her new cocktails. He was the perfect man for it – he didn’t get drunk too fast, and he was the only Sasha’s friend who tasted something better than cheap whiskey or a beer from a local supermarket. He also never shied away from telling her when the drink was fucking awful.

Sasha hummed as she mixed the drink, some song Levi vaguely recognized from the radio. She was smiling too, she did that frequently, and something about her, be it the ponytail that jumped up and down when she was excited, or her easy-going, cheerful personality reminded him of Hange.

These days, lots of things reminded him about Hange. There were days when almost everything reminded him of Hange. It seemed like today was exactly a day like that.

“You’re making that same face again,” Sasha whispered, as she handed him the drink.

Levi scowled, glaring at the girl, as he put the glass up to his lips. He finished it in one go. “It tastes like shit,” he told her. “Put it on the menu.”

Sasha beamed, refilling his glass. “Knew you’d like it.”

“By the way, boss,” Levi wasn’t their boss, as far as he was aware, their actual boss was getting drunk in his office, all the while mumbling incomprehensible gibberish about some Carla. But Levi had to admit, being called boss was so much better than the godforsaken mister Levi. "Are you free tonight?"

Levi was free every day and every night, when he wasn’t working in the bar with Connie and Sasha. It wasn’t like he had any friends or even acquaintances beside two brats. However, saying it out loud would make him look even more pathetic that he actually was. So Levi shrugged, and said, as nonchalantly as possible, “Depends.”

“Would you like to come over for dinner?” Connie asked, looking at him with a smile so hopeful that Levi was ready to say yes right that instant. God, they already had him wrapped around their fingers. How embarrassing. At least, Kenny wasn’t here to witness it. He’d have a laugh of his life, if he found that Levi was adopted by two teenagers. “Jean is away on a trip, so we’d be glad to have some company.”

“He went to see his family?”

From the way Sasha bit her lip and Connie refused to meet his eye, Levi knew – their friend didn’t go on a simple trip. He sighed, taking a sip from his glass and letting the bitter liquid burn his throat. Admittedly, it was none of his business. He shouldn’t care about it, he wasn’t their father, for god’s sake. But… a friendly piece of advice wouldn’t hurt, right?

“Your friend plays with fire. And if he continues doing so—”

“Jean knows what he is doing,” Connie crossed hands on his chest defensively. “He is smart.”

Levi couldn’t help but scoff. “Just being smart is not enough. There will always be someone smarter.”

“Jean knows what he is doing,” Connie repeated stubbornly. “He’ll be fine.”

Maybe, he will, maybe, he won’t. At the end of the day, Levi had no say about it. He might call them brats, but they were already adults. They were allowed to do as they wished. They were bound to make some mistakes.

“Tell him to be more careful. Otherwise, you’ll suffer too.”

Levi left it at that, not wanting to antagonize Sasha and Connie any further. Besides, it was time to open the bar, or the drunkards all across the block would start banging on their doors. Worse than that, Shadis might come out of his office too. His sour face was the last thing Levi wished to see.

“Let’s get to work,” he nodded to the kids, and took his drink to the dark corner of the room, where he usually spend his shifts, waiting until the patrons start making a mess he’d have to clean.

Surprisingly, the evening came and went, but there was no mess for him to deal with. No one vomited, no one shitted all over the toilets. No one spilled their beer on the floor, or even a table. Were their patrons starting to learn how act like people, and not pigs? Or were they so well-behaved because it was just the beginning of a week? Or did the heat finally get to them and turn them just as slow and tired as Levi himself felt?

However, the weather was more merciful that day. The temperature was still high, too high for Levi’s taste, but just after the sunset the wind was starting to pick up, the storm slowly brewing. During the smoke break outside the bar, Levi could see the lightening, illuminating the far edge of the sky. The rain was in the air, and he allowed his lips to curl up in a pleased smile. Perhaps, he’d finally be able to sleep through the whole night and not toss and turn, feeling like the bed turned into a scorching pan.

When he went back inside, the bar was almost empty, just a few regulars left, nursing their half-finished drinks.

“Do you want to have pizza or sushi?” Sasha asked, as he started sweeping the floor. “We can order both if you wish.”

Levi rolled his eyes with a disgusted tsk. “Eating so much takeout is unhealthy. Let’s finish here and go to supermarket. I’ll cook you something decent.”

Connie yelled a loud yahoo, while Sasha squeezed him in a suffocating hug. The heartwarming moment was cut short, when the door to the bar was thrown open with a loud bang.

It let inside the gush of wind and drops of freezing rain. With a broom still in his hands, Levi turned sharply to the door, ready to rip the unlucky drunkard a new one, the bar had closed almost an hour ago, the sign was right there for everyone to see.

All harsh words died on the way between his throat and his tongue. Levi froze on the spot, and in the silence that followed the lightning strike was as sudden as a gunshot.

Sasha’s distressed cry and Connie’s shocked sob put him out of the stupor.

Throwing the broom away, Levi moved, catching the falling, bloodied boy into his arms.

“Jean!” Sasha was the first one of the two to snap out of it. She ran to Levi, with trembling hands lifting up her friend’s face.

“What the fuck had happened?” Connie kneeled next to them, his eyes wide and scared as he stared at Jean.

Jean looked awful, there was no way around it. His cheeks and jaw were bruised, his right eye was already swollen, and his light brown hair had too much red in it.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked out, too weak and injured to offer something more than a shaking whisper. “I’m sorry, I’ve fucked up, I didn’t know where to run and now they’re coming here, I didn’t mean to do this, I didn’t think, I—”

He could continue that nonessential ramble for the rest of the night. But if they, whoever those they were, were truly coming, Jean and his friends didn’t have that much time. Carefully, Levi lifted Jean’s arm, wincing when he saw that the boy’s shirt was bloodied too, and threw it over Connie’s shoulder. Then he took the key from the back pocket of his shorts and thrusted it into Sasha’s palm.

“Take him to my room in the motel.”

“And you?”

Levi pushed the hair away from his face, already hating himself for his next words. Kenny was right, he cared too much, and it was his biggest weakness, one that would probably get him killed one day. Perhaps, that day had already arrived.

“I’ll stay here and buy you some time.”

“No!” Jean protested, frantically grabbing Levi by the elbow. “It’s my fuck up, you shouldn’t get involved, you don’t know—”

“I do know. And unlike you, I can actually take care of myself.”

Perhaps, he was too harsh, but it was necessary. Jean had fucked up, and whatever he had done, he had to own that mistake and learn from it. That was the only way he would survive through another one of his mistakes.

“Hurry up,” he told Sasha and Connie. “I’ll meet you as soon as I’m finished.”

Thankfully, they didn’t try to argue. Connie wished him luck and Sasha made him promise to come back, and that was it.

As soon as they had left, Levi hopped behind the bar counter to pour himself a shot of whiskey. He lighted up a cigarette, waiting for the front door to swing open and Jean’s persecutors to arrive. Hopefully, they’d do it without guns blazing.

He was just finishing the first glass and was thinking of getting himself a second one, when the mighty kick almost as loud as the thunder outside pushed the door open. Three men tumbled inside a second later, their faces transformed by fury into caricature masks.

“Where is that son of a bitch?” roared one in the middle, their leader, Levi assumed.

Levi was in no hurry to answer. He took the last drag of the cigarette, meticulously put it down against the surface of an ashtray. Then looked at the men in front of him. “The bar is closed. There is no one here but me.”

“Stop fucking with us!” the asshole on the left shouted. “We saw him run inside!”

“If that fucker isn’t here, perhaps we should look around for his friends,” the third man offered. “I know they’re working here.”

So there was no way around it? Levi sighed, walking from beyond the counter. “Just so you know,” approaching the men, he cracked his knuckles. “I don’t condone violence.”

One of the thugs started laughing, the other two immediately followed. Levi didn’t expect any other reaction. The men were burly, large, they definitely weren’t smart.

“What are you going to do to us, midget? Do you seriously think you can beat us up?”

The insult was followed by a punch, a careless, blundering one. Levi effortlessly dodged it, delivering a vicious kick to the stomach of his attacker. The man - who upon the close inspection had yellow teeth and reeked of cheap alcohol – staggered. He caught himself at the last second, holding onto nearest table with white-knuckled desperation. Levi hit again, this time with his knee. With a gasp that turned into a groan, the man fell onto the ground.

Luckily, he stayed there, and Levi turned his attention to the other two.

The one who stood at the left attacked instantly, aiming his enormous fist at Levi’s jaw. There was an unfinished bottle of whiskey on the counter right behind him, and Levi grabbed it, smashing it against the man’s head. The resulting sound was loud, almost deafening. Levi tried to forget about the mess of spilled whiskey on the floor and let himself enjoy that pleasant sound for another moment.

That was a slight miscalculation on his part, because the last man apparently was armed with knife, and he swung it without hesitation. Levi jumped to the side, but wasn’t quick enough. The knife’s edge kissed his cheek, leaving a smear of blood behind it. A mere second later, the knife was in the air once again. Levi was ready for it this time, but as he prepared to take a swift step back, his ankle refused to budge. He looked down to see that one of the defeated men was back in the game, still laying on a floor, but holding Levi in one place. Levi quickly dealt with him, using another leg to kick the man’s head. It took him no more than a moment, but it was enough for him to lose sight of his last attacker. Whatever plan of retaliation Levi had, he lost it, when the knife embedded in his forearm, making him hiss and cuss. Irritated, he roughly grabbed the hand that held the knife, twisting the arm at the wrist.

There was a loud crack, then the even louder scream.

Not too elegant, but, at least, it did the job.

Yanking the knife out of his arm, Levi threw it away, allowing it to clutter on the ground.

“Get the fuck out of here!” he snarled at the men, who weren’t laughing anymore. On the contrary, their faces were panicked, frightened. They pathetically scrambled to their feet, pushing each other to get outside as fast as possible. “And don’t come back!” Levi shouted to their backs.

When the door fell closed, Levi slumped back against the counter. The spot on his cheek was tingling unpleasantly, his arm was hurting like a bitch, and the whole bar had turned into a mess – the shards of glass and spilled whiskey were all over the floor. The blood from his arm was creating a small puddle too.

Levi viciously cursed and grabbed a towel, making a make-shift bandage. It had to do for the time being.

One mess was dealt with, and now another was awaiting him. He’d be lucky if the dirty floor would be the biggest of his troubles tonight.

But somehow, Levi knew that it was just the beginning.

***

Levi never considered himself to be a philosophic kind of person, he never pondered on the meaning of things, never felt the desire to look at the problem at hand from all possible angles, never reflected on his feelings and emotions.

He did however notice that the small room he had rented in a shitty motel at the edge of the city never felt to him like home. It was a place to live, it had a bed to sleep, it held some of his belongings, but it wasn’t a home, it didn’t provoke in him the feeling of belonging that he found inside the walls of his and Kenny’s old apartment.

He spent a little more than two months, living in that shithole, and never once he thought – I’m home, never once he felt – I belong right here.

But something very similar was blooming in his chest, when he passed the threshold of his shitty motel room and fell right into the arms of Connie and Sasha.

Sasha started cleaning his wounds right away, while Connie rushed to get the new bandages for his bloodied arm.

“You should have been more careful,” Sasha chided, and, fuck, he really got adopted by a couple of kids just like that.

“We could have dealt with this ourselves,” Connie said, and then, after a little pause, added, “Probably.”

Levi hummed and resisted the urge to ruffle the hair on their heads. He didn’t have that much affection for the little shits. Probably.

Just as they finished, Jean appeared, unsteadily walking out of the bathroom. He stopped not long after, leaning against the doorframe. Patched up and cleaned, he still didn’t look like his usual, confident and complacent self. Now he reminded Levi of a puppy who was thoroughly and viciously kicked. His hair was now clean of blood, but the shirt was still covered in red patches. Levi would have offered him one of his own t-shirts, but… on Jean’s lanky body it’d look more like a crop top. Or a child’s shirt.

“I’m sorry,” Jean murmured, not meeting Levi’s eyes. “I didn’t know it’d lead to this.”

Yeah, they almost never know. Levi sighed, there was no point in scolding boy any further. He had realized his fuck up already, his buddies from the gang made sure of that.

“What the hell happened?” Levi asked, his back turned to Jean, as he went to prepare the tea for all of them. It would help to soothe some of Jean’s injuries, and it would also help to relieve Levi of the building tension in his shoulders.

“I… wasn’t quite ready for this life, I guess,” Jean sat down on a bed, covering his face with hands. “There is a guy I’ve been working with, he stole some drugs he was supposed to sell, and other gang members found out and decided to punish him, make an example out of him, but that guy… he was my friend, sort of? We hanged out a lot, and I just couldn’t see him get hurt like that…”

“Oh my god!” Sasha’s hands flew to her face and her mouth opened wide. “Did you get beat up because you tried to protect Marco?”

Connie snorted. “I see you’re getting over Mikasa pretty quickly.”

Behind his hands, Jean’s face started to gain color. “I just helped a guy out.”

“And didn’t even ask for a kiss after the heroic rescue?” Sasha teased.

“There wasn’t much time for kisses after the whole gang started running after us.”

“You poor thing,” Connie patted Jean’s head, sharing a mischievous look with Sasha. “Didn’t even get a kiss for all the trouble.”

The two boys started to bicker, and Levi watched the scene, feeling the pounding inside his head increase. It’d be a long, long night. The one he’d have to spend sleeping on a floor, because there were three brats in his room and only one queen-sized bed.

He raised a hand, putting a stop to the argument that was starting to raise in volume.

“Is the other guy alright?” he asked Jean, as he handed him a cup, filled with steaming tea.

Jean accepted the drink with a grateful nod, but didn’t answer the question right away, staring inside the cup thoughtfully. “He managed to get out of the city. The assholes that beat me up caught me just after he got on a bus.”

Well, that was certainly good news. The only one they received since the beginning of this evening.

“You have to run away too, preferably for quite some time. Those guys won’t forget about you so easily. Do you have a place where you can hide?”

“Well…” frowning, Jean rubbed his neck, “My parents have a summer house…”

“Excellent, does anyone know about it?”

“No, not even these idiots,” Jean answered, pointing at Sasha and Connie.

“Then take these idiots, because your gangster pals know, where all of you live and work,” Levi grumbled. “And get out of here first thing in the morning. Spend a few months in the countryside, wait until this shitty storm is over.”

“And what about you? Now they know about you too.”

What about him… good question. And a very easy one to answer. He’d have to change cities again, luckily, he already had some experience with that. Sure, it was an inconvenience, but… better than live his life and have to constantly look over his shoulder, or die in some dirty alleyway. Perhaps, he’d be able to return some day, when the tensions were long over.

“I’ll leave the city,” he told them. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“You had to run away before?” Connie asked, awe written all over his face. “So cool!”

“And you beat up all these guys for us!” Sasha agreed, adoration shining in her gaze.

“You aren’t just a janitor, eh?” Jean stared at him with narrowed eyes.

Levi saved from answering by a loud shrill of the phone.

Everyone in the room tensed, Levi felt his heart pounding inside his chest, a relentless boom, boom, boom. He wet his lips, his throat suddenly too dry, and stood up.

“No!” Jean grabbed his arm, stopping Levi from picking up the phone. Levi understood his panic, it was the middle of the night, who in their right mind would call him at this time? Who would call him period, all the people Levi knew in this city were sitting next to him. Unless, it was Shadis who got out of his drunken stupor and decided to have a friendly chat with a janitor from his bar?

And if it wasn’t Shadis, then…

Acutely feeling his every heartbeat, Levi pulled his arm out of Jean’s grasp. Swallowing that persisting lump inside his throat down, he put his hand on a phone handle. Slowly, holding in his breath, he lifted the phone and put it to his ear.

“Is your name even Levi? Or was that another lie, you asshole?”

That voice. Her voice. Levi helplessly fell back in the armchair behind him.

“H-hange?” the crack in his voice was heard and analyzed by a bunch of kids, who now all stood beside him. Levi waved them away, drowning out the intrigued murmuring, and focused on a person on the other side of the line.

“You still remember my name, I’m flattered, Ackerman,” ah, so she found out. Not surprising in the slightest, but disappointing nevertheless. But how did she find out? And when? And why she was calling now? And how she managed to obtain the number of a motel he was staying at? So many questions, Levi wanted to ask them all at once. He didn’t even know where to start. “And just a piece of friendly advice, next time you go into hiding, don’t go around asking police officers on a date.”

Well, that was one question answered. Only one hundred remained.

“Are you going to arrest me now?”

“No, unfortunately,” Hange bitterly replied. “I need you, Ackerman. For work,” she added, before Levi could get any ideas and just before his heart started racing like crazy. “Take the first flight back to city, if you don’t want me to drag you out of there by force. I’ll be waiting for you in the airport.”

Hange was going to end the call, Levi could practically see her finger hover over the button. Before she did, he cried out, “Wait!” and then, much more calmly he added, “What do you need me for?”

“Your uncle went missing. I need you to help me find him.”

The line went dead immediately after that. It took Levi another moment to pull himself together.

Kenny was… missing? Kenny, his ruthless, unstoppable uncle? And Hange was looking for him? Too much was unknown, too much was unclear, too much was yet to be explained.

One thing for sure, he wouldn’t find the answers here. Well, one problem was solved then, he didn’t have to change cities anymore. He’d just have to return home.

“So.”

Just a short word, but so much meaning was put in it. With a feeling of dread, Levi turned to face Sasha. He shuddered at the sight of her wide, shit-eating smile.

“Hange, hm?” she asked, twirling a lock of hair.

“Hange is your someone, right?” Connie excitedly exclaimed. “Your Mikasa?”

“Hange is his Marco,” Sasha corrected, earning a vicious curse and a middle finger from Jean. “I guess it’s all over with Mikasa.”

It was all over with Hange too. There was nothing with Hange to begin with. And there would be nothing, because apparently she hated him now. For a good reason too.

Fuck. Kenny, Hange, the brats, they all caused Levi a massive headache. And there was no running away from it, they’d find him whenever he ran.

Perhaps, it meant that he had to stop running. And come back home.

“Let’s go to sleep,” he told the kids. “A long journey is ahead of you. And ahead of me too.”

“You’re leaving? To your Hange?”

“Hange is not my someone, I’m just leaving,” Levi grunted, turning off the light. “Go to sleep before I knock you all out.”

Thankfully, they listened and got on a bed without a word of complain.

“It’s good that your Hange found you,” Sasha mumbled, already sleepy. “Maybe, now you won’t be so sad anymore.”

Sasha seemed to fall asleep immediately after, not waiting for Levi’s answer. Or, perhaps, she wasn’t interested in it.

Soon Connie was out as well, and even Jean, after a few of tosses, turns and more than a dozen pained groans managed to settle in comfortably and fall into deep slumber.

Levi didn’t get so lucky, the thoughts about what tomorrow would bring swirling in his mind and keeping him awake.

But, well… at least his melancholy and homesickness wouldn’t be a problem anymore. After two months of being away, he was going home at last.

Strangely, the prospect didn’t seem that thrilling.

[yackers]

Sick

Patricia has the flu and is kinda being a dick about it.

This is like not my best writing at all because I wrote it a while ago when I was sick and delirious so I don’t wanna put it on ao3 so enjoy it here:

It was a rather uneventful week at Anubis House, for once. To the best of Eddie’s knowledge, doom wasn’t currently impending, and all the the ancient Egyptian gods and ghosts were hanging out wherever they usually hang out whenever they weren’t bothering Anubis’ second favourite paragon.

He was sat around the breakfast table, mentally preparing himself to battle Alfie for the last of Trudy’s blueberry pancakes when he first heard the commotion making its way down the stairs. He smiled a little as the sound of his girlfriend yelling filled the hallway.

“Mara, I’m fine! Just drop it, okay?” Patricia shrugged her shoulder away from her roommate as she entered the dining room, Mara on her heels only inches away.

“You’ve been coughing your lungs up all night, you barely slept and you’re white as a sheet.”

Eddie’s smile faltered once he was able to look her up and down. Her hair was flat for a start, her having not bothered to curl it the way she had been doing all year. The eye bags under her eyes were badly concealed and she was slightly hunched, her eyes narrowed as though wincing in pain the way she did when it hurt her head to stand.

“What’re you looking at?” She snapped at him as she took a seat in the adjacent chair. Once she turned away from him to reach for some juice, she noticed he wasn’t the only one staring. “Can you all just mind your business?”

“You’re just a ray of sunshine this morning, Patty Cakes. And my, are you looking radiant!” Jerome taunted from across the table. It earned him a thwack on the arm from his girlfriend, but he just shrugged. Fabian and KT each grabbed the two jugs nearest to her and cautiously moved them out of reach. She might’ve cared, but honestly she was just glad they saved her the trouble of actually having to get out of her seat.

Once it seemed that everyone else wasn’t gonna say anything, Eddie sighed and turned to her, placing a wary hand on her shoulder.

“Yacker, are you okay?” He asked quietly, as if the rest of them weren’t all silent and staring directly at him. Alfie seized the opportunity to snake the last pancake.

“Like I told Mara,” she glared pointedly, “I’m. Fine.” Ducking out from his touch was totally to prove her point, and not to try hide the fact her eyes were tearing up from trying not to cough.

Mara stared pleadingly at Eddie, who stared desperately at Joy, who only glared back at him and mouthed ‘man up”. He considered it for a moment, before looking across at Alfie, who had the pancake of Eddie’s dreams hanging half out of his mouth. Willow seemed to find it adorable, but him not so much. Eventually, once everyone was watching him expectantly, Alfie finished his mouthful and turned to Patricia.

“Trixie, y’know I love you. But you look like shit. You’re sick, go back to bed,” he said firmly, holding eye contact with her the whole time. The others looked at him like he had purposefully poked a grizzly bear. But she didn’t move for the nearest liquid, instead she just stared back at him, holding his gaze. It became pretty clear they were having a staring competition. Though her watery eyes put her at a disadvantage.

Eddie wasn’t entirely sure what was gonna happen when someone lost, but the second Patricia blinked, Alfie called out. “Trudy! Patricia’s trying to go to school even though she’s sick!”

She glared daggers at all of them as Trudy burst into the room and began to fuss over her. There was no arguing with her when it came to their health.

-

“So I’ve been thinking, and I’ve decided I’m not gonna be mature about this,” Patricia announced in a muffled voice. This didn’t exactly come as a surprise to Joy, who had been present when Eddie and Alfie had to forcefully drag her up the stairs with Jerome standing guard behind them.

“Remind me again why I’m friends with you,” she sighed, trying once again to pull the duvet covers over her, only for them to be kicked to the ground once again. She was definitely going to be late for school, but she wasn’t leaving until she was positive her friend would stay in bed.

“Because I’m good at climbing trees. And fighting. And that one time when we were 14 and I convinced that woman at the mall to pretend to be our mum so we could get our ears pierced a bunch of times.” Joy was pretty sure she was delirious.

She glanced over to the bedside table where the medicine Trudy had brought up laid exactly where she’d left it. Why did her best friend have to be the most stubborn person in the world? Sure, it had been a good thing when she was kidnapped for a term, but mostly it was just extremely frustrating. An idea came to her.

“Patty, if you take those pills and try get some rest until lunchtime, I won’t show Eddie that home movie we made when we were eleven.” They had made several, but Patricia knew she meant the one where Joy had convinced her to play a princess to cheer her up after she broke her arm. Jerome had played the frog prince. She took the tablets.

[cryptideye]

Kris isn't a player insert but their gender is up for interpretation. It's like in a voice acted game where you can name your character, so no one actually calls your character by name. So it can be whatever you want.

I'm sick of people like you harassing people and acting like they're awful for having headcanons. I've seen 12 year olds get freaked out at by people like you.

girl what 😭 please point out any time ive "freaked out" at any kids, or where I was aggressive in my post. I just said I hated an *argument I saw people use* and then explained why I disagreed with it. All I did was present my opinion, and you're acting like I personally bullied kids over it. Do I really need to hand-hold and add a thousand "but it's just my opinion it's okay if you disagree honey uwu uwu uwu"s to my posts for them to not be taken as a personal attack? I literally said *in the tags* that I wasn't mad at people who did this on accident or because they didn't connect the points together that I made in my post. How does this read as the ideology of a bully to you? You are overreacting, I'm allowed to have an opinion just as you are (even if you're wrong) LMAO. stop trying to villify me because you dont like my opinion

But this ask kinda pissed me off so I might Actually be a little mean here to You Specifically because I'm so sick of explaining this

Your argument here doesn't make much sense to me. In most games where you can name your character, there isn't a literal scene saying you don't get to choose who you are in this world. Kris isn't customizable! There is an entire CUTSCENE about how they aren't customizable! You literally make an entire custom character, name them, and they are then discarded and you play as kris instead! the game is REALLY clear that kris isnt just a normal rpg protagonist like youd get from games where they’re more customizable. The fact you even made this comparison at all proves you didn't fucking get the point of my original post! If you acknowledge that they aren't a player insert, why are you comparing them to a game where you can name a character whatever you want? If Kris isn't a player insert like you said, why is it OK to misgender them when they are *exclusively* referred to by they/them in the text? Their mom calls them they, their teacher, etc. You can argue they're nonbinary to make the character more neutral and relatable to all genders (which I bring up in the tags of my post), but they're still exclusively they/them in game.

Using your "characters not referring to the player by name" argument, if the point was for kris' gender to be up to interpretation why wouldn't deltarune just... Do this? I'm sure the writers are more than capable of avoiding using any pronouns at all for kris, so why use they/them exclusively? Especially in a series where multiple NON player characters are also they/them only like blooky and monster kid. We also see multiple characters not referred to by any pronouns at all in game like the shopkeepers (though seam is called they/them on stream) and undyne before she is properly introduced, so it is DEFINITELY possible and something realistic to take into account here.

I have NEVER seen this shit happen with cis characters who by go exclusively he or she which is why this bugs me so much. You can name link whatever you want in some of the earlier Zelda games, but you don't see people arguing that his gender is up to interpretation, or that him being a dude isn't canon because they choose to see him as a girl. This ONLY happens with nonbinary characters (and sometimes trans character, or just those who are androgynous but it's mostly NBs) and I am sick of arguing about this!

[bookofmirth]

So I initially deleted this because I didn’t want to get into it, but I also think the question is genuine and I wanted to explain my thinking. CW for emotional and physical abuse and sexual assault.

I am tagging @silverlinedeyes​ because this ask concerns them and I don’t appreciate being vagued, whether it’s a blogger or someone answering an ask that mentions me. I try not to vague other people and I’m not perfect but... just getting this all out in the open.

So I can’t speak for everyone who was upset at the initial post comparing Ianthe and Gwyn. Personally, I kind-of grimaced and was mostly confused about what in the world they could possibly have in common and why such a comparison would be necessary. As people, they are fundamentally different. And to me, the comparison is incredibly thin. Eye color and priestesses? How many priestesses have that eye color? And to use that to connect them to a creature we’ve only read about in two sentences in the whole series, a creature we’ve never actually seen on page and know next to nothing about? Basically, the intention or purpose behind the comparison didn’t make sense to me.

Now I’ll be perfectly transparent - I didn’t read the whole post because I could tell that it wasn’t for me. I also didn’t go around vaguing it. It was mentioned in some asks that I got and I tried to limit my commentary on that post and focus on the comparisons I had made, intentionally. Because 1) I can’t speak from the position of a SA survivor, and those are the people that post concerned, and 2) I didn’t fully read it, and 3) I don’t want to vague people! This fandom is divided enough. I know I made a joke after acosf came out how we are all having separate, loud conversations in the same room and refusing to acknowledge the other conversations while somehow responding to one another. And it was kinda funny at first, but now it’s exhausting.

To me, comparing Ianthe, who is universally reviled as a r*pist, and Gwyn, who we know is a SA survivor, is unnecessary. That’s pretty much what it comes down to. Why do we need to do this? What is it telling us about any of the characters? About relationships? I know a lot of people found it anything from distasteful to downright offensive, and while I think that just about anything is fair game when it comes to fictional characters, I also personally think that the intention behind the comparison was confusing. I just personally don’t understand why we would need to talk about those characters in the same breath. What purpose does it serve? Someone who can speak from the position of a SA can please feel free to add on, if comfortable!

The reason that I compare Az and Tamlin is to analyze them as people, as characters, because I see a lot of similarities in who they are on a (currently) fundamental level - their anger, their loneliness, their attempts to restrain their destructive impulses. These are major parts of who they are as people and how they interact with the world. There were red flags present in acotar that I recognized from my personal life and that I can now see in Azriel. Frankly, it concerns me that people see Tamlin as a completely irredeemable villain, while not recognizing that Azriel shares some of the same personality traits. 

Comparing a r*apist and a SA survivor is an unequal comparison. Emotional and physical abuse, on the other hand, tends to be generational. I’m not an expert on a professional or academic level, but I did a quick search on my university’s database, and found this from “Interrupting the Intergenerational Transmission of Violence”, and please note that these lines were the context or background - this article didn’t set out to prove these statements to be true, they are already commonly accepted knowledge and so their research was looking to solve the problem:

Children exposed to domestic violence are at increased risk for a wide range of emotional and behavioural disorders. Conduct disorder, in particular, may ultimately lead to the perpetration of further domestic violence in the next generation. Parental characteristics such as warmth and positive attributions may mitigate the risk for intergenerational transmission of violence.

I think that as a fandom, people really, really tend to mischaracterize Azriel. It bothers me. He’s not soft. I’m sorry, he’s just not. We have multiple examples of him being described, using words like “rage”, “cruel”, “temper”. One of the first posts I ever made in this fandom that got a lot of attention (over four years ago) was trying to correct these mischaracterizations. They keep happening.

There was an icy rage in Azriel I had never been able to thaw. In the centuries I’d known him, he’d said little about his life, those years in his father’s keep, locked in darkness. (ACOMAF)

One moment, Azriel was seated. The next, he’d blasted through Eris’s shield with a flare of blue light and tackled him backward, wood shattering beneath them. “Shit,” Cassian spat, and was instantly there— And met a wall of blue. Azriel had sealed them in, and as his scarred hands wrapped around Eris’s throat, Rhys said, “Enough.” (ACOWAR)

Az didn’t answer. I held his gaze, though. Held that ice-cold stare that still sometimes scared the shit out of me. (ACOFAS)

Az had a vicious competitive streak... quiet and cruel and utterly lethal. (ACOSF)

Azriel stiffened, an outright sign of temper (ACOSF)

These are just a few of the examples, but we can also think about acofas when he gets angry at dinner thinking about how his mother was treated as a servant, when he can’t handle being around people who are happy on Solstice. I could make a whole post but I’m kinda sick of talking about Azriel at this point.

I have experienced an emotionally abusive relationship much like feylin was. I made myself so small, for years, because this person’s anger and anxiety and grief took up so much space in the world. I felt like I had to overcompensate, to not make them feel jealous if I was having a good day, and to not take on my negative feelings if I had a bad day. So I just stopped feeling things. For years. It didn’t go well. I’m still dealing with the aftermath. 

I have also witnessed physical domestic violence, as a child. I don’t think I need to explain further than that.

My fanfiction A Loveless Romantic deals heavily with the feylin abuse, and I only feel comfortable writing it because of my personal experiences. I’ve written posts about Nesta and alcohol and another post that I can’t currently find about why acotar is such a good book because it shows us all of those red flags for abuse before many people knew they were red flags. (If I can find it I’ll reblog.) My point is, when I go into analyses and metas like these, they aren’t just an exercise in “oh hey what if?!” It’s “here is my experience with this topic and so here’s how I read this with that background.”

The comparison between Azriel and Tamlin is deeply personal to me, and I didn’t exactly expect to have to disclose my personal history when making it, but when I see people vaguing about how the comparison “hurts people who have experienced abuse”, hi, OP knows exactly what she’s talking about on a personal level, thanks. So I’m going to keep talking about it, because I know what I’m talking about, and it bothers me that people can’t see it in fiction because I worry that they then won’t be able to see it IRL until it’s too late. I’m going to keep writing my “thinkpieces” because this is a topic I know a lot about, it’s important to me, and it’s something that I think a lot of people can and should learn more about.

[amarimaryllis]

All The World Drops Dead (Oikawa x Reader)

Pairing: Oikawa/Reader, Slight!Iwaizumi/Reader (like very slight, microscopic kinda slight, almost as if it’s not there unless you read between the lines because it’s not explicitly stated kinda slight) Prompt/Summary: Loving Oikawa Tooru was a dream and maybe it was time to wake up. Alternatively, Oikawa leaves you behind to chase his dreams. Tags: Angst, Fluff Note: I used she/her pronouns for the reader, Bold Italicized sentences are excerpts from the poem “Mad Girl’s Love Song” by Sylvia Plath Warnings: Swearing, Crying (like, a lot), Kinda long (5.7k words),  Haikyuu Timeskip Spoilers

Part of A Sensitivity to Ephemera

Loving Oikawa Tooru was a dream. It was hard-earned. Years of pining and pursuing took place before he ever even saw you in a romantic light. Three years in junior high school and an additional two years in high school. It was hard, but in the end, it was all worth it.

On the journey to what seemingly looked like forever, the name L/N Y/N had been associated with many titles.

Dedicated.

Lovesick.

Brave.

And on occasion, heard in the hushed whispers that echoed through the halls of Aoba Johsai, desperate.

Some part of you gloated once you had proved them all wrong at the end of your second year. It was a quick confession filled with mumbled words and hasty movements. You couldn’t even look the setter straight in the eyes as you mumbled a small “I’ve been in love with you since junior high, and I just needed to get it off my chest since we’ve been friends for a long time, and I felt guilty keeping it a secret from you.”

Impressively, you were able to say all of that in a single breath.

“I know.”

A single breath taken away from you the moment Oikawa Tooru cupped your cheeks and pressed the softest of kisses against your lips.

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;

In that moment, as you lose yourself in the kiss of a boy you had once considered a distant dream, the world stops and there is nothing left but the warmth of his hands against your skin.

I lift my lids and all is born again. 

Suddenly the world was back in motion as Oikawa pulled away from the kiss. Your eyes flutter open and before you, you see chocolate eyes and a charming smile.

“Hello? Earth to Y/N-chan?” 

You’re pulled from your thoughts at the sound of Oikawa’s voice. You were brought to the present. Oikawa hugging you from behind as you sit between his legs, an alien movie of sorts playing on your laptop placed on the bed (You didn’t bother checking the title since it was Oikawa’s turn to choose anyway).

“Have the aliens taken my adorable girlfriend and replaced her with a clone?” You can practically see the pout on his face from his tone alone as he wraps his arms tighter around your waist.

Your face warms but you don’t fold as you answer in your most deadpan tone. “I can only wish.”

“How mean.” Oikawa rolls his eyes, but amusement is clearly written on his face. “Iwa-chan is rubbing off on you.”

“Probably cause I’ve known him for as long as I’ve known you.” You answered casually. “Although I’ll admit it’s probably cause I’ve been seeing him more than I’ve been seeing you.”

You were not meant to say that.

You did not mean to say that (out loud, at least).

Especially not with that bitter undertone laced in your words.

“Oh?” You can practically hear the smirk in Oikawa’s voice as he digs his fingers lightly into your sides. “Replacing me with Iwa-chan already? How mean~”

One part of you was thankful that Oikawa chose not to unpack the issue of his recent absences since you weren’t really ready to lay your feelings out in the open yet. However, another part of you realizes that you just dug your own grave, and Oikawa Tooru was probably going to be a little shit about what you just said.

“Maybe you need me to remind you who your boyfriend is?” Oikawa’s lips brush against the shell of your ear and you could feel the tiniest of shivers diffuse throughout your body.

He presses a kiss behind your ear. Your face warms. He follows the previous action with a tender kiss on your neck. You nearly combust.

But of course, for the sake of what’s left of your dignity, you bite back. “Maybe I do.”

You can feel Oikawa grin against your neck, as if he expected nothing less. “Perfect.”

Oikawa turns you around so that you’re straddling him, legs thrown over on both sides as you sit on his lap. He grabs you by your wrists and leads you to wrap your arms around his neck before his hands eventually find purchase on your hips. 

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed

And with that, he’s kissing you. It was almost as if he was trying to chase away any thoughts of Iwaizumi from your head with the way he was moving his lips against yours. Oikawa knew that he didn’t have to worry, but he can’t help it. He’d take any opportunity to kiss his girlfriend senseless.

And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.

Oikawa brings his hand to your nape, pulling you closer, deeper into the kiss, deeper into the dream created by the motion of his lips. There’s a desperation in his actions as if he was trying to make up for something.

And in that moment, you understood. This was his temporary apology. The way his hands trailed from your neck down your arms before it settled on your hips was his way of placating any possible hostility you may hold against him for his recent absence.

You didn’t really mind. You understood that he was busy, but you had the right to miss your boyfriend every now and then. The only thing you could do now was to take as much as you could of Oikawa Tooru before he’s once again pulled back to the whirlwind that is called his life.

Oikawa pulls away for a second before he’s back to pressing kisses on any expanse of skin that he can lay his lip upon without moving from the position you were both in. You were both so lost in your makeout-session--excuse the lack of a better term--that you weren’t able to hear the text notifications from Oikawa’s phone until someone was actually calling him.

“Babe, your phone’s ringing.” You managed to pull away from Oikawa to inform him, but he’s relentless, ignoring what you just said and the phone in favor of trailing kisses up and down your neck.

“Babe--” 

Oikawa pulls away for a second. “Ignore it, they’ll probably give up soon.”

You roll your eyes and go back to kissing your boyfriend. You guys were getting back to the groove of things until it was once again interrupted by the ringing of Oikawa’s phone.

A groan of frustration leaves Oikawa’s throat at the disturbance, and you attempt to hold in your amusement at the irritated look he had on his face as he reached to the side and answered the phone.

“What?” You nearly snorted at how frustrated Oikawa sounded.

However, as the other person answered, that look of frustration was replaced with a softer gaze which made you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. The stream of confusion only grew when Oikawa patted your thighs, an unspoken request for you to get off him.

“Oh Yuki-chan, what’s up?” A smile was on Oikawa’s face.

The stream of confusion had slowly turned into a murky ocean of several emotions that you had not encountered in a while.

Uncertainty.

Insecurity.

Fear.

You knew only one Yuki, and that was Fujimoto Yuki. The darling of the school, loved by all who meet her for her beauty and gentle nature. Oikawa’s friend.

Oikawa’s ex-girlfriend.

“Sure! Library on the second floor, and same time as always?” Oikawa talks animatedly for a second before freezing as if he was realizing where he was. When he speaks again, it’s softer, but there’s a hint of restraint in his tone as if he was trying not to show just how overjoyed he was.

Your heart sinks for a second before you mentally slap yourself. You felt guilty for feeling some dislike for the girl that Oikawa was talking to, but some part of you felt that you were justified in your dislike considering that this was your boyfriend’s ex. His ex who broke up with him because he was too invested in volleyball.

You felt sick.

A few moments pass and Oikawa ends the call. An awkward silence fills the room. Neither of you talk.

“I’ve been--”

“Was that--”

You both speak at the same time. You gesture for Oikawa to speak first and he does.

“I’ve been tutoring Yuki-chan recently.” Oikawa sounds uncertain.It was as if he was walking on eggshells with how cautious he was being. “If you’re wondering.”

“Fujimoto Yuki?” You sat against the wall that your bed was pressed to. “Your ex?”

“My friend.” Oikawa winces at the tone in your voice. 

You try to make sense of what’s going on, One part of you wanted to let out all the negative feelings that were bubbling in your chest, but the more logical part of you chose to tread carefully so that the conversation doesn’t end in an argument. “Is that why you haven’t been around these past few weeks?”

Oikawa’s breath hitches for a second. “Yeah.”

“Stop being so defensive then.” You mask the uncertainty that gripped at your chest with a teasing tone accompanied by a playful jab to Oikawa’s shoulder. “They’re just tutoring sessions, right?”

Oikawa takes the path of escape that you opened up for him as he gives you a small smile. “Yeah.”

For now, you were at ease. You crawled back into his arms and Oikawa doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you before he presses a soft kiss onto your forehead.

“I love you.” You breathe out on his neck, heart racing with both love and fear racing through your veins.

Oikawa stills before he squeezes you tighter. “I know.”

 That moment in your bedroom was now a thing of the distant past. It was forgotten, buried under several layers of denial. Looking back, you realized that the turmoil you felt then was nothing compared to the pure, unadulterated agony that threatened to rip you open at the present.

“Argentina?” You mumbled to yourself, repeating it in hopes that you’ll be able to make sense of what Oikawa had just said. “You’re going to Argentina in a month, and you’re only telling me now?”

Oikawa reached out to you, regret painted all over his face. “Babe-“

“Don’t-“ You pushed his hand away, and you almost felt guilty as a glassy veil took over Oikawa’s eyes, “-touch me.”

“I’m sorry.” Oikawa looks down, clenching his fists so tightly that he almost broke through the skin. “I didn’t want to ruin the remaining time we had left.”

You frowned, extremely confused. “What do you mean remaining-“

Ah. A look of realization settles on your face, and suddenly the fight within you dies. I get it now.

“So you just planned on leaving me then?” For the first time since the start of this conversation, you look Oikawa dead in the eye. “Leave me behind, no closure or anything. I’ll be left wondering where I went wrong or why I wasn’t enough. Is that it?”

You could see the tear roll down Oikawa’s cheek before he hastily wipes it away. Your jaw clenched and your throat felt tight. He had no right to cry when you were the one being left behind.

“I didn’t want to hurt you-”

“And look where we are, Tooru.” You hissed venomously, the pain slowly transitioning into anger. “I would’ve understood you know? I’d be more than willing to make it work-“

The split-second widening of Oikawa’s eyes was enough of an answer to you.

“Oh.” Your mouth opens and closes, but no words leave your mouth. The next thing you know, you’re choking on your tears as you lean against the wall, sliding down to the floor as you gasp for air.

Oikawa’s eyes widen and he immediately rushes to kneel beside you. He pulls you into his arms, rubbing your back gently as he urges you to let it all out. “Fuck, Y/N. Just breathe, okay? Let it all out.”

An ugly sob wretches itself from your throat and you can only grip onto the sleeves of Tooru’s sweater to ground yourself to the world around you. Your head pounds, and a sharp pain repeatedly stabs at your chest as you hold onto Oikawa Tooru as if he was the only thing keeping you afloat in the ocean of your turmoil.

“I’m so sorry.” Oikawa murmurs against your hair, and it is followed by his tears as they drop onto your head. “God, I’m so sorry. I love you so much. I’m sorry.”

Oikawa’s sobs are beginning to match your own as he tightens his hold around you. 

All you can focus on is the fact that he said “I love you”.

It took a few minutes for both of you to calm down. Numerous tears had to be shed and endless sobs had to be released, and now, you both sit in the aftermath of your confrontation.

Oikawa still held you in his arms as he sat on the floor. His arms were still tight around your waist, and your arms were still locked around his neck. The perfect picture depicting two inseparable lovers if only one were willing to ignore tear-stained cheeks and the creases of sadness that seem to have etched itself onto their skin.

“I’m gonna come back.” Oikawa mumbles against your neck before he presses a soft kiss onto it. “I promise you. I will come back.”

“Go chase your dream, Tooru.” You mumble back as you bury your head deeper into his shoulder, lip trembling, fingers shaking. “I don’t want to be the one to stop you.”

“When I come back, I’ll win.” Oikawa tightens his hold as the tears threaten to fall from his eyes once more. “I’ll make you proud. I promise.”

You smile sadly, resignation settling into your veins. “I’ll be watching so you better win.”

Oikawa smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He’s too guilty. Too conflicted. Too absorbed in his self-deprecation to fully smile. Regardless, he answers. “I promise.”

 A month passes by. You don’t send Oikawa off. Only his friends and family were there, and you were nowhere to be found. Some part of him died at your absence, but another part of him was thankful because he probably wouldn’t have mustered the courage to get on that plane if he had to watch you slowly slip away from his grasp

You had both agreed that you’d enjoy the last month together. Oikawa thought it was best that you broke it off when he left for Argentina. He said it would be easier for you. You wondered if he was right. You wondered if you should’ve agreed. Oikawa was smart on and off the court, but emotions weren’t volleyballs that he could just toss around. Relationships weren’t game plans.

But it’s all in the past. From here on, you could only move forward. So you took up all you had, and you moved to Tokyo after you were accepted to a university in the capital.

The only connection you had left from your high school days was Iwaizumi. On occasion you’d talk to Matsukawa and Hanamaki, but it was Iwaizumi who had a more prominent role in your life. You had a strange bond, which was partially strengthened by the fact that you two were the people closest to Oikawa Tooru, and you were both left behind. The only difference between the two of you was that Iwaizumi still had contact with the setter while you had completely cut off all ties.

Aside from one tie, at least. From time to time, you’d find yourself looking through Oikawa’s social media profile. Just checking to see how he was doing.

If he was doing as badly as you were or if he had moved on.

It was what you were doing right now as you sat in a cafe waiting for Iwaizumi to show up to your usual “friendly” dates. The dates he liked to call “get Y/N’s dumb ass to move on from the dumbass called Shittykawa”. You were just about to click on Oikawa’s profile before someone suddenly took your phone.

It was Iwaizumi.

“Damn, what’s your problem?” You raised a brow as the former Seijoh ace took a sip from your coffee as he scrolled through your account, sitting down on the chair across from you. In all honesty, calling it a sip was an understatement, the man practically drank half of the cup’s content. Your eyebrow twitched in irritation.

“It’s unhealthy.” Iwaizumi answered once he had set the cup of coffee down, still scrolling through your phone.

“How is social media unhealthy?” You rolled your eyes, grumbling as you sipped what’s left of your coffee. “I’m just scrolling.”

“Makes you less productive.” Iwaizumi shrugs as he leans back on his chair, pointing an accusatory glace towards you. “Especially when you’re checking your ex’s Instagram.”

“I was not--”

Iwaizumi snorted. “Yes you were.”

“Yes I was.” You admitted, giving up since you knew that Iwaizumi was probably more stubborn than you.

“Y/N, you have to stop.” Iwaizumi tears his eyes from your phone for a second to emphasize his words. A look of concern along with something unreadable flashing through his eyes. “What’s the point of not communicating with him if you’re still gonna look at his profile every night.”

“Not every night.” You grumbled.

Iwaizumi scoffed and continued to scroll through your phone. Some part of him was also curious about Oikawa’s current life, and while he got updates from the setter through the calls, he hasn’t really seen his best friend’s profile in a while. “When’s the last time you checked—“

Iwaizumi stops himself as his eyes land on Oikawa’s most recent post and the caption attached to it.

‘Guess who I bumped into today’

When Oikawa Tooru left for Argentina, he had already accepted that it would be a fresh start. No one knew him there, and no one he knew was there. There were no expectations, and there was no image to uphold. And while that thought made him ecstatic beyond words, there’s always that melancholic undertone to the situation as he realizes that he’s completely alone. Sure, he had friends that he could play volleyball with, but Oikawa’s connection with them wasn’t as deep as the ones he formed in his own country. He chalked it up to his subpar Spanish-speaking skills. Perhaps the heavens knew that Oikawa Tooru, born with a silver-tongue and the face and body of a god, would be unstoppable if he knew how to speak Spanish fluently.

Which is why he was so shocked to see a familiar face holding a tray of food and asking if she could sit with him. The place was empty and the girl could literally sit anywhere, but Oikawa paid it no mind. All he knew was that before him was a reminder of home. Not home home, but Miyagi kind of home.

He never truly felt at home since her, but he didn’t want to dwell on that.

“So Yuki-chan,” Oikawa starts as he notes how the girl in front of him has changed since high school, “What brings you to Argentina?”

“School.” Yuki replies, an eager grin on her face as she looks at the man in front of her. “I needed a change of scenery.”

“Why Argentina?” Oikawa raises a brow. It was a harmless question on his end. He never really liked small talk, but he didn’t really have a choice. The woman across from him was practically a stranger. That’s what it felt like, at least.

Red floods Yuki’s cheeks and Oikawa realizes the implication.

His heart stops, and he wishes he had never asked. He didn’t need this. He didn’t want this. He genuinely hoped he was wrong, but the fidgety way Yuki moved and the way she bit down on her lip out of habit was enough to answer his question. Oikawa was familiar with that look. It was a look he had always put an effort to bring about when they were still together. 

Yuki smiles, practically wearing her heart on her sleeve as she answers the setter. “Because you’re here.”

He didn’t like the sound of that at all.

Oikawa Tooru’s life was in Argentina, and you decided that maybe it was time to start accepting that. He had the path all ready for him, and all he had to do was walk through it. He’s earning decent money, living in a decent apartment, doing what he loves most—probably in more ways than one, you thought bitterly as you remembered the post Iwaizumi had shown you earlier in the cafe—and it’s all just working out for him. 

So yes, maybe it was time to move on. It would be easy. If loving Oikawa Tooru was a dream, then so be it. Dreams were fleeting. Dreams were insignificant. All you needed to do was treat the memory of him the way you should be treating it. An unreachable reality. A product of the subconscious.

And with his absence, it has never been easier.

If only.

(I think I made you up inside my head.)

“Hajime.”

Iwaizumi cleared his throat to speak, mildly unsettled by your choice to call him by his name. You guys were walking down a dimly-lit alley, and he wouldn’t be surprised if that would be the last alley he ever sees considering the tone you used. “Yes?”

“I guess I have to wake up now, huh?”

Iwaizumi is baffled. Confused. Discombobulated. Genuinely wondering what you meant because maybe the heartbreak finally drove you insane. “The fuck?”

“Damn I was trying to be poetic too.” You gave an exaggerated sigh, a small amused smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Way to kill the mood.”

“Do I look like I care?” Iwaizumi’s eye twitched.

“You’ll never get girls to like you if you’re so harsh, Iwa-chan~” You teased, attempting to lighten the mood. “It’s a miracle that Fuyumi-chan still likes you.”

“Shut up.”

He didn’t need other girls to like him. He didn’t need Sato Fuyumi’s one-sided affection. This. This moment was enough.

Years pass and you find yourself in the locker room of Japan’s Olympic Volleyball Team, supporting their trainer the way bridesmaids support the bride on her wedding day. You knew how much the match meant to Iwaizumi, and you knew that win or lose, he’d still be happy with whatever happens. However, Iwaizumi still has a competitive streak, and you knew that hell would have to freeze over before Iwaizumi Hajime stopped chasing victory.

“You nervous?” You asked, eyes trailing after Iwaizumi’s pacing form. His eyebrows were pinched together, and his lips were pulled into a straight line. “The match is in 30 minutes.”

“Don’t remind me.” Iwaizumi groans as he plops down on the bench beside you. 

“They’ll be fine.” You smiled. “You’ve trained them well, and they’ve been giving their all.”

“What if we lose?” Iwaizumi asks, uncertainty lacing his voice.

You scoffed. “You’re probably used to it considering your old rivalry with Ushijima-san-“

Iwaizumi punches your arm.

“Hey that hurt!” You glared at the trainer while you attempted to soothe the point of impact.

“Good, it was meant to.” Iwaizumi smirks before it fades into a soft smile. A distant look glazes over his eyes before he continues speaking. “He’ll be there, you know.”

I fancied you’d return the way you said

“I know.” You shrugged. After so many years, the pain had become a dull ache. It may have been dull, but it was an ache nonetheless. “He did promise.”

Silence fills the room.

“Are you ready to face him?” Iwaizumi turns to look at you, attempting to gauge your reaction only to be met with a blank expression painted onto your face.

“Honestly,” You almost scoff as you start your lie with that word, “I think I’ll be better off not seeing him.”

Silence takes over.

You didn’t want to admit that you never truly moved on. You didn’t want to admit that all those years apart only made you better at hiding how devastated you were. While it’s true that the pain has dulled out, it seemed to be chronic. It’s manageable most of the time, but there are days where it flares up when you’re alone in your room and no one’s there to call you stupid for holding on. It always hits you as hard as it did in the past, sometimes it gets even worse. You were afraid that saying it out loud would solidify itself into your waking reality, not that it hasn’t, but you’d take whatever chance of denial you could get.

Loving Oikawa Tooru was no dream. It was a nightmare on repeat and you showed no signs of waking up.

The nightmare just got worse the moment he stepped onto the court and on your hopes of ever moving on. It grew out of control when he stepped off, victory smiling down on his figure, and his eyes were set on you. 

So you did what you deemed to be the best course of action.

You ran away.

Kind of stupid now that you think about it, considering that your were quite literally running away from an Olympic athlete.

But I grow old and I forget your name

“Oikawa-san.” You bowed slightly before straightening up. You didn’t have a choice other than to act civil considering that the athlete cornered you in the corner of an empty hallway. “Congratulations on your victory.”

When you look up at Oikawa, you’re shocked to see the pain written on his face. His lips were parted, eyebrows were furrowed, and there was a glassy sheen glazing over his eyes. “Oikawa-san?”

Hearing his voice almost made you want to burst into tears, but you didn’t fold, choosing to clench your fists and grit your teeth in hopes that you’ll be able to keep your composure. “That’s your name, isn’t it?”

Oikawa’s mouth falls open fully, and unlike you, he’s not putting any effort into masking any emotion. He looked like he didn’t know what to say. It seemed that he wasn’t expecting the situation before him. “I’m sorry.”

You could feel the tears pricking at your eyes. You avert your gaze from his, turning it to the floor and hoping that he wouldn’t be able to see the tears that began to form. For a second, it felt like you were reliving your third year in high school. “You kept your promise. You have nothing to be sorry for.” 

Oikawa reaches out towards you. “I’m sorry for leaving-”

“Don’t.” You hissed as you moved away, the last shreds of civility escaping your body. “If you didn’t leave you wouldn’t be here today, so don’t.”

“It was hard without you.” Oikawa sounds defeated as speaks. If he had a goal in mind when he cornered you, it seemed that the said goal was now out of reach. The flame in his eyes when he approached you was slowly dwindling. “Sometimes I wonder if I should’ve listened to you and made it work-”

You could feel your head starting to pound. “Oikawa, don’t-”

Oikawa continues speaking, fim, determined. “Sometimes I wonder what it would’ve been like if I still had you by my side even if you were halfway across the world-”

You could feel your throat constricting as the tears began to fall from your eyes.

“Sometimes I wonder what it would’ve been like if I had asked you to come with me-”

Yuki’s face flashes through your mind, and you break. “Can you just stop?!”

Oikawa looked like he expected that from you because he was unfazed at your tone. “I’ve been away from you for almost seven years, and every night was hell.”

“Every night was hell, as if.” You hissed through your tears, stepping away from Oikawa as you gave him the darkest glare you could muster. “You had Fujimoto at your side. You didn’t need me.”

For some reason, instead of the guilt that you were looking to find, you saw a rekindled flame slowly starting to blaze through his eyes. “I only met Fujimoto once.”

“I’m not your girlfriend. I don’t need your explanation.” You replied sharply as you turned your gaze to his shoes. 

You don’t pull away when Oikawa pulls you to his chest to surround you with his embrace. You allowed yourself to enjoy this moment, just this one moment before you decided that it was time to let go.

You grip at his shirt as you speak, lip trembling, fingers shaking. “Just… I’m trying to move on, and you’re just making it harder for me.”

“What if I don't want you to move on?” Oikawa tightens his grip as he feels you attempt to pull away. 

“Then you’re a selfish asshole.” You managed to hiss out, continuing to struggle in his hold. You knew that the longer you were in his arms, the less you would be willing to put up a fight.

“I love you.” Oikawa whispers, and all the fight within you dies. 

“Don’t.” You choke out as your vision turns blurry from tears. “You don’t mean that.”

“I mean it. God, if it means that I have to tell you everyday, every hour, every minute just to convince you I will.” Oikawa is firm as he pulls away and looks you straight in the eyes. “I love you. I didn’t say it enough back then. Looking back, I never really did enough to let you know just how much I loved you. I understand if you want nothing to do with me, but please--”

Oikawa stops to close his eyes, taking a deep breath as he attempts to calm his racing heart, hands trembling as he holds you by the curve of your biceps. “Please, give me another chance.”

Silence engulfs the two of you. 

You can feel the blood rushing to your head, throbbing, pulsing as you take in the words that had left Oikawa’s lips. Your throat goes dry, your limbs feel weightless, and for once in your life, you don’t know what to do. You didn’t have the guts to push Oikawa Tooru away. You loved him too much to ever truly get over him, and here he was presenting you a reason to not move on from his unyielding presence--even if he was physically absent--that had such a great influence over your life. On the other hand, you’ve had to endure years of heartbreak caused by his departure, and you weren’t sure if you could handle any more. It would be too difficult. 

But you didn’t really give a shit anymore.

Oikawa's eyes blow wide open as your lips meet his. In that moment, he felt everything and nothing all at once. The world around him fades, and all he can focus on is the warmth of your hands that bleeds into his cheeks, the movement of your lips against his, and the feeling of your skin underneath his fingers as he kisses you back desperately.

When you pull away to catch your breath, Oikawa gives you a second before he presses you to the wall, wraps one arm around your waist, and rests his weight on one palm beside your head. He kisses you once more, desperation, regret, apology, and the promise of a better future bleeding through his kisses as he pulls you closer to his body, chest to chest, with only bone, muscle, and cloth to separate the hearts that--in the beginning of days--may have once belonged to the same body.

The waves calm and Oikawa speaks. He doesn’t ask--no--he says it with his whole chest, unwavering as conviction settles itself into his dark eyes.

“Come to Argentina with me.”

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;

At least when spring comes back they roar again.

Iwaizumi is leaning against the wall, smiling sadly to himself as he begins to stand up straight, preparing to walk away, whether it was from the venue or from the reason there’s a slight pang in his chest, he didn’t know. 

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and a familiar name is shown along with a message that he deemed was the sender’s attempt to comfort him on his team’s loss.

Sato Fuyumi

I watched the game [5:31 PM]

You guys fought well so don’t be too down in the dumps, okay? [5:32 PM]

Iwaizumi smiles a little as he pockets the phone. Sato was right, they fought well, he fought well. Two years in middle school, three years in high school, and nearly seven years after, all he did was fight and hold on. 

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead

For a second, Iwaizumi closes his eyes and through them he sees flashes of countless memories: locks of hair, teary eyes, and the saddest face that looked a little out of place for someone who gave him a reason to smile.

Iwaizumi almost didn’t want to open his eyes. Maybe if he shut them a little longer then the images of an impossible future would become the reality of his waking world, but he knew it would never play out like that. Deep in his mind, in the darker corners of his head that was covered by layers of denial, the distant memory of a dimly-lit alley plays in his head. Iwaizumi scoffs as he realizes that he wasn’t the only one who still had their eyes shut.

(I think I made you up inside my head)

A lifeless chuckle escapes Iwaizumi’s lips as he tries to shut his eyes tighter, pain and frustration pooling underneath his lids. The realization hits him, and he resists the urge to cry because he had seen this happening before it even did, but he was too stubborn to admit it, too caught up in a dream that he’d eventually be violently ripped awake from.

Oikawa Tooru defeated him twice that day. 

And the second loss was more painful.

A/N: I finally posted this one AHHHHH. I like to think that the writing style I used in this one was better than my previous ones in terms of imagery, but I don’t know, I’m still trying to find a solid writing style and PHEW it is difficult. Anyways, I hope you guys liked this one!