#look. look. it would work so well with his self destructive tendencies. look.

[feelo-fick]

taps mic. chilchuck has skin asthma. walks away

[yanderefarm]

yandere vampire's pet

cw;; dehumanization?, blood, vampires, humans as pets, yandere, angst, suggestive

this is the last named and drawn oc i have ready. i still have two more concepts in my drafts but they're not finished yet.

this might not show his yandere tendencies as well as characters like ares or emil but he's more of a self destructive type. he's more likely to hurt himself for doing something wrong than he is likely to hurt someone for touching you.

also i had to include the vampire guilt and angst im only human (human with a guilt kink)

you're a vampire lord in a world run by vampires with a yandere human pet who you found in a run down human farm after he basically threw himself at you. who clung to your leg and insisted he tasted so sweet you wouldn't regret taking in. who you took pity on seeing his scarred neck and decided to take him with you home.

you fed him and brought him to full health in a year. on the anniversary he begged on his knees for you to make him your pet. you complied. you didn't expect the preservation procedure that would allow him to stay with you forever to mess up his brain. or maybe this was always his personality.

he begged you every day to feed on him. he would sneak into your bed chamber and cut his neck to wake you up. he would sit himself in your lap around noon and undo his shirt buttons to give you easy access. if you dared to refuse him he would cry and beg so pathetically.

you made him this way why didn't you want him? he would often cry until you feel guilty for destroying his humanity. you always gave into him. he always got clingier. he tried not to get in your way during work but one day you let him lay his head on your lap and sit in your office quietly all day. so you had to let him again the next day.

if he really pushed too far you would lock him in an old attic room. oh how he sobbed. you would open the door the next day to be met with his bloodshot eyes that held no light. he would kiss your shoes and cling to your legs while he spoke hoarse apologies. you always forgave him and carried him in your arms to eat breakfast.

on the occasions that you two went to a party held by your fellow vampire lords he would always try to show off. you'd buy him new clothes and a new ribbon to hide his old scars. he liked being the most beautiful arm candy for you. it wasn't unusual for high quality pets to get passed around at these parties. at the end of the night he would often find himself in a strange bed, dizzy from being bled and pathetically crying for you.

your dear pet had spent the whole night being ravaged while you were doing business. his naked and used body laying in the unfamiliar bed, barely conscious. you sighed as you sunk onto the bed, your added weight causing him to shift slightly but he made no noise. usually by now he would be sobbing and reaching wildly for you, those degenerates must have really worked him hard.

you reached out and played with a piece of his hair. "I'm sorry, you poor pathetic creature."

your cold lifeless hands gently brush against his warm cheek. his body finally shifts a little, instinctively pulling away from the cold. you can't help the sad smile that falls on your lips seeing that. you forget how cold you are with how he clings to you at every opportunity. you can smell his blood right now and the tug of your instincts tells you to feed. you forget that you're a monster with how he treats you with such adoration and reverence.

"your life would have been better if you never met me." you push his hair away from his neck, revealing the old scars with fresh wounds scattered among them. your fingers brush against his pulse and he gasps.

you watch his olive eyes blink open slowly, they look almost too heavy to open. you want to gently close them like one would a corpse but the wide smile that spreads across his face stops you. if your heart could still beat you're sure it would have skipped.

"good morning." you said softly.

he used all his remaining strength to wrap around your waist. "y/n..."

his voice is so hoarse and he sounds so exhausted but there's the undeniable happiness. you guide his head to your lap, cold fingers twirling around his hair again.

"was i good...?" his eyes blinked slow again.

"yes. you were so amazing again tonight." you felt the weight of guilt pressing against your chest.

"reward m'...~" you knew he was asking you to indulge in him as so many others had tonight so you just ignored him.

you gently gathered him up in your arms, the top sheet draping over his body. you grabbed his discarded ribbon off the bed before you began carrying him out. the ribbon was sat on his stomach and his weak hands fiddled with it idly. he seemed to be too deep in thought to let sleep overtake him again.

"master... 'm glad you made me...." he nuzzled his head against your chest.

"your father made you." you corrected as you approached your carriage.

"no... y'... made m' y'r pathetic creature." his eyes finally started to close. "so glad m' life is master's.."

[sweatervest-obsessed]

hello !! rn i'm in the mood for some angst with a happy ending so can i request something where reader's got really bad abandonment issues? 🥹 maybe they fight over something which makes r leave ++ spence is confused bc it's so sudden n unlike them but it's all bc theyre scared he'll leave first n then it's just lots n lots of reassurance🥹🥹 thank you!!

Obsessed.

Thank you for the ask!!

So I wrote you this gorgeous 1k fic. I was so fucking proud of it. And then my computer deleted the WHOLE THING (which is why I am so behind on responding to this lmao). But. I rewrote as much of it as possible, and then changed and added a few things. So now it's better than before.

I really enjoy this version ,and I hope you do too!! so please enjoy!!!!!

WC: 1.5k

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

TW: Anxiety, depression, intrusive thoughts, self-destructive tendencies, swearing, abandonment issues lmao

“What do you mean….”

You couldn’t look at him. How could you? I mean, leaving the love of your life because you know he could never love you back in the way you love him. He’d just leave anyways.

They all do.

You’re just trying to minimize the pain.

But why did it hurt so fucking much.

Which was why you kept your gaze anywhere but him.

“I-I-I—“ You kept your gaze on the ground. “I can’t do t-this anymore Spencer.”

“Can’t do what. Y/n you aren’t making any sense. What’s going on?”

You should you head. “It’s over. Spencer.”

"Y/n what are you..."

Looking at the ground, you began to fidget, something about his gaze on you was making he whole situation worse. Originally you were going to just send him a text and disappear for the rest of your life, but he came home early. He wasn't supposed to be home for another day.

"Spencer I-I." You flexed your hands, trying to find the right words. "It's done Spence. I can't.."

"You can't what?" His voice was a whisper. You could hear the heartbreak in his voice, but you wouldn't dare look at him. If you looked at him, you would cave and stay and he would take your heart in his hands and crush it to dust.

But why did this hurt so much?

"What is going on Y/n. Talk to me."

You couldn't understand why he was being so caring. Why was he so fucking perfect. It felt like a sick joke that the universe gave you this perfect man, and then put the sinking feeling in your gut when it got too good. Like something was going to go wrong.

And you wanted to be ahead of it. Start the grieving process now before you got too deep.

It's too late for that anyways.

His voice was soft. He didn't move towards you. He didn't want to 'spook' you---he knew you so well.

You know him so well.

Clearly, whatever tactic you had tried to employ when he came home, wasn't working, so you decided to shift. You shifted to the anger resting in your gut. The hot and heavy coals that burned through your skin and made you seeth with anger.

"Y/n, please, look at me."

You couldn't. And he fucking knew that too. You stormed past him and towards the bedroom.

Spencer was speechless, completely unsure as to what was going on.

When he arrived home you had been shoving things into your suitcase, but then when you saw him you froze up and started to try and break up with him.

"Talk to me. What is going on?"

You ignored him and started to pull clothes out of their respective drawers and onto the bed you two shared. It was hectic, and aggressive. You were slamming things, stomping--anything to hide the slight tremor in your hands, and make you seem bigger than you were.

"Y/n!"

His voice made you jump but it didn't stop you. You took the pang of guilt in your stomach and tried to twist it into the anger you so desperately tried to justify.

Spencer slowly moved over to you and tried to take you hand.

"NO." You threw the small pile of clothes you had just taken from the closet on to the ground and pulled away quickly. "No Spencer god. Wh-what don't you fucking get. We're done. It's over."

Spencer rarely heard you raise your voice, let alone yell, and definitely never at him. But you weren't even looking at him.

You fucking hated it when he profiled you. It made your skin crawl when you felt his eyes roaming over you. "Look at me."

His voice wasn't hateful. It wasn't angry. It was soft, understanding.

God why did he have to make this so fucking hard.

"Y/n..."

"Spencer. Stop."

You felt the moment he realized what was happening in your brain., You weren't the easiest to read, but you weren't exactly a closed book either.

"Look at me."

You looked up and made eye contact with him, hoping that the last part of your will would hold strong, and get you through this.

Spencer's eyes were filled with worry and disbelief. You saw the swarm of emotions as he locked eyes with you. But behind all of the disbelief and concern and love and pain was fear. You could see the pain he was so desperately trying to hide from you.

You know him so well.

Spencer could see the straight fire in yours. They were lit with a facade of anger and pain and hatred. But you could never hate Spencer. Never. And he saw right through it. He could see the panic in your eyes. The pure terror and pain.

You hated that he knew you so well.

"Y/n..."

He took one step forward, not trying to corner you, but trying to get closer to you. You took one step back.

"No." You shook your head.

"Please just talk to me."

Fuck him. Fuck him and his stupid wonderful voice and his kind eyes and his love and the way he knows exactly how you take your tea in the morning and all of your favorite books and why you love the 2005 adaptation of Pride and Prejudice so much and what animals you wanted to have one day and why you hated spiders and the ocean so much and which museums and monuments you had on your bucket list. Fuck this man for loving you so hard, and making you want to spend every single moment of your life with him.

"I-I--" and fuck him for making your voice crack. You took another small step backwards.

"Please." Another step forward.

This time, all you could do was shake your head and break eye contact. You were tensing up the closer he got to you.

"Y/n."

"N-No" You chooked on your own voice. A single tear broke through and slide down your cheek.

"Baby please..." Another step. "Just talk to me. What's going on?"

That was the final straw for you.

The dam broke, and tears poured down your face. You let out the most heartbreaking sob that Spencer could have never imagined.

His arms were quickly around you, catching you and bringing you both down to the floor, where he held you against his chest.

You shook your head and tried to escape from his grasp, but he just held on tighter to you, not letting you go. Spencer could never let you go, he just didn't know how to tell you that.

Through your tears, you started to hyper ventilate. Spencer wouldn't let you leave his arms. It felt like a boa constrictor. You couldn't breathe.

You started to panic, not taking in as much air as you should, causing your head to get dizzy. You tugged on Spencer's arms as he tightened his grip on you, determined to keep you safe in his arms while you got whatever it was out of your system.

You screamed at him to let you go. He didn't respond, only holding you against his chest and you angrily slammed your hands against it.

Why was he so fucking perfect. Why couldn't he just let you leave and walk away.

Fuck.

Once your breathing had started to even out a bit, Spencer adjusted the two of you, still on the ground, so that you were straddling his lap with your arms around his neck.

Surrounding you was all of your clothes thrown about, and your suit case barely filled with anything.

He didn't say anything, just continued to rub his thumb against your hip, letting you come down from whatever sort of panic you just went through.

He held you close to his body, deciding in that moment to never let you go, ever.

You felt the world slow down. Time melted beneath you as the sun rose and set, the moon waxed and waned, The leaves browned and fell of the trees, and the earth stopped spinning at the end of time and all of the stars had died out. The world had stopped but you were still in Spencer's arms.

"I don't know..." He whispered in your ear, and the world started to turn again. "What just happened in your head--"

You tried to speak up but he just shushed you gently. "But we don't have to talk about it until you're ready."

You nodded.

What did you do in this world to deserve this man?

"Why don't we make some tea?" He whispered, and you just nodded again, holding onto Spencer as if the floor was going to give out and cause you to fall through the pits of hell and judgment, away from one another.

Neither of you went to move, finding peace in one another's arms.

While Spencer truly had no idea what just occurred, or why it occurred, he was still sitting here with you. And while you owed Spencer an apology and an explanation, he was still sitting here with his arms wrapped around you, kissing your shoulders.

Spencer Reid was going to stay with you for as long as you'd let him, and he would do anything to get you to see that, even if it meant sitting on the floor of your shared bedroom, holding you until the stars burned out and the world stopped spinning.

[strangersatellites]

second installment of the eddie knows tarot-verse

decided to flesh out this post !! enjoy !! xoxo

part two is posted!!

edit: look at this AMAZING art by: @amethyst-crowns !

“What are these?”

Steve is gesturing to Eddie’s deck of tarot cards on top of his dresser.

Today has been just like every other Saturday has been for the past several months.

At the ungodly hour of nine a.m. Steve knocks on the trailer door to summon the boy out for their standing Saturday breakfast at the diner. After several cups of coffee and a rather mediocre stack of pancakes, they find themselves back at Eddie’s where the rest of the day is typically spent with Eddie strumming at his guitar and jotting down song lyrics and melodies while Steve entertains himself by either listening, interjecting with questions, or rummaging through Eddie’s things.

Today, he’s spotted Eddie’s deck.

Shifting in his spot on the floor he props his guitar against his bed and stands to walk to the dresser and retrieve the deck. 

“I knew you were gonna ask that,” Eddie jokes as he pulls Steve to sit on the bed with him and starts shuffling with the cards.

Steve’s eyebrows furrow and he lets out a questioning hum making Eddie huff a laugh.

“They’re tarot cards,” he starts, dropping his voice low for dramatic effect. “Set aside your skepticism and allow the cards to tell you your fortune.”

Steve chuckles, “Don’t think I would call myself a skeptic, ya know, given the circumstances of the last several years of my life. But I’ll bite. What kind of future can they tell me, oh wise one?”

And see, as of late, Eddie has been working on not running away from things that scare him. Has been the reason he has run directly toward danger in situations severe enough to nearly cost his life. 

Point is, one would think that by now he would know which scary things are hills worth dying on.

He doesn’t.

His big, fat crush on Steve Harrington clouds his judgment and drives his own morbid curiosity and self-destructive tendencies to have him saying, “Well, my favorite is the soulmate reading. Let's do that one, yeah?”

Steve’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “They can tell me that?”

Eddie starts focusing his energy more intentionally on his card shuffling. Furrows his brows in an attempt to convey his seriousness. 

“They can tell you anything, sweetheart.”

Decidedly dragging his eyes from the pretty flush covering Steve’s cheeks at the pet name, Eddie gives Steve a quick lesson in what he’s doing.

“So, basically, I just focus my energy-”

“Sounds dangerous.”

“Shush!”

Steve giggles.

“I focus my energy on communicating to the universe what I am asking the cards. So this time, I’m asking them to tell me about the soulmate of the great Steve Harrington.” He catches the card that jumps out of the deck and into his lap and places it face down between them. “And that, Stevie, is how we pull cards.”

Steve looks questioning but not dismissive. “So you pick the ones that fall out?”

Eddie scoffs as he pauses his rapid shuffling and pulls a rogue card from where it’s peeking out from the deck. “Ones that fall out. No, Steve! I pick the ones that speak to me.” He resumes his shuffling and is immediately gifted with another two cards spinning out between them both.

Lifting his hands in a gesture of innocence Steve mutters apologies as Eddie stacks his remaining cards and sets them to the side.

‘Okay, pretty boy. Last chance to back out before all is revealed,” Eddie whispers, lining up the four cards he pulled. 

Its an out for Steve if he was just feigning interest, and it's a copout for Eddie. Eddie who is actively psyching himself up to face disappointment at the task of telling Steve allllll about his dream girl.

Steve shoves his shoulder. “Shut up and tell me about them.”

Before flipping the cards face up, Eddie points at each one and tells what it is going to represent based on the reading format he chose.

“Alright, this first card is going to be representative of how your soulmate views you. The next one tells you who they are and how this person comes into your life, and the last two are descriptors of your soulmate.” 

Steve takes a breath and gives a resolute nod. 

Eddie steels himself and flips the cards.

Freezes.

Instantly his mind is running a mile a minute, both in shock and what the fuck he is going to tell Steve.

Let it be said that Eddie is nothing if not quick on his feet. And Eddie Munson knows for a fact that Steve doesn’t know anything about tarot. What’s he going to do? Correct him?

He claps his hands together and plasters on his most predatory smile. 

“Stevie, Stevie, Stevie,” he tuts. “Now this is no surprise,” he starts.

And you see, the best kinds of lies are ones that are based in truth. That’s the reason that Eddie taps a finger over The Magician and says, “Your soulmate sees you as a person of great power and influence. King Steve, if you will.”

True.

Steve bristles a bit but nods along.

Pointing at the next card, “The King of Cups,” Eddie tells him, “Now this, this is a good one. This one says you’re going to be a great boyfriend-”

Not quite true.

“- and that your soulmate is a new person in your life. You meet a new girl and not tell me, Stevie? I’m hurt.”

Steve laughs and runs a hand through his hair. “I mean, I don't think so, no. Haven’t really had much time since the apocalypse, ya know,”

Eddie’s brain short circuits a bit at the idea that he is the newest person Steve knows. Right. 

He opts to press on. “Ah this is interesting. The reverse King of Swords. Well, typically this represents someone abrasive. Brash, even.”

True.

“But since it's reversed, it means the opposite,” he says.

Not true. 

“She’s going to be gentle and kind. Aw. Isn’t that sweet, Stevie.”

Even the thought of it makes Eddie’s heart flip over and twist with discomfort. Despite the fact that he’s lying out of his ass.

Steve is getting really into it and picks up the last card himself. “What’s this one? The Tower.”

Eddie twirls a piece of his hair around his finger and thinks for a split second before responding with the first thing that comes to mind. 

“It’s a landmark. It means you’ll meet her somewhere you’re familiar with. Maybe that farmer’s market you like to go to on Sunday’s! That seems like a good place to meet someone.”

Steve wrings his hands together and then takes Eddie’s notebook from the floor to jot down what he’s learned. 

If Eddie wasn’t already trying valiantly to hold back his own impending panic he might find his enthusiasm cute. As it is, he’s experiencing the heavy feeling of dread settling low in his stomach of the realization of what this reading actually says.

The Magician actually says that Steve’s soulmate had to learn to use their intuition to get to know him. Had to look past his power and influence, his King Steve persona. 

The reverse King of Swords actually says that it's someone abrasive and blunt. Someone who uses words as a weapon and easily finds themselves in harm's way. 

The Tower actually says that this person comes close to chaos, destruction. Has had their life turned upside down. When pulled with the reverse King of Swords it implies that this person nearly fell victim to their own rash decisions. 

If that wasn’t enough, it's the King of Cups that really put Eddie over the edge. Because it tells us that Steve’s soulmate is someone older than him who came into his life with a bang. 

It also says it's a guy.

But Eddie just agrees with Steve’s request to join him on a trip to the farmer’s market tomorrow and puts his cards back on the dresser with a ringing static sound in his ears.

He’s content to join Steve on his quest to find his nice girl at the farmer’s market if it means he never has to tell him the truth.

That the cards said Steve’s soulmate was him.

_________________________________________________

It's Tuesday night and Eddie is nose-deep in some book Gareth recommended to him. Truth be told it's boring, but he’s reading it because his friend liked it. He can never say Eddie never did anything for him. 

A firm knock on his door frame has his eyes shooting up.

Wayne is standing there, hands in his pockets. He nods Eddie’s direction.

“Got a call from that Buckley girl, kid.”

Eddie furrows his eyebrows as he walks to the phone in the living room. 

He answers with a question in his voice. 

“Hey Bird. You okay?”

He is cut off from asking anything else when Robin launches into one of her rambles.

“Well honestly I feel like I might be going crazy because like a year ago- well I guess it was two years ago. Anyway- this one Summer our tv went out and I had to find other ways to entertain myself, and you know I’ve already read every book I own and Steve was working on his house and was busy all the time so no one could drive me to the library-”

“Bird! What’s going on? Why did you call?”

She groans dramatically, “I was getting there Eddie. But fine. I learned how to read tarot and I don’t know what you said to Steve about the soulmate reading you did for him, but I know for a fact that The Tower has nothing to do with the farmer’s market.”

And isn't that just it? All of Eddie’s carefully crafted lies coming back to bite him. 

“I- Robbie. You can’t tell him. Please?”

Her voice drops in a show of sincerity. 

“Of course not Eds. I won’t tell him.”

He heaves out a breath of relief.

“Thank you, Bird. I owe you one.”

She giggles.

“Your secret’s safe with me.” She pauses before she speaks again.

“Not with Steve though. He’s the one who taught me how to read the cards.”

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

It's not Jake.

I'm going to tackle this bit now. It will forever bother me. I think it will forever be a point of argument in the fandom until the word of god (Diab) comes down and explains it all. Even then, there will always be room for argument.

So let's argue.

Marc with Dr. Harrow. I missed it the first time I watched it. (It was on a small screen with poor sound. I should have turned on the subtitles.)

He doesn't know what's going on. He doesn't know where he is but he feels terrible and he's in a situation he's been in before.

Marc knows how to play the game. He might be bad at social situations, but Marc is stubborn and despite his self destructive tendencies, he's a survivor.

From knowing how to please his mother to keep her happy to knowing how to keep the school happy to keeping his father happy.

He also knows how to keep the doctors happy.

You can see the wheels turning as he figures out what Dr. Harrow is looking for and what the right thing to say is. You see him looking around and taking everything in the room in.

Something he learned in the military and then as a mercenary. What is around him? Know the land. Know the space. Know the tools. Know the exits. Know the enemy.

It's so subtle how his eyes move and stare. Every movement of his body is absolutely still and stiff except his eyes. Don't move. Don't draw attention. Don't give yourself away.

He talks about the talking hippo. Corrects him stubbornly. Like a child correcting a parent that gets their drawing or story wrong.

He talks briefly about Steven. He really doesn't want to discuss Steven with Dr. Harrow. Even now, he's trying to protect Steven.

Honestly, Marc is probably unsettled by how Quiet Steven is being. He can't hear him. He can't feel him. He was reaching for him before in his reflection.

Has this happened before? Are the drugs messing him up? Is this even real? You can see it in his eyes as he is trying to work out what has happened. What if it's real? What if Dr. Harrow is right and all of it was in his head?

But he knows things are off. You see him look at the cane and the sandles. He KNOWS something is wrong, but he can't place it.

And then Dr. Harrow asks about the boy.

Now Marc knows this is wrong. He would never have talked about Randall. This is the last thing he'd ever willingly bring up.

You see him instantly shut down and he's made his decision.

I've seen a LOT of arguments that this is Jake. But I don't think so. We, the audience, have not been properly introduced to Jake and his face has been purposfully hidden from us each time he does flicker in. This is not Jake. Jake is still hidden. And Jake would NOT have tolerated Dr. Harrow.

Even if Dr. Harrow was a new alter (persecutor?) created after being killed, Jake would have put him in his place. As protector and possible Gate Keeper, NONE of what's going on would have been tolerated at all. Jake is organized and patient. Jake takes charge when needed and gets the job done.

This is Marc. This is the Marc Spector that you don't see.

As I mentioned in a previous post, Marc cannot mask in the Duat. Every piece of Marc you see is pure and uncensored.

You see Marc play the game but the second Roro comes up, Marc is done.

This is the Marc that is dangerous (Mercinary, special forces, Marines, skilled beyond reason in combat) and also the Marc that is desperate. He's cornered and he will chew his own leg off to get out.

He doesn't know what's out there, but he knows that Steven is being kept away and he needs him.

So why does Marc grab the sharp pointy pyramid? Why does it look like he's trying to first stab them then stab himself?

Well, up to this point, Marc has figured out that he's been shot. He's found Steven outside of his body in a very unlikely situation, and nothing feels real.

He's also jumping scenes. From being with Dr. Harrow to being with Steven.

A part of him is scared it's real. A part of him is scared it isn't.

If it isn't real, how can he get out of it? Perhaps if he takes more damage he'll go somewhere else. Perhaps he'll go back to Steven. Perhaps he thinks it's a dream and he'll wake up next to Layla.

Look at his face. Beaten up. Broken nose. Heavy bags under his eyes. One pupil even looks larger than the other. Severe bodily trauma. (From getting shot? From getting into fights? From some form of brain damage?)

Now, speaking of Jake... I wonder how much of Teenage Marc was really Teenage Jake trying to keep them safe. I can't imagine their teen years being good at all. There's a good chance that their teenage years were utter misery and things probably escalated to terrible depths.

(Anyone else notice that three times we see Baby Marc, it's his birthday? I'm willing to bet every birthday his mother came for him viciously.)

I'm willing to bet that any previous clash he had with a mental hospital deeply involved Jake. One of them started fights and one of them played the game. Marc would get into fights, but Marc also knows how to play the game thanks to his mother. Jake would have wanted them out of there. He may have fought or he may have tried to take control to keep them safe.

So in this situation, Marc has been separated away from Steven, his emotional support and protection. He has been separated away from his physical protection and stabilizer.

And Jake DOES stabilize Marc. When Marc flies off the handle in a rage. When he has flashbacks. When he gets drunk and trashes a hotel room... Who steps in to settle things down? (JAKE'S FUCKING GLOVES WERE IN THAT HOTEL ROOM ON THE NIGHT STAND AS IF THEY HAD BEEN WORN AND TOSSED ASIDE. JAKE WAS THERE.)

So without all of Marc's safe guards, Marc is sitting there in a terrifying situation and his biggest trauma is brought up by a man that he knows he can't trust.

Look at how the episode starts. The cave. The running water. The screaming boy for help. His mother blaming him. It's all right there. Right on the edge of his mind like a bad flashback.

The last thing he wants is to be back in that cave again. Is to see his brother drowning again.

He's going to fight. If he wasn't so disabled by the drugs and injuries he would have burned the whole building to the ground if he could have.

I do have to wonder, though... Marc keeps going back to Dr. Harrow when things get too stressful there. Like a sort of time out. A time for him to try to process and make sense of things. He breaks down when Steven demands to go back to the room. Total melt down. The time out forces him to deal with it. To see it.

Even Steven goes there when he becomes overwhelmed and needs a time out to see what's really going on.

Dr. Harrow was very interested in speaking to Steven. He even mentions that it had been a long time since he had seen Steven. That Steven was the one that brought them there.

It's doubtful that Jake ever made it there. Dr. Harrow (and the real Harrow) had no idea about Jake. And Marc doesn't know about Jake, as this is Marc's processing time.

But what if Jake had made it there? What if Jake had it all figured out? What if Jake had gotten locked up on purpose?

Steven and Jake, literally compartmentalized by Marc.

Perhaps a Meta for another day.

[batsycline69]

Chapter Four: Darker Than Death

Summary: Jason chases the past and sets fire to the future

Pairing: Jason Todd x GN!Reader

Words: 6,274

Content/warnings: angst, descriptions of injuries, Jason's self-destructive tendencies

SERIES MASTERPOST | PREV

Four months pass like lightning streaking the sky. Suddenly, you’re a staple in Jason’s life.

Soft kisses on biceps in the middle of the night. Mornings spent eating breakfast over your small kitchen table. Lunches in his station at the shop. The scowl on your face when Jason pulls out a dictionary to prove the word he played in Scrabble is real.

He didn’t think he could be happy again. After everything—the things he’d seen; the things he’d felt—it didn’t seem possible.

You gave him back something he thought he’d lost forever. You’re hope and future. Something to fuck up. Something to lose.

Jason knows what he looks like to the people on the street. It’s hard not to when he’s jarred by himself in the mirror sometimes. A big, brooding mass of man when once he was just a boy. He didn’t get a say in his dip in the Lazarus Pit, but the skin is still his own, adorned with in he chose and scars that he earned.

But no amount of ink nor callous nor scowling can actually protect him from the wounds that still have never healed. His never ending anger got the better of him today. A close call with Batman and Nightwing left him feeling bolder than ever. He went to visit the Joker.

Beating the Joker bloody with a crowbar didn’t have the cathartic impact he’d been hoping it would. The sight just made his stomach churn. He buried the flurry inside of him as he tied the Joker up, leaving him to sit in a closet for a few days. Until it’s time to bring him into play.

The rising sickness, cold and burning all at once, doesn’t go away. Distance doesn’t help. He still feels trapped there even when he’d been the one in control.

He doesn’t remember going to his apartment and changing. When he comes back to himself at your doorstep, he isn’t Red Hood. Just a boy in a soaked t-shirt shivering in the rain.

The door to your apartment building is inches away from his face. His hand is on the doorknob. It’s locked; he realizes now that’s what pulled him out of his head.

Rain falls down around him. It lands heavily on the shoulders of his jacket. The sound hammers on rooftops, onto the rusted cars parked out in front of your building. It splashes on the already soaked sidewalk, rushing into the sewers Jason knew so well. It’s always fucking raining. He would hate this city if he didn’t love it so much. If this city wasn’t in his blood just as much as Sheila’s.

Tears slick his face. That feeling in his stomach is still there, and he feels like he’s buried beneath earth all over again. The world is pressing down against him. He can hardly breathe.

His feet carry him to the back door of the building. The memory of picking the lock open is shoved into a corner at the very back of his mind. Safe memories fail to see the light of day now, yet he seeks safety just by being here. He needs you, though he hasn’t yet fully put it together yet.

Jason fiddles with the lock with less grace than usual. His hands tremble as he works, but even filled with tears, he’s focused. Maybe a little more so than necessary. He’s overly aware of the weight of his gun. Just as aware as he is he shouldn’t have brought it here. His mind is such a mess. What if he hurt you?

Part of him itches to turn back. The laughter echoing in his ears pushes him forward.

The wood floors creak beneath his feet as he moves through the otherwise silent halls. He pauses in front of your door. His nails bite into the palm of his fisted hands, trying to find the bravery to knock.

Bravery.

Once upon a time ago, he ran across the rooftops of this city fighting goons twice his size, reassured by his mentor, a less than perfect man who demanded perfection. He thought his bravery made him untouchable.

So much for that.

He knocks. You don’t answer.

It’s 3 AM; of course you’re going to be asleep.

He should have never come here. He hasn’t even thought about what he would say when you ask why he’s such a wreck. Just like anything real in his life, it’s not like he can tell you the truth. You wouldn’t know what to do with the truth; he kidnapped the guy who killed him back when he was just a little robin. His mind feels too syrupy to come up with a good lie.

He realizes with sudden clarity he never should have gotten this close to you. Sure, he’s been planning his takeover of Gotham’s underground for years, but plans go sideways. What if the Joker gets out and finds out a connection between Red Hood and you? He can’t even stomach the thought of you with a single scratch on you, let alone in the sort of condition Joker would leave you in.

The lock clicks on your door.

Undoubtedly, you’d spotted him through your peephole standing there. When the door opens, your tired eyes are swimming with concern.

“Jason? Is everything okay?” Your voice is thick with sleep as you blink him into focus.

He feels terrible. He wants to say he’s drunk. Tell you he wasn’t thinking. Free you of his bullshit. Instead, he sniffles pathetically.

The door creaks softly as you hold it open more. You’re a lifeline for him now, the one thing that’s keeping him from sinking back into that bottomless grave, and he pulls you against him. His grip is tighter than it probably should be, but if you have a problem with it, you don’t say.

You hold him like something precious.

He hates himself.

“Come on. Come inside.” Your voice is soft as you gently usher him in. “You’re soaked.”

Streetlight from outside diffuses through the raindrops on your window. It’s the only light offered in your darkened apartment.

He stands in the doorway of your bedroom, watching you rummage around the clothes piled on top of the old floral wingback chair in the corner. You pull out one of Jason’s t-shirts, the material washed and worn until the fabric was soft.

Cotton clings to his skin as he peels his shirt off.

He hears a soft gasp as his vision is obscured.

“What happened to you?” you ask, horror cutting through your exhaustion like a knife.

Bruises—fresh ones—scatter across his skin. He hasn’t seen them yet, but he feels them there. Normally, he’s pretty good. Keeping his clothes on when he knows there’s damning evidence. The less he has to explain, the fewer lies he has to keep track of. Tonight isn’t a normal night. His head is barely on straight.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, trying to keep his voice even. He tugs the shirt down, obscuring whatever injuries you see.

“What do you mean, don’t worry about it? Did someone hurt you?”

God, you’re so sweet. You care about him, and you really shouldn’t. Right now, there’s a fire in your voice; you’d go up to bat for him against anyone. All the more reason to keep you out of the line of fire.

“It’s nothing,” he snaps.

“The hell it is. Jason, what is going on?” Your voice is demanding as you take another step closer. Your reach out to touch him, but you stop as if you would hurt him. You are afraid to hurt him.

He huffs and goes out to your living room, his large frame hunching in on itself as he falls into your couch. His head hangs for a minute before he looks around. He’s always found your apartment peaceful. Blankets tossed over the arm of your threadbare secondhand couch. Bookshelves stuffed with crumbling paperbacks. Feels more like a home than his place ever has, but it’s still no home of his.

“There’s a lot I haven’t told you,” he sniffles.

You follow him out, pausing a few feet away from him. “We don’t have to cover everything tonight.”

The certainty in your voice is too brilliant, too forgiving; some things feel like they can never be spoken about. Should never be allowed to see the light of day.

“I dug up a lot of past today.”

He hopes you never understand him because that means you understand how it feels to die. What it means to come back from that. And what worse fate could he curse someone to? He never wants that cold to find you in the middle of the night and shock you awake just to confirm your heart is still beating.

“What do you need?”

The couch dips as you sit beside him. His arm winds over your shoulders, pulling you to his chest so he can feel the rise and fall of your chest as you breathe. “Just this,” he says.

So you stay that way. He cries, and he thinks about how he shouldn’t be doing this to you. He feels better because you’re here. No matter how hard he tries not to, he can’t stop thinking about how fucked up it is that he gets to feel better while making everything worse for you. He’s going to ruin your life, and he hasn’t even given you the opportunity to know that.

A few more minutes pass. Your apartment is silent apart from his sniffles, but those, too, die down eventually. Just the rain remains, pattering against the glass.

“Shouldn’t have woken you up,” he says when he’s finally composed himself. There’s a resolution in his voice that had been lacking before. He hopes you don’t ask how he managed to make it to your door.

You shake of your head pull away from him to look into his eyes. “Don’t say that. You didn’t want to be alone. That’s a good enough reason to wake me up.” Your voice is just as firm.

Doubt crosses Jason’s face. You wouldn’t be saying any of this if he wasn’t selfishly withholding the truth from you. You’d already met Red Hood, and you didn’t want him inside of your apartment. He shouldn’t be here, and he knows it. He has no right to wake you up when you’re safe and asleep in your bed. He doesn’t deserve to seek your comfort just because he can’t face his ghosts.

Your palms are warm as you gently hold his face. The pad of your thumb wipes off his tears. “I care about you,” you say. “You aren’t burdening me by letting me help you.”

For one single second, it crosses his mind to open up. You’d think he would have totally lost it, but he could open up. At this point, it almost feels as if it doesn’t matter; he’s decided this won’t be able to last.

Even now, you know very little about him. Neither of you have put a label on what you have, but there’s a bind between of you. You’ve become a feature in his life, as often as he can allow such a thing. He’s gotten comfortable with your presence, and comfort can always be taken away from him. There’s benefit in staying unattached.

He laughs bitterly. “I don’t wanting you biting off more than you can chew, sweetheart,” he says. His thick fingers wrap around your wrist, keeping your hand against his cheek.

Your lips quirk up into a weak smile, but your visible concern doesn’t wane. “I’m pretty tough,” you reply.

Jason turns his head and presses his lips into the palm of your hand. “I know you are.”

But tough isn’t always enough against the people who come after him. Not even when you sign up for it. And you sure as shit didn’t sign up for this.

Most days, you make him feel like he’s soaring. When he takes you out on the bike—Gotham blurring around both of you as your chest presses into his back—he sometimes feels like he’s too giddy to drive.

That feeling, he thinks it’s love, but he can’t accept that. He’s been telling himself he doesn’t need love. He doesn’t need family. But he can’t convince himself he doesn’t need you right now.

One day, Batman is going to catch up to Red Hood. Jason is planning on as much. But if that plan somehow backfires, he could lead Batman right to you. He can’t curse you to a fate where your path intersects with Bruce Wayne. Jason doesn’t want your life any more tainted than he’s already made it.

He can handle losing you if he’s the one that calls it quits. He can handle losing you if you hate him over whatever lies he has to tell to make you slam the door in his face. But he can’t handle losing you over the truth, especially if it’s Bruce’s version of the truth. The very idea of you siding with Bruce in all of this makes his skin crawl.

“I care about you, too, you know,” he finally says. He looks at you in your pajamas, the softness of sleep still etched onto your features. His voice feels to gruff to be speaking to you. He takes your hand between both of his, lowering it down into his lap. He doesn’t want you to hear the finality in his voice.

You smile, though your face is sad. “I know.”

“Why’re you so nice to me?” he asks. You were supposed to just be some client. He was supposed to tattoo a dead bird onto your arm and say goodbye. He did everything right; he was a detached asshole. And yet, something about you broke him open, like playing the right notes on the piano to get into the Batcave.

Like a soft breeze, your laugh brushes across his lips. You’re close to him now.

“Didn’t we just establish that?” you ask, looking up at him with an even softer expression than before.

“I’m serious,” Jason says. “Why did you even bother giving me a chance?”

What makes me worth saving?

There’s a beat of silence. Your eyes study his. He doesn’t doubt you can see the tears still lingering, threatening to spill at the first kind thing you have to say to him.

“I mean, you were a dick for a little bit, but I could tell you felt bad about it.” You look him over carefully, your lips still tugged into that meager smile. “I don’t think you’re as bad as you think you are.”

He sighs and hangs his head. His grip on your hands loosens, like he’s offering you freedom. “You’re giving me too much credit,” he says. His voice rumbles up from his chest. He has to speak quietly or else he’d be yelling. All he can imagine is the Joker getting his hands on you. The thought alone makes him feel so sick he can’t stand to look at you.

As hard as he tries to stay with the kindness in your eyes, his mind starts to wander.

The floor had been so cold; he remembers it now. He acts like he’s not afraid of dying—maybe he isn’t—but he remembers how it feels to die. He remembers how dark it is. How bitter. Laughter rings in his ears. Blood in his mouth, bile stinging at his throat. There was nothing peaceful about it. Nothing peaceful about choking on his own blood. There was no ‘slipping off’; there was only a flash, the rush of heat, a deafening blast, and the screams of the mother who had sold him out.

“Why would I stick around this long if you weren’t worth it?” you ask.

“It doesn’t count when you’re used to fucked up relationships.” He breathes a bitter laugh like it doesn’t feel like acid. Like it’s effortless to put you down. If you believe it is, maybe you’ll ask him to leave.

He’s good at this, sabotaging relationships. Even though he thinks the world of you, he can summon up the words to make you question everything about the last four months. Doesn’t matter if Jason admires how much cruelty you’ve faced. Doesn’t matter if he finds wonder by the fact you still somehow stayed kind after that. He knows just what to say to plant a seed of doubt that will only continue to fester from here.

There’s a long silence. You’re not looking at him anymore. He wants to take it back, but he knows he can’t. That’s why he said it.

“Why are you trying to push me away right now?” Your voice is soft. He can barely hear it over the rain beating on the pane of glass behind you.

“I’m not pushing you away. That’s just the truth.”

“That’s bullshit,” you say. Your voice is low, but volume does nothing to lessen the severity of the chill. He’s used to your warmth. “You’re not that much of an asshole.”

The deeper he sinks into this character, the more he wants to to run out of the room. He’s ruining the one good thing he’s had since he came back to Gotham. He’s throwing away his one actual shot at happiness.

When he looks at you, he’s looking at a future he’ll never know. Baking cookies just because you mentioned in passing you wanted some. Slipping apology notes underneath your door when he pisses you off so much you won’t respond to his texts. Telling you he loves you; whispering it in your ear when he holds you on bad days. Telling the truth because he could finally fully surrender himself to you.

The truth, Jason likes to imagine, feels like the gentle release everyone likes to describe death as. Peace. A boy blown up isn’t at peace; he’s a poltergeist. But a man who can surrender and accept the death of a life he’d taken up, like a crab molting its shell to find something more comfortable, can rest. If he was brave enough, he could adapt again. Maybe make a life that offered a truce between him and this world.

“Ever consider maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do?” he asks. He buries the thoughts of your warm embrace. So many graves in his mind, all smelling of petrichor and freshly turned earth.

It rained the night he clawed up to the surface of Gotham. He doesn’t remember much about that night—doesn’t remember much before Talia got to him—but he remembers the smell. Dirt was everywhere, until suddenly, he smelled the rain. Drops fell into his parched mouth as he gasped for air.

His eyes squeeze shut, overly aware of the sheets hitting your window. Your silence doesn’t help.

“Please,” you scoff. “Do you think I just conveniently haven’t noticed you dodging topics the past four months? Just because I’m the only one who’s been open about my fucked up past doesn’t mean I’m the only one with it.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means I know you’ve got more going on then you’re telling me. The fact that you have secrets isn’t a secret to me. You can have things you don’t want to talk about, but don’t show up at my doorstep looking for help and snap at me when I give it to you.”

Jason doesn’t want it to end. He wishes he was just a little bit more selfish so he could will himself to hold onto you. He wishes his path wasn’t paved with blood so he could guarantee your safety.

But he can hold onto you for one more night.

He lays his head down in his hand and sighs. “I’m sorry,” he says. It’s not a lie, but tomorrow he’ll tell you it was. His fingers tangle in his hair, and he finally looks up at you. You don’t look happy, that’s for sure, but you don’t hate him.

Tomorrow, he’s going to have to do this for real. Tonight, he just wants you.

Your eyes are fixed on him for a while before you respond. “Thank you for the apology,” you say. “You’re right. You can be a dick sometimes. But I think that shows you how intentionally I choose to be around you,” you say.

If you knew the truth, he imagines you poking fun at him for saying you were the one with fucked up relationships. You’d call him a hypocrite if he ever gave you the chance to.

“Let’s go to bed.” The words are clipped. You don’t look at him. “You’ve had a long day.”

“You’re gonna let me stay?” There’s hope in his voice when there shouldn’t be. You should turn him out, send him back into the rain; he deserves it more than the comfort of your bed.

You give him a look. “People usually say the worst stuff when they need someone the most,” you say. “Something you learn when you’re used to fucked up relationships.” You stand up and offer out your hand for him.

He follows as you lead him into your darkened bedroom. Sheets are rustled and tossed back. His stomach twists at the display of your rush to his aid. There’s so much more out in the world for you, even if he wants to sink into you until there’s no more him left.

Before you, he’d grown comfortable in harshness. The darkness didn’t feel unique because it was everything he had for years. And then there was you.

He’s going to know what life without you is like. But not getting to see you sat at your kitchen table, grinning at him sleepily over a cup of coffee in the morning is better than never seeing you again because someone got their filthy hands on you.

You guide him towards your bed. One last night to lie next to you and share your body heat.

Jason shrugs off his leather jacket. He misses the soft rustling of it hitting the floor; his eyes are fixed to the sight of your skin as you get into bed. The yellowish glow of city light slips in through a crack in your curtains.

The sheets rustle as you climb in. Jason still stands at the bedside for a minute more. You won’t look at him, and he’s glad. Goodbyes he’s not yet ready to say are written all over his face.

After a beat, your eyes do seek him out in the darkness. The sheets are pulled up to your chin, and Jason is trying to remember it all, even if he can tell you’re still upset.

The bed shifts with his weight as he lays down beside you. You face him. He doesn’t look away. He shifts a little closer, his arm wrapping around your waist and pulls you to his chest. If he were a better man, he would apologize right now. A real one. But if he means it too much, you’ll never believe him in the morning. He can’t afford to not be convincing.

Jason holds you. He presses his lips to the crown of your head and shuts his eyes. More than anything, he wishes he could enjoy this moment.

In another life, he wonders if maybe this is how things are all the time with you. He can hold you without worrying about what dangers he’s putting you in. Guilt might not gnaw at him. Jason curses him even if he doesn’t even exist because who else can he blame? Fuck that guy. Fuck his happiness.

You fall asleep in his arms. He feels like he’s taking advantage of your trust by even holding you right now, but he can’t will himself to let you go. He has hours left of this, and he can’t imagine wasting those moments by sleeping on the far side of the bed.

You have a strange dream, the kind that fades from memory the more you try to chase them.

In the shadows of what you remember, you see a red helmet, one like your dangerous friend wears. You found it laying on the ground in an alley. You searched out in the darkness for a face—his face—only to realize you were all alone, standing in a green mist.

Weeks had passed since your masked friend picked the lock to your apartment so you could get inside. Weeks since he’d sat on your fire escape only to never be seen again, but for some reason, he’s visited you in your dreams.

Your dream dissolves, but fresh worry blooms in your chest as you look at the empty spot on the other side of the bed where Jason had been only hours earlier. His words come back to you.

He was grieving something last night. Thinking of the loss in his voice leaves a chalky, bitter taste in your mouth. Instinctively, your hand smooths over the rumpled sheets where he’d been when you fell asleep. They’re cold.

Sunlight spills through the crack in your curtains. A rarity for Gotham. Last night’s downpour has been reduced to puddles in the dips of the sidewalk. You naively choose to believe that maybe this brand new morning has changed things. The finality in the air last night has been swept away like a shadow by the brightness of the day.

Even if it ends up hurting your feelings, you hold onto this hope like a wilting flower. It gets you out of bed.

The smell of something sweet fills the air as you poke your head out of your bedroom. Jason stands at your stove. His broad shoulders curl over a skillet, spatula in hand. Dark curls stick up in every direction. His t-shirt from last night is rumpled with fitful sleep. He looks up from the pan, his eyes straying on you as you approach.

“Smells good,” you say, stepping out.

“I made coffee,” he says, nudging his chin to the percolator on your counter top.

He carries his sleep deprivation well; you’ve heard about the sleepless nights he spent in Europe while he was traveling. You know some nights he stays up late with his friends you’ve never met. They’re a bad influence, he told you once. You asked him if he thought he was a good influence.

You kiss his shoulder as you walk by, your hand ghosting over his tattooed bicep. “Thank you, honey,” you say, still trying to get a handle on the situation. Still clinging to hope that this is a new day.

Except you see Jason tense out of the corner of your eye.

Instantaneously, your mouth goes dry. Today might be a new day, but nothing has changed. There’s still tension in the air. Jason’s mind is elsewhere, and wherever that is, you don’t seem entirely welcome.

Your body feels rigid as you try to pour your coffee, playing pretend like nothing’s wrong.

You like Jason; woozy, youthful joy swells in your chest when he holds you. He keeps you warm from all manner of coldness Gotham offers. Being around him is secure, safe in a way that goes just beyond the fact no one even gives you a second look when you’re next to him.

It feels like the day you met, but far worse. Because being pushed away some tattoo artist is one thing, but that’s not Jason anymore. He’s not just some guy who gave you a tattoo. You’ve spent more nights with him the past month than without him. He came to you sobbing last night because he needed someone, and you answered the call. So what changed?

Cup of coffee in hand, you sit at the small kitchen table pushed up against your wall. You watch him as he cooks; his mossy eyes are always decidedly fixed down.

Your finger traces along the deep divot in the table. Sunlight spills across the scarred wood; you can’t help but feel like you’re being mocked. Miraculous sunlight in Gotham at the moment where the light feels like it’s being sucked out of the room.

A few minutes later, Jason brings a plate of pancakes, a bowl of diced strawberries, and syrup to the table, setting them down in front of you. You’ve always believed Jason makes food in place of the things he’s never told you. You wonder what unspoken words your breakfast is supposed to represent.

“Looks great,” you say. Your forced cheerfulness sounds like exactly that, but Jason doesn’t make any indication that he noticed. He acknowledges you as he takes the seat on the opposite side of your table.

You stare at the plate in front of you, forcing yourself to eat even though your appetite has dissipated. It gives you something to do. Without a task, you’d just sit there, trying to figure out what went wrong.

There’s silence. Sunshine doesn’t fill the void the way Gotham’s rain does. The tension makes the pancakes less sweet. Or at least you imagine it would, but you haven’t actually tasted a single bite.

More than anything, you want to ask about last night.

Jason’s bloodshot eyes, the desperation with which he held you, is stuck to you in a way you don’t know you can brush away. Jason, who keeps himself so well guarded behind the walls he built up, was exposed last night. You saw something in him, something you’d never seen before, and wanted so badly to understand it.

You want to say something, but you don’t know how without maybe making things worse. Don’t want to dig up skeletons any more than he’s admitted he already has.

The truth is you do know so little about Jason’s past. Any number of things could have sent him to your door last night. You’d been so exhausted, you hadn’t even thought to question how he’d gotten inside. You content yourself to thinking he’d followed in after someone.

“I think we should call it,” Jason says. He doesn’t even look up from his untouched food.

You look up from your pancakes, red strawberry juice smeared all along your plate. “Call what?” you ask. You know exactly what he’s saying, but you’re hoping your willful ignorance will maybe somehow change his mind.

“This.”

This. The undefined thing going on between the two of you for the past four months. The thing that has made home feel like home again. Someone who gave a little more sense to the Gotham you’d once known so well that had been destroyed, uprooted, just when your life was.

You feel your jaw muscles tense, your teeth clenching together to try to lessen the emotional blow. It doesn’t work—you knew it wouldn’t—but you figured you would try. “Is this about last night?” you ask.

“No.” His response is quick. If your head wasn’t reeling, you would maybe pick up on how rushed it really was, but you don’t.

You’re silent, waiting for an explanation you know isn’t coming. So you do what you know to do; you grasp at straws, hoping maybe you can fix this. Hoping maybe there’s a problem you can solved that will keep Jason here.

“Okay, then what’s it about?” you ask.

The kitchen chair creaks as Jason leans back. His skin is golden with the light crossing over your table. You see the rosemary and lilies on his arm and think of his work permanently etched into your body.

You will carry a piece of him with you forever, no matter where either of you goes.

“It’s not about anything. This wasn’t supposed to be serious.”

“I deserve more than that.” The words are clipped and harsh. More than you really mean them to be, but you’re still trying to make sense of all of this.

Things had been good. Really good. You laughed with him and relished every time you heard his clandestine laughter in return. He comes over when you’ve had a rough day and are fed up from work. You’ve cried in front of him, and while you’re sure saying he was happy to do it is a stretch, he did it without complaint. There may not have been a label on what you have together, but Jason is right; you don’t feel casual.

You love him.

The realization crawls up your throat like bile, like you might say the words at the absolute wrong time and make everything worse.

“Fine.” He looks up at you, his face hardened in a way you don’t recognize. His eyes are hardened. Not guarded like when he wouldn’t talk to you during your first appointment; they’re cold. He’s never looked at you like that before. “I’m sick of this shit. The monotony. You don’t want to live the same goddamn day over and over again.”

You stiffen. Somewhere a few blocks away, a siren wails. His gaze doesn’t waver. You’ve never wished for him to look away so badly. Under his gaze, you feel trapped. Uneasiness creeps up your spine.

For some reason, your first date comes to mind. You think of Jason at the arcade machine, the way he’d held the plastic gun so steadily.

“So why’d you come here last night then?” You struggle to keep your voice steady, but now feels like the wrong time to show any weakness.

Once, you thought Jason looked at you like a prey animal. In the tattoo shop, when he first came out thirty-five minutes late,he stared you down like he was trying to making sure you weren’t going to run in the direction. But even then, he was studying you more than anything, a habit of his you’d grown to recognize.

This is something else entirely.

“Because I’m a lonely, fucked up guy. Is that what you want to here? The warmth of your bed was better than none at all.”

Anger and agony stir in your chest. Muscles taught, jaw hardened. You can’t even stand to look at him for a minute. “So, what? We’re just done? We’re broken up?”

“We’re not broken up because we were never together,” Jason snaps.

Another silence settles between the two of you, this one charged.

“I guess that makes things more simple,” you reply, your voice low. You feel your face burning. What had you been thinking? You knew from the start he was bad news. You’d known it, and you ignored every sign anyway.

Silence settles between the two of you again. Jason doesn’t look up at you, but you can’t tear your eyes away from him.

God, you should have seen this coming, and yet it still doesn’t make sense. Things were good. Things were working. Until they weren’t. Until you ended up here. Now you’re at a total loss for words.

“Alright,” you say when he doesn’t speak. “Well, thanks for breakfast.” There’s no point in hiding the bitterness in your voice. What do you have to lose, right? He wants nothing to do with you, and you’ve just wasted months of your life stupidly, childishly believing that this was something that could actually work.

Jason doesn’t move right away. His dark brows are knitted close, but it doesn’t quite look like anger. The scar running through the brow makes him look more severe. You can’t imagine what kind of harsh truths he’s withholding. But you can’t look away. You think about running your fingers through his hair. You think about tracing the ink on his skin. You think about how empty your lunchtime will feel now because you’re not going to be swinging by the shop, a bag of takeout in hand.

This whole time, you’d just been a phase to him. Just another passing name he would forget in a month when he meets someone new. Someone better. Someone less acquainted with fucked up relationships, maybe. The point being, they aren’t going to be you.

And why should it matter so much? What’s four months? You barely know each other, right? Besides all of the times he listened to you spill your guts and probably kept waiting anxiously for you to shut up. All the while, you had managed to convince yourself this was actually going to be anything. You were mortified.

“I think your jacket is still in the bedroom,” you add pointedly as he keeps staring at you. Hopefully he’ll get the hint because you don’t think you have it in you to actually tell him to leave.

He stands, the chair sliding against the wooden floors of your apartment. Silently, he walks to the other room. It takes a few minutes for him to come back out. You’re so busy trying to make sense of all of this, you don’t notice.

When he reemerges, jacket in hand, Jason lingers by the front door. His eyes are fixed to the floor before he finally looks up at you.

“Bye,” he says.

Not see you later because he won’t. He doesn’t plan to. He’s done with you.

His eyes linger on you. He looks sad; you’ve gone and made him feel guilty because you thought you had more of a place in your life than you really did.

“Bye,” you say back, your voice rough.

Not it’s been nice knowing you because you can’t bring yourself to say the words. Not I think meeting you changed my life because you don’t have the right to that claim.

Jason doesn’t look back as he closes the door behind him.

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider giving this a reblog 💛

[hamiltonconfessions-but-better]

Alexander Hamilton is depicted as a deeply flawed yet compelling protagonist. To claim that Hamilton “did no wrongs” would be an oversimplification, but in the broader context of his life story and motivations, his actions and choices reflect the complexity of human nature. He is not meant to be a perfect hero. Instead, Hamilton is a well-written, flawed protagonist who personifies ambition, trauma, and survival. The tendency to criticize him for not being morally impeccable misses the point of his character arc. In reality, his flaws are what make him relatable and human, and they highlight the larger message of the musical: the struggle for legacy, identity, and self-worth in an unforgiving world. To expect Hamilton to be a flawless, ideal figure is to misunderstand both the character and the human experience.

From the first song, the audience is introduced to a man who has survived more hardship than most can imagine. Orphaned at a young age, growing up in poverty, and facing constant instability, Alexander Hamilton was forced to fight for his survival from the very beginning. His determination to rise above his circumstances is a central theme in both his life and the musical. Miranda's version of Hamilton makes it clear that his ambition was not born of simple greed or arrogance but of a deep-rooted fear of being forgotten or left behind. This makes his drive to achieve understandable, even when it leads him down darker paths.

It is easy for critics to say, “well, he didn’t have to write The Reynolds Pamphlet,” or “he didn’t have to antagonize people like Jefferson and Burr,” but these moments stem from a deeper, almost primal need to secure his place in history. For someone who grew up with nothing, the idea of losing everything he built would have been unbearable. Basic empathy requires us to understand that Hamilton's decisions were influenced by his traumas. No one who has lived through what he did would come out unscathed or free from flaws. 

One of the greatest disservices people do when discussing Alexander Hamilton is expecting him to fit the mold of a “perfect protagonist.” We live in a world where audiences are conditioned to look for heroes who are morally upstanding, never make mistakes, and always choose the right path. but life—and great storytelling—doesn’t work that way. Characters like Eliza, who retain their strength and grace despite enduring immense loss, are inspiring, but they are not the only valid models of heroism. Not every person who suffers will react with unshakeable composure or selflessness. Hamilton's flaws make him more real, more complex, and more interesting. They reflect the reality that people, especially those who experience trauma, are not always equipped to handle their emotions or decisions in ways that fit neat moral binaries.

Hamilton's recklessness, pride, and ambition make him both admirable and infuriating. He rises to greatness through sheer force of will, but that same will sometimes leads him to self-destructive choices. His need to defend his legacy (whether by writing The Reynolds Pamphlet or by relentlessly opposing political enemies) comes from a deeply personal place. He isn’t a perfect leader or a perfect family man, but that imperfection is what makes his story so compelling. To fault him for not being more like Eliza, or even more like George Washington, is to impose an unrealistic standard on a character who was never meant to be idealized.

It's fine to critique Hamilton's actions—we should critique all characters’ actions—but what many critics miss is the essential empathy required to fully understand Hamilton's motivations. His decisions, especially the ones that seem irrational or destructive, are the result of years of hardship, insecurity, and an overwhelming need to prove his worth. Writing The Reynolds Pamphlet, for instance, was a terrible decision on the surface, but it came from a place of desperation. Hamilton believed that by confessing his own sins, he could preserve his political legacy. For someone whose entire identity was wrapped up in being remembered, that seemed like the only choice.

Moreover, holding Hamilton to the standard of someone like Eliza—who, as people often note, endured immense personal loss with dignity—ignores the fact that not everyone reacts to trauma in the same way. Eliza's strength doesn’t invalidate Hamilton's struggles. His mistakes and vulnerabilities make him a more fully fleshed-out character, and while we may not agree with everything he did, we can understand why he did it. His life was a constant fight against oblivion, and he chose to make himself known, even if it meant sacrificing personal relationships or making enemies.

What makes Alexander Hamilton a great protagonist is not that he is morally perfect but that he is deeply, unapologetically human. Characters like Hamilton show us that imperfection and complexity are what make for good storytelling. If Hamilton were a flawless hero, always making the “right” choice and never stumbling, his story wouldn’t resonate as deeply. His ambition is both his greatest strength and his fatal flaw, and this makes him relatable to anyone who has ever strived for something and paid the price.

By the end of the musical, Hamilton's legacy is defined by both his achievements and his mistakes. He revolutionized American politics, laid the foundations for the country’s financial system, and fought for the principles he believed in. At the same time, his impulsiveness and need for validation led him into unnecessary conflicts and ultimately cost him his life. These contradictions make him a well-rounded, unforgettable character, and his flaws are what drive his story forward. to ask for anything more would be to erase the richness of his character.

Alexander Hamilton was not perfect, but he wasn’t meant to be. Miranda's version of Hamilton is a reflection of the complexities of human ambition, trauma, and survival. To dismiss him because of his mistakes or to judge him by unrealistic standards of perfection is to ignore the essence of his character. Hamilton's flaws are what make him great—they are the cracks in his armor that allow us to see the full depth of his personality and his struggles. 

To truly appreciate Hamilton, both as a person and as a character in the musical, we must recognize that perfection is not the point. He was a deeply flawed protagonist, but one whose story resonates because it is grounded in the reality of human existence.

-alexander hamilton defense anon

.

[lurkingshan]

Earlier this week I read a couple smart posts by @impala124 about Yeong's self-destructive tendencies and by @solitaryandwandering about why Yeong pursued this relationship and how he may not have ever fully committed to letting Gyu-ho in, and something about their characterizations of Yeong in this relationship was scratching at my brain. It wasn't that I disagreed with them, because they're not wrong about some of his behaviors, but that it didn't feel like the full truth of this relationship. So I will attempt to tease that nuance out now.

I think a lot about how Yeong is the narrator of this story, and so everything we see is filtered through his perspective. This is much more evident in the book, where he is literally telling us what happened with his patented combination of distancing wit and biting self-loathing, whereas in the show they have intentionally gone a bit beyond his perspective to show us the characters existing outside of his head. We've all reflected over the last couple weeks on how that has changed the tone of the previous sections and relationships. But this part of the show is the most similar to the book, and that makes sense because Gyu-ho is the only character in the book besides Young who feels fully fleshed out and real on the page. He is deeply important to Young, and that comes across in how Young writes about him. And I think that comes through in the show, as well, both in the way Yeong behaves with him, and in the way this story is framed and shot to essentially make Gyu-ho feel like the light in his darkness. Young/Yeong/Sang Young Park deeply loves this man, and regrets losing him, and blames himself for most of what went wrong, and that colors everything about the way the story is told.

When we were discussing this part of the book, many of us noted that Young is something of an unreliable narrator, because you have to read between the lines to find his true feelings buried under constant obfuscations and emotionally distancing rhetoric. I think that same feeling came across in the show, but without the benefit of being able to see into him a bit deeper like in the book, it may be hard to see how much of himself he put into this relationship, and how sincerely he tried, and how external forces constantly worked to reinforce that he did not deserve and couldn't have it. I think it helps to look at his actions rather than his words, because this man does not like to speak about his sincere feelings very often:

Yeong was the one to pursue the relationship, going out of his way to find Gyu-ho again and ask him out after their initial encounters, and going back for him after initially parting at the train. I read that moment where the loud girls passed him as Yeong getting shaken out of his stasis and realizing he was missing a chance to have something real with Gyu-ho, and he didn’t want to lose his shot.

He put it out there first that he wanted their relationship to work out, a stunning moment of accidental honesty for someone who normally pretends an indifference he doesn't feel.

He took Gyu-ho seriously enough to disclose his biggest shame. I do not think he did this to try to push him away; he did it because he sincerely liked and cared about this man and he wanted to protect himself if this was something Gyu-ho could not accept.

Despite the fact that their sex life is stymied by their conflicting challenges and role preferences, Yeong was content. In the book we hear him reflect directly on how surprised he is to be this happy with someone without an amazing sex life, and that happiness shines through in the show before he sinks into depression.

Gyu-ho was not the first of Yeong’s boyfriends to meet the T-aras, but he was the only one Yeong was confident they would approve of, and he seemed so happy as he walked home with Gyu-ho after their meeting. He knows this man is special.

Yeong invited Gyu-ho into his home to live together--the home he previously shared with Mi Ae and seems to consider his safe haven. He wanted him there, and he trusted him to be there.

Despite their petty arguments about chores and how to manage their shared space, he sincerely makes room for Gyu-ho and wanted him to feel like it's theirs (though he doesn't always recognize how his own behavior makes that harder), down to matching couple mugs and the development of shared habits.

At several points in their relationship he encouraged Gyu-ho to get what he needs, even if it means going outside their relationship for sex (we only see this hinted at in the show), while he himself stays content with what he gets from Gyu-ho even as their sex life really falls off. Both his depression and his Kylie are at work, but Yeong never wants to leave Gyu-ho even in his darkest moments, or even as he claims things have become dull. Even when they were fighting in the midst of Yeong’s worst depressive episode, he said he was thinking about their future together.

When things started to get really dire, Yeong did not give up as he would have in previous relationships. Instead he suggested and booked them a trip to reconnect and spend quality time together, despite his financial stress and time limitations. And when removed from those huge stressors, they did reconnect and reaffirm their feelings, and we saw Yeong's happiness rise to the surface again.

The way Yeong began emotionally distancing once he realized he could not go to Shanghai was telling; he retreated back to his more indifferent persona once he believed the relationship could not work out as a way to protect himself--because he was devastated.

All this to say: Yeong cared about this relationship so much, and he really tried. He tried harder than we've seen him do with anyone else. He did not hold himself back or intentionally push Gyu-ho away until the end; this is simply who he is and what he can give to a partner.

Which brings me to the real main source of this relationships' downfall: disease, stigma, and homophobia. The thing I want to be really clear about here is that while Yeong did not make perfect choices, and there may have been a way for he and Gyu-ho to work out if he'd believed more in the strength of their partnership to overcome further hardship, he is not wrong to believe that Gyu-ho was negatively affected by his disease or to decide that he did not want to be a source of hardship for Gyu-ho. It is a factual statement that Yeong's Kylie resulted in Gyu-ho not getting everything he wanted and needed, and would have continued to deny him opportunities if they stayed together. Yeong is not merely imagining that his partner could be affected by the limitations Kylie puts on his life; that's very real and actively happening and constantly reinforced for him. And he loves Gyu-ho, so much. He doesn't want to be the reason Gyu-ho doesn't get everything he wants, and he's ashamed to hold him back. I wish for his sake that he could have made different choices, that he could have tried working something out that they would both be happy with, but lord do I understand why he didn't.

[yuri-is-online]

Masquerade request with number 5 for Jamil (tho not sure he'd be shy, more like reticent, potentially) aand since I can ask for two others I guess I might as well go for Azul and Deuce who kinda seem like suitable sorts for this prompt.

Ty!

-viperwhispered

5. You know it's him and he knows it's you, but you're both a bit too shy to admit you would like to keep holding onto each other when the masks come off, so you'll just stay here together a little longer.

Completely agree that Jamil wouldn't be shy in this scenario, more like a prisoner of his own self destructive tendencies. Also hello! I'm always really happy to see you in my notifications Whisper <(˶ᵔᵕᵔ˶)> Your comments are always very much appreciated.

notes: they/them used for Yuu, this is mildly angsty and I am uncertain if I have provided any comfort here. Uhh unrequited requited love, everyone here is a pining idiot, Deuce is bro zoning himself. The other event requests can be found on my masterlist.

Jamil

He is unprepared for what it feels like to hold you.

It's one thing to look at someone, another to think of them, but both keep a level of imagination to the interaction. Jamil doesn't have the risk of failure in his imagination; he can comfort himself in his perceived superiority and not actually make the effort. There is no warmth in those thoughts, no weight, no you, nothing resembling the delicate weight in his arms that he finds himself wanting to-

"Are you alright?" You ask softly, bringing some focus back to Jamil's eyes, he smiles at you and you wish you could be certain that he really means it.

"I'm just... unused to this." Jamil chooses his words carefully. He does not expect you to know it's him, but there's always the chance someone else does. It makes him feel sick to think the small sigh of relief you give could be meant for someone else, his mind has a ready supply of suspects, but tonight is supposed to be for strangers to play act at romance. He is... allowed... to want this. "I am not that interesting of a guy, you know?"

"I'm sure you're plenty interesting." You say and Jamil swallows to steady himself, trying to remind the spiraling fractions of his mind that you are saying this to a stranger. You would, you have very likely, said this to anyone who needed the encouragement. "If you let yourself go I am sure you will find there's a person underneath the act." But would it be one you approve of? And why is he worrying over that when everyone should approve of him anyway, especially considering what middling results his classmates are barely capable of?

"Your compliments aren't necessary." His smile says otherwise but you cannot bring yourself to push it least you push Jamil away. "But if you wish to keep them coming I will not stop you." You wind your arms around him to pull Jamil just a bit closer. If only he could read your mind as well as command it, if only he wanted you as much as you wanted him.

"Are you sure you can withstand it?" No he's not. "Because I could go on for quite some time." You are clearly teasing him. Jamil's heart should be used to stress, it's been working overtime since he was first sworn over to Kalim, but he's not. There's something new about this stress, or maybe it isn't stress at all and that's just what he's labeling it because that's what he is used to feeling.

"I can take anything." Jamil certainly projects something like confidence, but even as the other guests begin removing their masks his stays firmly put. In both senses you suppose, unable to keep a bitter sigh from escaping you.

But you say nothing, choosing to simply squeeze his hand and hope that he will somehow inhale the meaning of your movements with the sharp breath he takes.

You can want this, please say you want this, please say you want me and give me a reason to stay.

But he can't in good conscious. He is bound by a duty he wishes upon no one, he refuses to ask properly. Just what it is Jamil wants of you needs to be asked for in freedom. So once again you slip away into the night alone with his hand reaching out towards you just out of sight.

Azul

"You have a strong grip." Your voice is muffled as the gentle, but strong hand at the back of your head keeps you firmly resting on this handsome "stranger's" shoulder.

Azul appears to be under the impression this will be easier on him if he cannot see you, but he seems to have forgotten he still can look down the expanse of your back when he holds you this close. What you're doing can barely be described as dancing, swaying is what people might call it but Azul barely registers that he is moving.

"Of course I do." His voice lacks the usual musical performance you associate with it, he sounds almost... tired. Overwhelmed, you decide is the more accurate term as you exhale into his neck and try not to savor the way he shudders. "To keep precious things close is what any pirate would do, hm?" You smile.

"Fancy yourself a heart thief? I would think that's a more Heartslabyul gig." He stiffens, you know he was just trying to make a jest at the appearance of his costume but you appear to have touched some sort of nerve. Azul pulls you closer, arm wrapping properly around your waist instead of simply sitting on it.

"Is it?" Azul wants to vomit all his feelings up, eject them like a sea cucumber and walk off the embarrassment from showing his guts. Anything has to be less painful than thinking of his-

No you are not his. That's why he is being a coward and not looking you in the eye like any proper gentleman would. Why he had asked for a dance, kissed your hand, and not let go of you all under the flimsy pretense of a mask. Azul dislikes taking solace in your kindness, but he knows he can rely on you to not make him pay for this. Even if you really should.

"Has your heart already been carried off to a maze?" Azul is trying to make a joke, but you are so close to his heart you can hear the nerves hammering away at his typical sense of self.

"I think my heart is drowning." You whisper it, low into his pulse point before your eyes squeeze close in embarrassment. Azul's pulse does not slow, and he cannot squeeze you any closer, a sure sign as if you needed it that he isn't Floyd nor could he ever pretend to be. But he can guide you into a sway that's a little more like a dance.

This is enough for tonight. It will not be enough tomorrow, but it is enough for tonight.

Deuce

This is how friends look at each other. Deuce would know because he has never looked at you any other way. There's a respectful distance between you both, an almost boring decorum to the proper ballroom dance he is happily guiding you in. If it weren't for his continued refusal to call you by your name or meaningless title, it would be like you were talking normally.

"Do they have dances like this where you're from?" Deuce is genuine in his interest, always eager to find a new way to ensure you feel like you belong.

"In books and movies maybe." Your laughter makes him soar, spinning you into the air for a brief second that adds a shriek to it that brings a grin to his face that has you feeling lightheaded. "Honestly I never thought I would get a chance to go to something like this!"

"Why not?" It's a stupid question, even if you have repeatedly reassured him there is no such thing.

"Well a Masquerade is kind of a rich people thing, and I'm not rich." Technically you shouldn't be here either, but you let that thought go unsaid. It never even crosses Deuce's mind, there is something so natural about having you in his arms that the idea of a world without you in it-

A world without you in it. It crystalizes as someone taps on the mic to announce the band will play just one as nice slow song that if everything in Twisted Wonderland had been normal he would be rolling his eyes at as he escapes to the sidelines. But that's not what's happening, he is pulling you closer to him and placing his arm around your waist without so much as a second thought.

"I'm not rich either." Deuce says, no where near as stiff in tone or posture as you would have expected him to be when trying to slow dance. If anything he holds you as if it is the most natural thing in the world to him, lapsing into uncharacteristic silence as he really looks you in the eyes with some strange hidden emotion in them.

It's always been there of course, this is always the way Deuce looks at you, but the mask ironically forces you to really see it.

"I'm lucky to be in this world with you." He means it, and though you hold tightly to his hand he doesn't think you know just how much.

[chickenkurage]

“The state I found you in (It's like looking in a mirror)”

Summary: Snow sees himself too much in Vee, so it wasn’t a surprise to see Vee in such a bad state, Snow is just slightly angry at himself for not noticing sooner.

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Found Family Dynamics, Fluff

*~*

Kit: Cursor Alan

Vee: Teen Alan

Feathers: Duck Alan

Noogai: Artificial Intelligence Alan

Snow: Creator Stickman Alan

Oji: Farmer Alan

*~*

Snow was keenly aware of Vee's tendency to lose sleep and skip meals, neglecting breakfast, lunch, and even dinner. Vee had a persistent habit of doing so, often relying on Oji or Noogai to pull him out of his funk and coax him into eating or taking a bath. The weariness etched on Vee's face made it clear just how much he struggled.

In short, Snow understood that Vee was on a self-destructive path, mirroring Snow's own struggles, yet Snow hadn't found the courage to address it with him. Oji and Noogai seemed better equipped to handle this than Snow, who admitted his own shortcomings when it came to dealing with emotions.

If only he were more adept at such conversations, maybe the Hollowheads wouldn't have distanced themselves from him, would they?

At present, it was just Snow and Vee in their shared home. The others had moved on to their own worlds.

While in his world, Snow has only Ammy to confide in. He longed for the company of his other selves, only to realize that Vee was the sole remaining presence in the household.

Now, as Snow sank onto the couch, resting his chin on his hands with his elbow on his knees, he let out a heavy sigh. Should he return to his own world? College life was demanding for Vee, just as Snow vaguely recalled his own art school days.

College life was a relentless grind, with countless sleepless nights that Snow himself had endured. It was entirely plausible that Vee was going through similar struggles.

In a fleeting moment, Snow contemplated knocking on Vee's door to inquire about his well-being but ultimately retreated to his own room, opting to rest first. Perhaps tomorrow he would muster the courage to engage in a conversation if Vee emerged from his own seclusion.

*~*

Vee remained holed up in his room not just the next day, but for several days in a row, leading Snow to believe he was alone in the house and that Vee had likely left the night before. Standing outside Vee's room, Snow hesitated, contemplating whether to knock. Could Vee still be inside? Maybe he had already departed.

"No way he's been in there for days. That's impossible. No one can do that," Snow muttered to himself, dropping his hand to his side and crossing his arms.

Before he could react, the door swung open, revealing Vee with a tissue stuffed up his nose, his complexion pale, and his eyes weary as he looked up at Snow in surprise. "S-Snow? Have you been here all this time?" Vee stammered, his astonishment mirrored in Snow's blinking gaze.

"I thought you had gone home a few days ago, Vee. Are you telling me you haven't left your room in days now?" Snow inquired, his typically soft voice taking on a slightly more angry tone as Vee winced, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Days have passed already? Uh... no way, haha... you must be kidding, right?" Vee weakly grinned up at Snow, but his expression faltered when Snow continued to gaze at him intently. "Oh, crap... Seriously?" Vee whispered, placing a hand on his head, his eyes widening before Snow gently rested a hand on his shoulder. "What have you been doing? Did you even eat? I thought—I thought you had already gone home," Snow's voice tinged with concern as Vee waved a hand.

"I-I did! I just ate really late. You were probably already asleep... um," Vee awkwardly explained, pulling the tissue from his nose, crumpling it into a ball, and stuffing it into his pocket before sniffing. "I was just finishing up some school work, and I couldn't focus back at home. I kept getting distracted, so I came here..." Vee mumbled, as Snow sighed.

"Are you sure you're alright? You look really pale," Snow inquired, bending down slowly to meet Vee's gaze eye to eye.

"Uhh, heh, I'm doing fine, just a little tired. School work's got me messed up, am I right?" Vee nonchalantly shrugged as Snow observed him closely. "Are you sure?" Snow questioned once more, his concern evident, as Vee nodded rapidly, wincing as the room seemed to spin around him. His head had been throbbing persistently for days now.

"Vee?" Snow placed a hand on Vee's shoulder as Vee stumbled on his feet. He heard Vee sniff again, pressing the back of his hand against his nose, only to emit a small noise of surprise when it came away bloody. "You're having a nosebleed!" Snow exclaimed in panic as Vee stared at it, bewildered, before faltering again and almost collapsing into Snow's arms.

"I think—" Vee stuttered, his hand reaching to his nose in an attempt to staunch the bleeding before apologizing to Snow, "Sorry, Snow, I think I'm going to pass out." With those words, Vee's vision darkened, and he slumped towards the floor.

"Shit!" Snow exclaimed, moving swiftly to catch Vee before he hit the ground, lifting him up in his arms to prevent his fall.

*~*

It took a considerable effort for Snow to stop Vee's nosebleed, to the extent that he began to worry if he should rush Vee to the hospital, only to recall the impossibility of bringing Vee to his own world.

Snow dedicated himself to wiping the blood from Vee's chin and placing a comforting hand on his clammy forehead, his face etched with concern. He paced back and forth in front of the couch where Vee lay, yearning for the presence of Noogai in that moment.

Would Noogai be adept at handling this situation? Or perhaps Oji, given the other Alan's experience with children. "Ugh, damn it!" Snow growled, frustration evident as he clenched his fist in his hair, pacing anxiously to the point where he feared he might leave a trail of fire in his wake from sheer agitation.

"Snow?" Vee mumbled, breaking Snow from his thoughts. Snow turned to him in surprise, rushing to Vee's side and kneeling beside the couch to assess his condition. 

"Vee, you're awake! How are you feeling? You just had a nosebleed for almost 2 minutes. I was so worried," Snow's words tumbled out rapidly, tinged with panic as Vee squinted at him, attempting to comprehend what Snow had just said.

“Wha—” Vee mumbled, attempting to push himself up but faltering until Snow lent a hand, assisting him to sit upright. He handed Vee the now-warm water from the coffee table, guiding him to take a sip. “Sorry, uh, drink first,” Snow murmured as Vee nodded, eagerly gulping down the water.

“What happened?” Vee inquired, rubbing his head in confusion. The throbbing headache had vanished, and to his surprise, he felt better than before. Could Snow possess healing abilities? A power nap couldn't have worked such instant wonders on Vee.

“You passed out, Vee. You weren’t getting any sleep were you?” Snow's tone carried a hint of accusation as Vee blushed. “That wasn’t—” Vee began, his face flushing as Snow scrutinized him. “Yeah, I didn’t,” Vee admitted, his demeanor deflating as Snow sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“That was dangerous. What if I hadn’t been here? What if you had passed out and choked on your own blood?!” Snow's tone was laced with worry and exasperation as Vee raised an eyebrow at him. “That’s... kind of graphic... and a very well-thought-out scenario,” Vee remarked, furrowing his brow as Snow emitted a distressed sound from the back of his throat.

"Vee, I'm not joking. That was incredibly risky. Isn't this a wake-up call for you to start taking better care of yourself?" Snow's voice held a peculiar softness as Vee gazed at him, his expression a mix of surprise and pallor. "Oh, that, huh?... Right... uhm," Vee responded awkwardly, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

"Vee... I—well, a lot of us care about you. The people in your world care about you too. Why don't you value yourself as much as they do?" Snow tilted his head, his forehead creased with worry.

"I do... I just forget sometimes... I'm sorry for causing you so much concern, Snow," Vee mumbled, averting his gaze to his lap, his lip caught between his teeth. Beside him, Snow simply sighed. "It's okay. Perhaps next time, set alarms to remind you to take breaks," Snow suggested, standing up and settling at the foot of Vee's position, allowing Vee to rest his leg on his lap.

Following this exchange, silence enveloped the room. Vee reclined against the bunched-up pillows behind him, his eyes growing heavy once more as he observed Snow turning towards him. "Go back to sleep. I'll keep watch," Snow spoke softly, prompting a hum of acknowledgment from Vee. "Thanks, Snow. You're the best," Vee muttered, snuggling back into the pillows.

"Thanks for being here," Vee murmured, closing his eyes, finally succumbing to sleep.

Snow slowly released a breath through his nose, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. Guilt churned in his gut, weighing heavily on him for allowing Vee to push himself to the brink of passing out and suffering a nosebleed.

*~*

The next day, when the others returned, Snow arranged for Noogai to give Vee a check-up. Fortunately, it turned out that Vee was only dehydrated and slightly underweight. Upon hearing this, Oji wasted no time in bustling about the kitchen, preparing a feast, while everyone collectively enveloped Vee in a blanket. Kit took charge of the TV, playing something to distract them all.

While, Feathers delivered a stern lecture to Vee about the importance of taking care of his own well-being.

"Guys... please, Snow, help me out of here," Vee mumbled, his voice muffled as he struggled within the confines of the blanket, his hair tousled. Snow chuckled softly. "I think a week of rest would do you good," he suggested, causing Vee's eyes to widen in disbelief.

"What?!" Vee exclaimed, watching as Snow made his way towards the kitchen where the others had gathered. "Wait! Snow! Guys!" Vee called out, a mixture of surprise and protest in his voice.

*~*

for @0gingerflake0

Hope you enjoy, very late, sorry for the wait :3 - S

[thankshermin]

About the Scene Where Dazai Tells Akutagawa “You got stronger“

...and some rambling about their relationship, featuring a few lines about Kyouka and Mori at some point.

I think about that scene a lot and the fact that it is not talked about is really bugging me off so I need to get some things out of my chest,, let’s gooo 

CW: mentions of abuse

First of all, it is not equal to an apology. It simply is not. There is a high chance that Dazai probably didn’t even say it as an apology. He merely stated the fact that Akutagawa got stronger. What is more important about this scene is not what he said but rather how he said it.  

Dazai has changed and he is still changing for the better. The way he looks at Akutagawa and praises him in that soft tone is not how would Dazai express his thoughts to Akutagawa in the mafia.  

Now, for another matter about this scene; those words obviously meant a lot to Akutagawa but it doesn’t have to mean much, if anything, to him. 

Dazai doesn’t apologize to him. He doesn’t mention anything about his treatment to Akutagawa and doesn’t acknowledge it. We don’t know for sure if he truly doesn’t regret it or if he does feel ashamed about it and decides against saying something.

Why was Dazai even that awful to Akutagawa, anyway?

Well, obviously not because he takes sadistic pleasure from hurting Akutagawa. He believed that if he didn't, Akutagawa couldn't survive in the mafia. Akutagawa turned out to be the mafias one of the strongest attackers, due to this. Was it necessary? Of course not. He was very abusive towards Akutagawa. Is it an explanation? Yes, it is. That is what Dazai thought he was supposed to do, and since he didn't have any direct subordinates he mentored; we can't really compare but there is this conversation he had with Odasaku;

“Ah, Akutagawa is a sword without a scabbard.” Dazai smiles slightly. “It won’t be long before he becomes the mafia’s most powerful ability user. However, someone needs to teach him how to keep his blade.” I am startled. I have never heard Dazai praise his subordinates so unreservedly. “Is he really that outstanding?” “When I first saw him in the slums, I shuddered. His talent is far above that of others. His ability is extremely destructive, and he is fairly stubborn himself. If left ignored, he would be at the mercy of his ability. It wouldn’t be long until he self-destructs.” Dazai has never taken the initiative to take in a subordinate, much less a starving youth in the slums. But Dazai seems to have his own plans.

This makes me sad because Dazai never disliked Akutagawa or thought he was weak. He always thought Akutagawa would be strong. But the thing is, Akutagawa doesn't know that. Dazai never made it clear to him. Kind of a shame he was a shitty teacher most of the time. Makes me wonder why Mori never said anything about it to Dazai. I am curious about lots of things about Mori and Dazai's relationship, to be honest. Dazai was always messed up but Mori messed him to a further point, whether he meant it or not. Dazai was also really mentally unstable when he was still in the mafia and couldn't bother trying to be gentle. Dazai is still not healed but he is doing a lot better in the ADA.

Back to Dazai never saying anything about it, that behavior itself is very weak on Dazai’s end. He desperately tries to change but there are just some things that he still can not work on. One of them is this. He has unfinished businesses with many people and one of them is Akutagawa. Maybe he can’t bring himself to show that vulnerability towards him, maybe he truly doesn’t think what he did was something he should be apologizing for, maybe he thinks apologizing could make it worse instead of fixing it, etc. etc. I can still count.

But there is one thing and it’s that Dazai doesn’t go out of his comfort zone in his relationships. I am not saying that he would return back to his old tendencies in time since that goes against all of his character trying to find his place in a better world but I’m just saying that Dazai probably finds it more convenient to treat Akutagawa the way he always did and even that little “you’ve gotten stronger” was a milestone for him. 

Akutagawa really had the right to say fuck off to Dazai and his half-assed apology, he really did, but I believe that scene was as equally important on Dazai's end as it is on Akutagawa's side. It means something. It isn't supposed to fly over the viewers' heads.

Progress isn't linear and Dazai shows it in a very slow way. A lot of things get in his way. He sometimes struggles, but that's what makes it realistic. you know what they say; one step forward, two steps back.

What the larger part of the fandom refuses to understand is that Dazai is not on the polar end of something. He is very mixed in that part. He is not a pure angel and probably would be one of the worst people you could have ever met if he were a real person. But he is not the devil's respawn on Earth either. Most of y'all forget that he was a lost child who got guided by the worst possible person ever. (I really like Mori's character too but that's a different topic, he is still a terrible person) If he is trying to change and do better, I'm always going to be rooting for him.

There is this saying, you can't teach an old dog new tricks and I really want Dazai to prove this wrong. His words to Akutagawa were not his destination on this journey, it was more like a milestone.

Akutagawa is also showing development too and that is mostly thanks to Atsushi. I kind of doubt this but maybe Akutagawa understands the meaning of Dazai's words since he was also giving Kyouka a half-assed apology type of thing. Their situations are so similar that I don't need to say much about it.

Akutagawa has grown so much and he probably will continue to do that, but it doesn't erase his trauma, not really. Dazai really messed Akutagawa up. Even though it doesn't count as an apology, this shows that Akutagawa has come to terms with Dazai's abuse and his own treatment of Kyouka and he deserves a kudos for that. acknowledging that your mentor messed you up and also acknowledging that you traumatized someone takes an effort.

Akutagawa may have learned most of the cruel things he did from Dazai, but he has grown enough to realize that he is actually his own person.

Ending;

I like most bsd characters because of how real and how grey they are and the abuse circle/web is really well-written. I really do want to explore it better some other time. As I said, not everyone has the guts to come up to terms with the fact that they were abused, let alone that they were shitty to other people. Akutagawa and Dazai are really different characters on their own but their relationship shows that they truly are influenced by an upper power and even though they both individually have a long way to go, this scene of Dazai telling Akutagawa he got stronger does mean a lot than an interaction between them that lasted two seconds.

[ihaveforgortoomany]

Hello, Comrade!!

You're the most knowledgeable person in Reverse I know so, I have to ask this one question I have (I still haven't finished 1.9 nor played Kakania's story but you can tell me whatever you want)

Is Kakania's way to deal with the trauma she went through in Vienna looking for a way to condemn herself? For her to go through pain or some sort of punishment after all of it?

A way of survivor's guilt mixed with self-disgust and self-condemnation?

I just watched Silent Hill two, sat through two hours of it while working, and couldn't help but find out that (to some extent) the protagonist in that game and Kakania had nearly the same way to cope.

I thought you would give me some insight in this, you may not have watched Silent Hill 2 but it's not necessary for this, just a comparison.

So, what do you think?

Greetings Comrade!

🥺 i really appreciate that you think i am knowledge on this game - its alot of rambling and brainrot of knowledge for the most part + the lack of a proper wiki for lore currently

Brief look at Kakania's self guilt after 1.9, comparing to SH2

Anyways, Kakania is 100% looking for a way to condemn herself following the events of 1.9, if the notion of having herself washed away by the Storm as repentance wasn't enough her character story does hammer home this guilt and need to atone. I think the conclusion by the end of character story ultimately sees her moving forward and understanding that right now she cannot help Isolde and if anything worsened her condition. But equally right now the "salvation" she brought Isolde did alleviate some of her pain, not entirely and definitely not a healthy method - but did help I think.

Self-Condemnation? In joining the History Guard, Ive mentioned before how the Foundation is essentially enabling her self-destructive tendencies by 'persuading' her to take a job with a high morality rate clearly does look like Kakania seeks repentance and punishment through potentially sacrificing herself on the line of duty. (Cough cough literally people like Sonetto and even Matilda have this mentally of sacrificing themselves for the greater good cough cough).

I think in terms of self-disgust, potentially the scene before Isolde's boss back in Book 6, sure she covered the mirrors as part of the plan with Marcus, but this aversion to looking at herself after the ramifications of Isolde's actions, Heinrich and Hoffman's death being indirectly and the directly the result of Kakania's own words and breaking of doctor and patient confidentiality and everything your NOT meant to discuss with patients - yeah. Spending the length of her character story was literally her struggling with self-reflection of her ideals, there is a level of disgust I think towards that idealised mindset she originally had.

In terms of Silent Hill 2, lmao same I haven't played but watched a couple of playthroughs and video essays on them. But its been a while so take this with a grain of salt. Both Kakania and James both struggle with the actions but more on James part he attempts to hide away from it, through the fog and the conceit that Mary died three years ago to an illness and not by him suffocating by his hands. In comparison Kakania upon realising what her words have led to immediately sought out the rectify her mistakes, even if at the cost of her life potentially.

James over the course of Silent Hill 2 had to confront the truth instead of hiding away from it in his subconscious, while Kakania confronted the truth of her actions immediately, her struggle was grappling with its aftermath and how to move on from that pain and look forward.

Similarities I could see between them is the nature of the lack of communication between the partners: James did not fully understand Mary and vice versa, and Kakania could not comprehend Isolde fully (we as well cannot fully trust Isolde's perspective as seen in Three Doors) and Isolde did not comprehend the "remove the disease of the world is not actually go kill people and jumpstart ww1 early".

Summary: Kakania definitely struggles with self-disgust and self-condemnation following 1.9 as seen with her character story.

James and Kakania grapple with their ways to cope and grapple with the truth of their actions differently: James throughout his game is about confronting reality and truth THEN moving on, while Kakania through her story is about the aftermath of that truth, finding a way to move forwards even after everything.

(Its been a while since doing this, writing an essay type thing lol, last time I was thinking this hard for r1999 was the Manus Vertin AU lol, probably will start rambling again once 2.1 drops because I do have alot of say about stuff there)

[andie-platonically]

Fantasy High characters as songs by The Mountain Goats

1. Kristen Applebees - Before I Got There

“And the tapestry above / Torn down, trampled then re-hung / Now illegible forever / An oracle with no tongue/ All of this, all of this / All of this before I got there”

I think this song so perfectly mirrors Kristen’s relationship with both Cassandra and Ankarna. Like, both of them had been corrupted and used to further other people’s evil plans with no regard to their original followers’ intent. Until Kristen arrived. Until she lovingly restored them to their original forms with such respect to why they were created, and her compassion is one of my favorite things about her character.

2. Riz Gukgak - Ground Level

“You can light a cigarette / against the cooktop if you need to / feel the heat against your forehead / let it bleed through / you’re never gonna get by / on three hours of sleep a night / unless you absolutely have to / and then you get by alright.”

I almost picked Bones Don’t Rust, which you should also add to your Riz character playlist but I went with this one instead. We see Riz take up smoking in Junior Year, we see him not sleeping and overworking himself throughout the series, and I think a lot of that does come from a place of going beyond his breaking point, steadfastly refusing to break, and thinking that means he’s okay.

3. Fabian Seacaster - Wage Wars Get Rich Die Handsome / Great Pirates

I’m cheating and giving Fabian two songs because he changes so much throughout the series. Here’s the first one:

“Stay independent, make adjustments as needed / it’s losers all the way down, you stay undefeated / wage wars, get rich, die handsome.”

I think this song is peak Fabian from Freshman Year. It references motorcycle riding, the narrator genuinely thinks he’s such hot shit, and I mean like, come on. Wage wars, get rich, die handsome. It’s literally perfect. But Fabian grows. He changes. So here’s the second song I picked for him:

“On the morning when I stop looking back / I’ll be up to see the sunrise in deep, bruise black / And bright, blood red / And pale desert rose / And several other colors like those / great pirates, testing the waves.”

Okay, so obviously it was fun to use a Mountain Goats song with pirates in it, but also, I interpret this song as being about moving on from your past and looking towards an uncertain future. So much of Fabian’s arc has been him figuring out who he is beyond his dad’s legacy, and so I think this song works really well with that. (I probably could have picked any Jenny from Thebes song and it would have a lot of those themes, but come on, pirates!)

4. Fig Faeth - Cry for Judas

“Speed up to the precipice / and then slam on the breaks / some people crash two or three times / And then learn from their mistakes / But we are the ones who don’t slow down at all / and there’s nobody there to catch us when we fall.”

I think Fig’s self destructive tendencies are more evident early on in the series (see: all her affairs with middle-aged men) but honestly, the way she puts herself on the front lines again and again for her friends is just as destructive imo. Also, this song gives such difficult child-energy, and I think sometimes this is how Sandralynn sees her. This kid who didn’t deal with her curse because it didn’t seem important when her friends had other things going on. This kid who skips her classes, is straight-edge except for drugs. This kid who was knocked unconscious in her first combat and wanted everyone to think she spent the whole time fighting.

5. Adaine Abernant - Up the Wolves

“I’m gonna get myself in fighting trim / scope out every angle of unfair advantage / I’m gonna bribe the officials, I’m gonna kill all the judges / It’s gonna take you people years to recover from all of the damage.”

Trigger warning to those who need it: Sunset Tree is about abuse, which is obviously quite prevalent in Adaine’s arc Freshman/Sophomore Year. It was between this and Lion’s Teeth. What I like about this song for Adaine is that it is tragic, of course it’s tragic, but it also shows her rage, not just for herself but for Aelwyn too. This is a girl who took what her parents did to her and said that’s not fair and punched her dad so hard in the face that he died. I also think that given how Adaine’s relationship with her mother is so much more complicated, the other parts of this song work well with that.

6. Gorgug Thistlespring - The Slow Parts on Death Metal Albums

“Drive home alone and listen to the slow parts / In a new universe / trying to find the mask that still fits me / shaking the curse.”

I’m gonna be so real, I really struggled with this one because I just don’t relate to Gorgug as much, but I’m so infatuated with the idea that he listens to the slow parts of death metal albums, and I do think that this song, to me, fits the fact that Gorgug doesn’t really fit the roles anyone expects from him. He’s not just a mindless raging half-orc, he’s also kind and shy and gentle and loving. But he does have a lot of rage and he reacts violently at times and his parents love him but they don’t always know what to do with that.

Bonus song! Jawbone - Midland

“Come and stay with me as long as you like / I live outside of town where the straight highway curves / three years I lived next door to the airport / so nothing you can say to me can get on my nerves.”

Jawbone collects fucked up teens like pokemon cards, so I every time I hear this song I think of him. Also, the way the narrator of this song gives the subject time and space to go through things and assures them that yeah, I’ll still be here, is so very Jawbone-coded imo. Also, later in the song, he says “stay till you can grieve like normal people do / I’ve got room, room in my house for you.” Like, every line of this song is just so Jawbone I need y’all to understand.

Bonus song #2! The Bad Kids - When a Powerful Animal Comes

“Speak in gestures only we can understand / we’ve made mistakes / everyone spots their own mess / when the dawn breaks / we get so exhausted / lost kids, just wasted / sleep in short shifts then rise to our feet / life is short and life is hard and life is sweet.”

This song is the most Bad Kids shit I’ve ever heard in my life. If it’s not in your Bad Kids playlist, you gotta add it now and Weary Adventures by Skull Puppies haha anyway It’s just literally so perfect. It’s just these kids with the weight of the world on their shoulders, so fucking tired of saving the world. It’s literally the overall arc of Junior Year!

[heinzpilsner]

Hmm, while there is a grain of truth in the popular zutarian take on "Southern Raiders" ("Aang is preachy and Zuko cares for Katara's feelings"), reading this episode as an evidence that Zuko is a right partner for Katara still doesn't sit quite well with me (and I'm a zutara trash, mind you!)

The problem with this ep in general is what it mixes too many complex topics together, and it becomes difficult to entangle the mess.

Basically, Aang was wrong talking in terms of "revenge" and "forgiveness" and "Jet" and "Appa" instead of "Katara's mental health", but he was right in his general concern. Hatred is not some precious right a person needs to hold on. It's a destructive feeling which is better to manage adequately for the sake of a person's own well-being.

But wait, someone may ask, isn't that exactly what Zuko was offering? To help Katara manage her hatred?

Well, yes and no. Yes, he was trying. No, this wasn't a good way to achieve it.

What many people don't seem to understand is that you don't need to confront the actual physical person you hate to deal with your hatred. Quite the opposite, actually. It's the person's imprint within your psyche what keeps destroying you from inside, and facing the person himself doesn't dissipate this imprint magically. It will only make things worse (*the only exception is when the both sides are genuinely interested in fixing things between them). You need to work with the imprint, and it's much easier to achieve when an object of your hatred is physically distant. No matter what kind of person you are, or what your moral/religious beliefs are, this is universal.

(It's a complex psychological topic I'm not really an expert on, so I'm not gonna go into much detail here. I'll just say what therapists have their ways to work with it).

I suspect Aang intuitively realized the problem, but with him being a 12-year-old monk and not having the needed skills or categorical apparatus, "forgiveness" was the best approximation to a right solution he could think of (I have no way of proving it though, so take it with a grain of salt as well as this whole post in general, lol).

While some idealization (and a lot of preaching) on Aang's part may have taken place, he saw "Katara's inner darkness" for what it was - a self-destructive tendency. She may think confronting Yon Rha is what she needs (although before Zuko introduced the idea, she didn't even think of the possibility), but it wouldn't be good for her. Sometimes, your loved ones are not right. Sometimes, they're about to hurt themselves. And it's not disrespectful to try and dissuade them from this (You'd think post-redemption Zuko of all people would agree with the sentiment).

Now, Zuko. While it's not his fault by any means I'm looking at you royal family, the way he dealt with the problem wasn't exactly the healthiest (or most selfless, as some people insist). He meant well, but offered a wrong method, and held on this specific method because it was something he personally could help Katara with. "It's the same as doing nothing!" - these are the words that kinda gave him away. I suspect it's not Katara's revenge or justice he was so passionate about, but his own chance of action. He was desperate for it. He didn't even stop to listen to her brother's and best friend's perspective, because it was interfering with his opportunity to be helpful, to be on the same side as Katara. In general, when your partner is too eager to side with you against your loving family, it's not a good sign, even when the family isn't perfect. (Well, okay, Aang's spectacularly poor choice of words had something to do with it as well. And where were you, Sokka-with-the-beard, when you were most needed?)

No one really offered a better practical solution to Katara's problem than Zuko though, that's the sad truth. And to be fair, after Katara had agreed to his plan enthusiastically, where was no better option for him than to go with it, I guess.

But... The bar was so low that offering nothing in the first place would be a better solution than this, honestly. Because no matter what the actual script of the episode says, I don't think this "life-changing field trip" would realistically do much good for Katara and result in her forgiveness. I think it would only hurt her more and would add to her list of irrational reasons to hate Zuko.

It may hurt, but as Katara herself made clear, there was nothing Zuko really could do at this point to help her or earn her forgiveness. It was something out of his control. He had to accept this and keep trying to do the right thing, simple as that.

I'm still a zutara trash, but not thanks to their interaction in this episode, I have to conclude.

(I guess what I'm really saying is that all those kids just need their therapy, lol)

Still typing on my phone and ignoring tumblr notifications. I wonder If anyone reads this at all lol

[desceros]

Okay PLEASE I have to know your opinion-

So you know how sometimes you look at people and just like- yeah, they’d be a golden retriever for sure. Or a chihuahua.

If the Rise Turtles were a dog breed, what breed would you think they would be? I’m definitely seeing Donnie as a herding dog wanting everything to be organized his way, Leo as a guard dog, Raph would definitely be a giant ass clumsy dog breed that doesn’t realize how big he is. Mikey has got to be some type of hyper terrier of sorts.

fascinating question!!! behold the power of an autistic person who loves dogs and tmnt

donnie: dachshund

wow sam favorite breed for favorite turtle OK LISTEN THO!!! dachshunds are sooo smart but stubborn as hell and want to do things Their Way. picking up a new toy and instantly playing with it so hard it explodes into fluff. taking direction well but only if you have a good relationship with them and they trust you. sassy attitudes, a penchant to attach themselves to one or two people and be distant to others, looks great in cute clothes, a fragile back that needs protecting--DRINK THE KOOLAID!!!

leo: akita

so this one was actually also very easy for me. akita are very much Family Over Everyone Else, and i always see leo as being very protective of his brothers (to a self-destructive point even). they don't trust other dogs or animals (much like leo doesn't trust other mutants or yokai), but when it comes to their people, they're goofy little goobers that love to play and have fun and snuggle. they're super smart, but need good training in order to achieve their potential, otherwise they'll have a tendency to do their own thing and that never ends well. wow who put this picture of leonardo hamato in the akc handbook

raph: great dane

i was torn on this one thinking some kind of livestock guardian dog at first since he worries about his brothers so much and always puts their safety first. only problem is a lot of them are bred to have mild temperaments, and, uh, [gestures at raph]. for that reason, i settled on the great dane. they're guardian dogs who care intensely for their family and are very, very sweet. but their large size and caution against strangers is quite intimidating, and they need to be properly trained against being aggressive to strangers. also, yknow, big.

mikey: pumi

pumi are well-known small dogs that are work-hard, play-hard dogs with the CUTEST curly hair. sound familiar? they're pretty good at watching the family, but often times they're a bit too busy bouncing off in the corner because these dogs are like. adhd in canine form. always need stimulation. always need exercise. gotta bounce move play bark play run RAZZ MATAZZ. also they're cute and mikey is cute.

[sleepyhead-poll]

BONUS! MOD'S CHOICE POLL!

Mod's Propaganda Under the Cut:

Judai:

Anyone who knows me knows that I am a Yu-Gi-Oh fan. For whatever reason, this series imprinted on me when I was a child and I just never let it go. I've watched the original series, season 0, GX, 5Ds, and Arc V, as well as read the original manga, the GX manga, and the Arc V manga, as well as watched all the movies. The point is: I like Yu-Gi-Oh. There are people who like it more than me, that have watched all the series and what not, but I think I still like it an absurd amount. And out of all the protagonists I know, Judai is my favorite. He's just so lovable, you can't help but like him! He's goofy, he's reliable, he's fun, he has a descent into madness, he's gay, what more could you want in a shounen protagonist? Though being sleepy isn't a major part of him, it's more of a gag of him slacking in class and always going to sleep, it's still super funny and I'm a little sad that he lost in Round 1, though I do like Sonic as well (who he lost to). Give the Slifer Slacker a chance!

Linhardt:

Considering Linhardt is my profile picture at the moment, I don't think I need to justify this too much. But I will anyway. Linhardt is the sleepy crest scholar. Although I will be the first to admit that I am not actually a Fire Emblem fan (and tbh I find the writing in Three Houses kind of bad) (sorry to those who enjoy it) I love Linhardt so much anyway. He's probably my favorite in that very large cost. I love that he's so unapologetically sleepy, like he doesn't care if you scold him to do work, he will do work on his own time. Not only that, but he's actually really smart and dedicated when he wants to be. Linny's friendship with Caspar is really nice, especially since I think someone needs to save Caspar from his awful dad & self-destructive tendencies. Plus, I really like his supports. Especially with Marianne, Hubert, and Edelgard. His supports with Dorothea in Three Hopes is also really nice.

Garfield:

It's Garfield. He's a classic comic. He's a classic meme. Little orange kitty. What more could you possibly want? I love Snoopy, but to be perfectly honest I think Garfield should have gotten as far as Snoopy.

Sleepytime Tea Bear:

Again. He's just a classic. What more would you want but a sleepy bear in pajamas on a chair?

Olruggio:

I'm a big Witch Hat Atelier fan and I love Olruggio. Like yes, I like Orufrey like everyone else, but I also just like Olruggio on his own. I like his scruffy little look and I love the fact that at first he is so intimating but almost immediately he's revealed to be a big softie. I love his light magic motif and I really think it's sweet that he made the thing to keep you warm when you sleep and gave it to the kids-- he's a FATHER. This man needs a nap fr though. Man I need to catch up with this manga.

Osaka:

IT'S OSAKA. Like!!! I don't even know how many clips and comics from Azumanga Daioh make the rounds around Tumblr, but specifically the ones about Osaka are amazing!!! She has the most autistic anime girl swag I love her so much. She's so sweet and earnest and silly... I always lose my mind at "OH MAH GOD!" and she has so many other classics. Like when she makes the Osaka stamp with her eraser or when she struggles to cross the street because she keeps zoning out when the light gets green or when she's distressed about Americans wearing shoes inside... I love her. And to her sleepyheadness, she's always falling asleep in class and whenever she's studying she just starts falling asleep. She's just like me fr...

Takane:

Back in the day I really liked Kagerou Project and so as tribute to my old obsession from middle/high school I have to give a spot to Takane. My favorite part of the series was when we saw flashbacks to the Yuukei quartet and Headphone Actor is still a bop.

Tanaka:

THE REASON WHY I STARTED THIS TOURNAMENT IN THE FIRST PLACE??? Last December during finals I decided to read something light and fun while working and I chose Tanaka-kun is Always Listless because I remember the title from a few years ago when the anime came out and like I loved it SOOOOOO much. He's the ultimate sleepyboy and he's just so funny and relatable. He needs to be carried around by his best friend Ohta and his ultimate goal in life is to minimize as much effort as possible and he's always nodding off and he dislikes being a main character, instead wishing he was a background character... my favorite guy for real.