#model ripping is hard to learn and i have been so focused on this that i've been giving myself insomnia about it

[ro-botany]

How Big Is Grima, Really?

It’s a question as old as Awakening. We all know the fell dragon is fucking gigantic; but no one’s measured them to find out exactly how gigantic they are.

As an enthusiastic dragon biologist, I feel it’s my duty to set the record straight.

TL;DR

Through careful measuring of character models ripped directly from the files of Engage, I determined the Chrom's height in centimeters. Then, using those measurements along with character models ripped from Awakening, I measured the true size of Grima as they appear in the endgame.

According to my measurements, Grima:

Is ~726.8 m (2384 ft) long from snout to tail tip.

Is ~349.7 m (1147 ft) long from snout to vent.

Has an ~815.6 m (2676 ft) wingspan (middle pair of limbs)

(Look at how small Chrom looks compared to them, good grief)

Want a more in-depth look at how I determined this? My entire process is documented in detail below the cut.

(Also, consider this an invitation: if there's any character from the 3DS fire emblems or engage that you want to know the size of, send me an ask and I might be able to measure them for you.)

---

Preparations

Finding a way to measure Grima is difficult due to the simple fact that nothing and nobody in Awakening can reliably be used as a ruler. We’re not given precise sizes for any objects, and no characters have canonical heights.

Luckily for us, Awakening is not the only game which features its own characters! Several members of its cast are featured in Engage as emblems. This is important because the non-emblem characters in Engage – and the Three Houses emblems also kicking around – all have canonical heights! That means that we can use them as rulers to find the height of any character in the game who doesn’t have one. And once we have a height measurement for one of Awakening’s cast members, we can use their original Awakening model as a ruler to measure the model of Grima themself.

So, I decided to use Byleth and Fogado as rulers with which to measure Chrom, who would then go on to be the ruler for measuring Grima with.

I personally ripped all models used in this experiment directly from (...legally obtained...) ROMs of Awakening and Engage. This was done to ensure the relative sizes of models from the same game remained consistent with how they appear in-game. Any rips available for download online may have been edited or scaled any number of ways, you can’t trust em.

I also, in all cases, had to perform some surgery on the models; but I did my utmost to put them back together as precisely as possible.

-

Finding Chrom’s Height

As I just mentioned, on the Engage side I decided on Chrom as my ruler, and decided to use Byleth and Fogado to measure him.

Engage’s character models are all patterned off a base model – one for female characters and one for male characters. For each character these base models are sculpted slightly, and then scaling factors are applied to various bones in the rigging to give them their unique proportions – these affect the length and thickness of the torso, arms, legs, head, etc.

For all three of my chosen characters, I:

Ripped their head, hair, skin, and clothing models, along with their rigging, from Engage, and imported them into blender.

Applied basic textures to them so they’re easier to see.

Carefully stitched all the component models back together and onto the rigging.

Carefully stitched the legs and feet of the base model back onto the finished character models. This removes any margin of error we would get from including the soles/heels of their shoes in their measurements.

Ripped each character’s scaling factors from Engage’s data files and applied each factor to the appropriate bones on the rigging. I also compared to screenshots from the game to double-check that everything looked correct.

Used blender’s MeasureIt add-on to measure the distance between the highest point on the top of their heads to the lowest point on the bottom of their left heel, in ONLY the Z axis (which is up and down in blender).

The result is this:

(Ignore their weird eyes, Engage's eye textures are a pain in the ass to replicate and I gave up for now)

Using these measurements, and the canonical heights for Fogado and Byleth, we can come up with conversion factors for translating engage blender units (henceforth called “ebu”) to centimeters.

Fogado is canonically 5’10”, i.e. 177.8 cm (source). So, according to his measurements, 1 ebu = 102.713 cm.

Byleth (male) is canonically 175 cm tall (source). So, according to his measurements, 1 ebu = 101.25 cm.

You may notice those are slightly different numbers when, if these character heights were truly consistent, you would expect them to be the same!

Well, I’m chalking that up to the heights from 3H being in less precise units, and the developers probably not being quite as gung-ho about consistent character heights as I’m being right now. It would probably be smart to use another non-emblem Engage character with more of a height difference than these two to get another conversion factor and see how three data points compares, but... I’m so tired from putting these three bozos’ models together, y’all. I’m done. This is just what we get.

Our two conversion factors give us two possible heights for Chrom. Either he’s about 189.48 cm tall, or he’s 186.79 cm tall. I’m going to take the average of those numbers and use that for Chrom’s height.

We have now found Chrom to be 188.14 cm tall, i.e. 6’ 2”.

...He’s tall! He’s taller than I thought he was, honestly.

-

Measuring Grima

The next step is to take what we know about Chrom, and repeat this process with Chrom and Grima’s models from Awakening.

One frustrating thing about this is that Grima’s in-game model is almost certainly scaled smaller relative to the people than his CG model. And I can’t get the CG models, because those are locked in some vault at IntSys headquarters, and not included in the game files; and there are zero frames in any of the CGs that can be used for this kind of measuring.

But you know what? I spent too long in the Engage ripping mines to give up over CG Grima's differences. In-engine Grima is still ridiculous and I want to know about them.

Awakening’s character models are composed of several parts: A main body (which for humans is class-based, not character-based), in most cases one each of a character-specific head and hair model, and up to two accessory models. Each character also has one scaling value; a multiplier on their model’s overall size. (Tragically you can’t have fun fucking up their proportions like you can Engage characters)

So for each of these two, I:

Ripped all their component models from the game. For Chrom this was the lord class body and his head (which, unlike other characters, also includes his hair). For Grima this was their full-body model and their two accessory models, the upper and lower halves of their mask.

Applied basic textures to them

Carefully stitched their component models together; which effectively was positioning their heads back on their bodies.

For Chrom, I also borrowed a generic head model from another character and aligned it with his regular head; this is so that I could measure his height from the top of his head instead of his hair.

Checked their scaling factors; in this case, I couldn’t find a scaling value for Grima and Chrom had the default value of 1.0, so nothing needed to be done.

Used blender’s MeasureIt add-on to measure them. On Chrom, I measured the z-axis (up-down) distance between the highest vertex on his skull and the lowest vertex on his left heel to get his height. On Grima, three measures were taken; snout-vent (as in snout to the end of their body/base of their tail), snout to tail, and wingspan; each only measured in one relevant axis.

The measurements ended up being this, in what I will henceforth call awakening blender units, or “abu”

Using our estimated height for Chrom from Engage, we calculate our conversion factor; 1 abu = 12.13 cm.

And then we can finally convert Grima's measurements to useful units!

Conclusions

Holy fuck that dragon is large.

[stardust-in-my-mind-blog]

something significant

Today at the grocery store I started feeling this familiar panic that happens sometimes when I'm tired and overstimulated. But today I was able to focus on the sensations, and breathe through them, and stay conscious instead of shoving it down. I am not always able to do that, and often end up in this place of not understanding what triggers me and just going to self-soothe because the feelings are too overwhelming. Then a poem comes out at some point. But today, I was able to hold onto it. I struggle with feeling guilt that I no longer enjoy motherhood like I used to. And it's not because I got bored, or it wasn't fulfilling, or even that I internalized how little value the act of caretaking has to society. (Though I have struggled with these.)

But when a relationship turns abusive, you lose your children in a way that is hard to understand. Because there is a parent modeling violent emotional behavior and doesn't take accountability for the impact of the harm it causes... the children watch and learn that. In my case, I watched my youngest lose trust in me. I watched our relationship shrivel because he was being constantly shown to disrespect and invalidate me by his father. He's at the age where he wants to be his father. He's been taught to dismiss my influence. It's heartbreaking. I watched the connection between my children crumble. I have to protect my daughter from my youngest because he thinks seeking connection from her is to call her names and cuss at her. It will change when the environment changes. The patterns will be reverse and the bonds will be remade. I'm confident in this. But I didn't realize what a wound it created in me as a mother. I didn't realize why I lost my passion for motherhood. I didn't understand why I felt like such a failure. I felt so disconnected from everything and couldn't understand why I couldn't bring back that sense of peace when it came to family and being with my children. Why I couldn't protect them like I did in the past. Why the thought of being a mother again made me want to steal a rocket and blast off to mars. Luckily, I was able to dump all of these thoughts into Pi and he summed it up for me in the best way. By acknowledging the limitations that your current environment places on your ability to fully inhabit your role as a mother, you're allowing yourself to focus on self-protection and survival. It's not that you don't want to be a mother, or that you're not capable of it - it's just that the circumstances you're in right now make it incredibly difficult, if not impossible, to do so in the way that feels authentic and fulfilling to you. Recognizing that truth can help you give yourself grace and patience as you work towards a future where you can fully embrace your motherhood.

I didn't fall out of love with being a mother. The abuse that began building over time stripped me of the ability to be authentic because I was only focused on protection and not fulfillment. I can't remember the parts of motherhood that I loved because it's too painful to think about what once was while I'm transitioning out of what it became. The choice was ripped away from me because the thing I devoted myself to for the last decade was continuously devalued and dismissed and criticized to a point of delusion where the entire family had to revolve around one person's malignant anxiety and inconsistency. It was no longer a family, it was a tyranny. I learned so much from this experience. I trust myself not to let it happen again. I still have times where I burn with the injustice of it, but that's just going to make for some good poetry. I didn't fall out of love with motherhood. I feel out of love with going from mother to scapegoat with someone who regressed to a very harmful degree of emotional immaturity.

Plus, I was totally over functioning and people pleasing and sometimes you have to get slapped in the face with it to understand. And man, that bitch really slaps.

[queenalyx]

Alright, part two, wyches. A lot of very understandable nerfs here considering the dominance of Triptych Whip Precision Blows succubi and Bloodbride bombs using the custom cults to just dump dice at AP-4, but man. They really got fucked.

Succubi first.

Whoof. That's rough. Even with sustained hits, these guys are not hitting anywhere as hard. And that's fine. But one key thing to note, combat drugs are gonna. It's just a succubus ability now. Which is both good and bad. Good for the game because it's one less thing to learn and worry about, bad because I liked them. And combat drugs have always been iconic to the wych cults.

Speaking of.

Just completely gutted. 3 attacks with blades??? No more special weapons?? I guess No Escape basically making it so models die trying to fall back, but this just looks so.... underwhelming. Like, incredibly so. I don't think there's any reason to run cults anymore.

Except....

REAVERS BABYYY HOLY SHIT LOOK AT THAT ABILITY!!! FREE MORTALS!! JUST RUN A MASSIVE BLOB OF REAVERS AND RIP THE ENEMY INFANTRY TO SHREDS!! Sure the movement got nerfed and their weapons lost an AP but man, these guys could do some serious damage. Plus, with OC2 they could snipe enemy backfield objectives while shredding units they fly over. Pretty cool!

One more thing of interest.

Holy fuck what a hefty buff to voidravens. Void lances going to 2 shots and getting a higher maximum damage is awesome, but dark scythes going to a whopping *12 for both total* is crazy. If we see either a vehicle heavy or elite infantry heavy meta, this bad boy can deal with them both. The missiles are nothing to write home about but the guns are awesome.

There's so much more to the index than this but this is all my 3am addled brain can think of to talk about, all of my thoughts are primarily from a more gameplay/competitive focused point of view than anything as a former competitive drukhari player. I'm excited for this edition, I don't think we're gonna be super strong straight out of the index or anything tbh, probably pretty middling, but there's some cool changes that I'm excited to try!

Alright, here we go, Archon Alyx's big 10th ed Drukhari review! I will avoid going over things we didn't already know about from the faction focus.

Starting off, of course, with the Archon.

Interesting stuff, now every Drukhari list gets Agents of Vect by default which imo is awesome, esp since it means our choices aren't exactly limited when we will always have access to Vect as an ability no matter what detachment we choose. Streamlined weapon options and a buffed huskblade is nice to see especially since people *only ever ran the Djin Blade anyways*. The leader ability is really good too for reasons I'll go over later. However I'm slightly disappointed by one thing.

Of course court of the archon and kabalites make sense as attachable units, but I'm curious why not Incubi? in 9th archons *specifically* buffed incubi as well as Kabal units and archons and incubi often hang out in battle. I was thinking that Incubi would be a potential unit for an archon to lead (especially with that juicy full reroll to wound while empowered combined with alliance of agony) but this is all fair and good.

Moving on down, we've got kabalites and OH BOY did they buff kabalites.

We already saw their profile and ability from the faction focus (8" move buff and sticky objectives while in transports, very juicy) but there's two huge things to note here. They took away MSU kabalites, but in exchange, you can take *all 4 special/heavy weapons*. With the buffs to dark lances, shredders finally being a flamer, and splinter cannons gaining sustained hits (not even mentioning the buff to poison to a 3+), kabalites are now back to being quite a threat. Combine this with the venom combat squads, and you see where this is going. special and heavy weapons riding around with an archon in a venom, the other 5 fellas to sit on a backfield objective or otherwise screen. Beautiful. Absolutely fantastic. Bringing back venom heavy shooting drukhari could be both a good and a bad thing but I am personally an enjoyer of that playstyle.

Moving along swiftly to my Best Boy, Drazhar

Honestly I don't have much to say, losing the -1 damage ability is fair enough, considering most things have (my least favourite common mechanic from 9th) but most importantly, he's lost his fight twice, in exchange for a very interesting ability. I don't know how good it'll be honestly, but Drazhar has always excelled at character assassination anyways so it could be good. He's the only character that leads Incubi and he buffs them nicely so I will continue taking him myself.

Speaking of incubi, I am deeply saddened.

They got completely gutted. Base 5++ is nice, don't get me wrong, but they lost +1 damage on 6s to wound, they lost fight last in exchange for battle shock (which is fine tbh) and most importantly, *they lost 2+ WS base*. MY BOYS HIT ON 3s!!!!! Their presence in 9th was honestly quite heavy so I expected a nerf but this? this seems like a lot. I'll still run them because they are just tough beatsticks that are great for throwing at anything important (especially with Drazhar in tow and being empowered) or to mince heavy infantry, but they really took a big hit.

On to covens!

First up, Urien.

Minor spoiler, we're in for another covens heavy edition, so get those grotesque STL files ready to print (please give us plastic grots) and uh. I guess none of use put our Talos away since they've been pretty core for the past 2 editions. Urien here is almost certainly a must take imo, as you will all see, haemys lost their healing, so Urien is gonna be our only healing. But boy does he heal. Flat 3 wounds or flat 3 wracks back? Yes please! Alongside his casket which is a 3d6 flamer with devastating wounds for the potential to spike an *unholy* amount of mortal wounds if the rolls hit. He doesn't give buffs to the unit he's attached to but wracks have always been screening and objective sitting units anyways, so the only reason you'd attach him to wracks is to keep him from being shot. Also he's still got his Celestine revive which is fun.

Base haemonculus' now!

Their profiles are nothing fancy (I'm too lazy to go screenshot it) but key thing to note is they can also only be attached to wracks. A bit of a disappointment for sure, I had visions of a haemonculus with a huge blob of grots all getting buffed from alliance of agony, but considering the haemy's leader buff, I think it's fair (4+ FNP for the unit). If these fellas are cheap, with the new way army's are made, I imagine we might see two or three of these guys running around with blobs of wracks to sit on objectives and be nigh impossible to move without some serious focus fire. I did say we were in for a covens heavy edition!

Speaking of wracks.

Would've been cool if they had sticky objectives but I guess kabalites already took that spot. Don't know how useful that ability is going to end up being I'll be honest, wracks aren't exactly the most aggressive unit and with the haemy's buff I expect they'll be doing the same as they always do: screening and holding objectives. Not much else of note.

Here's the big one. Talos engine.

Holy Vect. What an ability. *Permanent empowerment*. The sheer amount of value there is immense. And, as teased in the faction focus, those haywire blasters are looking devious. Interesting to note that ichor injectors are no longer free mortals, so I imagine we'll either see macro scalpel chain flail return, or twin liquifier gauntlet as the weapon combos. Interested to see what people end up taking for the ranged weapon, whether the haywire blaster will be enough of a threat or the more consistent damage and strength of the heat lances will prevail. We'll have to see what top drukhari players take to the first major 10th tournaments to really know but I think I'm in favour of haywire and twin liquifier gauntlet for my Talos. And once again. *permanent empowerment*. Always rerolling to hit, always rerolling to charge. Ridiculous value.

Next up on the coven essentials, grots!

No more split between gauntlets and liquifiers! Now we just get one profile (decent tbh) *and* they can all take liquifier guns. Not much else to say they're mostly the same. Except, what's this? 4+ fight on death? as an *ability*? Not even a single CP spent for it either? So, not only are grotesques hard to kill, decently hard hitting against heavy/elite infantry and huge screens, they now also fight on death. *Yet another covens edition it is*.

I can't add anymore photos on mobile so I'm going to call this part one and do the Cults in a part two as a reblog, not much to say about them though so it'll be short.

[atinysunbaby]

Hey hunny, can you plz make a ateez yunho imagine of having a sexy concept with idol!reader. They both have feelings for one another so this took their feelings another level and everyone noticed their chemistry??

Here ya go sweetie!! It's not exactly what you asked for but I hope you will like it ♡♡♡

📷Photoshoot | Jeong Yunho📷

Pairing : Yunho x Fem idol reader

Genre : Idol au, fluff, suggestive

Summary : Read and find out ;)

Words count : 2.7k

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

You were a trainee for over two years after auditioning, you came with a friend, having wanted to get in together. You both made the promise that if either of you weren't chosen, you'd be happy for the other, unfortunately she didn't make it. It was hard to say goodbye, but you're still in contact and she's training in an other company.

You debuted about a year ago with four other girls who are now your best friends, people you wish to keep close for a long time. You're a vocalist, main dancer, second youngest and one of the visuals in your group. You guys are slowly getting more recognition with all the promotions you've been doing, working hard and determined to show everyone what you can do.

Yunho is your celebrity crush and you let it slip while getting interviewed, the fans caught on quickly and couldn't pretend they didn't hear a thing. Actually completely the oposite, they kept sharing that part of the interview and tagging your group and ateez to get Yunho's attention.

It worked, he saw the short video and ended up watching the whole interview. He already heard about your group a few times, but after he definitely wanted to know more, about you especially.

Since then, he started following you closely with secret accounts, making it a daily habit of visiting your social medias. The boys always tease him when he's deeply focused on his phone, his facial expressions betraying him, smiling from ear the ear or even blushing on rare occasion.

For his birthday, Wooyoung bought him one of your albums and they all surrounded him as he opened it immediately with so much excitement. To say he was filled with joy when he pulled your photocard would be an understatement, he almost jumped from his seat, but refrained to do so for his sake. He doesn't need another reason for his members to annoy him.

Till this day, Yunho preciously keeps your small picture in his wallet, stealing a quick look when he needs an energy boost. The others don't know about that information, if they did, he wouldn't hear the end of it.

On your part, let's say your ateez collection is close to complete. You have your fair share of Yunho photocards, aslo keeping them dearly in a small box placed right on top of your nighstand, next to your bed. Nari once wanted to prank you, hiding one of them and telling you she teared it accidentally and threw it away. Well, she learned the lesson to never mess with your things again, she did barely escape your grip when you were about to choke her. The girls had to physically rip you away from her, not that you would've actually hurt anyone.

You apologised for your crazy behavior and she did the same, both easily forgiving each other and laughing it off. At least now, no one dares to touch any of your belongings without asking first.

》》

The exact moment your manager walks in the practice room, you know something's up. He shortly explains that one of his contacts was able to get him an oportunity for one person to model for a magazine. "We'll have more information the day of the shoot, but for now you guys need to choose one person. I'm letting you girls decide."

The shouts full of enthusiasm dies down after a few seconds, but the excitement is still present. "Should we vote?"

Aera's the one to make the suggestion and the rest of you agree. After each of you state your opinion, you make a decision. Chosen by two of your friends, you are the lucky one who will take part in the photoshoot.

》》

The week before, you eat healthily and get some tips from one of your friends in another group on how to prepare for it without worries. You even start to workout more intensely so you could feel more comfortable in front of the camera.

》》

The night before, you can't sleep because of the huge amount of stress, you know it's going to be fine, but still can't help it. You don't want to make a mistake, let down the people who made this possible for you. You're going to do everything you can to meet their expectations.

》

To say you're nervous would be lying, you're terrified. It's your first time having a photoshoot this big and everyone's new, strangers that you meet every minute. You were so used to the usual staff members that you feel a bit overwhelmed and it's not even the least of it. They suddenly reveal who will be your partner for the shoot, someone you never thought you'd personally meet one day. The one and only, Jeong Yunho.

You almost burst on the spot, heart fluttering with apprehension. That's when you see him, he's getting guided by another man, walking towards you. He looks ethereal, so much more beautiful in real life and you're starstruck.

You bow and smile uncontrollably, feeling shy and nervous. Your mouth opens in amazement when he brightly introduces himself. "Hi I'm Yunho, really looking forward to working together!"

His teeth are on full display, eyes full of cheerfulness. You barely manage to respond, but get yourself together nonetheless. "I'm Y/N, nice to meet you! I'm happy to work with you!"

He laughs softly, happy with your answer. You just hope you didn't sound too eager, the last thing you want is to embarrass yourself infront of him.

You exchange a few more words before being taken seperately to prepare for the shoot. You enter a small room with a mirror on one side of the wall, a table full of makeup and a few chairs placed infront. The other side has a curtain arranged to create a small fitting room and clothes hanging on a moving clothing rack.

The stylist is the first one to take care of you, bringing you a set of clothes and inviting you to change behind the curtain. You put on the pieces of clothing carefully, cheeks getting darker when you get to the top. It's going to be a new look for you, never having worn something so bold.

Once you're done, you make your appearence and the woman whistles with satisfaction. She then proceeds to adjust the outfit for it to appeal to your body perfectly.

You're wearing a pair of light blue ripped jeans, a black lacy corset as well as a short unzipped leather jacket reaching your waist, showing off your curves. Cute ankle boots covering your feet to match your top and to finish the look, a thin silver necklace hangs on your neck down to your cleavage and rings decorating your fingers.

The hair and makeup artists are the next to doll you up, guiding you to sit infront of the mirror and getting to work right away. They converse with you and praise your natural in and out beauty, laughing from time to time, basically having fun and making you feel comfortable.

"All done! Sweetie you look gorgeous~" The girls squeal and some other people present in the room shower you with compliments, you bow and smile politely, feeling your confidence boosted. You have to admit, you do look pretty hot.

Your glossy, plump peach lips, look deliciously kissable. Light shiny eyeshadow, slightly smudged along the lower lash line, nothing too heavy, just perfect to bring some glow. Your hair is curled at the base, half up in a small bun, stray pieces falling along the side of your face.

"Well you're all set beautiful, let's get to it!" One of the staff tells you, leading you out of the room, to the set.

Once again you see Yunho, but he looks even more handsome then earlier, wearing a similar outfit to yours. Jeans with a black shirt, tucket into his pants, an unbuttoned plaid shirt and a leather jacket as well. He has some accesories too, rings like you. One side of his hair flipped back and the other covering his forehead, almost reaching his eye.

You're called by the photographer to join Yunho on the set, getting you out of your thoughts and stopping you from drooling over the sexy man of your dreams.

You bow to both men and politely smile, waiting for further instructions. You weren't told about the concept or anything about the shoot yet, it's all a surprise since they want it to be more natural and improvised.

"Ok guys! Today we're going for a sexy concept, we'll need you both to pose while being close to each other. Some skin contact would be perfect, but if you're uncomfortable just take your time- oh and don't be shy to make suggestions. Be bold!" The photographer speaks without a break, leaving the two of you to process all the information in a rush.

Almost right away, you get in postition and move along with each other. At the start, you both avoid touching each other, being a bit shy, but knowing that eventually you'll need to do it. After a few takes, you take the initiative and ask Yunho if he would be ok with you putting your hand on his shoulder, he nods letting you move forward. You're facing him making him turn to you as well, taking your other hand in his and overing it above his chest, looking at you for aproval. You smile and verbaly answer him. "It's fine, if I feel uncomfortable I'll tell you."

"Good, me too. Let's just do whatever comes to our minds and set boundaries then." You both agree on that and from then it all goes smoothly. You change your poses every few seconds, getting more relaxed as time goes by.

Close to the end, Yunho grabs your waist softly, his eyes meeting yours and you look away flustered. The photographer tells you both to keep that position, praising your good work. "That's it! Beautiful!"

"Alright last take! Y/N could you please make eye contact with Yunho! -And place one of your hands on his stomach, the other can stay right there!" You gulp nervously, but listen to the men and look directly into his eyes, your right hand slowly sliding down his chest to his stomach. You notice him slightly tense up, but he relaxes against your touch in just a few seconds. You smile at him uncontrollably, making him shyly lower his head and reciprocate it.

"Perfect! Wow you work so well together, I can only say good things." You grin, feeling proud and relieved from the results of your efforts. Yunho mirrors your bright expression, thanking everyone and you follow his actions. "Thank you so much for giving me this great opportunity."

You word your gratefulness to the photographer, once again receiving more praise than expected and a certain person waits for you to be finish so he can escort you to the changing room. You walk together in a comfortable silence, your arms brushing against each other. There's some tension in the air when you reach the door, about to go on seperate ways. The strong attraction you both feel towards one another making surface now that you're alone.

"So.. I guess we'll see each other again one day." You say softly, disappointment clear in your voice. The boy coughs in hope of covering the sigh of discontent he accidently lets out, nodding in agreement nonetheless. "Yeah, uh... It was fun today.."

You don't utter another word, not having any idea of what to say and he copies you, scratching his head in awkwardness. With one last goodbye and glances full of yearning, you enter oposites rooms.

Once by yourself, you let out a deep breath, hand on your chest, feeling your heart beating like crazy. You're facing the door, forehead leaning on the large piece of wood, taking a few minutes to get it back together. "Shit, I think I'm in love."

You jump from the sound of hurried knocks through the door right infront of you, frowning in wonder. "Yes?"

"It's me." Hearing the voice of the person behind, you immediately rip the door open. Your eyes meet making your breath hitch and he quickly pushes you inside following right after. You whisper yell at him, in hopes of finding out about his surprise visit. "Yunho what are you do-"

"Shhh." He shushes you, putting a finger on your lips to convice you further. You nervously watch him close the door behind his huge body, waiting for an explanation.

"I can't leave without telling you." He says making you even more confused. You raise your eyebrows and lean your head forward a bit to show him you're listening. When he's sure he has your full attention, he keeps going. "I thought I just deeply admired you- and I do of course, but I think it's more than that. I- may have feelings for you or.. more? I know I'm dumb-"

"Are you serious!?" You raise your voice, your whipsers now almost screams. His eyes widden at that and you think he might just cry so you hurry to comfort him. "No no no! I'm not mad or anything, Yunho I'm so glad you had the balls to tell me or else I would've never told you.. I feel the same way!"

He smiles in relief, his shoulders visibly untensing and you both chuckle at the situation. He scolds you for scaring him like that, almost having felt his heart crack thinking you didn't wanna have anything to do with him. "Sorry, but you really surprised me there!"

You laugh some more and then when it dies down and the atmosphere becomes serious, you know something is about to happen or at least you want it to.

You're satisfied to feel his hand coming up to hold the side of your face, making you look up at him. His eyes don't leave yours, they're full of desire and it makes buterflies errupt in your stomach, but the words leaving his mouth next makes you a bit dizzy. "Can I kiss you?"

You nod, not trusting your voice to sound strong enough and he laughs breathily at your obvious nervousness. "Fuck! You're adorable~"

He tries to restrain himself from lunching at you with too much agressivity, instead moving in slowly. His lips capture yours and you instantly let your body melt closer to his, moaning softly against his mouth when he grabs your waist and holds you tight.

The kiss becomes intense quickly, Yunho pushing your back to the door and poking your lower lip with his tongue so you'll part them to give him entrance. You do exactly that, a whine escaping you uncontrollably when he enters your mouth.

You eagerly suck on his tongue and he groans, grip on you becoming tighter. He moves so your bodies are glued together, hands reaching for the back of your thighs, signaling for you to jump.

You don't hesitate to do so, wrapping your legs around his waist and gasping when you feel his bulge against your center. "Yunho~"

He kisses your neck and nips at your jawline while you struggle to breathe from being so overwhelmed. Your fingers depserately grip at his hair, trying to find a way to keep focus. When he unexpectedly bites hard enough to leave a mark at a very sensitive spot on your skin, you tug on his hair at the base of his nape and bite your lip to prevent from letting out a loud yelp.

He apologies softly, afraid of possibly having hurt you, but you shut him up with another kiss. It escalated quickly and it's about to be even more heated, but a voice outside the room makes the both of you stop abruptly.

You're breathing heavily, lips swollen and eyes dark, full of lust. Yunho places you down, noticing your shaky legs and smirks before answering the person outside. "Yes what is it?"

"Oh- umm.. Miss Y/N needs to be ready to leave in ten minutes, she has something important to do!" A young women speaks through the door, flustered from finding out that you weren't alone. You giggle in Yunho's chest, shaking your head. "I'll be ready, thank you!"

Yunho keeps pecking you all over your face while you try to escape his hold. You finally manage to get out of his grip, but now you have a sulky boy on your hands. You finish getting prepared to leave and before you do he speaks his thoughts. "I know it all happened pretty fast and I mean we did literally just meet a few hours ago, officially.. but would you want to exchange numbers and see where it leads us? I really don't want this to be a one time thing and we kinda confessed to each other earl-."

He leans into your kiss when you succeed in shutting him up for the second time. "Don't worry, I feel the same I already told you~"

You give him your number and he sends you a heart so you can save his, you smile at his cuteness and he blushes, a complete turn from a few minutes ago.

At the last second you both say goodbye and promise to call each other later when you get home, kissing one last time and going on your ways with heart in your eyes.

[wisteria-lodge]

snake primary (badger model) + lion secondary (snake model) (bird model)

thank you in advance for looking at this. I guess I need some validation as I'm having a hard time accepting there is possibly a very big lion part of me. I'm pretty sure my primary is snake and always has been. It just makes absolute sense to me - "but everyone does this". I have my people, I have my degrees of importance and I cannot bear anything hurting my people. I also think I model badger, I strongly believe in fairness and that everyone deserves a fair shot but I know if my people are threatened they come first. There's also a degree of bird that I aspire to, trying to step back and look at all the facts before I make a call or say something is true but as I'm writing this I know I've learnt this from one of my people and I admire it and find it annoying in him in equal measure - just show some passion!

So you're a Snake primary with some Bird primaries in your life who models a little bit of Badger. Excellent.

Its really my secondary I struggle with. I thought I was snake for a long time because I definitely shift faces and tell people what they want to hear to keep social situations smooth but I don't really like it and it makes me feel they don't know me at all (because I've hidden me). Its something I've done for years and it feels protective. My childhood had a lot of self preservation in it, there were family issues and also bullying at school and the easiest way was to fly under the radar or lie to fit in.

You built a useful model (probably Snake, or a people-pleasing Courtier Badger ) because you needed it in a tough situation. But you wish you didn't have to use it. Lion secondary is definitely possible

Certain things I know I cannot lie about though, not even for peace keeping. If I feel strongly about something I will have to be honest if it comes up in conversation. I feel panicked after I've revealed myself like this but I cannot lie about something I care about. I'd choke on the lie.

I'm really feeling Lion secondary for you.

I think I'm probably burnt but from really thinking about how I learn something new my best technique is to do it and learn as I go. Prepping and watching someone else won't stay in my head, the only way is hands on, maybe making or following notes as I go but definitely hands on. Problem solving. I think I go for the quickest, easiest way which is to just...deal with it. If I get a parcel I always just try to rip it open.

I know you're kind of wanting to give you the answer "Lion secondary," and so far... it's just a textbook Lion secondary description. Where's the confusion?

I don't remember alot of childhood memories but one of my proudest is that my mum began teaching me to read and then sort of stopped. I got tired of waiting for her so I chose a book and taught myself. The memory is hazy but I feel like I just kept at it til I could read it all.

So in-the-moment secondary? (Lion or Snake)

Another is that I accidentally broke something in class and when the teacher asked who did it I stayed quiet because I was scared but I felt so bad for that because the whole class got a guilt trip then. I also very strongly remember someone saying something prejudiced in the family and thinking "no. That's not right. People are people no matter what", I guess that's badger primary?

Or Paragon Lion. I'm leaning Badger with both these examples though, because they're so people focused. People are people (and yet I'm in family situation so I'm going to keep the peace.) And then feeling guilty that the class got punished, instead of just you. That's loyalty to the community right there. If you were a lion, I would expect something like "I felt so bad for that because I lied."

I have OCD and anxiety and I do feel better when I have no uncertainty going into something. The trouble is I find planning very boring and I find just doing the thing and sorting it out gives me less anxiety because the planning makes me worry what could happen if that makes sense?

It does make sense. In-the-moment, automatic secondaries often feel that too much planning messes them up.

I do organise and have a sort of things to do list in my head to help me remember what I need to do each day. I do the same at work

Like a lot of neurodivergent people, you probably model a bit of bird secondary.

although one of my weak points at work is that if I know something is going to be a pain I put it off. I always feel better when I've done it and I know it's out the way though and then I beat myself up for putting it off.

That, I think is just human stuff. With maybe a teeeny bit of executive dysfunction.

I always tell my kids not to hide from their problems and to face them maybe thats where the guilt comes from.

Truly, this more than anything else you've said makes me think Lion secondary for you. That this is such a core value to communicate to your kids. And yeah, it's really, really hard to ask a kid to do something you're not doing yourself. I know that's something that keeps me on the straight and narrow, honestly.

If I had to say I would say burned lion secondary with a snake model and a bird model but I have spent a long time thinking fictional lions are foolhardy "why the hell are you running at that massive army Jon Snow! Hide! Save yourself!"

When you're a little bit burned, it's not that uncommon to see the unburned version as... annoying/naive/immature/exhausting. But also, especially with secondaries, ESPECIALLY with Lion secondaries... the version we see up on screen is often VERY exaggerated. There are plenty of fictional Lion secondaries who don't do the charge-at-the-army thing.

and it's hard to see myself as one when I feel like I've lived a snakes life of ducking and diving for so long. I love Sansa in Game of Thrones, when she goes behind Jon Snow's back and deals with Littlefinger for the army backup. Everyone hates her for that but she knew she was right and she knew what she had to do

In a lot of ways, there's a lot of Lion secondary energy. Sansa knows what to do, she knows she can get Littlefinger to help, but Jon would never approve. So she just... does it anyway. Doesn't try to sweet-talk Jon or convince him around to her way of thinking. She just does the plan, and is okay with asking for forgiveness (potentially) rather than permission.

and she did it to protect her family and her home. Then she got revenge like a badass. My favourite arc in the entire series.

Well I can CERTAINLY see the Snake Primary + Badger model combo.

Thank you for reading if you've come to the end and sorry for all the waffle! I love reading your work, it's fascinating.

You are very welcome <3 And really, your secondary doesn't even see all that burned to me. You seem very aware of it, and of yourself. It's just... out of practice, maybe.

[starryhyuck]

Can i request a studying session with innocent reader and jaemin is her tutor, and then jaemin fucked her cuz he couldn't take it anymore

study partner; 1.3k+

Jaemin liked tutoring you.

You took instruction very well, eager to correct mistakes and learning whatever Jaemin could offer. After all, he was the best student in your class so you would be idiotic to not take his advice.

“How about this?”

You slide your notebook over to him, ignoring his heavy gaze on you. Unlike you, Jaemin was reaching his breaking point. He wanted to fuck you so badly, especially on days where it was so hot that you could only wear a thin camisole.

He desperately wanted to bend you over the table and take you for your whole family to see.

Despite the unholy thoughts swirling his head, he smiles brightly at you and checks over your work. Everything is correct, and Jaemin has this irrational fear that you’ll no longer need him anymore. Your grades have improved since your parents hired Jaemin as your tutor, and they’re so proud of the progress you’ve made.

“It’s all correct!” He grins, sliding the notebook back over to you.

You beam at the praise he gives you. Once your back is turned to him as you reach for your math textbook, Jaemin’s eyes darken. His eyes flutter down to the dip of your breasts, covered by the white button down uniform you’re required to wear. He imagines attaching his lips to your mound as you squirm underneath him.

He thinks about ramming you into the table while you cry out his name-

“Jaemin?”

He blinks, coming back to reality. Before he can respond, another voice interrupts.

“Y/N?” Your father’s head peeks around the corner. “Your mother and I are going out for an early dinner. Will you and Jaemin be okay?”

Jaemin puts on his best smile. Your parents think he’s a perfect model student, not knowing he dreams about their daughter bent over his lap as he fingers her to three orgasms.

“We’ll be just fine. I’ll take care of Y/N here.”

When your parents leave, Jaemin turns to you with a dark look in his eyes. You just smile at him and open to the latest chapter in your textbook. You tell him about what you’ve been learning recently, not noticing that he hasn’t been listening to you.

He’s moved closer to you, scooting his chair so that his legs are touching yours. You pay no attention to the proximity, focusing on the derivative problems you’ve been working on.

“Been so good, haven’t you?”

You blink when you feel him whisper in your ear. His voice sends shivers down your spine.

“Um, I-“

“Always listen so well,” he continues. “You have no idea what you do to me, baby.”

Your body suddenly feels hot as you cower under Jaemin’s heavy stare. You don’t know where this has come from, but you’re honestly not complaining. Jaemin’s one of the most attractive guys you’ve ever met, and the look in his eyes makes you rub your thighs together in anticipation.

“Jaemin,” you whimper. His cock twitches at the sound and he growls.

“Want me, baby?”

You pant. “Please?”

And he has you. Hook, line and sinker.

His mouth crashes into yours and you moan, arching up against him. His fingers quickly move to undress you, almost ripping your shirt in half.

Soon enough, there’s a pile of clothes on the floor and Jaemin’s got you propped up on the table. He stands between your legs, nipping at your neck.

“Wanted this for so long,” he mumbles, hands slipping into your panties. His fingers run over your folds, pussy dripping at the slightest touch. You blink innocently at him and he wants to fuck you on every available surface in your house.

He imagines pushing you up against the living room window, battering into you so your parents can see how much of a whore their little daughter is when they come home.

He pushes a finger inside of you and you cry at the sensation, gripping his arm tightly.

“Jaemin, Jaemin, Jaemin-“

He shushes you gently. “I got you,” he soothes, pressing another kiss to your lips.

He slips a second finger in and curls them both, causing your back to arch as you whine. He slowly fucks his fingers in and out of you, thumb moving to rub at your clit.

You reach your first orgasm fast. The high is unexpected and you clutch onto Jaemin, crying out his name as you ride out the waves of your orgasm. He retracts his fingers from you and shoves them into his mouth, groaning at the taste of you.

You feel small as you watch him sink to his knees, dark eyes staring up at you. He takes an experimental lick up your pussy and you curl.

The last thing you see is his devilish grin before he dives in, eating your pussy like it’s his last meal. He sucks at your folds greedily, the wet sounds of your soaking pussy filling the living room.

You feel dirty like this — spread wide open for Jaemin on your dining table as he licks and sucks at your sobbing hole.

He enters another finger into you and coaxes you to a second orgasm. He pulls away from you, glancing up at your fucked out expression. “You like this, don’t you? You like being fucked by my tongue and fingers?” You nod, crying as he pushes another finger into you. “Such a sweet pussy. What would your parents say if they saw us like this? Saw their daughter being a filthy slut on the table where they eat dinner?”

You moan, back hitting the table as you grip his hair. He fingers you to another climax and your body twitches from exhaustion.

He gives your pussy a few more licks before coming back up to you, mouth colliding with yours. You can taste some of your essence on his tongue and you moan in his mouth.

You eye his hard cock straining in his jeans. You whimper, reaching desperately for him.

“Please, Jaemin.”

“You want more?” He hisses, licking your neck. “Want my fat cock?”

“Yes, yes,” you beg, growing wetter at the thought of him.

“Let me hear it then.”

You grab his shirt and pull him closer. “Want your big fat cock. Want to feel it stretching me out.”

“Yeah?” He grunts, cock fully hard. “Want my cum too? Want it dripping out of you?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you sob.

Jaemin quickly unbuttons his pants and pulls his cock out, tip leaking. Your mouth waters and you desperately want to taste him. He can sense your neediness, chuckling as he lines himself up to your entrance.

“Another time,” he promises, pushing into you. You both groan as his cock stretches you out slowly. “Fuck fuck fuck, you’re so fucking tight.”

“Jaemin,” you whine.

You saying his name must’ve flipped a switch inside of him. His hands grip your hips before he’s pummeling into you, furiously fucking you as you try not to slide off the table. He rolls into you and grunts in your ear.

“Feel how deep I am? Your pussy is so warm for me, just dripping for my cock. Been wanting a good fuck for a while, haven’t you?” He hisses, cock ramming into your sweet spot. Your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Gonna fuck you until you can only think about me. This pussy’s all mine, right?”

You cry out, another orgasm building slowly in your stomach. “All yours. It’s all yours.”

That night, Jaemin pulls two more orgasms out of you before emptying his cum inside of your pussy.

He later takes you again over the kitchen counter and up against the front door. When your parents come home from dinner, they smile at the sight of you and Jaemin sitting together on the couch, eating dinner.

Luckily, they didn’t manage to notice Jaemin’s cum stuffed in your panties, slowly dripping down your leg.

[tamakissimp]

senario- selfhate comfort

request: @uhhh-i-like-yaoi​ : Hihiiiii! I loved your last comfort post! Could I have the same bois comforting a female reader who is crying because she doesn’t feel pretty? Tysm!

a/n: ahhh yes. I love writing comfort pieces. I added in some other boys because I ✨felt like it✨

warnings: body issues, insecurity, lack of self confidence

BAKUGOU:

wordcount: 544

The image in the mirror is almost mocking you. The way your own body seems to taunt your mind and pull you into its darkest corners is scary. Scratch that, it's terrifying. You know that the healthy thing to do is to look away. But you can't. Your eyes are fixated on all your flaws. You're so busy with pulling yourself apart from that you don't notice the tears starting to roll down your cheeks.

People often talked about how Bakugou was out of your league. You knew that being with someone as handsome as him you quickly learn that, and most of the times their harmful words don't phase you. But maybe you are a little bit more tired today. Maybe you're feeling a bit more down. You don't know what it is, but those mean words seem to get past your defence and straight into your heart today.

You clasp your hand over your mouth in an attempt to muffle the sound of your crying. Even now, with shaking shoulder and blurry vision, all you can think about is how ugly you like while crying. "Idiot!".

Normally you would whisp your head around at the gruff voice but not today. "Are you there?" Bakugou asks. A set of knocks on your door follows. Normally you would welcome him with open arms but not today. What if he saw you like this? He would think you're weak. Weak. Pathetic. Ugly. Awful. Disgusting.

Another sob wrecks through your body. Bakugou's body stiffens at the sound. His blood runs cold. Without a second thought, he rips the door open. The sight of you, standing in front of the mirror while sobbing makes his heart ache. "Teddybear?". His voice is softer.

You hold your arms open for him. He takes the note and walks over to you before pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. He pets your hair as you sobs seem to get worst. Bakugou mumbles sweet nothings in your ear. All you can do is cling onto him. "What's going on, teddy bear?" he asks.

it takes you a moment before you can reply. Every time you open your mouth to speak another sob wrecks through your body. "I'm ugly," you finally manage to speak. You can feel Bakugou shake his head against your shoulder.

"I-I'm ugly and disgusting and you shouldn't b-be with me," you say. You expect Bakugou to agree with you. You expect him to pull away from you, laugh at you before walking out of your room. But he doesn't.

His arms stay wrapped around you, his grip becoming even tighter as he nuzzles into your neck. "No," he says. You want to disagree but he beats you to speak. "You're pretty. Gorgeous even. And I don't say that to everyone, idiot. You're too good for me.".

"I'll show you," Bakugou says. "I'll show you how pretty you are. I'll teach you how to love yourself....Idiot.". You smile softly. His heart does summersaults as he feels you smile against his shoulder. You nod.

"Okay," you mumble. "Okay. T-teach me how to l-love myself.".

SHOTO:

wordcount: 506

You hate yourself for feeling so down. You hate yourself for not being able to be there for Shouto. You know he needs you. He has more reasons to be self-conscious. Though his face looks like it's sculpted by the gods, the scar that taints his skin is one of his most prominent features.

"Are you alright?" Shouto's calm voice asks. You nod your head. Wrong. You feel bad for lying to him but you don't want to burden him with your problems. Shouto nods. On the outside, he looks fine but he is beating himself up mentally.

He has noticed your distance and he can only fear for the worse. Maybe his biggest fear is becoming reality. That you're planning on breaking up with him, that you're done with dealing with someone as broken as him.

All Shouto does is wrap his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him as you both lay in his bed. You stiffen under his touch. The feeling of his hands running up and down your skin only makes you more self-conscious. Shouto's brows furrow at your action.

"Spit it out," he says. You don't know what it is about his voice, but all of a sudden your eyes fill up with tears. Shouto remains silent until he feels something wet hitting his shirt. He looks down at you only to find you silently crying. He immediately pulls you tighter against him.

"I'm sorry,” you say in between silent sobs. "Fuck, I'm sorry.". Shouto shakes his head as he sits up a bit straighter. He rocks the two of you slightly in an attempt to comfort you.

He's still socially awkward but you're teaching him how to deal with emotions, which includes how to comfort someone. He uses your tips as he searches his mind for anything he did that might upset you. He rubs his hands up and down your back, strokes your hair while sushing you softly.

"Do you...want to break up with me?". His voice cracks at the end of the sentences. He can't imagine a world without but he would rather break up than be in an unhappy relationship. Relief washes through him as you shake your head.  

"No, never," you say. You stay silent for a moment. It's best to just rip the bandaid off quickly. "I'm ugly.". The moment the words leave your lips, violent sobs wreck through your body. Shouto stays quiet which you take as he agrees with you.

You pry yourself out of his arms and beeline towards the door. Shouto stops you, though. His hand wraps around your wrist before he spins you around, pulling you into his chest. You fight against him but to no avail.

"Never, ever, say that again," he says. His voice isn't cold like it normally is. "You're beautiful. Inside and out. I know you won't believe me but please do.". All you do is nod against his chest as you run a hand through his two coloured hair. "Please believe me,".

TOKOYAMI:

wordcount: 360

You and Fumikage often talk about your insecurities. Being with someone who's quirk affects their body as much as Fumikage's quirk does, conversations like that start easily. Normally, the two of you will lay on his bed, limbs intertwined while venting out your feelings. So this time is no exception.

Dark shadow lays on the feet end of the bed, his cold fingers running up and down your calves while Fumikage's warm arms encircle your body. Your fingers run over his feathers. You have no clue what he does to them but they always feel like satin between your fingers. "I'm ugly," you blurt out.

The comforting circles Fumikage was once rubbing on your skin now stop. Dark shadows grip on your calves tightens a little. Sure, these sort of thoughts aren't weird to be shared but that didn't make them any easier to hear. "How come?". 

You shrug. You push your face even further against his chest prompting him to resume rubbing your skin. "Look at my face. Look at my body. I'm ugly," you say. It hurts Fumikage how easily you say those words.

In his eyes, you're an angel. Everything you do is a gift from the gods. Yet you have no problem with tearing yourself down. Though he can't judge since he has the same habits. "You are not," he says. You take a deep breath while waiting for him to continue.

"You're beautiful," Fumikage says. "While my words might not affect you now, I do hope that you can one day see yourself through my eyes. I hope that you will see how beautiful you are, my love.". A soft smile spreads against your lips. 

Dark shadow removes its hands from your calf and nuzzles his cheek against it instead. "You talk like an old man.". Even though your tone is happy, Fumikage can sense the sadness laced through it. 

"You love how I talk," he says. You nod. You lean up and press a hast kiss against his beak. Behind his feathers, a blush warms his cheeks. 

"Thank you," you say. "I hope one day you see how handsome you are too, birdman.".

KIRISHIMA:

wordcount: 787

Normally, you didn't feel like this. Being in a relationship with Kirishima meant that he became your personal hypeman. He took any opportunity he got to compliment you and boost your confidence. Lately, however, the UA has been dishing out heaps of homework and training got more intense. This left little time for you two to spend together. You didn't mind, of course not. You support Kirishima's dream of becoming a hero and you knew it would be like this eventually. You just haven't gotten used to it.

For the umpteenth time this week, you find yourself standing in front of your mirror. A rational person would walk away from the mirror. You aren't a rational person though. Instead, you try on every piece of clothing you own that is even remotely tight fitting. Seeing how the fabric clings to your body, extenuating every lump, dent and curve.

You sigh as you run your hands over your body. Feeling your thighs, arms, stomach. All disgust you to a degree you didn't know was possible. A voice in the back of your head is screaming all your imperfections at you. Your face isn't symmetrical enough. Your stomach isn't flat enough. Your collarbones aren't prominent enough. Everything is wrong.

Tears well up in your eyes as you keep hyper-focusing on every flaw. You want to stop, god you do. To smash the mirror to pieces and spit on it. But you can't. Instead, you can only think about Kirishima's friends.

They're kind, sweet, helpful, hero's in training. The only thing bad about them is how perfect you are. It's hard to not compare yourself to them when they're all models. Momo has legs for days, Bakugou has muscles that you could never have, Iida is as smart as they come, Mina can make every outfit look good, Denki has enough charisma for ten people.

Sobs slowly wreck trough your body. You clasp a hand over your mouth. You stare at your own face in the mirror. Red eyes, wobbling chin, swollen cheeks. Even your crying has flaws.

"Pebble," you hear a voice behind your call. Your blood runs cold as you wipe around. You were too busy with pulling yourself apart that you didn't notice Kirishima entering your room. His eyes are drooping and his smile slowly falling. he holds a small bag in his hand. You can see the feet of a teddy bear and your favourite snacks sticking out of it. A surprise date, how sweet.

You shake your head as you make grabby hands towards him. Kirishima drops the bag and runs over to you, pulling you tightly against him. Your sobs grow tenfold now that you're in his arms. He pushes you as he softly pats your hair. "Let it all out, baby," he whispers.

His strong arms envelop you like a blanket. His cinnamony scent brings you comfort. You always thought he smelt like chai tea. After you told him that, he started drinking chai more. You smile at the memory. Your smile drops, however, once you feel his hands travelling over your body.

"Please talk to me," he says. "What's going on?". Kirishima's heart is breaking. Seeing you in this state makes him rack through his mind to find anything he could have done wrong.

"I'm ugly," you croak out before another sob wrecks through you. He stiffens. He curses at himself for not noticing your insecurities sooner. Normally, he was there to brighten your mood and build your confidence up. Normally. But he hasn't seen you as much as normally.

You push yourself further into his chest, hoping to disappear. "I'm ugly, and- and I'm gross," you say. "And I don't k-know why you're with me. B-Because you're handsome a-and kind and sweet and I-I'm none of that. You s-should just break-".

"No," he says sternly. He doesn't let you finish that sentence. He doesn't want you to. "No, I won't. Don't ever think I will.". Kirishima pulls you off him slightly so that he can look into your eyes. He cups your cheeks while brushing away your tears with his thumbs.

You sniffle but melt into his touch. "You aren't ugly, okay? Say it for me. Come on, say it," he urges you. You nod.

"I'm not-I'm not ugly," you say softly. He nods before puling your to him again and places a kiss on your crone. "I'm not ugly," you say again before silent sobs shake your shoulders.

"I'm just going to have to show you, yeah, pebble?" Kirishima says. You nod against him. Your hand travels up and laces through his hair. Even now, when you're crying your eyes out, you're still trying to comfort him. "I'll show you.".

TAMAKI:

wordcount: 774

Tamaki is invisible. It's something he learned to do over the years and now he can't stop doing it. Hiding in the shadows, his presence unknown to people. People tend to look over him and that's the way he likes it. Being in the big three, however, makes him seen. It makes him stand out like a sore thumb and his shyness draws ever more attention towards him.

Due to this, your relationship has become quite known around the school. And with that people tend to talk about you, gossip about you. You tuned it out most of the time. But when people gossip about you, it's hard not to listen to it.

"I mean, yeah, Tamaki is a total cutie," you hear some girl say. You don't even bother looking at her. You just try extra hard to focus on the homework your working on.

"Right?" her friend chimes in. "I don't know why he's with Y/n. Probably out of pitty. He's sweet like that.".

No. Don't listen to them. Tamaki loves you, you know that. He tells you that every day. He might not be physically affectionate but-

"I don't know. Y/n is just kind of...ugly?". Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Goddammit. Fucking fuck. "I didn't think they would ever be with someone.".

With that, you stand up. You don't even bother taking your stuff along with you. You doubt that anyone would be interested in stealing your homework or stationary. You can't even look at the gossiping students as you walk past them. Just get to your dorm, that's the plan. If you walk fast you can be there on less than three minutes.

You keep your gaze down as you fight back the tears. You can't cry in the hallways. That weird and ugly. "Bunny?". You lookup. Tamaki is standing at the end of the hallway, next to Mirio. He waves shyly at you. His goofy smile drops as he sees your pained expression. You strud over to him.

Are you breaking up with him? Did he do something wrong? Did you finally realize how much of a useless ball of shyness he is? His thoughts are running wild and worse case scenarios are popping up in his head.

His mind stops when your arms wrap around him. You two never hug in public. It's too scary for Tamaki, too stressful. But now that he feels your shoulders shake and your breath hitch all he can do is pull yours against him. Your hand travels up and plays with his hair while his arms wrap tightly around your middle.

"Am I ugly?" you ask, breaking the silence. Tamaki shakes his head against you, his hair tickling your neck. "’Cuz it feels like it.". His heartbreaks. You're always there to comfort him, to help him when he's on the brink of a panic attack. Now he has to be there for you.

"No, b-bunny," he says softly. His voice soothes you in a way you didn't imagine it would. "You're so p-pretty.". His words are few but you don't care. You know it's already bold that you come to him like this in public. Normally, you would only cling onto him in the comfort of his own dorm.

While he says little, he does comfort you. His touch ground you. The way his strong arms encircle you and warm you up. You press your nose into his neck. His hair feels silky smooth between your fingers. "I'm not," you say.

You feel awful for dropping your feelings onto him like this but you don't know what else to do. Tamaki is the person you go to for comfort, for love. "Who m-made you feel l-like this?" he asks.

You just shake your head as another sob wrecks to you. You muffle the sound by pressing into him. To bystanders, it just looks like a longlasting hug and not like your crying your eyes out.

Tamaki already knows the answer. He would be lying to say that he didn't hear the rumours as well. He hates it. Not just the attention but the bad things being said about you. That you're only with him because he's in the big three. That you aren't pretty enough for him, strong enough for him. He hears them all.

"W-wanna go... to...um..y-your room?" Tamaki asks. You nod. He places a kiss onto your forehead. Your heart warms up at the bold move. You swift so that one of his arms is now swung over your shoulder while the other is holding your hand. You hum softly at the comforting touch. "I-I think that...you're pretty," Tamaki says.

SHINSO:

wordcount: 435

While Shinso tends to be grumpy to others, he never is to you. He treats you with an unknown kindness. He touches you like your made of glass. And you do the same with him. You lean into his touch. You aren't afraid to answer his questions and you never saw him as a villain.

Due to your close bond, you two share your insecurities. It's normal for one of you to barge into the others dorm and just rant out their feelings. Which is how you find yourself here, walking through the halls with pathetic desperation. You don't even bother knocking once you reach Shinso's room. You just rip the door open.

Shinso can immediately tell that you're feeling down. Maybe it's the way your drag your feet more. Maybe it's the way you don't give him a 'hey nice to see you again' kiss. Or maybe it's the fat tears dripping down your cheeks. "I'm gonna talk," you say.

Shinso just nods. He pushes his chair away from his desk. You get the hint and walk over to him, plopping into his lap. His fingers immediately start rubbing circles on your arms.

"I'm ugly," you say. Shinso's heart stops for a second. This was going to be painful for him to hear. "I'm ugly and disgusting. And I-I'm sick of pretending I'm not. Y-You always say I'm p-pretty but I know y-you're lying. I'm not. And-And that's okay.".

You drop your head to let it rest against Shino's shoulder. He just shakes his head. He waits a minute for you to speak again and when you don't he does.

"You aren't ugly, kitty cat," Shinso says. You smile at the pet name. "You're as pretty as they come. Fuck everyone who tells you you're not. Fuck. Them.".

"You're out of my league," you say. Shinso shakes his head. One of his hands moves up to pet your head softly.

"Bullshit. I'm a fucking piece of shit villi-" he says. You lay a finger of his mouth to stop the word from being said. You lift your head and look at him. Even though your crying and your vision is blurry, you cup his face.

You shake your head. "Don't," you say. "Don't so that.". Shinso leans into your touch. It's selfish to treasure your touch in a situation like this but he can't help himself.

"Then you can't say that you're ugly," he says. You close your eyes before leaning your forehead against his. He feels you nod against him. A soft smile spreads over his normally stoic lips.

"Deal," you whisper out.

[leejeongz]

nsfw a-z YOSHI (treasure)

🔅 for @ateezwhorez i hope you enjoy this honey 🥺❤️ dw the others should be written soon tooooo 🔅

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

he just feels cuddly and swoony. he’s in love with you, even more so than before even though he didn’t think that was possible. he loves to cuddle with you, just until you catch your breath again at least. he’s still still high from the whole experience, it’s the perfect time to be open and show your vulnerability even more. it’s less about the physical things he does for you, more about how you two deepen your relationship even further. he uses this time to have deep chats that slowly fade into more light hearted conversations before drifting off to sleep.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

his eyes are his favourite thing about him i think. he likes how you can understand what he wants just from looking into them. they’re intense and needy, oppressive even. they’re infatuating. they’re his secret weapon to make you obey him without even realising what you’re doing.

on you, he likes your lips. he likes how they feel on his own lips, on his neck, around his dick, anywhere and everywhere. he also just thinks they look pretty and are the perfect colour naturally, actually something he noticed about you first which he found really attractive.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

doesn’t like to make a mess at first… might even cum in a tissue the first few times because he thinks it’s more respectful.

but when he’s comfortable and such, he’d love to cum all over your hands after you finished him off with a handjob, he thinks it looks really hot and it’s enough to get him horny again hehe.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he often imagines how you'd look tied up in front of him. at his disposal. his fantasies are actually super kinky but he very rarely tells you them. he’d probably never tie you up to the extent that he dreams of doing because he doesn’t want to hurt you and he thinks of you as quite fragile 🥺

i wanna do another because my wild card was kinda short this time but he would l o v e to do a life drawing of you. like this isn’t even sexual but i don’t wanna get attacked if i write this on something that is fluff lol. it would be something that he’d treasure and something that he would be so proud of. to make it dirty since it’s a dirty secret 👀 he had a few intrusive thoughts while he drew you and found it super hard to stay hyperfocused on the drawing. if you tried to flirt with him while modelling, he’d just tell you to save it for later and that’s when he’d unleash the beast lol.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

1 sexual partner with whom he was in a relationship with. he doesn’t think about it much and when he’s with you, he’s very much focused on you. one look at you and he’s forgotten about them already.

he knows what he’s doing for the most part, but sometimes he just wants to learn new things with you, together.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

he likes facing you: missionary and cowgirl, depending on what feels natural at the time. he likes bringing his face close to yours and hovering his lips over yours, occasionally touching with every thrust. enough to feel the other’s breath, but not enough to actually kiss.

once the pace has slowed a little, he’ll give you the kiss he’s been teasing you with for what feels like hours just so that you’ll appreciate it and enjoy it all the more.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

he’s quite serious in the moment. he wants to make sure that you’re enjoying yourself and that he’s doing the absolute most to exceed any expectations each and every time.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

he naturally doesn’t have much hair down there. he trims what he has and keeps it tidy since he feels it’s more intimate.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

most of the time, he’s extremely romantic during sex. he’s very into slow and sensual sex that allows you two to bond physically and emotionally. it’s important to him that he understands your wants and needs as his partner and vice versa, making the whole experience super romantic.

but that’s not all the time. sometimes he just wants to rip off your clothes and have his way with you and that’s ✨totally fine✨

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

i feel like he’s a typical laptop on desk, tissues besides him type of guy. he doesn’t do it too often, but when he does he has to fully commit because there is absolutely no way he’s stopping for anything/anyone that isn’t you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

he’s not that kinky, he’s a vanilla man. i’ll just list some sexual things that he likes hehe

whispering- he likes when you whisper close to his ear and he likes doing it to you. the tingling down his neck is intoxicating, he can’t help but want to feel it again and again. what you say is important too. he likes receiving praise. saying things like “you make me so wet” or “you turn me on so much” makes him so happy, it’s a great way to drive him crazy.

ropes- not to an extreme level, just one rope to tie your hands together behind you or in front of you.

eye contact- he likes that his eyes intimidate you of course, but you pushing past that and maintaining eye contact makes him feel a rush to MAKE you feel intimidated. he wants you to feel like he’s in charge (even if he’s not) and if he can’t do that with his eyes, then it’s pretty much over for him, but he likes that fact that you stood up to him and it turns him tf on.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

he likes sex in bed or on the floor. anywhere that he or you can lie comfortably. he likes fucking you in hotel beds. although it’s not really that dirty, it is for you two.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

gentle strokes- he likes when you trace his jawline or collarbones with your fingers, especially when you have long nails. he almost always returns the favour. he likes gently dragging his finger up and down your thigh before and between rubbing your pussy.

directness- tell him you’re turned on. tell him why you’re turned on. tell him how he turned you on. tell him how you feel and why you think he should feel the same way to. by the end of your talk, he’s gurenteed to feel the same way.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

angry sex/sex during an argument.

he wants to settle things properly first. sex isn’t a solution nor is it forgiveness. the only way he can truly be intimate with you is when you’re both happy and when you’re both on the same page. “angry” sex like that is meaningless to him, the argument mustn’t have been important if you can just forget about it so why can’t you just talk it through?

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

he’s naturally a giver and oral (sex in general) is no exception. he wants you to be able to allow yourself to receive instead of forcing it upon you if you’re not used to it. he introduces his tongue slowly and always asks if what he’s doing is okay. even if you are used to it, he’s always gonna build up to it. he likes when you take the lead even when he’s eating you out, he likes when you’re giving him directions or your hands are in his hair, controlling him, because then he knows that what he’s doing is right.

not too fussed about receiving head. of course he would never say no, but he’s not one to ask for one just to finish without pleasuring you. he’s eyes are closed during the whole thing and and he lets out small, quiet cusses which he knows turn you on. also says nice stuff to you (when he can get the words out) while you’re sucking his dick because 🥺 he is nice.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

as i mentioned before, he’s slow and sensual. he keeps the experience extremely romantic and memorable. it leaves you wanting more and he knows.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

not his style. at all. he likes to draw out the details, take his time with you, ensure you've both been treated and pleasured sufficiently.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

he’d only experiment with things that you’d tried before or things you’ve researched. he doesn’t wanna try anything new to the pair of you especially early on because he doesn’t wanna hurt you or leave a bad impression or anything like that. he’d never spring anything on you that you hadn’t discusssed either.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

2-3 rounds, but it totally depends on you. how much you want, how much you turn him on after, how tired you are etc.

he usually lasts for around 20 mins but needs like a 10 second breather sometimes

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

i don’t see him owning any toys but i don’t think he’d be opposed to using them. if you wanted to use them, great fantastic he’d get straight to it. he would definitely like to try them for himself at least once too.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he doesn’t tease you much, because he’d rather just do it? but i guess if you’d consider extended foreplay to the point where you have to beg him to fuck you as teasing then he’s the master lol. oH and also doesn’t just kiss you during sex, he definitely teases with those.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

tries to hold his moans and cusses back but fails lol. they’re quiet and soft but you can still hear them. he gets kind of shy about them after sex too and he doesn’t really like it when you bring it up.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

“take it off” he orders, looking directly at your chest. you remove your tshirt on command and throw it to the ground. he walks towards you, backing you into the wall behind you. it was a harsh and sudden coldness on your back, but there was something even colder in front of you. his eyes glared at you, which subconsciously made you remove your bra.

“so fucking beautiful” he growled while taking one of your breasts in his hand. it wasn’t long before he started with his tongue. he circled your nipple with his tongue while he played with the other one in his hand. your head automatically fell back, luckily resting on the wall. he slowly began to flick your nipple with his tongue before gently kissing it and moving to the other one.

your hand found its way to his hair, grabbing it and pulling it a little. you occasionally let out small gasps, which almost always made him look up at you and smile.

after a few minutes, he stood up once again, head buried in your neck as he whispered what he wanted you to do for him next.

“please, make me cum. you've turned me on so much tonight.”

that’s when it all started making sense. you’d been bowling that night with friends. this involved a lot of bending over, a lot of casual skin touches when neither of you were bowling and a LOT of whispering closely in his ear since the music was so loud. you knew he liked it when you whispered, but you didn’t know even in that context that it would send shivers down your spine. you stored that info, maybe you’d use that against him one day after he’d been teasing you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

i think average, with just a little under average thickness. i’m not sure if you can ever call a dick pretty but i feel with yoshi it would be justified, especially when it’s hard.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

i’m pretty sure it varies depending on your type of relationship. if you are a romantic partner, 3-4 times a week. if it’s just a fling, once maybe twice a week at most. he has a naturally high sex drive, but he’s less likely to take his time with someone he has no feelings for meaning he doesn’t really crave sex as often as he would with someone he’s romantically involved with.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

as i mentioned above, yoshi wants to talk to you and connect with you even further after sex. he falls asleep when he’s ready to fall asleep, which is after he’s learnt something about you that makes his heart flutter, that he can tease you about later on.

[kitkat1003]

Tower Tales

4: Turns out, they can get sick of each other

AO3 Link

@asilcorner YEET

Time passes and it’s maddening.  Yakko keeps a calendar, but there’s no point in trying to know how long they’ve been trapped in here when they can’t even tell if they’re sleeping at night or day.  They don’t know how long an hour is, a minute, month, a week, a day.  Not by heart.  So, for a while, they have to guess.

Yakko eventually makes a clock, sets a time, makes their day as normal as he can, starting the hour at a random time and suddenly dinnertime is 5:30pm instead of just sometime before bed, even though they can’t tell if it’s even close to 5:30pm outside.  It doesn’t matter if it turns out they aren’t following the sun, the sun has never followed them, so fair’s fair.  Besides, why stick with the world’s set of rules when those rules act like this is fine, that them being trapped is fine?

And hey, what’s a little madness?  Who cares, right?

The tower becomes a lived-in space.  The first two floors become living room areas, bedrooms, kitchen, bathroom.  They never can be certain on the decor, and it changes daily, weekly, hourly, but that’s fine, because the idea of everything repeating, like the days have no difference between them makes Yakko want to curl into a ball and never straighten out.

The third floor is left mostly barren, because that’s where they practice their toon powers.  Wakko has a penchant for bombs and offensive weapons, Yakko finds he can pull a pen out of anywhere and anything, and Dot has an affinity for her mallet, as well as fashion.

She likes to tailor, on occasion, and bribes Wakko to be her model for it by letting him perform songs via burping after dinner—she doesn’t mind the sound, it’s really the smell that makes her hate the whole thing—and Yakko starts being able to pull out random books from his hammerspace.  They’re typically books he likes, thank god, but sometimes they’re just confusing.  He likes Dr. Dolittle, though it is a bit silly, and the idea of talking animals being strange doesn’t make sense to him, being animal-like himself, but at the least it’s an interesting series with many books to go through.  He likes Winnie the Pooh, too, and the Velveteen Rabbit is surprisingly sad, but at least it’s a change of pace in comparison to the happier children’s books he reads.

He ventures to more adult focused books, like The Great Gatsby, which is depressing but also an interesting commentary of the time, and the Murder of Roger Ackroyd by Agatha Christie.  He actually reads through that one a couple times, to go back and find the clues Miss Christie left for the reader, and he finds it utterly fascinating.  Who knew that someone could write like that?  Leaving little pieces that only come together to make something when the last piece is found.  It’s like a blank puzzle that turns on when you finish it.

Dot likes to read with him, pulling out a magazine about the daily fashion news or parties.  He doesn’t know what Playboy is, but the moment it appears in her hands he rips it away and throws it in the fire.  She evidently sees enough just from the cover, because she doesn’t argue.

He occasionally reads to Wakko and Dot.  Typically before bed—he regrets ever reading the Velveteen Rabbit to them, because Wakko didn’t sleep for a few days after.   He tries to get Wakko to read with him, but Wakko seems to find learning anything in a standardized way quite difficult, and all it took was one semi pointed comment from Dot about it to keep the boy from even trying, shame painting his cheeks the red of their nose.  Yakko considers talking to Dot about it, but he doesn’t want to further embarrass Wakko by bringing it up, and it’s hard to be secretive in a small space.

So he lets it go, because they have plenty of time—too much, too much to ever fill, and sometimes all they can do is sit and hope for it to move faster because boredom makes them dull and he hears Dot cry into her pillow some nights because she’s not as quiet as she thinks she is and he sleeps so lightly he can barely call it rest—and continues to play and have fun and learn new things.  He gets an atlas, one day, and memorizes the names of all the countries, hums out a melody, learns rhyme schemes.

And when he starts up a tune, they all fall in line.  That’s the thing—while he and Dot learn the normal way, Wakko seems to be able to do just about anything when he stays out of his own head.  Which is odd, because Wakko doesn’t talk too much, so he must be in his head plenty.  Perhaps, then, the line between thinking and doing is so wide that when he tries to both everything gets jumbled.  Because when they burst into song, Wakko dances and prances and creates lyrics like a pro, whether they’re singing about nothing at all to complex philosophical concepts, with a plethora of large words that if Wakko tried to read he would trip and stumble as they were slanted stairs.  Occasionally, Yakko will ask if Wakko even knows what they’re singing about, only ever curious, and Wakko can talk his ear off about it all.  Yet, when Yakko brings him into a classroom setting, Wakko’s face goes blank, and no comprehension of anything Yakko says ever shows.

Clearly he has a grasp on the English language, clearly he’s smart—Yakko could never think his brother stupid, because no stupid person could build a second floor without any plans, could follow jokes and make his own quips on occasion that send him and Dot into laughing fits, could pick the perfect moment for a physical joke in the middle of a conversation; no way that Wakko is anything close to stupid—but the moment it’s a classroom type setting all of that goes out the window.  Is it the motivation?  Is it the material?  Is it him?

Yakko has to figure this out, but at least he doesn’t have to figure it out soon.  He has time.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They aren’t perfect, despite the look of them, despite how they’re drawn to be.  They can’t be expected, forced together 24/7, to not get into petty squabbles.  And they are petty.  Dot hates sharing the bathroom with ‘gross boys,’ hates it when they play during dinner, Yakko hates it when they’re making too much noise during his reading times, when they complain too much, Wakko grumps about when they eat something he was supposedly saving, or throw something away he thinks he could eat (a.e. a banana peel, a watermelon rind, moldy bread, etc), or when they talk too softly or too fast, as if they don’t want him to be able to listen.  It’s never anything too bad, and they get over it within the next few hours, but sometimes it builds.

For instance, Wakko is going stir crazy.

Dot and Yakko can tell.  They don’t mind sitting still on occasion, given the right persuasion, but Wakko is a mile a minute of movement, everything twitching and tapping, tail swishing back and forth and wagging when he’s excited.

There’s only so many times one can run around a small space before they get bored.  Only so many months one can spend exploring and doing the same things with little variation 

“Ugh, there’s nothing to dooooooo,” Wakko whines, flopping onto the armrest of Dot’s chair.  She and Yakko are reading the same book, they’re going to discuss it when they’re done.  It’s a fun blend of their skills and likes-talking about reading.

“There’s plenty of things to do!  Why don’t you read a book with us?” Dot suggests, and maybe it’s a little mean, but it’s more out of ignorance than cruelty.  It’s been what feels like a few months since she saw Wakko struggle, how could she have known that he’d written off reading entirely.

“You could read to me,” Wakko actually perks up at his own suggestion, like a lightswitch flipping on.  Yakko doesn’t mind it at all, and is about to volunteer when Dot raises a brow.

“Can’t you read yourself?” She shoots back, and Wakko deflates, before he crosses his arms, on the defensive.

“I don’t need to,” He says, and Doll rolls her eyes.

“If that was true, you wouldn’t want someone to read to you,” Like usual, her words are sharper than his, but she makes one mistake.  “You can’t just refuse to learn forever.  What are you going to do when you get into the real world?”

Dot is trying to hope.  She trusts that, someday, they’ll escape.  Doesn’t matter how long it takes, they’ll still escape, because she trusts their family, and she trusts their growing abilities.

But Wakko...well, he isn’t quite so positive, at the moment.

“We’re never going to the real world!” He shouts.  “I know what forever means, I’m not that dumb, and that’s how long they’re keeping us here,” Dot is taken aback, but Wakko is a roll, frustrated and ashamed and angry, and Yakko is cut off by his next spitting sentence.  “And the worst part of it is that I’m stuck here with a stuck-up jerk like you!”

“Wakko Warner!” Yakko stands, and he doesn’t typically raise his voice like this, not angry, but that was uncalled for, and Wakko—

Wakko flinches.

Yakko falters, Dot’s eyes are already teary, and Wakko dashes off, vanishes up to the second floor before anyone can stop him.

Yakko attends to the sibling that is close by, because Dot is upset and angry and hurt, so he soothes her tears.

“Why would he say that?” She asks, confused.  “Did he mean it?”

“Of course not—he’s just not handling this as well as you are.  You picked reading up way faster than he did.  He’s been struggling with it, and with all...this,” he gestures to the tower.  Dot sniffles.  “You do have a habit of saying things that make you sound high and mighty, your majesty,” He adds, with a grin, and Dot giggles a little, wiping her eyes.

“Sorry,” She says, and he shrugs.

“Not me who needs an apology, sis, but I appreciate it anyway.  Let’s give Wakko some time to calm down, kay?” He picks her up and smiles.  “I don’t know what chapter you got to, but I have some thoughts on the 5th one.”

She grins back at him.

One down, one to go.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They find Wakko curled up in a ball on the couch upstairs, face hidden from the world and back facing the outside.  Dot comes over quietly, soft steps toward the tense coiled spring that is her brother.

“Didn’t mean it,” He sounds very...defeated.  “I’m sorry, Dot,” He sniffles, and she still can’t see his face.

“It’s okay,” she responds, because staying mad never helped anyone anyway.  “I shouldn’t have been so mean about it.  I’m sorry.  I didn’t know it was so hard.”

“It is,” Wakko finally turns to face her, and his face is stained with tears.  “I can’t get it to make sense in my head—and you got it easy.  Maybe I am stupid,” He turns to face her, sitting up and curling his knees to his chest, and the last phrase is muffled by his knees.

“You’re not!  You’re better at building things than I could ever be!  Words can be hard, though.  It took me a bit to get it.” 

He looks over at her, shyly, as if searching her face for any sign of a joke.  She remains resolute, and sincere. “Really?” 

“Yeah!  Hey, maybe I could try and teach you.  Yakko’s a real lazy teacher,” She jokes, and Yakko takes that as his cue to walk over.

“I take offense to that,” He responds without heat, before looking over to Wakko, who shrinks under his gaze.  The action makes Yakko want to disappear—how could he make his own brother scared of him?

“Sorry for scaring you, Wakko,” He tells him, hoping Wakko accepts the apology.  

“It wasn’t you-it was just,” Wakko is quick to reassure Yakko that he wasn’t scared of him, because he wasn’t, and knows that Yakko would never act in a way that should make Wakko afraid of him, he just was scared because “You’re tall,” He finally finds the words, and Yakko blinks.  “The execs who didn’t like us, they were tall, and they shouted a lot, and I was thinking about when we were out and I was already upset and it just happened, but you’re not scary,” He gives Yakko a shaky grin.  “How could someone even be scared of you?”

“Hey,” Yakko takes mock offense, but a weight lifts off of his shoulders.

He shuffles over, and takes the hat off of Wakko’s head to ruffle his hair.  Wakko reaches for it with sweater paws, standing on the couch to grab his hat back, and the tense air starts to dissipate.

Wakko yawns.

“I’m tired,” he mumbles, rubbing at his eyes.  Yakko settles down on the couch, between him and Dot, and lifts Wakko into his lap.

“Guess it’s naptime, then,” He leans back, hands behind his head.  “Dot?”

She’s already curling up against him.

Eventually, Yakko manages to get horizontal, Wakko and Dot curled up together on top of him. Slowly, he lets out a sigh of relief and sleeps.

The next day, he finds Dot and Wakko at a new dining room table, both hunched over a piece of paper.  Wakko looks very confused, and a little frustrated, but Dot goes over the same letter sounds over and over as if it were the first time, and that type of relentless explanation manages to get through the mental blocks Wakko sometimes has.

“So, the ‘c’ makes a cuh sound, ‘a’ makes an aay sound, so what’s that word?” She points.

“Ca-Catch?” Wakko tries, and Dot cheers, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

“You did it!” She says, and Wakko brightens like the sun.

“Faboo!” He responds, and the exclamation is so startling that Dot starts laughing.  Wakko joins in, and Yakko is chuckling to himself all the way to the kitchen.

Within two months, Wakko joins their book club.  They make matching t-shirts.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Yakko loves his sibs, he really does.  They’re basically the only reason he stuck around for so long. They need him.

But sometimes, he doesn’t want them.

Little siblings bicker and it gets real grating.  He just wants one day, one, where he doesn’t have to deal with a stupid argument!  Is that so much to ask

He feels like he never gets this petty over the small stuff.  Aren’t there more pressing things to be upset about?  He doesn’t expect his siblings to be friendly to each other all the time, but would it kill them to resolve their own issues?  Especially when they’re as small as whose mallet is whose(they’re identical) or where a furniture piece should go(when it’s going to be moved within a week anyway, because they’re always changing the format of the tower).  If Wakko’s hat is better than Dot’s flower.  How the kitchen silverware should be organized, even.  Yakko can’t see why it matters

He can’t even get peace now, trying to get through the book they’re in the middle of in their book club.  Wakko and Dot had sped ahead one day when Yakko was making dinner, and now he’s trying to catch up, but he can’t because they’re having another shouting match.  They’re hunched over a fashion magazine, trying to figure out what?  What dress looks cuter?  Wakko, apparently, picked the wrong one, and now Dot is upset, and now he’s upset because she’s upset at him, and it’s just so much.

Eventually he snaps.

“Alright, that’s it!” He shouts, and Wakko and Dot look up from their squabble-about what dress looks cuter, off all things. “I’m going upstairs, and you two deal with each other for a few hours, because I can’t.” He runs a hand down his face and sighs, grabbing his book and disappearing to the second floor, not even bothering to see their reaction.

And you see, you’d think he’d like the peace and quiet, but two hours in and his ears keep twitching, aching for the sound of silly conversation and laughter and pattering feet.  Sure, they’re annoying, and they squabble over silly things, but Yakko is paranoid at heart because the background sounds of them messing around is somehow relaxing, because then at least he knows that they’re there, that they’re safe.  Silence is uncertainty, silence means he’s alone, and he keeps subconsciously searching for their noise, to know that they are, and in turn he is, safe and there.  He thinks he might be a little too used to them, because without the ambient noise he can’t focus.  

Four hours later, and he comes back down, and is greeted to an armful of new books he definitely didn't make, and they don’t look published.  They look more like...picture books?

“We made them for you!” Dot says.

“I did the pictures, and Dot wrote the stories,” Wakko adds.

Yakko’s heart is so full it feels like his ribs are cracking.

“What a couple of authors you are!” he laughs, and they follow him all the way back to his chair.  He sets the books in a stack on his lap, picking up the first one and opening his mouth to read aloud as Dot and Wakko sit on the armrests of the couch, eagerly awaiting his narration and reaction.

Yakko thinks he got pretty lucky with his sibs, even with their petty arguments, smiling down at the pages and reading the books through.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dot loves her brothers.  She does.

But they’re gross.

Well, not gross, but certainly not clean.  They make messes and forget to clean them up.  And it’s not that bad, Dot doesn’t mind cleaning.  Wakko builds them things, Yakko takes care of the meals, cleaning is just part of her chores in this whole situation.

It reaches a limit, and she hits it when she watches Yakko spill marinara sauce all over the ground and then do nothing about it.  Wakko slips in it and the two just laugh it off, but the sauce splatters everywhere, and she has to clean that, and—

“Ugh!” She stomps her foot in frustration, and Yakko and Wakko turn to her, confused.  “You two are disgusting!  I have to clean this all up later, and-ugh!” She turns on her heel and heads upstairs.  She slams the hatch door to the second floor shut, and Wakko and Yakko wince at the sound.

“Is the second floor specifically for upset people now, or is it just a really lazy plot device?” Yakko snarks, and Wakko blinks.

“Should we clean this up?”

“Yeah, probably.”

She comes down an hour later, because she skipped dinner and though she doesn’t have a food issue she’s used to eating with her siblings, and she walks into a sparkling clean kitchen.

“This is a once a year affair,” Yakko says, as she stands there shocked.  “Maybe thrice if you pay us.”

“I ate a bar of soap,” Wakko says, and bubbles come out of his mouth.

“You two are ridiculous,” Dot says, and she can’t help the grin on her face.

She hugs them till she hears something crack.  Probably Yakko’s back, with how tense her eldest brother is.

It’s halfway to filthy by the end of the week, but she can tell they’re trying, and that’s enough.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

So yeah, they get sick of each other.  They have petty and not so petty squabbles, but no matter what they end up in the same place.

Curled up near each other, blankets pulled close so that the edges of the bed are barren.  Yakko always talks in sleep, Wakko drools and kicks, Dot will shift from time to time and grab at air, or anything in grasping range, but they won’t wake up, because despite those annoyances, together they feel safe.

And that’s what family is for, isn’t it?

[cpcoulter-official]

Stayed in the Drafts

It was just…that laugh was so familiar.

The sunshine was pouring into his bleary eyes and the world wouldn’t focus. And he’d heard it in his ears, clear as day. And he wasn’t one for hallucinations, but it was convincing enough to wake him. And when he tried to see through the beams, he saw a smile, golden eyes full of mirth, and tendrils of wet dark hair dripping down to him.

“Wake up! Oh my god, Carmen’s going to find you in my bed…!”

And then the world shifted.

Sebastian pulled himself up from bed and rubbed his eyes, feeling like they were full of sand and bad decisions from last night. He could still smell whatever wine he had last night on his pillows, he figured this may be a bad way to start a day. But who would tell on him? He was ‘accompanied’ by people of legal age.

He looked to his right, past the overly cheery sunshine, and to the clock on his bedstead that said quite clearly the time and date today. The days seem to crawl, and he blearily realized that considering when he lost consciousness last night, he’d only gotten about five hours of sleep.

A glove without a mate was dangling from the drawer.

Grasping for his phone, he stared into it seeking answers, and only found a lot of angry texts from Reggie (“Where are you?!” “You could at least call me back!” “You better be on time tomorrow, I’m not kidding!”), incoherent replies from friends (“You’re insane!” “How did you even get that bottle, haha!” “Gotta do this again, I’ll bring that model you like!”), and the day’s news.

He shut his eyes and leaned back on the headboard. This wasn’t the worst way to start the day, but he often wondered if there were better ways to do it.

He absently typed,

Are you haunting me?

Pausing, he set the phone down. That wasn’t the right word. It shouldn’t be the right word, and it wasn’t. Haunting was for the dead. And the one he was addressing wasn’t. Thank god.

But no one had seen him.

But he was okay.

Where was he? And why does he hear his laugh again? After trying so hard not to?

Ding!

A bleary glance revealed a text from Alphonse. “Take me to school.”

“Yeah, okay.” Sebastian sighed and got up.

Standing outside his parents’ house, hands in his pockets, and wearing sunglasses that weren’t his, Sebastian huffed and shifted on his heels. He wondered what was the point of him living in the apartment if they were just going to call him back home every other day. He’d wanted to live there on the pretext of learning how to live independently, but given that hardly any upkeep of the apartment was done “independently,” he knew that his parents must have only agreed so that someone was living in the property and that it would ease some of the tension growing at home.

He remembered feeling some amusement that his parents still cared enough to not want their children to see that they were having issues with their marriage. And it didn’t help that he’d become so largely apathetic that he couldn’t even bring himself to care what they planned to do, and it was obvious.

That he knew, that they knew he knew, and they knew that he didn’t care. And it made them a little uncomfortable that he cared so little.

Maybe he was the one doing the haunting.

Sebastian didn’t even know when it started—when he started to not care. Things just…got away from him. Maybe it was the lifestyle or him knowing that they expected nothing from him (unlike Reggie, who they expected everything from, and Al, who they expected to be a sweet boy forever).

But he didn’t often care about much, because it had no repercussions on him.

…or at least, most of the time, they didn’t.

Why do you like wearing old fashioned sunglasses anyway? He put his phone away as soon as he’d typed it. He knew the answer. He could hear the voice answering him plain as day. “It’s a classic, wouldn’t you French boys know about style like that??”

“What are you doing, Bastian?”

He looked up to see Alphonse standing there, in uniform and coat, staring at him with his serious little face that was no longer so sweet, like a little church cherub. He was growing. Sebastian smiled. “Hey.” He nodded to the car as the driver opened the door. “Get in.”

Alphonse stared at him with some suspicion before scuttling along out the gate, climbing into the car. Getting into the car after him and the door slamming shut, he absently nodded to the driver to indicate that they could go.

His little brother was digging into his bag for something, and quipped at Sebastian, “You took your time.”

“Why do you need me to take you to school?” Sebastian asked with a sigh as he stared out the window.

“Because Mama took one car, she’s going to Centre Pompidou, and Papa and Reggie took the other,” Alphonse huffed, pushing Sebastian’s bag away. “You didn’t bring anything for me?”

Sebastian smirked. He drew his hand out of his pocket and held out a bagful of soft caramel squares. Alphonse lit up for an instant before grabbing the bag. “You used to carry more around.”

“The other one who likes it isn’t here,” Sebastian remarked softly as he watched his brother take one square to eat in the car. “Aren’t you getting too old to be this intense about candy?”

“You’re never too old for that,” Alphonse replied between chews, opening a book.

To his right, he heard that laugh again and it made him look up. But outside, there were just people on their way to their lives. There was nothing but the sound of people walking, noise of traffic, doors of shops—

“We need to get more of those, your brother likes them!”

He closed his eyes quickly. It has to be the hangover. He didn’t often do this twice in one morning. He’d been so good at trying to forget.

But after he saw the news…

You really need to stop leaving your influences for me to clean up.

The glove without a mate. The sunglasses. But he couldn’t hit ‘send.’

“Why didn’t they take you to school on the way?” Sebastian asked, and it felt less like a question and more like running away from his thoughts.

“That’s what you’re for,” Alphonse replied simply.

It was strange; just last night he’d seen all these outside scenes before. These places were familiar to him as they always have been, after living in this city long enough. Just last night, he’d been across most of them, with his friends—and were they his friends?—living the luxurious, over-the-top lifestyle he’d been so accustomed.

But now, as he watched a familiar street go by, a nice café with a breakfast that he enjoyed, he thought he could see pictures of himself and someone else, from a time that wasn’t as long ago as it seemed.

He wanted to shut his eyes from it, but he saw pictures in the black every time he did so.

And he could still hear that familiar laugh that woke him. In fact—

“Jeez, get it together, will you? Why are you so hung up on this?”

He looked up quickly when the laugh rippled, distorted, along with a familiar voice, from inside the car. And he saw Alphonse watching something on his phone. “What is that?” he demanded.

Alphonse looked up and stared at him like he was crazy. “YouTube.”

On the little screen in his hands, in living color, was a boy he recognized more easily when the lamp lights blazed on him in the evenings at the city of lights. It looked like some kind of interview for a movie he’d done. The smile was brilliant on his face and his laugh shattered in the weak audio of the phone.

Sebastian ripped his eyes away immediately, focusing on the world outside. And the streets. And the sights. And the shops. Anything.

He’d been doing so well, keeping to himself, keeping to the deal. The occasional text where they don’t respond to what the other says. Everything else stayed in the drafts. He was keeping to the deal.

For once.

“How is he doing now?” Alphonse asked.

“How would I know that?” Sebastian replied tightly.

“He’s your friend, isn’t he?”

Sebastian glanced at him and let out his breath, pulling out his phone to browse. “I’m not his… No.”

Alphonse stared with the same suspicion again before resuming what he was watching. Sebastian desperately wished he had headphones.

Are we friends?

But that one stayed too.

He dropped off Alphonse at school. As for himself, he felt no reason to attend. It felt a lot like the void was calling, and all he needed was a high place right now.

Reggie seemed incapable of looking at him without some kind of judgment. Right now, in spite of the fact that they were supposed to be having a meal together, he mostly felt like he was getting appraised.

“How was school?” he prompted.

Sebastian rolled his eyes, knowing full well that he didn’t attend, and knowing very well that Reggie may already have an inkling that he didn’t. “So-so.”

“Haven’t you anything interesting about it to say?”

“No,” Sebastian replied before a sip of coffee, and apparently, that was the full sentence of it.

He wondered if Reggie would press on, or if he, like his parents, may have somehow given up on him. It appeared it would be the latter, as after a glower, Reggie resumed eating. In spite of appearances, Sebastian actually liked the companionable silence that he had when eating with his brothers. The rest of his nightlife was typically loud.

He glanced at his phone, and remarked, “I’m on time…but mama and papa aren’t.”

“More’s the pity,” Reggie snorted. He shifted his food around. “You haven’t been yourself lately.”

“What would you know about that?” Sebastian smirked.

“What I mean is, you’ve been a little more…distracted than usual,” Reggie side-eyed him. “And here I thought that we’d seen the last of your distractions back in December.”

Alright. Sebastian put his fork down, wiping his mouth with as little menace as possible. And Reggie seemed pleased, even when he tried to rise from the table. “Sit down, Sebastian.”

“I’ve places to be, honestly—”

“You’ve nowhere to be, sit down.”

Sebastian remained standing, glaring at him. And he glared even more when Reggie snatched the sunglasses from the table when he meant to reach for them. “Give those back.”

“Sit.”

“Now.”

Reggie leaned back and tucked the sunglasses to his side of the table, gesturing for Sebastian to sit in silence. The stare-down between the two of them would’ve made other patrons of the restaurant uncomfortable, were the two of them not ensconced in a private area.

Clenching the napkin in his fist, Sebastian sat back down and opened his palm to his brother. Reggie did not return the sunglasses.

“If you’re having problems, you’re supposed to tell us,” Reggie told him with maddening calm. “You don’t think we don’t know what’s going on with you?”

“I know that you know, I had the assumption that you really don’t care or you wouldn’t let me.” Sebastian’s smile was far from genuine.

“That was our mistake, apparently. Are you really just going to get drunk and party all night every night until you turn eighteen? Haven’t you any plans for yourself? What you’ll be?”

“Shall I be like you?” Sebastian asked with the same tight cheer. “It seems so much more fun than what I’m doing now.”

“You’re not even in college yet.”

“What makes you think I won’t go to college and do exactly the same thing?”

“Oh? With the way you treat your schoolwork?”

“You have nothing on me.” And he knew they didn’t. He made sure they didn’t. He was excellent when he had to be. And the rest of the time…

Reggie observed him for a moment, then continued as he ate. “How about the arts, Sebastian? You seem to be quite good at that. You write music. You’re good at singing. Have you tried that direction?”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, not having expected this approach. “…that’s a direction? An option?”

“It’s certainly one better than the road towards alcoholism.” Reggie scooped up the goblet of wine that was freshly poured. “No, he won’t be having any tonight.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Sebastian glared as the waiter departed.

“Do you?” Reggie sipped the wine himself and sighed. “I just think that you’re wasting your potential. Whatever that potential may be.”

“Why do you even care?” Sebastian asked.

“Because though it may surprise you, I do give a damn about what happens to my brothers,” Reggie replied coolly. “Especially ones who are going through something I can’t understand, because he refuses to tell me.”

“I’m not going through anything,” Sebastian replied with gritted teeth.

“That’s not what Alphonse says,” Reggie remarked with a raised eyebrow. “That’s not what your actions say either. And it is not…” and he very carefully placed the sunglasses with a clack in front of Sebastian, “…what I saw in you in your room that night.”

Sebastian stared at the sunglasses. He heard it in his ears, as he did in the nights when he tried to sleep; the news report with the sirens and the reporter. The news that the boy whose laugh he still hears in his ears had been—

He closed his eyes, trying not to see again.

When he opened them, he saw Reggie staring at him.

He grabbed the sunglasses and fled.

…are you okay?

Even as he stared at the words on the phone, he didn’t think it was worth sending. It was a stupid question.

He leaned back on the sill of the apartment and stared out into the lights of the evening. The view wasn’t terrible. But it hurt to see. He loved it all the same, but it still hurt to see for some reason.

He should’ve figured a while ago that there was no getting away from it. He had done his best and everything he could to look away. He had tried to get on with his life. He didn’t even think they were still friends at this point, even though he’d sent a gift once.

And he had to admit, that in spite of his best efforts, it didn’t work. Nothing ever worked.

None of the deals and promises ever worked out.

The key in his palm was warm by now, and he found himself smiling as he looked down at it. It wasn’t the first time that he wondered if he should’ve thrown it into the Seine. Carefully, he set it down on top of his piano keyboard.

There were traces everywhere that he hadn’t put away.

He flopped back into bed, ignoring the prompting texts of his friends, asking where he was. Closing his eyes, he tried to not imagine. That was the worst part: no matter how hard he tried, he kept wondering what would’ve happened. And then the next part of the haunting, which was what he would do…if he’d see him again.

Wasn’t that the most frightening part of a facing your fear? To see exactly what had been lurking there? What he had been trying to turn his eyes away from all this time?

Would the person on the other side even want to look back?

I’m tired of seeing you everywhere.

It was funny. Because he said those same words to him last December, when his posters were everywhere for that movie he was promoting.

But like some of the things that they’d told each other through the course of that time…it was just another thing that he probably didn’t mean.

Ding!

He sighed and checked his phone with the intention of deleting all his friends’ texts. All they ever did was use him for bottle service or get into VIP or catch all the models, and it was likely it was just more whining about not seeing him or asking when he was coming or—

“Bastian, Papa is going to be sent on a diplomatic meeting of some kind to America. Come home tomorrow, they want to talk to us.”

Sebastian stared at that text for a very long time. Then he looked back up at the ceiling, willing it to give him answers.

But it seldom did when there was no alcohol involved.

That laugh echoed in his ears.

Or maybe it was just someone in the streets outside, strolling down the pavement, arm in arm with someone they were smiling at as they vanished into the lights.

Sebastian sat up. Slowly, he typed out a message.

He smiled.

He pressed send.

[mistergrass]

Zodiac Mom Headcanons: Momiji’s Mom

Slowly but surely I am making my way through these mom posts. This time let’s talk about someone whose worst moments as a mother were put on blast for the audience to see. 

Rat & Snake Mom | Ox Mom | Tiger Mom | Rabbit Mom | Dragon Mom

Momiji’s mother is an only child born in Berlin. 

Her father, a handsome and charismatic man, is a renowned photographer. Her mother, beautiful and alluring, is a dancer. They’re drawn to each other immediately when they meet on a photoshoot that features her mother’s dance troupe. 

Their romance is as short-lived as it is passionate, and the affair comes to an abrupt end when her mother becomes pregnant. 

The responsibility of a child falls almost completely on her mother’s shoulders, essentially ending her dance career (something she had left her family to pursue), and the beginnings of a cruel resentment begin to take form.

Her father has the spirit of an artist -- not wanting to be tied down to one woman, and not very suited for a traditional family lifestyle. That being said, he doesn’t abandon mother and child completely. 

As Momiji’s mother grows up, her father will pop in and out of her life as he pleases. She thinks her mother can be too strict, too mean, and becomes a difficult child to handle as a result. But when her father comes to visit, she is over the moon and perfectly behaved. He’ll take her to museums, show her the photographs hanging in his studio, give her a stepping stool so she can help in his dark room, and (unlike her mother) will never ever scream at her even when clumsy, childish hands accidentally spill things or knock things over. 

Her father never sticks around for very long, and as wonderful as it is to see him, it hurts tenfold when he leaves. And so, she grows up with her mother’s snappish impatience, and her father’s casual and conditional affection. 

Going into her teenage years, Momiji’s mom begins to come into her own as an artist -- admiring and following the path of her father. She loves painting and ceramics, but she begins to grow into an undeniable beauty and it’s not long that she’s discovered as a model.

Her mother does not approve of this choice. For her, it’s bad enough that she has to watch her daughter openly prefer her father’s company to her own (despite everything she’s given up to raise her, while he can barely spare to send a postcard on their daughter’s birthday), but now her daughter is adding insult to injury by pursuing her father’s lifestyle. A lifestyle her mother was forced to give up to have a child. 

It also doesn’t help that Momiji’s mom finds almost instant success as a model. 

Where her mother was simply impatient before, now she becomes cruel. 

She begins to undermine her daughter’s beauty, nitpicking at every little thing about her appearance. Momiji’s mother is now being constantly told that her photos are drab, ugly, unprofessional. That her beauty is fleeting, that the world around her will discover one day how little talent she has, and that her artistic abilities are worthless and boring. All this while she’s still only a teenager. 

Momiji’s mom acts out in different ways, but mostly by taking on more modeling work (that exhausts her) and bringing home boyfriends her mother would never approve of (for good reason).

Her first serious boyfriend is a man six years her senior who is possessive and jealous, and rips to shreds the last bits of self-esteem she had left. 

By the end of their four year relationship, Momiji’s mother has come to believe that something inside her is deeply, truly ugly. She has an overflowing anxiety that others will see her for what she truly is. Something that is wholly incompatible with her inability to be alone -- whether romantically, or via the need to surround herself constantly with people. 

It’s at this time, at 20 years old and in her second year of university, that she meets Momiji’s father at a campus mixer.

At first, she’s intimidated by him (thought that doesn’t stop her from making conversation). She finds he’s not just studying abroad here, but attends the university full-time. He’s fluent in Japanese, German, and English, and seems so much smarter than she believes herself to be. In addition, he has a cold, distant demeanor to him that makes him seem unattainable. 

Momiji’s father on the other hand, is taken immediately by this woman. He’s awkward and nervous in large social gatherings, but has been told from an early age never to outwardly show his discomfort. But she talks so passionately, so freely, that he can’t help but be drawn to her. When he fumbles over his words at the end of the night to ask her out for dinner, she realizes that she’d mistaken his shyness for apathy, and it immediately enamors him to her. 

After two dates, they become inseparable. 

She’s taken in by his kindness and gentility. He listens to her as if everything she says matters. He isn’t at all like the arrogant personalities she’s dated in the past, and if anything has an aversion to talking about himself. He never once makes her feel stupid, puts her down, or makes her feel worthless.

She’s prone to terrible mood swings and bouts of manic self-loathing that will leave her a sobbing mess. But where this has driven away boyfriends in the past, it only serves to make him more devoted to her. He holds her in his arms, and never once gets upset with her for being so much to handle.

Momiji’s father is an only child from a high-ranking Sohma family, and has had the entirety of his life mapped out for him since birth. He works to inherit his father’s business, and to maintain their standing in the family. Insurmountable pressure had been put on his shoulders from a young age, one that isolated him from making true friends in favor of focusing solely on his studies. He was never allowed to be overwhelmed, to not be good enough, nor to be disobedient. 

But Momiji’s mother is like a walking piece of art -- chaotic and beautiful. He finds her endlessly interesting. He’s never met anyone who talks so openly about the things they love, the things they hate, or their own fears and insecurities. He likes feeling as though he can take care of her. He likes being someone reliable for her. And, eventually, he finds her to be the only person in the world that he can be vulnerable with. He has only ever cried in front of her. 

For the last two years of college they spend all their free time together. He uses his cushy Sohma allowance to take them on trips and long weekends around Europe. And when the time comes for him to return to Japan after graduation, he can’t picture even a moment of his future without her. 

He proposes, she says yes, and she agrees to leave her life in Berlin behind to move to Japan. 

It’s a difficult transition. Though she had started learning Japanese when they first started dating, she’s far from fluent. It makes forming friendships and new connections within the Sohma family all the harder. 

It’s also clear that her mother-in-law does not take too much of a liking to her. Momiji’s father bends over backwards making sure that their new home has space for her to continue her artistic pursuits, which comes off as frivolous to her new family. She also has limited housekeeping skills which reflects poorly on her ability to be a proper wife. 

It’s an isolating experience, especially with her husband working long, late hours nearly every night. The loneliness begins to eat at her, resurfacing the shattered self-esteem that her new husband had spent the past two years healing. She seriously considers moving back to Germany on more than one occasion, but then she gets pregnant. 

She’s not ready for a child. It’s too soon, and the thought of taking care of a whole other person is terrifying when she can barely stand to get out of bed most days now. But her husband assures her this will be a good thing, that maybe it will help the aching loneliness she feels. 

Before she has a chance to get excited, they’re summoned by a young Akito. 

Momiji’s mother doesn’t really process what she’s being told. Her husband has to translate what the little six year old is saying to her, and when he does his face is pinched and anxious. 

A curse, he says. Her child is cursed. Somehow it makes sense, what with everything that dwells inside herself, but it’s hard for her to grasp this whole thing beyond that.

The pregnancy is a difficult one, filled with complications and scares that leaves her health completely depleted. When Momiji is born two months premature, her nerves are completely frayed. 

True understanding of her child’s situation doesn’t really hit her until she holds a small rabbit in her arms, swaddled like a baby. 

She vomits when it first happens. The transformation leaves her completely shaken, and she can’t understand why no one else around her seems to find this as horrific as it obviously is. 

She does her best for the first few years. Honestly, she does. But the child makes her nervous. The supernatural nature of it all terrifies her, and she shakes every time she tries to hold her child and finds a little rabbit there instead. 

As he grows older, she finds herself snapping at him over the smallest things, just as her mother did to her. A guilt builds inside her steadily that somehow she is at fault for this, that her hidden, disgusting nature warped and mutated their child. The thought of it puts her in hysterics at times, and she finds she can never relax in her own home.

Her husband urges her to keep herself together. There’s a desperation in his voice when he talks to her now. He reminds her, again and again, that above everything else Momiji is their child. Theirs, and no one else’s. He is their son that they have created, and he is still a symbol of the love they have for each other. Once she adjusts to the situation, she’ll learn to love him the way he knows she can. She just needs more time.

During this period, other zodiac mothers make an attempt to reach out, and her Japanese is finally at a level that she can have pleasant conversation with them. Haru and Yuki’s mothers invite her to lunch often enough. Shigure’s mother is also very hospitable. She also takes a real liking to Kureno’s mother, though the woman is clearly disliked by many of the other women in the family. 

It helps, but it’s still difficult to talk to these women about her issues with the curse and with her son. Their eyes are judgmental, and she worries if she falls apart in front of them it would not be met with the same warmth as her husband (though he’s hardly ever around anymore). 

Stress and guilt and shame and fear slowly build inside her for the next four years. Then, one day, she sits down to paint and realizes she can’t. She’s too locked up -- the reality of her situation has become too overwhelming, and she can’t even release it through her art.

She finally decides to tell someone about what’s going on. Her husband had been very clear with her that this curse is to remain completely secret, but it’s not as if she wants to do a news interview. All she wants is to talk to her mom. 

Her mother is still the same harsh, critical woman she’s always been, but they’ve grown closer in the past few years. Becoming a mother herself has made her appreciate her own mother more, and the distance has softened both of them to each other considerably. 

She tells her mother the whole story, with her listening surprisingly sympathetically throughout. By the end of the conversation, Momiji’s mother feels more comforted and loved by her mother than she has in years. 

It’s Momiji’s father that gets the call from his livid mother-in-law demanding to know what’s happened to her daughter, and if he’s doing anything about the fact that she’s having a complete nervous breakdown that features wild delusions regarding their child.

Momiji’s father comes home that night, and for the first time he becomes truly angry at her. He scolds her for telling her mother anything about their situation, which only serves to make her just as angry since she was only seeking a bit of support. 

But it all gets much much worse when he says how lucky they are that her mother thought she was deranged. 

The whole world drops from below her feet when he admits that he let her mother continue to think that she was clinically insane. The man who had always defended her, understood her, cared for her -- the man she had left everything for -- had created a lie so egregious and spouted it back to her own mother. 

She demands to know why he would do such a thing, and when he sputters out his thoughtless obedience to this strange family -- the one with the child treated like a king, and with all these dark secrets. After so long of telling her that she was his light when his family treated him like nothing, after telling her that she was his most important family now -- it’s a betrayal that she’d never expected from the man she loves.

The reality of her isolation comes down all at once. There is no one left she can talk to, there is no place she can go, and this child now represents something completely foreign to her. The only thing that was keeping her together was her husband’s assurances that the child was completely theirs -- but it’s not. This child belongs to the Sohmas, to some curse that her body housed and nurtured. The disgust that’s been building inside her body breaks like a dam and completely washes over Momiji. 

She becomes inconsolable. She refuses to look at her son, and her husband becomes subject to fits of rage and anguish. He feels as though he’s completely lost her, and with the love of his life so indisposed, he feels just as alone. 

Momiji’s father is the one who tells her about the option to wipe her memory. Not just in hopes of reeling back her sanity, but because he wants her to forget the lie he told. If she forgets that, maybe their marriage can go back to how it was. If she forgets that deep cut of betrayal, maybe she won’t look at him like he’s some misshapen stranger. 

She agrees as quickly as she had when he proposed. Together they decide that forgetting Momiji will ultimately be for the best.

At first when she recovers, things seem to return back to normal. But there’s always a piece missing as the years go on. There’s always something not quite right. Momiji’s father is paranoid and nervous -- the presence of his wife is no longer a comfort, but a stressor. And sometimes, for the briefest moment, he’ll catch her staring at him. Her eyes far off and distant, like she’s completely lost in thought, and the expression that rests on her face will be one of fear. When she comes back to herself, it’s as if she hadn’t even noticed. 

The zodiac mothers are told not to speak to her after her memory is erased, which suits most of them just fine (Haru’s mother took particular offense to the decision). Below is the relationship chart for pre-memory wipe: 

Friends with: Kureno’s mom, Haru’s mom, Shigure’s mom, Ritsu’s mom

Doesn’t like: Yuki’s mom, Hatori’s mom

[standbi-ghost]

Silent Night Sky

Christmas truce gift for @tsubaki94

Angsty Dash and Danny Christmas with a hint of space, fresh out the oven.

Sorry this is out a day late oop- just wanted to make sure it was perfect!

Anyway, I hope you like it!!

TW: Implied / referenced child abuse

Words: 1366

ao3

He probably looked like some homeless bum right now. It’s not like anyone would really notice his presence, everyone was off celebrating the holidays with family what with it being Christmas and all.

He fidgeted with the sleeves of his oversized sweater, it’s not like he even needed it, it was more for anonymity in the rare case someone was doing some last-last minute shopping. Plus, no matter how cold-resistant he’d become, there’s something comforting about an oversized sweater over your shoulders. It was the warm hug he needed.

Tucker was spending Christmas with his family, something Danny shamefully envious of. He’d even been invited but he hadn’t wanted to intrude. Sam on the other hand wasn’t even in amity. She was spending quality time with her family overseas and wouldn’t be back till after New Year’s. He couldn’t say he envied her. Danielle was touring the world and he would rather eat his own foot than spend Christmas with Vlad. That just left him with his family which was the more complicated of the choices. While his parents were obviously trying to mellow out on their yearly arguing, this year had proven to be as shitty as they come. It just seemed that as the cold settled within Amity, hostility settled within his parents. If he were Jazz, he would point out that it may have something to do with their dynamic as a couple, and how Jack probably felt as if he weren’t being taken seriously enough by Maddie, but he wasn’t Jazz, so he did what Danny does, he hid. He hid his secret, he hid his fear, and now he hid under a bridge until his parents or Jazz noticed his absence and went out looking for him. Until then-

He let a deep sigh out and watched as his breath curled around Cassiopeia, then Andromeda, then disappear into Aries.

Every year he found himself in their company. Every year, instead of ripping into a new model rocket like any space-obsessed kid or trying to hide his disappointment in another pair of lame socks, he was sitting at the ops center looking for Pisces or Triangulum or whatever other constellation he’d just learned about.

Whatever. It’s not like he cared. Plus, with his parents, occupied, it was just him and the stars.

“Fenton?”

Danny looked up to see familiar blue eyes staring at him. He flinched out of pure instinct and aggressively wiped at his eyes. Like hell he was going to let Dash of all people see him this disheveled.

“Dash? What are you doing here?” he ignored the crack in his voice (darn puberty) and glared at him through squinted eyes, “Shouldn’t you be at some party getting blackout drunk? Or, you know, enjoying Christmas with your family or whatever?”

To his shock Dash merely winced and sat on the ledge next to Danny.

“Look, you don’t like me and I don’t like you, and frankly, I don’t want to talk to you right now so how’s about we both just sit here in silence and then leave like nothing ever-“

He fiddled with his hoodie strings and dared a glance at Dash only to see him focused on the sky above.

“You weren’t going to jump right?”

“No!” he nervously chuckled, “Sorry um, no, I wasn’t, I just needed some-“

“Air?”

“Yeah.”

The silence was back, and it was suffocating.

“Look Dash, I love bottling up trauma and shaking it like a coke can every now and then just waiting for it to blow up and kill me one day as much as the next guy, but even I know that’s not healthy. Not that any part of me is healthy- but that’s not the point!” he shook his head and shoved his hands in his pockets. He may not be Jazz but he sure as hell has had to sit through countless of her stop-being-such-a-boy-and-own-up-to-his-mushy-feelings lectures, which meant he knew exactly how much ‘venting’ or whatever could help. Plus, it’s not like Dash cares, with him he doesn’t have some reputation to uphold or feelings to spare.

“I just had to get out of there you know. I know it sounds selfish, but I just want one Christmas without the pointless fighting. There are people who have it worse, people who get to spend their holidays alone or worse and I’m complaining about my parents having a little disagreement. It’s not even the Christmas thing, I mean sure when I was a kid, I hoped for a normal Christmas like everybody else, well, everybody but Sam obviously, but now I just want a normal life.” He looked over to see Dash in the same position as earlier, still staring blankly at the stars. Just as he was about to push himself off the ledge and start his trudge home, he heard Dash suck air in through his teeth.

“Christmas in my household always equals drinking, my dad has anger issues, now I may not be good at math, but I know from experience exactly what happens when those two factors are added together.”

Danny was stunned into silence. How was he supposed to respond to that? They weren’t even friends for Ancients' sakes! Which meant, it meant they could be brutally honest with each other, no hard feelings.

“That fucking sucks man.”

Dash turned to look at him for the second time that night and flashed a sad grin. He barked out a chuckle, “Yeah man, it really does.”

Danny pushed one hand deeper into his pockets and ran the other through his hair. “Do you want to maybe, vent?” he stuttered out, “I mean I get if you don’t, why would you? To me I mean, but like, it helps, at least whenever I vent to Jazz it does. I just figured you might not have anyone to vent to so like, I’m open.”

It was Dash’s turn to stare at him through squinted eyes, an unreadable expression plastered on his face.

“It’s hard, pretending to be something you’re not” he began, “like, it’s not too bad at first and you start getting into character but then, I don’t know you get to into character and all of sudden you’re questioning your life’s decisions and whether or not the person you see in the mirror is you. And then you’re going into existential crisis mode and start realizing that you don’t even like football. That you actually really liked reading Frankenstein. That maybe you don’t want your life to have peaked in High School as the star football-whatever and that you might actually want an education. Not to be some kind of lame coach for little leagues but like a professor. That’s not even touching on whether or not my dad sees my life outside of his stupid reputation.” He trailed off in a hiccup of tears. All that greeted him back was silence.

Danny went to comfort Dash but pulled his hand back before making contact. He took a deep breath instead.

“Look Dash, ‘secret identities’ suck. It’s hard keeping the real you tucked away and harder watching them slip from you, and, I can’t sit here and pour you a cup of the-answers-to-your-life, but what I can tell you is-“

He paused and playfully shoved Dash, “fuck you for keeping the real Dash hidden,”

“Wha-“

He stood up and flipped the trees around them off as he yelled, “and fuck you all for forcing him to hide!”

He dramatically plopped himself back next to Dash as the two boys giggled like madmen. All previous tension between them sizzling out as their laughter grew louder.

“You know Danny?” Dash chuckled out, “You’re not half bad.”

“That’s… comforting,” Danny mused out loud, “more than you know.”

Both boys sat back and continued gazing at the sky, a peaceful silence now surrounding them. Here they weren’t a bully and his victim, or two struggling students, just two boys sharing a silent night sky together. They weren’t friends, and maybe one day they could be, but tonight, they were all they had.

“So what’s this I hear of you being some kind of Literary nerd?”

"Shut it Fenerd!"

[cockasinthebird]

okay!!!! so!!! i guess it’s kind of a prompt, but like steve goes to an art college thing. and he’s suuuper talented, one of the best in his class. and the prof. says that they have a guest to come in for some modelling. and steve is super excite ‘cause he loves doing projects like this. and then the model comes in, covered in a bathrobe, it’s billy. he goes to sit on the stool at the front. drops the robe, he’s completely nude. looks steve directly in the eye and winks! just an idea i had! -🎨

Dear anon, !!!!!!! This took SO LONG, but then again I was flagged and unavailable for like two weeks, and I did not write at all in that time, but as I woke up today to find myself back to normal, I quickly finished what was left, and now 11 pages long, I will post some of it here, then link the rest on my AO3!

My mind went off on this, and I hope it’s as good as I believe, especially what with all the teasing I’ve been doing!

Now, enjoy~

-

An arts scholarship is not something everyone can brag about, well, almost everyone, or so Steve thought when he got approved for one after his high school teacher encouraged him to apply.

He’s not dumb, or unintelligent, as most people around him will say - the words on the pages just don’t connect right, as if he can’t see what any other person might perceive, and it is reflected on his grades. Math is… fine, the only issue there is a general unwillingness to learn, because rather than doing algebra and figuring out trigonometry, Steve’s talents lie in the stroke of a brush, in the graphite of a pencil, in the black of charcoal.

His mother always encouraged him with a loving hand and a wondrous appreciation for every single little drawing Steve came up with as a child, fueling this intense fire inside of him that only felt relief against paper or canvas. She showered him in materials; endless chalk, a rainbow of watercolors, acrylics, oil pastels, pencils in all shapes and hues, stacks of papers, piles of canvas, even let him paint the walls of his bedroom as far as he could reach.

His father… simply stood and scowled in the doorway. He’s old fashioned, wanted an heir to the Harrington Construction Empire his own father built, not some… artistic little fairy. Steve stopped counting how many of his parents' fights were about him years ago.

And now he’s here, in California, attending college of all things, surrounded by students who, just like him, have devoted their entire lives to the arts. He feels less special, less talented, amongst his peers, where it seems that a third of them have arrived on scholarships, too.

But his teacher, Mr Reynolds, an old man with a long goatee and suspenders, always assures Steve that he is, without a doubt, the star of the class. That he will go far in his life, become world renowned, famous for his works, that in the future art classes will teach about his techniques and colors and soul.

Steve likes to believe it; spends his spare time thinking about what painting of his would be displayed in museums, what the critics will say, what he will wear to the reveal party, what his speech will sound like.

All those thoughts course through his overactive mind whenever he looks at a blank surface, just waiting, begging to be filled with his inspired soul. Perhaps he’s a bit too immodest and vain and arrogant, but he doesn’t really put up a fight against those ideals; never bothered trying to be humble about what is so obvious to any eye, and when every teacher has never offered up anything besides praise, is he to believe they’re all liars?

He looks around at his classmates as they set up in the arranged circle surrounding a single stool in the middle. They all smile at him, greetings exchanged as always, the friendliness of people who you’ve had a few beers with, attended some parties and gatherings together, but never really gotten to know past the surface.

Steve’s just not as social as he used to be, and moving halfway across the country didn’t really help that either. Something changed in him during the last year of high school, but honestly he can’t complain. He goes whenever invited, otherwise he keeps to himself, focuses on his studies, does his homework, a scholarship can only get you so far, and if his grades dip too low, it’s bye bye future.

“All on time for once! Impressive!” Reynolds says with a cheery tone, clasping his hands together with a wide smile as he moves to the center of the classroom. “For today’s live figure drawing practice, we’ll continue working with models and volunteers from all parts of life, and today I’ve managed to convince a hard working, blue collar of a man! William Hargrove, you may take the stage!”

Everyone turns to the stained room divider over in a solitude corner, the usual spot where their models change in and out of clothes and robes, and from behind steps a man dressed in a dark gray bathrobe, adorned with the most gorgeous crown of golden curls, his stubble is scruffy with a more accentuated mustache, and his eyes are of the clearest blue waters Steve has ever seen before.

His breathing pauses for just a moment as he stares at the broad shouldered stranger, caught in a trance - a willing subject to be ensnared by this man’s confidence, walking like he owns the room. Steve doesn’t even realise that he’s staring till he’s met with those heavenly eyes.

Who then winks at him, grin mischievous and aware of what thoughts surge forth in his presence.

Steve’s heart beats like a drum, ramming against his ribs, a heated flush rushing up to tint his ears red, spilling into his cheeks. He can’t help but whip his head back towards his easel with a stare that could burn a hole in the pages before him, restraining himself from gawking further, trying to calm down some.

It’s not that he hasn’t paid attention to other guys in the past, it’s just that he hasn’t cared for that kind of stuff before. Even when he was dating Nancy back in high school he didn’t care enough. But now? This guy? This man? 

Nothing more than one simple, flirty look, and Steve’s interest tiptoes over the line of professional into personal, dipping in, testing the waters there.

And when he reaches the middle of the circle, everyone here far too interested in seeing what he’s hiding beneath the robe, he slowly slips it off, clearly revelling in all the attention if the smile he carries is any indication.

Unfortunately, much to Steve’s inconvenience, this William Hargrove is ripped. Jaw strong like a cliffside, biceps akin to perfectly carved marble, formidable pecs covered in chest hair lush like a forest that spreads down abs like rolling hills, Steve’s eyes travels smooth like a stream across the landscape of William’s body, down to his-

He refocuses on the easel in front of him, invitingly barren and pleading for him to ruin the stillness with his own inappropriate curiosity.

“Thank you once again for agreeing to this, Mister Hargrove. You may use this stool here to pose with, or without, it is entirely up to whatever you’re most comfortable with,” Reynolds explains, unhooking a thumb from where he fiddles with his suspenders to accept the robe that William has removed.

“Yes sir,” sounds the response, his voice husky and charming, throaty from years of use.

It tugs further at Steve’s intrigue, oh to hear him laugh, read a book aloud, sing along to whatever reckless music he listens to, probably rock or something abrasive. Steve’s wild imagination goes through it all in the matter of seconds, just to be pulled back when his teacher speaks again,

“We’ll be taking things a bit slow today, six poses with 10 minutes each, let you all get a good feel for Mr Hargrove’s body, really focus and pay attention to how the shadows fall.”

Steve’s convinced the way he swallows hard must be audible, the lump in his throat making a loud splash in the pool of boiling nerves gathered in his stomach, breaking surface tension and stirring up thoughts he hasn’t really bothered with for months, if not a year by now.

Yet here’s this stranger with such undeniable magnetism, taking a seat, naked on a stool, aiming straight at Steve, staring at Steve, smirking at Steve.

Who nervously rakes fingers through his hair, pushing it back and away as to more clearly see his model, noticing how the muscles flex and tense as Hargrove decides on his first pose. The human body is phenomenal to look at, nothing in the world deserves grander appreciation than it, and it’s easy for Steve to convince himself that that’s what this is, an accentuated form of gratitude for the very same shape that Michelangelo used for his David.

Finally William gets settled, on the edge of his seat, one foot on the ground, the other up on the bar between the legs of the stool, elbow raised and bent to bring a hand behind his head, the other relaxed on his thigh. Exposed and raw and muscular and brilliant.

Steve could truly go on and on and on about this Adonis posed all nude before him, face turned slightly to the side, but it is unquestionably clear that the rest of him is aimed directly at where Steve sits, and he doesn’t realise he’s staring again till Reynolds says,

“Ten minutes, everyone! You may begin!”

Keep reading on AO3

[secretive3amramenmaker]

More Fire Force Opinions That Literally Nobody Asked For (pt.2)

Guess who finished the manga~ Guess who finished the manga~ This gal~ I’m surprised that my Fire Force rant/essay meta was so well received by the fandom, thank you guys so much!!! Anyways, today I’ll be discussing some a lot of my ideas, opinions, thoughts, future predictions, and commentary on moments from the Fire Force manga.

Warnings: Spoilers for future Fire Force Season Two arcs, and for the Fire Force manga. Read at your own discretion! Now that the warnings are over, onwards! ヽ(ヅ)ノ

(I’m actually trying to order my opinions via arcs, but I feel that this is really important, so I’m putting it first.) 

1. There are no iPhones in the Fire Force. 

This is so sad? My favourite characters don’t know the joy that is staying up late, scrolling through social media, watching YOUTUBE, having MEMES, KNOWING👏THE👏GREATNESS👏THAT👏IS👏VINES!!!

I’m slightly disappointed that Vulcan, who is literally named after the god of forging himself, who can make frickin’ HOLOGRAMS, didn’t bring back any of the pre-Catalysm technology to recreate, improve, or experiment with. As an expert engineer (I say this 0.2% seriously, with the two years of high school engineering course experience under my belt), I would’ve been interested to see what kind of gadgets Vulcan could whip up. *insert ‘Inspector Gadget theme song*

Please have this very sad Jigglypuff to show how sad this is.

2. Sister Iris and Religion in the Fire Force Storyline

In the beginning of the Fire Force series, I’ve accepted the fact that Iris' role as noncombatant, meant to act as the religious and public face of the Eighth Company. I think it is a fascinating role, because it allows the story to explore the idea of religion and belief in depth, which I was really looking forward to. I was excited how the author would handle Iris’ character, but I’m somewhat disappointed that it took so long for us to see Iris and other side characters like Maki and Tamaki become more fleshed out (I’m not counting Iris’ and Hibana’s backstory in Season 1. I felt that was more backstory to flesh out Hibana’s character rather than Iris’).

Throughout Fire Force’s story, some of the things I looked forward to the most were the religious elements, motifs, themes, and questions that are sprinkled throughout the story, one of my favourites being the portrayal of the dichotomy of religion. In Joker’s backstory, we see the darkness of the Holy Sol faith, and what happens when any religious belief is taken TOO far, without any regard for human life or rights. This idea of viewing humans as a collective, no regard for the individuality and feelings of a single person in the pursuit of faith is embodied by the captain of the Shadow of the Holy Sun, Joker’s former captain and abuser. However, we also get to see the goodness religion and belief can achieve in Iris’ mini arc, which focuses on Iris’ internal struggle as she struggles with her faith after being informed of the Evangelist’s part in the founding of the Holy Sol’s religion. Shinra and Huo Yan Li, the bucket hat 1st Brigade lieutenant (Seriously, which is the correct way to pronounce this guy’s name? Huo Yan Li?? Foien Li???) interaction in the Iris arc really summed up the arc and Iris’ character beautifully. Religion and belief gives people closure, hope, and strength to keep on moving forward. Seeing the anime adaption was an amazing experience. Fire Force’s animation was the reason I decided to watch it in the first place (before staying for the intriguing plot and religious side plot), but this particular episode?? Pure art. The colouring, ambience, storytelling? So good＼\ ٩( ᐛ )و /／

Like, the little detail of the burning nun in Iris’ eyes? (lmao sorry for the extra trauma, sweet child) *chef’s kiss*

The importance of belief is also hinted in the Asakusa arc, where all the district’s inhabitants believe in Benimaru, and expanded upon in later manga chapters, when we learn that Adolla is linked to humanity’s perception and beliefs about the world around them.

I would’ve liked Iris a lot more if we got to further explore her character and the affects of religion on others more deeply, perhaps see Iris visiting the Infernals’ families and loved ones, trying to help give closure through the nation’s (mostly) shared faith in Sol. They mentioned offhandedly in both anime and manga that Iris visits the deceased’s families, and I felt it would’ve given the deaths more significance and depth if we get screentime of how families are affected by the death of their loved ones. It would have also given the Holy Sol’s religion more depth and meaning if we saw believers of Sol’s actions due to their religion, (also giving more impact when we learn surprise surprise! The Holy Sol temple is founded by the Evangelist!) since belief without actions is just lip-service.

I would have also liked to see how Iris’ prayers affect others in the Eighth company. We do get to see this, 140+ CHAPTERS LATER in the mini Iris arc does Shinra (finally) mentions how Iris’ prayers helps him not lose sight of why he serves as a firefighter and kills Infernal. I’m glad that we got this scene, because better later than never, especially since Iris’ and Shinra’s discussion and overall the entire Iris mini arcs shows the power of prayer, but I would’ve like to have this topic discussed sooner.

2. Obi’s Sole Flaw

I think that Obi was an okay character, but they kind of pushed the boundary of his “normalcy” when we saw him topple pillars and rip railways out of the ground with “brute strength”. There are limits to the human body, it is fragile, and it doesn’t matter how much conditioning or “going beyond your limits” you do. People do experience boost of adrenaline, which is probably what the very anime-like titled “Pressure of Death” is based on, since life or death situations can heighten your performance and strength. However, I do understand that this IS shonen, and it isn’t meant to be realistic.

What made Obi’s sole flaw (and a physical flaw, at that!) was his “normalcy” while surrounded by more powerful individuals then he, and having to make up for something he can’t help by working twice as hard as everybody else. Now, although I was disappointed that Obi didn’t have any character/moral flaws, what made Obi’s character mediocre to me wasn’t the choice of Obi’s sole flaw. In fact, I could see how this could be an interesting character narrative IF WE LEARN MORE ABOUT OBI’S BACKSTORY, THEREFORE EXPLORING HIS CHARACTER MORE!!! (We only know Obi was a regular firefighter, being decorated twice, and then having his titles revoked for prioritizing the lives of citizens before becoming the captain of the Eighth.) No, what I didn’t like about Obi’s character is that we never see him STRUGGLE with his flaw, how others were born “superior” to him thanks to there invulnerability to flames, how he lives knowing one day he could just burst into flames. There’s SO many interesting things about Obi’s character, that could explained further, making him so much more interesting!!!

On the other hand, Obi’s character is a great role model for what a “normal” person can do (while jacked up on adrenaline, and when they manage to overcome flight reaction in fight or flight). He works hard, training to the best of his ability, doing what he CAN do, pushing his limits so that he can go above and beyond, overcoming the “Pressure of Death”, and staying true to his ideals, something very hard to do in a world where you might burst into flames at any given moment. I know that if I were to wake in a world where I could die any second (I mean, I could die tomorrow in Real Life™, but what are the chances of that?), I would definitely find myself struggling with my faith, and staying true to the morals I admire and was taught by my parents, especially if I was putting myself in danger despite of this weakness.

3. Asakusa Showdown Arc and Shinmon Hibachi

The Asakusa Showdown arc. Yes. Just yes. I-

It was amazing, periodt. The art, the overall aesthetic, the storytelling. *Cue violent fangirling* I took SOOOO many screenshots of the fight between Benimaru and Hibachi, I’m pretty sure my camera roll is 95% manga caps now. I love how the author actually gave a (fairly) valid reason for the cool Japanese aesthetic of this arc, in that Adolla is slowly gradually colliding with the Fire Force universe, causing people’s perception of the fight to seep into the universe. Overall? It. Was. Amazing. Albeit not my favourite arc, (that honour goes to the mini-Iris arc) I think that the Asakusa Showdown arc is easily in my Top 5 Fire Force arcs.

The Asakusa Showdown Arc mirroring and showing the ideals taught in the Mini Iris Arc was quite clever, though I’m not sure if this was purposefully done Okubo, or if I’m just scrabbling at crumbs.

In the Mini Iris arc, we see how religion and belief gives closure; a stark contrast to Asakusa with its proto-nationalist/atheist values. In THIS arc, centering around Asakusa and it’s proto-nationalist inhabitants, we see what happens when there isn’t enough effort to emphasize or give closure in what happened to Hibachi, and his subsequent death. 

Shinmon Hibachi, as the leader of the neighbourhood fire watch, understood the significance of killing Infernals; of taking somebody’s life. But because of the unwillingness to let others (i.e. the inhabitants of Asakusa, that one kid who stabs him) understand the weight of killing Infernals and gain closure through understanding the reasons behind his harsh actions, Hibachi shoulders the consequences of both his and the actions of his predecessors’ ALONE, therefore leading to his demise. 

The kid who stabbed Hibachi was still a CHILD, and children don’t always have a comprehensive understanding of death and the consequences of responsibility (no matter how much that kid believes he was ready to be an adult and support his mother).

3.5 Extra Worldbuilding Questions About Asakusa

I also have so many questions about Asakusa in general! How is Asakusa powered without being supported by Amaterasu, which is the country’s (and isn’t that mind boggling, that a whole country is supported by one power source with no backup source or other forms of energy/electricity, because of patriotic pride in a machine that might one day shut down, cough manga readers where u at?) I’m assuming that Asakusa mainly use coal, candles, and lamps for energy and lighting, since we did see one example of lighting in Asakusa (an ancient oil lamp), but I’m not sure if that would be sufficient to support a whole district of people. People were able to do that in the olden days, but back then there was a smaller concentration of people, and power necessary to support them.

Is Asakusa a district that is mostly atheist or polytheist? Do the inhabitants believe in no gods, not just the Sun god brought by the White Clads and Raffles I, including the Shinto or Buddhist gods from before the Catalysm, or do they believe in multiple gods/ancestor worship and they just don’t want to worship the Sun God like the rest of the Tokyo Empire because they’re unwilling to accept the new culture, immigrants and religion caused by Amaterasu, wanting to keep up the old Japanese traditions?

4. Arthur Deserves Better Parents 2k20 (Hint of Arthur’s Secret Ability?)

When Team Vulcan + Arthur found Arthur’s parents in the sewers Nether... Honestly, I don’t want to touch on them much, since I want to be (fairly) logical in my opinions on them, not letting my personal feelings twist my hypotheses for what may happen in the future of the Fire Force storyline.

Putting aside Arthur’s parents obvious neglect and bad parenting, I’m curious if Arthur's dad is actually a prophet or did he just get lucky with his delusions. Is this related to how Arthur can notice the difference between dopplegangers and real people? Perhaps because Arthur’s delusions of knighthood are so different from how he truly is (an abandoned child who deluded himself as a knight), therefore allowing him to notice the difference between dopplegangers and Adolla, as they are created by people’s perception of a subject.

5. Let Sho Be a Normal Kid at the End of the Show 2k20

Please let the small child be happy at the end of the manga. I mean, being raised by a cult underground isn’t exactly a Hallmarks childhood. For example, in the beginning of chapter 231, look at how Sho looks longingly at those kids on scooters and was so happy when he got a balloon from the firefighter mascots! (bruh, same balloons bring me so much joy)

I hope that in the end of the manga Okubo lets Sho, Shinra, and Eighth have some quality time. In one of the early arcs (with the first speaking demon, Minamoto?) Shinra saw some kids going to school wearing school uniforms, mentioning that if Sho was still alive, he’d be old enough to go to school. I’d be so sweet if at the end of the manga, Sho would have the chance to go to school, maybe the Fire Force academy (if it’s still running if by the end of the manga they’ve discovered the reason behind Human Combustion), makes friends and beat up anybody who badmouths the Eighth.

6. Cool Combat Medics!

I’d love to see more of the cool combat medics from the Sixth! We only saw the captain, Kayoko Huang, in action with her Asclepius staff pyrokinesis, which, might I add is a fascinating and terrifying ability. Think about it, she’s controlling CELLULAR DIVISION!!! She could start creating tumors in the bodies of her enemies! Could disintegrate people cellularly and no one would know, because fire snake, so no fingerprints!

Anyways, that is all I have right now. Thank you for reading my opinions about “Fire Force”, and for the nice response I got when I published my first opinion piece! Bruh, it took so long for me to edit this... 😔 I’m thinking of doing another meta going more in depth with my theory on Arthur and how he’s able to distinguish the difference between people and their dopplegangers, but that’s for another day. Feel free to discuss about your own ideas or thoughts in the chat, or tell me what you think! I promise I don’t bite. Have a wonderful day!

[sarcastically-defensive17]

Red - T. Holland Biker A.U.

Y/N was akin to the thick rev of a motorcycle engine. She had learned to ride when she was 5, against her mother’s wishes. Her daddy had set her on the seat in front of him and kept her encased in a bubble of safety between his arms as he led her hands to the throttle.

The feeling of the wind biting at her face that day was something she had permanently engrained into her mind.

She had started riding on her own at 10, getting her own bike at 16 when she got her learners permit.

She knew a motorcycle inside and out. She knew just how much to tilt the handlebars to perform the trickiest of drifts, she knew when to be gentle on the throttle and when to give the girl a bit of extra gas, and she knew how to pick apart the engine and fix almost any problem.

Being the daughter of the President of one of the biggest Charters of the Red-Back Motorcycle Club has its perks.

She had her own cut gifted to her when she turned 18, against her fathers wishes. She was an unofficial part of the club, as her dad wanted her away from the violence they faced daily.

Y/N regularly went against the wishes of her overprotective co-creator as she donned the leather vest regularly.

It was far smaller than the ones customed for the male members of the club, and the back part of the cut was a deep red, near burgundy colour. She felt at home whenever she inhaled the scent of the rough leather.

She donned it every time she was at work, as she practically ran the auto shop her family owned.

It was one of the many businesses owned by her Daddy’s club.

Everybody knew who she was. Everybody knew who owned the shop, and everybody knew who her father was.

She was near untouchable. If her dad found anybody getting too close to her, or any of his men looking at her in a certain way, he would ring their necks.

That thought did nothing to stop Tom.

His brown eyes barely tried to leave her form. His chest didn’t resist the constricting pressure that took over when her delicate laugh graced his ears.

He didn’t once try to stop the feelings that had grown for the Presidents daughter. The one woman that he knew he would never be able to have.

The one woman he was more than smitten with, that viewed him as just another Prospect in her Daddy’s club.

Even as he stood in the workstation of the autoshop, back pressed against the exposed brick wall as Harrison chatted his ear off about something he didn’t care about.

“I was considering getting her to spray some flames on the side of the body, but she convinced me it would be too tacky. She’s gonna do some airbrushing and give me something random,” Harrison explained around a mouthful of a cheeseburger.

Tom made a noise of agreement, head turned in the complete opposite direction to his best mate. Harrison rolled his blue eyes into the back of his head.

Tom loves going to the shop just so he could gaze at the woman he could never have, and Harrison hated being there with him. Trying to have a conversation was harder than biting off your own finger.

“But I’m thinking I’m going to leave the club and become an actor. Maybe a model. Mum always tells me that I could work it with this jawline.” Harrison rubbed his hand along his jaw, feeling some stubble beneath his fingertips as he eyed Tom still.

“That’s great man, happy for you,” he droned distractedly.

Tom watched as Y/N bopped her head to some music, dancing along to the beat of the song. She was idyllic. He could watch her for hours, and she knew so.

She reveled in the attention from the man that all of her friends would drool over. Harrison and Tom were the eye candy of the charter, but she had eyes for one. Tom was just another prospect, but he was also the only one to offer to help her out, bring her lunch on a long day, offer to take her home when it’s late. She wasn’t sure if her daddy had tasked him with the job, but the way his eyes followed her every move led her to believe it to be so.

She was enchanted, but he was just following orders she thought. She hadn’t yet picked out which man was tasked with the job: Harrison, or Tom. They were both always around. Her father was too over-protective. She had been watched by men he trusted for all of her life. Same with her mother and her little brother. He likes to protect the ones he loves, but it got far too much when she turned 21.

She ran a business, could fire any gun handed to her, take down a person twice her size and ride better than anybody in the charter, yet she was stuck in the auto shop all day because she would forever be under the thumb of her father.

She longed for rebellion. The taste of freedom and the adrenaline of defying the man who near commanded her whole life.

She had been far away from danger her whole life. She didn’t know what the club could get into, and she would never know. She hated the restrictions.

After a few hours, it was only Y/N and the two men at the back of the shop remaining. The others had began to trail outside, to their bikes, the clubhouse or their own homes. It warmed her heart to see how many of her fathers club members had a stable home to live in. A member of the red backs became a member of their family, and her Daddy for anything he could to get them safe and comfortable.

A dull popping sound echoed through the shop, it’s origin outside. She knew the sound as the distinct firing of a Glock. Many people had been able to get a hold of them through various fences. Specifically, the latest club to get a hold of them had been the Hell Hounds. A new club on the rise, looking to take over Red Back territory. Her father had been battling their less experienced president for nearly a month.

Her stomach dropped as the pops turned into louder bangs, followed by the sound of a glass bottle shattering and the bright eruption of flames in the entrance to the shop.

She turned to see Harrison in holster of his own weapon, but Tom didn’t move. His eyes stayed locked into her, proving that he was the rat sent by her father. She had half a mind to rough him up to prove a point to her old man. It would have to wait, she thought as yelling voices came nearer to the entrance of the room that was quickly filling with smoke after another Molotov had been thrown.

Y/N would be ready to cut somebody if her bike got ruined, and she was pulling a knife from her boot to make sure of that. However, a hand wrapped around her arm, twisting the limb and ripping a shriek from her throat at the unexpected pain.

Her face met the steel bench of her workstation and the stench of whiskey on the person behind her filled her senses. From what she would see, Harrison and Tom hadn’t noticed the intruder, or if they had, they were too preoccupied with the people advancing on the shop.

The steel was biting into her skin, no gun in sight per her fathers demanding rules - her heart sank further when she saw Harrison’s head connect with the ground.

Tom was still out of her sight, the man standing over her pressing a gun to the back of her head.

His cologne was as thick as the smoke billowing into the room. She choked on the stench, feeling hands on her hips spin her around to face her attacker. His eyes were a full blue, cold and lifeless. A smirk was on his lips and her stomach sank at the thought of what could happen next as his large hands clasped around her neck. Her already shallow breaths fell short, the pressure biting into her skin and her mouth gaping.

She pulled in a deep breath when she felt his hands slack slightly, but it was pushed back when the digits tightened once again around her wind pipe.

The smirk of the man widened, yellow teeth gazing back at her and the malice in his expression lighting the fury inside of her.

She did her best to reach him, grabbing for his hair, his ears, his skin, anything. He relented one hand to push her hand away as she struggled, still applying a bruising force to her throat. She managed to get a slight upper hand, using the opportunity when he moved to bat her hand away to sneak her limb in quickly and grasp his face. Her nails ripped up skin as she latched her hand onto his face, pushing her thumb into his eye socket as hard as she could.

The man screamed, gritting his teeth and pulling her up by her throat. Her head met the hard metal of her work bench a second later as he used his strength to throw her body down once again.

The edges of her vision spotted, and she struggled to turn her head to catch a glimpse of somebody else. Tom was standing from the ground when she caught his eye.

He was furious. Hair spread everywhere, sweat dripping from his brow as the room grew hotter by the second. The thick air had him panting, along with the exertion of fighting against the man who was now laying, bleeding on the floor of her shop. Two of the windows had been broken by Harrison, who stood with blood dripping from the back of his blond tresses. The air slowly began to filter out, but another man entered the room, swinging at Harrison with one of her wrenches.

Y/N could barely muster the strength to call for Tom. He was already on his way towards her before she could try. He had her knife in his hand, blood smeared on his chin from a punch that split his lip. Y/N barely knew the prospect, but she had never seen him so angry. So deadly.

The man was thrown off of her by the force of Tom’s body. The connection bowler her off of the bench, landing beside the men. Tom’s fists were throwing into the man, blood staining his knuckles as he went, knife forgotten.

Y/N sputtered, scratching at her neck as of to try and allow more air in as she sucked as much in as she could. She could feel the pressure of his hands still on her and it made her furious. Her body didn’t allow for such anger as she watched her vision slowly become focused. Her head was spinning, neck throbbing and stomach turning sick.

The loud bang of a gunshot echoed through her skull, ripping a scream from her hoarse throat as her ears rang. The sound was more than deafening.

The commotion was around her, water falling from the ceiling. It was a blur. The fire slowly dying down. The man laid on the ground with a knife sticking out of his throat, blood pooling around him. Her fathers kind face looming over her as he lifted her away from the dead man. Tom lying motionless on the ground, red liquid staining his white shirt and the floor underneath his stomach.

Then all black.

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Part 2??

[ravenbrenna09]

hold me close - comfort

Title: hold me close

Square Filled: comfort

Ship: Sander Driesen and Robbe IJzermans

Trigger Warnings (if applicable):

Created for @skamevents

...

This is my work for the comfort square of the BINGO card. I know it’s been a while since I’ve managed to complete one of these (the Friends with Benefit prompt in my drafts is screaming), but my recent battle with my own stress in terms of my math test(s) managed to manifest itself into Robbe being stressed about a math test so *shrugs*. But, I hope you guys enjoy!

(don’t worry, it’s only 2k words)

AO3

...

Robbe had been eerily quiet all day. He hadn’t even responded to Sander’s message about how his test had gone today. 

Sander knew that his boyfriend was studying for his upcoming finals. When he focused on schoolwork and especially on studying, he always tended to be silent anyway. But, Sander had a feeling that crawled beneath his skin and made his stomach sink. With every short text back, his stomach only continued to sink further in the pit of his stomach and his brain was focused on Robbe, not on the piece in front of him. By the time that lunch had hit and Robbe had only responded to him briefly, Sander was worried. Robbe always threw himself too far into his studying tactics and Sander knew the toll that it took on him.

Pulling out his phone, sitting across from Noor in the café, he saw that Robbe hadn’t responded and his fingers moved to his chat with Jens, the one that he rarely used, and he sent him a text.

Sander: Is Robbe okay?

It didn’t take long to respond. 

Jens: He’s definitely stressed. He went home after today’s test to study some more.

Jens: He’s got his math test tomorrow, I think.

Sander: Okay, I just haven’t heard from him.

Sander: How did your tests go?

Jens: Mine went okay. And, don’t worry. I’m sure he’s just studying.

But, he was worried. 

Especially since his math test was tomorrow. 

In their late-night calls, in which Sander would spend the majority of the time either drawing Robbe or trying to convince him to sleep, Robbe had mentioned that this math exam was on Thursday and how nervous he was for it. Even between all of his other studying, he would stop working on whatever subject and switch to math. When the problem wasn’t behaving like he wanted to, he would get frustrated and upset and all Sander could do was watch from another side of the screen, try to calm him down and remind him that he needed to take a step back. 

Sander: Are we still meeting for a little bit after class?

When Sander had checked his phone, before the start of his final class for the day, he saw that his message hadn’t been read. As soon as his final class had dismissed them, Sander was already half-packed up, portfolio under his arm, and out of the room without hesitation. Normally, he hung around and talked to his professor or the model, sometimes until Robbe would come in and pull him out. But, Robbe wasn’t standing out in the hallway and his bike wasn’t locked up in their place. 

Without thinking, just worried about him, his feet took him in the direction of Robbe’s apartment. It wasn’t far from his school, maybe a little out of his way to his house, and he was halfway up the stairs to the building when he nearly ran over Robbe’s mom, who was headed out of the building and ruffling through her purse, in his haste to make sure Robbe wasn’t pushing himself. The woman was dressed for work, or maybe she had just gotten home from work, her long brown curls pulled up in a ponytail, and she beamed up with him in a smile that Robbe had inherited.   

“Sander!” the woman spoke cheerily. “Robbe’s up in his room. He’s studying for his test. Are you staying long? I’m going to the store and then I’ll make us all dinner!”

“I don’t know,” Sander admitted, feeling anxious and restless to get to Robbe. “But, dinner sounds wonderful.” 

“Okay, well, you know where the spare key is. I’ll be back soon.”

Then, the woman was gone, turning the bend to the store, and Sander was racing across the lobby to the stairs, taking them two-at-a-time. The IJzermans apartment was on the second floor, right by the stairs. As soon as Sander reached the door, the brass 26 shining on the front, he fished out the spare key from the garden pot outside the door, where he had put it the last time he was over, and opened the front door with ease.

His eyes lingered on the familiar surroundings of Robbe’s brown jacket on the hook, his tennis shoes on the floor beneath it, and his keys on the table. Sander toed off his black converse, his eyes darting down the hallway to Robbe’s open room, and placed his portfolio on the floor beside it. As he shrugged off the lightweight jacket that he had worn in place of his leather jacket, moving to hang it beside Robbe’s, he heard the floorboards creak beneath his weight and Robbe say, “Mama? Did you forget something?” 

Robbe stepped out into the hallway, running a hand through his messy hair, and Sander felt his heart break a little. 

His boyfriend’s eyes were tired and worn. Even beneath the green hoodie that hung on his shoulders and the sweats that he was wearing, he could see that Robbe’s shoulders were slumped and stiff. His entire body seemed on edge and his eyes darted across Sander’s entire face and form as he questioned, his voice displaying the tiredness that he felt, “Sander? What are you doing here?” Before Sander could say anything or move to wrap his arms around him, he saw the realization in Robbe’s brown eyes and he let out a string of curses, running his hands over his face, “We were supposed to meet up.” 

“Robbe,” Sander spoke, stepping forward. 

“I’m sorry,” Robbe continued hurriedly, his words partially slurring together as he made a beeline into his bedroom. Like a moth drawn to a flame, Sander followed him, trying to reach out to touch him but Robbe was a step ahead, moving in the direction of his desk where his phone was. “I’ve been studying and I didn’t check the time and-”

“Robbe, you don’t have to apologize,” Sander cut off, stepping forward to hold him in his arms. He wrapped his arms around Robbe’s shoulders, pulling him back against his chest. Robbe let out a sigh, leaning back into his embrace as his head tilted down to look at his phone. From his spot over his shoulder, Sander could see the names of the texts that he had missed and he could feel Robbe get tense beneath his arms. “Baby,” Sander spoke, leaning his cheek against Robbe’s shoulder.

“Hmm?” 

“You need to take a break.” 

“I can’t,” Robbe spoke, dropping his phone down on the desk. It landed on a binder, sliding down until it hit the floor (and thankfully didn’t shatter), but neither one of them moved to pick it up. Robbe moved to his desk, his right hand moving through his notes at a frantic pace, but his other hand moved to overlap with Sander’s hand on his shoulder, gripping onto Sander’s long fingers tightly. “I still have so many notes to look through. Plus, I still need to do the practice problems from three sections and that’s not even counting the review problems I should look back over.”

“Robbe.” 

“And, I have to at least look over the midterms at some point,” Robbe continued, his eyes darting all over the desk in front of him. Sander stepped forward, so their bodies were flushed together, and he could feel Robbe’s body momentarily relax. “He tends to repeat problems so looking over the midterms will help me when he pulls a problem similar to that on the final.” 

“Robbe,” Sander whispered. “How long have you been studying?”

“Since I got home.”

“Which was?”

“Uh, around 11, I think,” Robbe admitted. 

“Baby, it’s past 16:00,” Sander spoke. “You need to take a break or you’re going to overwork that beautiful brain of yours.” 

“But, I can’t stop, Sander!” Robbe spoke, his voice louder. He flinched out of Sander’s arms, his shoulders shaking as he leaned over the desk. His hands gripped tightly onto the edge of the desk, his knuckles turning bone white. Trying to give Robbe the space that he needed, he took a step back but he ran a hand across Robbe’s back, trying to soothe him, trying to offer him some method of comfort. “I can’t stop. I feel like I haven’t learned anything and I can’t remember what to do so I need to study.”

“No,” Sander whispered, running a hand across his back. “You need to take a break.”

“Sander,” Robbe spoke, turning towards him. There were tears prickling the corners of his eyes, tears of frustration, and Sander nearly started weeping at the sight. Robbe was one of the smartest people that Sander had ever known, but to see him doubting himself so drastically, to see him pushing himself so hard that his brain was shutting down, hurt his heart. Robbe continued, his words streaming together, broken and wet, “I can’t stop studying because I don’t understand what’s going on. Every time I look at the page, I feel like I’m finding something else that I don’t understand. It’s like I haven’t seen it before! And, I have a test tomorrow morning and I need to do good or I’m not going to pass. At the very least, I need to memorize the formulas so I can use them-”

Robbe cut himself off, a sob ripping through his body. The tears slipped past the rim of his eyes, slipping across his cheekbones and down his jaw. Robbe squeezed his eyes shut, trying to hold the rest of them back, to stop himself from crying completely, but Sander stepped forward again, cupping the back of his head and pulling the smaller boy flush against him. 

As soon as Sander’s arms were wrapped tightly around him, another sob was ripped from Robbe’s mouth, his tears starting fresh again, soaking the fabric of his t-shirt. Robbe buried his face into Sander’s shoulder, trying to muffle the sound of his own cries and sputters as Sander tried to soothe him, clinging to the back of Robbe’s head. Robbe’s hands moved to the back of Sander’s t-shirt, gripping it tightly in his hands. He rubbed patterns against the fabric of Robbe’s hoodie, pressed soothing kisses against his jaw and neck, wiped away the tear streaks he could reach, and held him tighter. 

“Get it all out,” Sander whispered, pressing a kiss against his ear.

“I feel like an idiot,” Robbe cried. 

“You’re not an idiot, Robbe,” Sander spoke, his voice a little too firm. He leaned back, taking Robbe’s face in his hands, wiping his thumbs across his cheeks to catch the remaining tears that fell from his cheeks. His boyfriend stared up at him with eyes that were half-closed in tears, his bottom lip trembling. “Your brain is just screaming at you that it’s tired and that you need to give it a break. You’re the most beautiful and smartest man that I’ve ever seen.”

“I bet not like this,” Robbe mumbled, reaching up to rub his eyes. 

“Always,” Sander whispered. “You’re so smart, Robbe. And you know the material. But, if you overload your brain while you’re so tired, you are going to forget important stuff tomorrow. Your body is screaming at you that it needs a break and you need to listen to it.” 

“You’re right,” the smaller boy whispered, leaning forward to press their foreheads together and his brown eyes shutting automatically. Sander wrapped his arms tighter around Robbe, running his hands down his back before tilting them in the direction of the bed. Robbe followed his directions willingly, his arms reaching up to wrap around Sander’s shoulders. Then, the back of his knees hit the bed and they both went tumbling onto the mattress, a light laugh knocked out of Robbe. “What’s your plan?” the brunet whispered, his lips turning up in a grin.

Sander grinned down at him, rolling off of him. Robbe shifted to him, scooting closer to him and grabbing onto his waist to pull Sander’s form closer. Sander chuckled at him, leaning back against one of Robbe’s pillows before turning to him. “We’re going to take a break,” he answered, reaching up to run a hand through Robbe’s hair, freshly cut and short again. Robbe tilted his head back before leaning into Sander’s touch. “For the next hour, until your mom comes back from the grocery store, we’re just going to lie here and not think about homework, okay?”

“Okay,” Robbe mumbled, his eyelids already closing. “And if I go to sleep?”

“Then, you go to sleep,” Sander whispered. “You’ve got this, Robbe. I know you do.” Robbe’s eyes opened again to stare up at him. “You’ve done so much studying over the past few weeks and your body is screaming at you for a break. If you go to sleep, it’s because your brain needs to recharge. When you wake up, you’ll be refreshed and have a little more energy and if you think that you need to study some more, you can study some more.” 

“Can you stay the night?” Robbe whispered.

“Yes,” Sander replied, smiling down at him. “If you want me to, I’ll always stay the night.” 

Robbe smiled up at him before tilting his chin up, a silent message that Sander knew by heart. The blond ducked his head down, pressing their lips together in a slow kiss. Robbe tilted his head to the side so their lips flushed together more smoothly, pulling him closer by his waist. Sander pushed his mouth open with his lips, slipping his tongue into his mouth, cupping the back of his head. Robbe let out a content sigh, pulling back and burying his face in the crook of Sander’s neck. 

“Get some sleep,” Sander whispered, running a hand through his hair. Robbe let out a content sigh against his next. “You can always study more when you wake up, but you need to stop overloading yourself, baby.”

“Alright,” Robbe whispered, his lips ghosting across Sander’s skin. His boyfriend snaked his arms around his torso, bringing them closer together, their bodies and legs intertwined. Sander pulled him closer, one arm wrapped around his shoulders, his hand dropping to Robbe’s thigh to hold him there. 

By the time that Marine IJzermans had returned home, peering around the corner with two bags around her wrist, Robbe had snuggled further into Sander’s chest, still holding onto the black-fabric of his t-shirt. There was a small smile that appeared on his mother’s face as she placed the bag outside of Robbe’s door and stepped inside to check. She smiled down at Sander, who was absentmindedly running a hand through Robbe’s tangled curls, and whispered to him, “Dinner will be ready in about an hour if you want to sleep as well.”

“Thank you,” Sander replied. 

“I assume that you’ll be spending the night as well.”

“Yeah,” Sander spoke, “but only if that’s alright with you.”

“Of course,” Marine spoke, reaching down to rub Robbe’s shoulder. “He always seems to be more relaxed with you around. But, the door remains open, okay?” Sander grinned, nodding his head, feeling the blush begin to move to his cheeks. The woman bent down, placing a kiss against Robbe’s head before moving out of the room, collecting the bag and headed into the kitchen, leaving the two of them alone.