#my own friends faces and I can’t blame them for treating me that way because by almost all technicalities I am

[rabbitphone]

YHS College (University) AU I posted on Twitter a while ago and am now posting here!

I had so much fun coming up with this AU Oml, originally it just started out with me wanting to give Sam a fun outfit, thinking like, ‘well, college in movies is supposed to be like, all about self-discovery and doing new things so’ and wallah there was Sam! Then I realised if I’m drawing Sam, I should draw the others right?

Grian’s outfit was pretty simple and not too far from canon, a lot of contrast against Sam’s very very different styling, but I think of Grian as a nerdy kind of dark academia type?? Probably using that wrong but still - he’s trying to move past his parents but it’s all he really knows

Taurtis I wanted to draw kind of sceney - similar to himself but still different so you can tell it’s not really him but him from another universe - same but changed, i’ve kind of forgotten most of my thought process on him haha

Then I really got into thinking about the lore aspect - should it just be an au where nothing went wrong or should I drive off of canon? And after some thinking I went into the latter, Tokyo soul, world ended but with some convincing Sam managed to get Cthulhu to go back in time and have the world not end, they graduate, and they get into university with some cool new powers.

Powers I gave to them based on what I think Sam would want - since he’s cthulhu’s favourite (unless I’m remembering wrong LOL but it’s my au so whatevs!!) - Sam has future vision so he can make sure to prevent the world from ever ending again, Grian is alien-esc due to that one scene where his mic messes up and they play into it and say he was taken over by an alien/angst reasons you could say he doesn’t need to breathe anymore so he can eat chip packaging easier, Taurtis is near invincible so Sam doesn’t have to feel the guilt of stabbing/losing him again, and because Sam and Grian’s Taurtis is dead.

Chan was kind of a last minute add-on decision, but I wanted to add someone else from the og cast and I thought it’d made an interesting plot line if chan remembered Taurtis but he didn’t even know her/ especially with the witness protection program and her having thought the main three were dead or missing

[calaisreno]

His Move

1557 Words / Prompt: Manipulate

He shouldn’t have been surprised. Mary was an assassin, the business of her past never quite behind her. She’d run away once, and Sherlock had insisted they go after her. At that point, John was willing to let her go. They were never going to have the future he’d imagined when he bought her that ring. 

She was already dying when he arrived at the aquarium, and said the things you would expect a loving wife to say. You were my whole world. 

He felt a dull sense of relief, and hated himself for it. The problems of your future are my privilege. 

A future, cut short. And still, her problems would haunt him.

When Sherlock reached out his hand towards John, his eyes wide, John saw the horror-stricken expression on his face.. 

You were my whole world, he thought. 

Her body was lifted, put on a stretcher, and carried out. John followed.

Sherlock texts him: I’m so sorry. SH

John doesn’t reply.

Please talk to me, John. SH

He feeds Rosie, gives her a bath, puts her to bed. She fusses; she’s old enough to sense something is wrong. Now she has only her father to keep her world stable.

John, please. SH

He plans the funeral; there’s no one else. Mary has no family, only a few friends. It’s his responsibility. This keeps him busy, gives him space to work out what comes next.

Sherlock is actually sorry. This John doesn’t doubt. He’s not a sociopath, regardless of what he says.

John’s words at the aquarium were spoken in anger; he doesn’t blame Sherlock for Mary’s death. John is the one who brought her into their orbit. He can’t change that, but sometimes he thinks about what would have happened if Sherlock had returned six months sooner. Of course he would have been angry, and would have expressed how he felt about watching his best friend die, being abandoned for two years. Six months earlier, maybe he wouldn’t have paid attention to the new nurse, the one who kept flirting with him. 

He has no doubt that he would have come back to Baker Street if Sherlock wanted him. The compromise, as always, would have been on John’s part. Sherlock is never going to change. He will always treat John as a convenience, a habit that doesn’t require thought. 

Sherlock is rarely solicitous, never bestows compliments, only flatters someone if he’s being manipulative. The speech he gave at the wedding nearly knocked John over. Maybe Sherlock was only trying to do what was expected of him, but it was unexpectedly touching. 

Sitting there, hearing the two people who love you most, he’d had this thought: I would have waited for you, if I’d known. 

In his own way, Sherlock does love John. He also knows how to manipulate John, to get him to do what he wants. To keep John in the dark when he doesn’t trust him. 

Loving Sherlock has always meant giving something up. It means following him into danger. John isn’t sure he can afford that any longer, not with a child to care for. 

He has to be sure.

It doesn’t surprise John to see Sherlock at the funeral. Mrs Hudson sits with him, and Lestrade joins them. Molly slides into the pew, whispers something to Greg. It’s a protective entourage; they all know what John said.

Harry is home, watching Rosie. John sits alone, in the front row. 

Sherlock has texted him daily, and John hasn’t replied. That’s why Sherlock is here. He wants John to accept his apology, for everything to be as it was before he ruined it all by dying. Not that Sherlock understands it this way; he doesn’t think that dying ruined things. He’s convinced that he had to do it, that John would have died if he hadn’t. In his mind, there was no alternative. 

Maybe he’s right, but for two years, John carried the weight of grief. That’s just feelings, sentiment; Sherlock wan’t dead; he was saving John, saving the world, winning the game. He left John behind, let him grieve, because that was the only way to solve what happened at Barts that day. 

Sherlock will still leave John behind at crime scenes, run heedlessly into danger, and probably get wounded at some point. He will question John’s intelligence, talk to John when he’s miles away, text him impatiently while he’s treating patients. He will dismiss John’s concerns as frivolous, insist that sentiment makes him weak. He will break John’s heart again and again. That’s just the reality.

And John could break his heart, too. He has a temper, and letting go of anger is hard. Will that anger still be simmering in a year, two years? It’s hard for him to forgive; even in death, he hasn’t really forgiven Mary. 

Can he say he forgives Sherlock and really mean it?  

John prayed for a miracle, and hit the ghost when he returned. Sherlock didn’t hit back; he made a joke. He missed the point. 

But he pulled John out of a bonfire. His look of panic is something John won’t ever forget.  

He tricked John into forgiving him—but has also tried to be worthy of that forgiveness. 

He has expressed his love for John in front of a hundred people. 

These are not the acts of a heartless man.

Sherlock needs him. Maybe two years away was as hard for him as it was for John. 

Does John need him?

He imagines a life without Sherlock. He weighs it against a life without Mary. One is possible, one is past.

His wife was a master manipulator. He’s only beginning to realise the extent of that. He’d had doubts, but couldn’t put words to them until he was in Leinster Gardens, hearing her admit that she’d shot Sherlock, that she would do anything to keep John in the dark about who she really was. 

The woman he fell in love with saved him from despair.

The woman he’d married was a facade. 

He never forgave the woman who shot Sherlock. 

The woman he went back to gave him his daughter. 

So. Mary’s gone, and what he feels about that is a confusing mixture of guilt and sorrow—and relief. At some point, he loved her. Or the idea of her. He chose her. 

She made choices as well. She chose death, rather than allowing Sherlock to take that bullet. When John came back to her, she understood that he would never completely forgive her, that he was doing it for Rosie. She’d chosen to save Sherlock, to die rather than live with John’s grief over losing him a second time.

Sherlock didn’t kill her. She chose to die.

But when he stood at her grave, he didn’t ask her not to be dead.

What he wishes now is that they’d never met, that he could rewind time and make a different choice. That she was still alive, a stranger living somewhere else. 

But then he wouldn’t have Rosie. He loves his daughter completely, protectively, without rhyme or reason. He wants the best life for her, the carefree childhood he never had. And he imagines her growing up without a mother—with a father who has chosen to be alone. 

He pictures her, a child with pigtails and a stubborn streak. A teenager able to go toe-to-toe with her father and still see reason, take a small step back when she’s wrong. A young woman with curly blond hair and a teasing smile. She leaves for uni, and he’s alone again. He grows old, and remembers.

Does he need Sherlock? 

Absolutely, desperately. Like air. 

Can he trust Sherlock? 

Probably not. And he won’t change him.

He misses Sherlock. Whatever they have been to one another, his heart wants him. 

Is it worth the risk?

He’s standing in the church reception hall, drinking a cup of terrible coffee. Sherlock is across the room, looking at him. His expression is sorrowful, not the fake sorrow he can put on during a case, pretending he cares. His hands are stuffed in his coat pockets and he’s slouching against the wall, watching John.

Coworkers from the surgery express their condolences. Mrs Hudson hugs him tearfully. Lestrade tells him they need to get together over a pint. He accepts their sympathy, makes small talk because that’s what people do. All the while, he feels Sherlock’s eyes like a magnet, pulling on him. 

As the hall begins to empty out, he can resist the pull no longer. Sherlock looks up, surprised, as John walks towards him. His pale eyes fill with tears. 

John has given up so much already. He doesn’t blame anyone but himself. Maybe he’ll never fully trust Sherlock, but he’s already forgiven him. 

Setting aside all his objections, laying down his anger and his regret, he surrenders.

When he pulls Sherlock into the hug he’s always wanted, this time Sherlock hugs back. John makes deductions. He can smell a cigarette, maybe two (nervous). He feels his ribs, still too prominent (unhappy). He’s trembling with the emotion he hates (love). The world may have lost a fine actor when Sherlock Holmes became a consulting detective, but this is not acting.

“Please come home,” Sherlock whispers.

John smiles into his shoulder, his own tears beginning. “Oh God, yes.”

[levisolace]

[1] Expendable Hearts (Levi x F!Reader)

Chapter 1: Windex and Baking Soda

WC: 7,182 Chapter Warnings: slight angst Summary: Everyone in Levi's life knows he only ever dated one girl and that she left him wrecked, bitter, and heartbroken. Many years later, she's back in his life and he doesn't know what to do. story masterlist > next chapter

“It’s always my pleasure, Mr. Brown.”

The corporate smile on your face drops as soon as you hit the end button in the video call application on your laptop. It was the first meeting of the day with a client and you were already exhausted, wanting nothing but to go home and curl up in bed, heavily surrounded by your pillows and weighted blanket for hours. But you know that’s a dream that would remain a fantasy for a while. Why? Because it’s a Monday. It’s only the start of the week and judging from the pile of paperwork delivered to your desk this morning, you would have to work overtime again for the third week in a row. 

Being recently hired by one of the top leading firms in the country is a blessing you will be thankful for every day but as the week goes by and you’re on your fifth pile of paperwork, more than ten meetings in one week, you can’t help but think what would it be like to work for a small, quiet firm. You shrug those thoughts away as soon as they come. You’re grateful for the more-than-average salary the firm provides, at least.

The day went on as it always does: hours of you trying to ignore your back pain. It was becoming unbearable and you can’t even use the ointments your grandmother used to insist you use because it would no doubt infest the building with its smell—your reputation and first impression from your coworkers is at stake. 

As you’re typing back an email from your superior, Atty. Dot Pixis, you halt when you feel the buzzing on your table. You pick it up mindlessly, checking to see the notification. A smile spreads on your face to see that it’s your previous boss, Vanessa. 

hey. how’s working with the big leagues?? pixis is not tiring you out too much is he?? i can give him a word if you want.

pixis is treating me really well, nes. thank u for checking up on me! i miss everyone there at the firm and little ian :(( 

Vanessa, besides being your former boss back in Olsen & Associates, is also your friend and self-proclaimed older sister. She's a well-known attorney, and Olsen is a legend back in law school because she’s an alumnus who’s actually cool and doesn’t have their head up their asses. However, after deciding to settle down and start a family, she opened up a small firm in her hometown. 

i might just have to visit bc i miss my little sis :(( should’ve never let u leave

technically, it’s your fault i left 

i know :( don't remind me

Two months ago, Vanessa told you that ODM is hiring and Pixis contacted her to see if she knows anyone to take the job. Your jaw dropped to the ground when she told you she recommended you and you can send in your resume if you’re interested. It was an offer no one could pass up so before you knew it, you were being hauled into a hours-long bus ride and then anxiously seated for an interview in the city you used to live in. And after about a week of being a nervous wreck waiting for their response, you were contacted that you’ve been selected for the position.

Now here you are, finally settled in your office. You still can’t believe you have your own space in this huge building. You would’ve never thought you’d be working here in the firm you only used to stare at in awe while passing by years ago. 

Although, you have to admit that you miss the warm feeling of the small firm where you all know each other, exchange heartfelt greetings, and gossip when there are not too many clients. Now, you pass by a new face every now and then, most not even bothering to greet you or spare you a look. You can’t blame them. The work here is drastic. 

By the time you left the office, it’s already dark and way past office hours. As you were driving home, you remembered you still needed a few supplies in your apartment. You haven’t exactly settled yourself in, prioritizing work more. God, you even still had a few boxes to unpack. 

You stopped by a 24-hour supermarket that you spotted on your way to work this morning when you had to reroute because of the traffic. It was a little out of the way but it would do. It was still two hours before midnight, anyway.

As you drag your feet through the aisles and drop whatever you felt like you needed in the cart, unwanted memories come creeping in. The air in Paradis City is still the same. Even if a few buildings might have changed or some stores you used to frequent have closed down, it was still the same Paradis you knew—a buzzing city filled with dreams. The streets are never empty, famously congested by students from top universities or office workers. 

When you got the offer for the job, you weighed out the pros and cons. There were only two cons you were able to determine:

You don’t want to leave Olsen & Associates and Vanessa’s hometown, Trost, and

You’d be going back to your hometown, the one you promised not to go back to. 

The pros outweigh the cons, obviously. That weight being the thick fat salary you would be getting. Besides, Paradis is huge and has like three million residents. It’s not like you’d cross paths with him. And it’s been years. He probably forgot all about you anyway. You barely think about him. It was just a silly puppy-love relationship. No biggie.

Keep telling yourself that.

Shut up. 

“That one’s better.”

A voice directed to you made you snap out of your thoughts. It made you painfully aware of how you had been staring at the two options of green tea in your hand for probably more than the normal minutes it takes one to decide. The tall brunette had on a face mask covering half his face, his hair parted in the middle, and he wore a simple light blue button-down and black slacks. He was about two feet away from you when he pointed at the tea canister in your right hand. 

“Oh. Thanks,” you replied sheepishly. Desperate to run away from the embarrassment of zoning out in the middle of a public space, you take his advice and put down the canister on your left hand back to the shelf. 

“You’re welcome. I see my friend drinking it all the time so it has to be good,” he nods and you see his cheeks prop up, probably sporting a smile beneath the mask. You smiled back and thanked him again.

“Can you grab that one for me?” He points at a sweet one, a flavor in contrast with the green tea you chose. It was on the shelf being blocked by your cart beside you. You quickly mutter an apology and reach for a can. 

“My fiancée prefers her tea fruity,” he explains even if you didn’t ask, his ears tinted a bit red from his own statement. You immediately find it endearing. He seems very fond of his partner as he continues to babble about her. “Well actually, she prefers coffee with an unhealthy amount of espresso shots but I eventually persuaded her to drink tea once in a while.” 

“Moby! I know we usually don’t get this brand but guess what? This has a free pink sponge!” 

You freeze at the sound of that awfully loud and familiar cheerful voice heading towards you at a fast pace. You couldn’t turn your head. Your fingers unconsciously grip the can you’re holding harshly with wide eyes. Silently, you were wishing that the person just had the same voice as the crazed tall woman with glasses you used to know or the man beside you isn’t named ‘Moby.’ The former would hardly be the case because from the sound of the voice, the personality of being uncaring of the silent atmosphere of the supermarket, and the way she ran excitedly from your peripheral vision, you were sure that this person was your old friend Hange. For the latter, your last hope dies down as you see the stranger turn his head at the sound of his name and reply with a sigh.

“What the hell are you gonna do with a sponge, babe? We have lots of sponges.”

“Okay but imagine! We swap out Levi’s sponge with a pink one.” 

“I don’t think Levi cares about the color as long as it cleans.”

The fight or flight response in you went crazy at the mention of the name you haven’t heard in years, heavily leaning on the former. You could just hand this guy named Moby’s tea and make a run for it. You doubt Hange would care while being heavily invested in her free pink sponge. 

But why would you run? You only run when you’re scared or did something wrong. Which is it? It can't be the latter, right? 

I did. 

Oh? So you did. You’re scared, huh? That she’d get angry at you for what you did back then. 

I am. 

Run then. That’s all you know to do anyway.

Shut up. Leave me alone. 

“Miss? Are you okay?” 

For the second time in front of the same stranger, you were snapped out of your trance and find yourself gripping the can so hard that you think you’ve made a light dent on the can. Damn, you should really get a decent amount of sleep. You’ve been losing it a lot lately. 

You shake your head and slap your cheek lightly with your free hand. “Sorry. Lack of sleep. I’m fine. Here.” 

You turn to him and hand him the can, hoping he wouldn’t mind the barely noticeable dent you made. Purposely, you don’t stray your eyes away from the man. You don’t want to be the first person to acknowledge Hange. Maybe she doesn’t even remember you. Maybe she doesn’t even want to acknowledge you. 

“Greenie?” 

It was more of a mutter. But with how loud Hanji’s voice is, you and Moby clearly heard it. 

That’s when you look at her and actually see her. She looks the same as you saw her last. Her brown hair was tied up in a ponytail and her brown eyes were covered by thick-rimmed glasses. Nothing much has changed from her appearance except for the disappearance of the youthful look now replaced by maturity. Her gaze is fixed on you, slack-jawed. Her reaction doesn’t surprise or faze you, having expected that much. It’s what would follow that you’re nervous about. What would she say? Will she get angry at you? Or will she even remember who you are? Somehow, you dread that last possible outcome worst. 

“H-Hange,” you breathily let out. You wonder if it’s audible. 

Her fiancé also looks shocked, staring at you and then back to Hanji with widened eyes. “This is Greenie? The Greenie?” He points at you while asking Hange who was still frozen. His tone and reference to you immediately tell you that you have been discussed with people you never met, no doubt now knowing your past with them. 

Greenie. You haven’t heard that nickname in a while. 

It was silent for a few seconds, eyes not straying from each other. You probably look apologetic—scared, even. The man beside her is waiting too. You think he’s having a mini breakdown in disbelief. 

When you see her start to lunge at you, you shut your eyes, expecting her palm to collide with your cheek. You expect her to slap you and scream at you in the middle of the cold supermarket. You expect her to ask you where you got the nerve to come back to the city after all you’ve done. 

Instead, what she did broke down all your expectations. 

Long and slender arms wrap around your figure, pulling you tightly to her chest. Your face is squished against the fabric of her fluffy parka jacket. Even if you suddenly have trouble breathing with how tight her hug is, you were thankful that it covered your face and how you were biting your lower lip, trying to suppress the relief that comes with tears.

“Where the hell have you been?!”

You couldn’t even answer. Or move at all. Not that you even know what to say. 

“Hange. You’re killing her.” You hear her partner say. Hange instantly loosens her grip on you, muttering an apology with a slight chuckle. When she looks down at you, you give her a gentle smile.

“I missed you too, Hange.” And you meant it. 

The tall woman was still not letting you go, arms wrapped just below your shoulders because of the height difference. Even if you were caged in her arms, you can still tilt your head up to look at her. Suddenly, tears started streaming down her face as she tilts her head down to you, her mouth quivering. Then it turns into full-on sobbing. You chuckle as she starts swaying you with her, going side to side like a pendulum as she sobs while wailing your name repeatedly. 

There was no stopping Hange when she gets like this. So you let it happen. You let her hug you like she did many times before. You relish the moment, wanting to pass out and let loose in her hold. Maybe you’re dreaming and you’ll wake up in your bed, filled with disappointment and yearning for some warmth.

When she was satisfied, she let you go and introduced you to Moblit, her fiancé and coworker. They walked with you as you continued to shop, telling you stories about her and Moblit. Thankfully for your sake, she didn’t ask you much about yourself or what happened when you were away. She just asked how you were doing right now and what you were doing in the city. Although you were scared that the news would get to him, you told her the truth that you recently got hired at the law firm. 

“So you moved back then? Like permanently?” Her brows raised in excitement. 

“Well, I have a temporary contract for six months before I’m permanently employed there so hopefully,” you shrug while heading to checkout. As expected, Hange doesn’t care that you practically explained that it’s technically a ‘not yet,’ she shrieks and jumps up and down anyway. 

“Oh my god, this is perfect! Greenie, one of my bridesmaids had to back out but we already had the dress paid and it’s a no-refund. Can you step in for her and attend our wedding? Would you? Please? Please?” Hange begs you, hands clasped together as she stares at you with puppy eyes and a pout. 

You stop in your tracks and feel your heart sink to the ground. She wants you to attend her wedding knowing that many, if not everyone, you used to know will be there. And if his name was so casually mentioned earlier, that meant that they were still very much best friends and he would definitely be there.

And a few minutes ago you were convincing yourself that you wouldn’t accidentally run into him in this city. Now, you have to actually see him and be in the same room for a few hours? 

You start with a chuckle. “Oh. I wouldn’t mean to impose—” 

You were abruptly overpowered by her loud negation. “No, you wouldn’t! Everyone would be ecstatic to see you! I swear.” 

“But—“

Hange sighs dramatically, shoulders slumping with a pout on her face. “I guess it’d be too much, wouldn’t it? You’re probably busy, right? Right. Sorry, I just got excited.” She turns to her boyfriend. “Moby, can you pay for our stuff and Greenie’s too?” 

“What?”

Your eyes widened but before you could protest or take a strong hold on your cart, Moblit was already dragging it away and sending a flying kiss to Hange who giggled like a schoolgirl to catch it with her fist. You turn to her in disbelief as he turns his back. She catches your face, knowing what you’re about to say. 

“It’s fine. That won’t make a dent in his bank account.”

Just like that, you were painfully reminded how no one could get a word in with Hange. 

“Un-fucking-believeable.” 

Niccolo, the training chef, flinched from behind him when the silver-eyed man let out an unprovoked profanity as he entered the restaurant. Connie, his loyal secretary, doesn’t even bat an eye at the unprofessional behavior of his boss, only following behind him with a straight face. 

“Shithead. Call Nile later. Tell him I want a new team on this…” his words halt in disgust as he sees the unfinished, poorly done walls of what was to be a new branch of Kuchel’s. “or I’ll fire his stupid construction company out of every damn project. Verbatim.” 

“Will do, sir.” Connie nods, mentally sighing. Not only is he used to hearing the profanities, but he’s also used to being ordered to say it too. 

Levi nods at his secretary’s response, eager to leave the abomination that was supposed to be at 80% progress at this date. As he turns, he’s faced with Connie and a blonde man he doesn’t know. 

“Who’s this?” 

The blonde man practically shivered at his haze, the corner of his lips twitching at the sides. It was a sad attempt at a smile. Mentally, Connie sighed at his boss’ unfocused mind when there was something that greatly irritates him. The trainee chef was just literally in the car with them and Levi told Connie to bring the chef with them on the way to check the new location. 

“This is Niccolo, sir. He was in the car with us. He’s the one highly considered by the HR,” Connie expertly answered. 

“So you’re on the last stage,” Levi addresses Niccolo. The nervous man gulps but answers. “Yes, sir.” 

Connie watches the exchange, feeling a bit of pity for the tall man cowering at the gaze of such a short guy with a temper taller than a skyscraper. He was exactly like this when Levi interviewed him for the position. 

“Sorry, I had to make a detour because some shitheads can’t do their job right. Let’s go.” 

And so Niccolo and Connie followed the grumpy man back to the vehicle they just got not even three minutes ago. 

Not that he knew what to expect or had guesses but Niccolo was utterly surprised that he was brought to the first Kuchel’s restaurant. The legendary one that went viral. 

When he passed by the reception area, his eyes widened when he saw the reservation list filled with no spots left. It was practically booked for the month from what he saw. 

The kitchen smelled amazing, each one of the cooks was busy and they actually looked happy while working. They worked with so much coordination and laughter like he had never seen before. 

He thought that he’d train or cook with them today, seeing as they’re Kuchel’s main branch’s team. He was excited too. But again, Levi surprises him when he pushes another door open from the kitchen, revealing a staircase. The man says nothing but climbs upstairs. 

Confused but too scared to ask, Niccolo only stares at Connie but who beckons him to follow him up the stairs. When he sees Levi take a glance behind him, his feet move on its own, following the cold short man’s steps.

He sees a living room first. It’s a simple home but maintained well enough to look pristine. He kept on following Levi as he eventually led him to a kitchen. Levi turned to him and he’d be lying if he said that his heart didn’t jump at his sudden order. 

“Do whatever you like. You have an hour.” 

And then he leaves the kitchen, leaving Niccolo confused as he looks around at the domestic kitchen. He sees Connie, Levi’s assistant aggressively mouthing the words ‘cook anything’ as he follows Levi back to the living room. 

“Good job. I think he liked it.” 

Connie whispers to Niccolo before he leaves. Normally, he isn’t allowed to tell the training chefs what Levi thinks. But he’s feeling a little silly and Niccolo is his friend and his best friend, Sasha’s, boyfriend. 

Just like all the other training chefs, Levi brought Niccolo to his old home to cook something for him. Levi is hella picky with them but Connie could see that he actually liked his friend’s food. There was no pursing of lips, which was the worst of them all. Connie had to scramble and get the trainee out before he burst the room into a myriad of colorful words no one wants to hear. 

When they got back to the office, Hange was already there and most probably uninvited. 

“What the fuck are you doing here, four eyes?” 

Levi’s eyes were seething with annoyance as he sees his friend sitting at his desk on his chair, spinning around like an idiot. It was hard to believe that this woman is a professor at one of the most prestigious universities in the country. 

“Shorty! You’re here!” She exclaimed, slamming her hands down on the fine wood of Levi’s desk to stop the chair from spinning. 

“Get the fuck up before I strangle you to death, Hange.” 

Hange chuckles but stands up anyway, skipping before plopping herself on the couch in Levi’s office. “Can you relax? I was just here to remind you that I’m getting married.” 

Levi groans and rolls his eyes. “Who would fucking forget, Hange? You text a fucking countdown at seven in the morning in the group chat tagged to everyone. The mute option has been fucking useless since you learned how to do it.” 

Levi sits down on his chair and switches on his computer to return to work despite his friend’s unsolicited visit to his office. 

“Oh! I wanted to ask you something too! Do you have a date for the wedding? So I can take note of a plus one, maybe?” 

He gives a blank stare to his friend for a second before turning back to his screen. “You know you can ask me that through a phone call, right?” He began typing away on his laptop, answering a few emails Connie forwarded to him. 

“Well, you blocked my number so I thought that you’d rather see me in person.” Hange shrugs with a grin.

Levi pauses, remembering that he did block Hange’s number that one night she insisted for he come over and watch a horror movie with Erwin and Moblit. He was working and couldn’t turn his phone on do not disturb mode so he had to specifically block Hange’s calls. He then proceeds to forget to unblock her until now. 

“So, no date?” Hange presses further. 

Levi grunts, annoyed at the stupid question. “Who the fuck am I gonna bring? It’s not like I’m gonna bring a random girl to your wedding, Hange.” 

“You totally could. They’re called escorts,” Hange suggests like a know-it-all.

“I don’t want a random stranger in your wedding pictures, four eyes.” 

“I would rather have that than see you so depressing in my pictures with your bitch face. Oh! Want me to set you up on a blind date?” Hange’s voice rises again, something that happens when she gets excited over an idea. 

“Fuck no,” Levi spat. 

“Your last serious relationship was decades ago, Levi. Give it a try again.” 

If looks could kill, funeral flowers would be thrown at Hange’s casket instead of wedding flowers. His fingers hover over the keyboard, hanging frozen at her words. At the mere implication of you, his blood boils and his chest tightens. 

“What does that have to do with anything?” 

“Well–”

“Are you saying I’m not over her again, Hange?” 

Before she could answer, the door swung open, revealing a tall blonde man with thick eyebrows who was grinning cheek to cheek. Great. Erwin’s here. Maybe they could send a few more uninvited people, order greasy pizza, and have a party in his office. 

“Over who?” Erwin asks, ever the gossip man. Levi grunts and rests his forehead in his palms as Hange greets Erwin enthusiastically before answering.

“You know who.”

Erwin narrows his eyes at Levi before sitting down on the other edge of the couch. Hange tells him about getting a blind date. “You could try, Hange. I’ve set him up with surprise blind dates before and you know how that went.” 

“Can you two fucking shut up and leave? I’m trying to work here,” Levi spat in annoyance. The pair ignores his grumbling, carrying on their conversation like he wasn’t in the room.

“But I have never set him up with someone before,” Hange points out. 

Erwin purses his lips. “I doubt that you can find a girl better than me, Hange. I tried everything.” 

Erwin and Hange look at each other with mischief, clearly enjoying Levi’s suffering from their teasing. He knows they won’t stop. If anything, it only egged them on further.

Hange places a finger on her chin obnoxiously. “Maybe you could ask the girl to wear green next time.” 

Erwin nods, crossing his arms like he’s actually considering it. “Absolutely. We all know Levi still loves his greenie.” 

God, even her nickname is a pain to hear. 

Levi slams a hand down his mahogany desk so loud that people outside his office probably heard it. It didn’t faze his friends who were snickering on the couch though. They know he’s about to blow. He’s so frustrated that he almost ran a finger through his well-kept hair but caught himself before damaging it, exhaling loudly in frustration before speaking. 

“Look, you dipshits. I told you a thousand times. Forget about that damned woman. I’m not dating because I’m goddamn busy with all these expansions, not because I’m not over a girl who left us all without a fucking trace.” Every word is laced with venom and he ends it with a huff. 

“Fine. We get it. You’re over her but you’re still angry at her.” Hange rolls her eyes. 

Levi doesn’t know exactly when they started referring to her as mere stories or inside jokes. But evidently, it turned out that way. They used to be hurt at the thought of her disappearing. Slowly, they started to forget. Except him. He’s still angry and confused when he thinks of a reason why. 

“I am,” he admits.

“And if she comes to see you again? What will you do?” 

This question again, Levi thinks. 

He sighs. Like an automated machine, he answers the question as he did a myriad of times before, the first being the answer to one of your stupid games of what-if questions when you were together. Most were just ways to make him say those damn three words to you. It was usually just dumb things like “What if I was a worm?” and he would roll his eyes and tell you that he would unhesitatingly kill you before kissing you when you frown in disappointment. One question, however, deeply offended him more than anything. 

“Levi, what if I asked you to break up with me?” 

You were sitting on the couch with a blanket draped over your legs, still reeling from the sad romantic movie the two of you watched where the disabled paralyzed man still decides to die even after he fell in love with his caregiver. 

Levi, who’s in the middle of choosing another movie from your collection of DVDs, freezes in his seat. He doesn’t turn to look at you but you see his whole body tensed up having heard what you said.

“What if we break up like that?” 

You repeat the question with a pout on your lips. Levi finally looks at you with a frown on his face. He sighs and looks away, gaze lifting up for a second as if he’s thinking. 

“No,” he answers even if the question upsets him. “We’re not gonna break up.”

You noticed that his mood falters from your question.  Feeling a little bad, you wrap a hand around his bicep, pulling yourself close to his side. With a smile, you lean in and give him a peck on the cheek. “Don’t be sad. It was just hypothetical.”

He instantly leans unto you. He always does so when you’re near—like opposite sides of a magnet being pulled together by force. He always wants to be near you.

“Can you just go back to stupid questions like the worm shit?” He asks with a low voice, faces too close to each other that his lips could brush yours. 

You give him a teasing grin and hum, nodding but doing the exact opposite of what he asked. Ever his stubborn girl, you continue asking. “But what if I leave you?” 

He glares at you, not very pained this time, knowing it’s just you teasing again. Instead, his brows furrowed as he gazed down at you with his silver eyes. His eyes flick down to your lips and his lower lip brushes against yours for a millisecond. When you were sure he was about to kiss you, he shoves a hand at your face and pushes you away with a little force, making you land on the couch on your back. 

You laugh but curse him out loud for his attack. Levi huffs, crossing his arms and looking away. 

“If you do that, I will ignore you for the rest of my fucking life. You’re dead to me.” He says it with so much conviction that you know he doesn’t mean a word of it. 

You sit up again, frowning then lightly slapping his shoulder. “That’s rude. What if I come back to see you, then?” 

He scoffs loudly, still looking away from you, and spots his box of cleaning supplies. Then, he says the second thing that comes into his mind, thinking that the first one he thought of would seem desperate and pathetic of him. 

He opens his mouth to speak and the words you hear from him causes an ever louder laugh out of you. He smiles before pushing you on your back again. This time, pulling himself on top of you and sealing your lips with a kiss. 

“I’d spray her with some fucking Windex, throw baking soda on her stupid face, and kick her out.” 

Usually, the statement is so funny to them that it ends the conversation. Sometimes, he even gives them a demonstration where one of their unlucky friends gets to be on the receiving end. But this time, Erwin has a follow-up question that goes straight to Levi’s chest.

“And if she insists on staying? What will you do?” 

Levi went quiet. Hange and Erwin give a knowing sad look at each other that Levi doesn’t catch. They didn’t mean to push him this hard. But they had to know if he was ready. 

From just outside his door where Connie’s desk is placed, his secretary listens in as well. He heard about his boss’ ex. The whole office knows about it. His mysterious ex and the only woman Levi Ackerman loved. That was what everyone knew. But from spending too much time with his boss more than he wanted to, Connie had learned the following about his boss’ only relationship:

Her nickname is Greenie because she liked green tea. Levi prefers black tea but he accidentally told you he liked green tea too then ran with it for four months until Hanji revealed the truth accidentally.

The four of them knew each other for a long time. He doesn’t know if they met in high school or college. But in school, definitely.

After getting their undergraduate degree, she asked Levi to break up and broke his heart with words.

After the breakup, she disappeared from Paradis. Levi waited for her for a long time, broken and yearning. She didn’t come back. Now, all Levi has is bitterness in his body.

Those are what Connie gathered from his little detective skills to cope with having to work under the horribly mannered man. Then, he shares it with his best friend, Sasha, during his lunch break. 

He listens a little more, the email he was reading sitting idle for longer than it should. His boss still doesn’t answer. 

Inside, Erwin and Hange await their friend’s reply who is still lost in his own thoughts. Erwin decides to push him one last time. He clasped his hands together and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. 

“If she comes to you for closure, will you accept it? You’re over her, right? You can stay angry, that’s valid. She did you wrong. But will you at least hear her?” 

Levi keeps quiet but listens to Erwin. The word closure gives his stomach an unsettling feeling. It felt wrong to hear it. But it doesn’t matter. His friends were just bored and bluffing again. He can bluff too. 

“I don’t really care about her as much as you think I still do. When I see her, I’ll do what I said I would. Then it’s done. I don’t care what she does anymore.” 

It’s been five days since you coincidentally met Hange and Moblit. Before you parted ways, you exchanged numbers and your old friend has been messaging you nonstop. You appreciated it. Hange was always light-hearted and kind. You’re glad she found someone who appreciates her and takes care of her. So when she mentioned that there was a conflict with the invitations, you offered to fix it for her, knowing a thing or two about it. You handled project management a few times as an intern. 

There was once a time when you called her your best friend. You know that’s a title you no longer hold but either way, you were glad to talk to her again. Even if you know that in the very near future, you would have to face what it holds for you. Now that Hange is back in your life, it’s only a matter of time and you’d have to see your ex again. You lie awake at night thinking of what you’d do then. 

It was Saturday. That means no work for you after lunch, thankfully. You ground through your paper works and clients like a corporate machine all week, wanting to finish them before Saturday so you wouldn’t have to go overtime on a weekend. And after about nine cups of highly caffeinated green tea, you finally finished all your work for the week. Now free from the shackles of labor and capitalism, you slung your tote bag over your shoulder and headed out of your office and onto the elevator. 

Passing by Pixis’ office, you inform him you’re taking your leave which he cheerfully allowed, wishing you a happy weekend before you left his office. You bid him to have the same and left the building, anxious to see through the next events of the day. If this was a normal weekend, you’d be content with wasting away in bed as soon as you rushed home. 

You handled the invitations over the week, using your break time to oversee how it’s going with the printing service you trust for things like this. They generously accepted your request for a rush order, knowing who you are. 

The invitations were piled into a box on your coffee table by Friday, ready to be sent out to Hange’s guests. When you texted Hange that they were ready, she sent over her apartment’s address, telling you to personally meet her there on Saturday after work. She argues when you tell her you can just send it in the same day through an app, whining about how she wants to hang out with you. 

Hange, ever the persuasive and persistent person, got you to agree. That, and you still feel guilty for declining her invitation to her wedding. 

After you press the doorbell, you wait patiently with your left hand holding the small box of invitations. Her apartment was apparently a penthouse. An apartment in this building already costs an arm and a leg. Hange is smart and talented, one of her research must’ve been really successful. You also remembered that she was probably living with Moblit here. Ah, the wonders of having a partner in life—shared rent. Maybe you should get a roommate. 

When the door was taking too long to be answered, you shoot up a text for Hange. 

hey i’m here outside ur door ! :)) 

ok! just wAit a bit

It didn’t take Hange long to reply, easing your anxiety a little. When it takes more than a minute after she sends her text, you tilt your head in confusion. Are you at the correct address? Maybe you’re at the wrong unit. You were pretty sure you were on the right one, though. You rechecked it a few times. 

You wait a little bit more before ringing the doorbell again. You assume she’s probably grossed into something and can’t take the door at the moment. With a sigh, you wait a few more minutes, turning away from the door and deciding to scroll through your social media accounts that you barely use. 

A smile involuntarily plasters itself on your face when you see the posts of your coworkers from Trost. Warmth spreads to your chest as you see the office through the pictures, reminiscing your time there. It’s suddenly frightening, the realization that you’re alone in this huge city with no one to turn to. It’s a feeling you’re awfully familiar with, a state you’d rather not return to. 

When you feel yourself drift away to those thoughts, you pull yourself away immediately, figuring that the time you waited should be enough to press the doorbell again. 

But as you turn around to press it for the second time, the door swings open harshly in a swift motion, making you jump a little in surprise and fear as you hear an annoyed groan from a man that is most definitely not Hange coming with it. 

“For fuck’s sake. Did Hange give a woman my addre…”

The two of you froze. 

The raven-dark hair parted in the middle. The undercut. Those gray eyes and his beautiful piercing gaze. Those high cheekbones and soft cheeks. Those furrowed brows and scrunched forehead that was softly dissipated from his face when he sees you standing behind the door. Those delicate pink lips, now parted in awe and mirroring yours.

Neither of you can move like you were frozen in time. Every muscle in your body refused to move. Your brain stopped functioning and wasn't even able to conjure a coherent thought, much less a response. The only thing you could do was stare at the man you once called home. 

He still had dark under eyes but they were more prominent than before. You hate how it still suited him even if you hated how little he sleeps; they make his gaze heavier, willing you to get lost with him. A few strands of his fringe fall over his eyes. They were a little longer than what you were used to but it was still the same haircut you used to run your hand over when you were cuddling. It was a little unkempt. And even though his white shirt is a little crumpled, it still smoothly falls over his frame. It drapes from his defined shoulders to his waist until the hem of the shirt goes over the band of his gray sweatpants that hugged his legs loosely. 

He breaks the gaze spell when his eyes go over you, top to bottom. He stares at your shocked and devastated countenance, the casual but decent clothes that you changed into after work, the box in your hand, and the way your right foot has stepped further back than your left when he opened the door, ready to run away at the thought the man who opened the door was angry. 

You open your mouth to speak. You know you have to say something. Anything. Hi? Hello? How are you? Is this where Hange lives? Why the fuck do you still look so hot? 

But none of that comes out.

Why? 

Levi’s face hardens before you can speak, wiping off the bewildered eyes and replacing them with his infamous glare, silver eyes glistening with specks of anger. His mouth closes into a frown but not before scoffing at you. The scorned expression on his face shuts you right up for a second but you try and carry on.

This time, before you can speak, he slams the door shut in your face with an impact so loud it booms through your whole being enough to raise all the hair on your skin, leaving you standing there in his floor’s corridor appalled and deeply belittled.

Your startled brain is more confused than ever. As you decide to slowly process what happened and not even ten seconds after he harshly shuts his door, it swings open again, revealing the same man who not-so-gently shut it, with a hand still on the knob and the other holding something blue.

His arm outstretched towards you and you were faced with a nozzle of a familiar spray bottle. With a straight face, he sprays the fucking liquid right on your face. You immediately shut your eyes and mouth, leaning your face away from the spray. Although it’s far enough to not cover your face if you hadn’t moved, you still cringe when you feel the tiny droplets on your skin.

You lift one eye open, scared that he’s about to spray again. He puts the bottle down to his side, looking satisfied with his work. When you open both eyes, he shuts the door again, leaving you in the corridor with heightened emotions from the first time he did it paired with an itching aggravation. 

Was that a fucking Windex? 

Hold on. Windex? 

The door swings open again and he fully reveals himself without a hand on the knob like the two times before. This time he’s holding an orange cardboard box labeled Pure Baking Soda and reaches into it with his other hand. 

You shut your eyes close immediately, realizing what was happening when you remembered his words to you years ago. 

“I’d spray you with some fucking Windex, throw baking soda on your face, and kick you out.” 

The baking soda hits your face, making your nose involuntarily scrunch up because of the fistful of powder he threw at you. When you guess that he’s satisfied after successfully throwing you the promised baking soda, you blink your eyes open, finding him still standing there with a straight face. 

“Are you done?” you asked with a deadpan face, covered with baking soda.

© levisolace. please do not copy, translate, claim any of my works. my works are cross-posted only on my ao3 account. thank you.

[creativity-deficient]

So, in defense of Stanford Pines

As the gravity falls fan in me has awakened once again per the release of the Book of Bill, I wanted to write a quick character analysis/essay on one of my two favorite characters in the series, Stanford Pines.

Now it’s important to note that Ford is in fact, a very flawed character, and this essay is in NO means meant to downplay that. He’s absolutely an egotistical asshole who was way too in his own head and focused on the end goal to fully appreciate the people and things he has around him, which ultimately ended up playing a huge part in his downfall.

However I do want to talk a little bit more about his side of things, as this is something I feel like isn’t quite done enough justice in the series, making it easy to just see him as a jerk or take Stan’s side in the fight between them, and has always been something I’ve really appreciated about both Journal 3 and now, the book of bill, both providing a new perspective on his character and exactly WHY he turned out the way he did.

I want to start from the beginning, by delving a bit into Ford’s childhood.

It’s a common misconception in the fandom that Ford had a good relationship with his father. He was the loved child, while Stanley was the unloved child. Now there’s no denying that Stan’s relationship with his father was…considerably worse, but with how deep Ford’s own insecurities and his obsession to “be the best” lie, I find it very hard to believe that his own relationship with his father was a healthy one either.

Filbrick was considered a VERY strict man, who was not easily impressed, making it very likely that Ford was either groomed into thinking, or at least at some point convinced himself that his smarts were the only worthwhile thing about him, especially since he pretty much already felt like a freak because of his fingers.

It’s even mentioned in the book of bill that his father wouldn’t want him returning home without millions. I mean, does that SOUND like a loving father to you?

And that brings me to his falling out with Stan. Yeah, EXTREMELY dick move to let your father kick out your teenage twin brother over some dumb mistake, however, it’s always felt a bit weird to me, like there was much more going on then just “you destroyed my project I’m throwing out our entire brotherly bond we spent the last 17-18 years building fuck you” because let’s face it, huh??? Kicking your own TWIN BROTHER, who you have been best friends with all your life, to the curb for some dumb school you literally learned about DAYS ago was something that never made sense to me, and I always struggled to understand why and how it even had to come to that.

But, let’s look it at this way. To Ford, Stan was the only person he had. They were the only people each other had, the only people that truly got each other. Ford considered Stan the only person he could trust at that point in time, this only person who wouldn’t treat him differently than others. And what does that person do? Completely betray that trust and destroy his project. Yes, we know that it was an accident, but Ford didn’t. Was he wrong to automatically assume that Stan did it on purpose instead of just, you know, talking it out? Oh absolutely, but we already established that he clearly doesn’t have healthy coping mechanisms, and all things considered, I don’t think Stan really helped his case when it came to proving his innocence, as both before and even after the confrontation, all he can seemingly think about is their boat. All things considered, I can’t completely blame Ford for thinking it was an act of betrayal. Does that completely justify his response? Oh absolutely not. But I DO think the situation goes a bit deeper than people assume.

Then we have his time in gravity falls. It’s hinted at a bunch throughout the series, journal 3, and the book of bill that Ford, despite his anger, truly missed his brother, and regretted his actions towards him (the swingset and stan o war in his dreamscape, holding on to that photo of him and Stan as kids all those years, not being able to think back on his childhood at glass shard beach without growing sad, etc).

“Well, why didn’t he just contact him then???”

Well, to be fair, he kind of had a lot going on, and by a lot, of course, I mean Bill.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that the relationship between Ford and Bill was EXTREMELY toxic. Bill, doing what Bill does best, leeched onto Ford’s already deeply set insecurities to led him into a false sense of security, one where bill and ONLY bill truly understood him, and that everyone else was out to get him and couldn’t see his true potential, effectively isolating him from his friends, family, and even society.

Ford went through HELL in this period of time. He was left alone by bill for long periods of time until he was desperate and dependent enough to lash out. He was gaslit and manipulated into pushing the people he cared about away. When he decided he wasn’t going to do bill’s bidding, he was literally TORMENTED for it. In all fairness, I don’t really think he was in the right mindset for ANYTHING during that time, losing himself in BOTH his own stubbornness and this endless cycle of abuse.

Despite this though, despite ALL of this, all the manipulation, their falling out, etc, Stan was still the ONLY person (apart from Fiddleford) Ford thought of to take the Journals, the only person he considered to be trustworthy. Yes it was petty of him to bring up the project yet AGAIN (let it go my dude), but I do think it is important to acknowledge that he still thought of Stan pretty highly at the time, or else that wouldn’t have been the case.

“Oh but Alex he told Stan to get away from him yadayada!!!” Uh, no he didn’t. He just told him to hide the journals, not that he couldn’t come back afterwards, that was just Stan assuming the worst.

On that note, I do think it’s important to also acknowledge that while Stan is definitely, in the eyes of a lot of people as well as myself, the more sympathetic of the two, he’s definitely made his fair share of mistakes as well. I don’t think there’s really truly a right or a wrong in this argument, I think instead both of them are two very complex characters who had both been through a lot at that point, and both have made their mistakes (even if Stan’s were a bit more justified in most cases)

Then of course, he gets pushed through the portal, and spends the next 30 years between dimensions.

Now for anyone who hasn’t read journal 3 (spoilers ig? The book is pretty old atp but I figured I’d give one anyways) Ford is basically told by an oracle that he “has the face of someone who is destined to defeat bill” (a lot of people call him egotistical for assuming the oracle was talking about him and not his brother, but I digress. If an oracle looked YOU deep into your eyes and told you you had the face of someone destined to save the universe, be honest, would YOU think they were talking about your sibling??) Ford then proceeds to spend the next 30 years building a weapon to effectively defeat bill, and just as he’s about to finally use it, he’s sucked (not literally) back into gravity falls, not ONLY effectively erasing all of his hard work and progress, but risking weirdmaggedon in the first place. On TOP of it all, he also learns that Stan has been using his name all these years, and that he now has a pretty extensive criminal record.

Yes, Stan did it all in his best interest, and Ford could’ve absolutely shown more appreciation, but all things considered, I’d be pretty pissed off too.

But, all things considered, at the end of it all Ford still has those he hold close to his heart. He missed Stan all those years, considered Fiddleford a true friend and was super appreciative to have him there while they worked on the project together, he’s joyous to find out he has a niece and nephew, etc, and when he realizes he’s hurt these people, namely his brother and former lab partner, he feels immense guilt, and does everything he can to atone to it.

I truly think Stanford’s character development is one of the best in the series, as he finally learns to appreciate what he has instead of trying to chase down an unachievable end goal, and it’s definitely something that I feel goes unnoticed in the grand scheme of things when it comes to his character.

Now, what was the point of this 1 am ramble?? The point was the highlight the wonderful complexity of Stanford Pines’s character. Yes he was an extremely flawed man. Someone who pushed away those he loved him pursuit of greater things, and let his own pride be the fall of him. However, at the same time, he’s also a man who bears a lot of scars, both metaphorical and literal, and an extremely complex character who deserves a lot more than to be characterized as this “cold, uncaring asshole” something I’ve seen WAY too much of. I feel like it’s important to acknowledge that he’s made mistakes while also recognizing the complexity of a lot of it too, as well as acknowledging that he did indeed, learn from those mistakes.

[anti-katsuki-lounge]

Writing Redemption in Your Fanfics

If you’ve followed either of my blogs, you’d know that I despise Katsuki’s “redemption story”. It’s poorly written and poorly paced.

Sadly, canon isn’t the only place where an attempt at a redemption story is botched. Fanfiction sometimes has equally worse takes on how his redemption story should go.

I wanna talk about one fic in particular. I’m not going to name it, but y’all can probably guess what fanfic I’m talking about because it’s a very famous one.

The fic has one of the most promising starts to a “Katsuki faces consequences” fic: Izuku decides to abandon Katsuki during the Final Exam, and after his teachers show disappointment in him, he snaps, tells them how they’ve failed him, and calls Katsuki a villain. Izuku mentions how he wants to leave U.A, Nezu asks for a second chance, and Izuku accepts.

Sadly, the ball’s immediately dropped upon reaching the second chapter. Katsuki received no consequences other than counseling (which again isn’t a consequence) and without any buildup they have him apologize to Izuku. Furthermore, they start shifting the blame away from Katsuki to his mother for “abusing him”. This I’m shaky about. On one hand, exploring why someone is the way they are can make for some great character writing. On the other hand, the way it’s done here is that it completely changes one character to make the other look better. I’m all for changing a character’s backstory but these fics try to be character studies and when you’re doing a character study you can’t suddenly change one character to make another look sympathetic. Finally, the fic villainizes any character who doesn’t immediately forgive Katsuki. The main example here is Ochako who refuses to let Katsuki anywhere near Izuku. This right here bothers me. Just because Katsuki’s reforming doesn’t mean anyone’s obligated to give him a chance, especially when they’re an abuser of Katsuki’s caliber. You can recognize someone is changing/has changed while also not forgiving them. Demonizing Ochako for not forgiving Katsuki and for protecting her friend sends a terrible message to readers. No one is obligated to forgive Katsuki.

Now I wanna turn my attention to a fic called Confession by Scandinavian Sensation over on Fanfiction.net. If there’s any fic that shows a good Katsuki redemption it’s this one. It starts off with some of 1-A witnessing Izuku having nightmares during a sleepover. Soon after, due to Izuku mumbling in his sleep, they learn Katsuki bullied Izuku. The consequences are swift with the entire class shunning him. Katsuki’s forced to go to counseling, but it’s not treated as a punishment. It is a requirement for him to stay in the Hero Course, but a requirement is different than a punishment. Izuku’s confused as to why no one’s hanging out with Katsuki and feels bad about it. He tries getting Ejiro to go back to being Katsuki’s friend, but Ejiro hits him with a fantastic question: “why did he do it?” As this is going on, Katsuki’s being forced to confront his ego, temper, and past actions while also asking himself the question “why did he do it?” The fic ends with a beautiful rewrite of Kacchan vs Deku 2, where Katsuki desperately tries grappling with the question, is consumed by guilt, and tries to apologize to Izuku. Unlike the first fic, this one doesn’t involve demonizing other characters to make Katsuki look sympathetic, especially since it treats 1-A shunning Katsuki as something they’re allowed to do. This fic dishes out great consequences for his behavior and treats therapy as a means of him coming to terms with his own actions. Finally, it deconstructs Katsuki’s and Izuku’s characters while offering comfort to Izuku and opening the way to a possible redemption arc for Katsuki that feels organic and earned. It’s a fic I can honestly say that both Katsuki fans and haters can enjoy and it’s imo the best case study of Katsuki out that that maintains a neutral tone. If you wanna read the fic, here it is:

In conclusion, if you’re going to write a Katsuki redemption arc, you have to have consequences, you can’t demonize other characters to make him look better (especially when they don’t wanna give him a second chance), and you can’t make excuses for Katsuki’s behavior.

[jenyifer]

How does Boston treat Nick in front of others?

I know I need to do a just atom soup pot but this question is bothering me more. So I find when I’m in a relationship a big indicator if the other person is serious is how they act about me in front of their friends. 100% of the time their friends family are on their side so it’s important those people get the impression that the person 1 likes me and 2 thinks of me long term. So let’s look at some BostonNick moments and apply those principles to them.

Boston is eager to talk about how useful Nick is to his friends. He also must have talked him up so much Nick is put in charge of the website. Something that isn’t super simple if you can make bookings for the hostel through the website. Look at Boston’s face before TopMew show up. Quietly proud.

Boston doesn’t try to downplay what him and Nick were doing at the pool. He doesn’t try to blame things on Nick. It gives the impression this is deliberate and has been done before. Mew will definitely know now that Boston and Nick are seriously seeing eachother with this scene in the pool. If Boston wanted to deny it he’d have to be a bit more callous towards nick. But he looks at the poor boy like this. Melty goo.

With Ray and Sand Boston insists that he and Nick stay out with Ray and Sand further cementing what’s going on with the two of them. He’s perfectly happy to be snuggly to the max with Nick in front of Ray and Sand… kind of possessive to some extent. Boston knows Sand is Nick’s friend he wants to be perceived by Sand and Nick that he’s a cool guy. I think that’s a reason why he looks so annoyed with Ray’s rebuttle hurtful statement to Nick. FIRST Ray implies Nick is wrong for liking Boston which Boston agrees with. Then Ray says Boston can’t love anyone but himself. Putting Boston down and I think this did hurt him. Boston does love Ray and Mew actually in his own head he can definitely accept that more than his feelings for Nick. Still he doesn’t want to be put down in front of Nick. It’s hastening the end.

Post fight Cheum and Mew try to get Boston to admit to dating Nick which Boston denies. THEN he says what he really feels “you guys are going to abash me in front of him” That is what Boston can’t stand. That is what Ray did. Mew Cheum and Ray talk about how Boston is a heartless slut all the time but Boston acts like he doesn’t care. HOWEVER in this conversation Bostons tone is serious he doesn’t want to be put down in front of Nick.

Because Boston wants Nick to like him.

Because feelings are already there.

Boston brings Nick to meet his dad and… idk about you but how Boston looks at Nick in this scene makes me feral. He is possessive in his own way Proud that Nick is there being useful to his dad. Boston respects his dad even though he treats Boston with disdain. Boston bringing nick there HUGE. Boston leaning on Nick for support and talking his skills up. Priceless confirmation.

Ugh I can’t have anymore photos but at the party ep 6 as things fall apart Boston denies his and Nicks relationship while relying on Nick. But Bostons denials now feel hollow. Boston knows. If I was Nick and ALL THAT SHIT WENT DOWN then Boston came back to my place. I’d be comforted by the fact every “Is Nick your boyfriend” question the answer was a placid no not a fervent denial or joke.

Anyways I think all those scenes show that Boston wants Nick around and he’s proud to have Nick at his side. Even if his words don’t match body language actions prove it. I can totally see why Nick was conflicted.

[samwpmarleau]

fic: drift, adrift

whumptober day 2: trust issues masterlist: tumblr, ao3 Robbie pays Daisy a visit after Coulson’s death.

Part of her is happy to see him. It’s been a year since last he stood in front of her. A very, very long year.

Part of her is surprised. Vanishing through a hellfire chain portal seemed like a pretty one-way ticket.

Part of her wants to slap him, because —

“You knew! You fucking knew!”

Robbie watches her neutrally as she storms down the hallway. At least he doesn’t pretend to not realize what she’s talking about, she’ll give him that. “I couldn’t tell you.”

“Oh, no, you really could have.” The agents who had been milling around wisely retreat in self-preservation.

“I was in another dimension, I couldn’t have even if I wanted to.”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it. You could’ve found a way. Like telling me before you left for that other dimension.”

“He asked me not to.”

“I don’t care if he begged you on his knees. You should have told me. Or are you going to say keeping secrets from me was part of Coulson’s deal, too?”

“No, that was my choice, just like it was Coulson’s not to tell you himself.”

“I already got mad at him, and now he’s dead. You’re not. Did you think you could just waltz right in and everything would be fine?”

“I’m not gonna apologize for making a promise to a man who prevented a magic android from framing you to subjugate humanity.” He sounds exhausted. Well, join the club. Her year hasn’t been rosy either.

“I trusted you when no one else did. I vouched for you. Then I find out about Coulson’s deal and that you knew about it? I don’t care what you promised him, that’s not something you get to keep to yourself. Not from me.”

“Not from you? My life doesn’t revolve around you, Daisy. I don’t owe you anything, I never asked you to vouch for me, and I’m not gonna be baited into a guilt trip.”

“You should feel guilty.”

“There’s a long list of things I should feel guilty for. That promise isn’t one of them. Don’t take your grief out on me.”

“I’m not taking anything out on you. I’m holding you accountable.”

“You’re projecting. Didn’t even say hello before yelling at me. It’s not me you’re really mad at.”

“I am very mad at you, actually.”

“Well, you shouldn’t be. Coulson made the deal.”

“With you.”

“With Ghost Rider.”

“Tell the son of a bitch to face me then, I’ll yell at him, too.”

“I’m sure that would be very productive.”

“You think I’m scared of him?”

“I think you’re lashing out at someone you know you can’t hurt.”

“Wanna test that theory?”

“Do you?”

The look of pity on his face is enough for her to quake him against the wall and pin him there. If he called upon Ghost Rider, he could probably break her hold, but he stays put. No flesh melting off bone, no flame pushing through his skull like exhaust. Like this is all just a game. It’s infuriating.

Robbie grimaces at the pressure against his chest and the unforgiving concrete at his back. “You treat all your friends like this?”

“Friends? We aren’t friends.” She walks up to him to put her hand directly on his chest. He lets out a quiet grunt of discomfort. “A friend would’ve helped us get back from the future.”

“I can’t time travel or —”

“A friend would’ve closed the Fear Dimension.”

“I had my own dimensions to —”

“A friend would have helped stop Graviton.”

“I didn’t know about —”

“A friend would’ve told me!” Her voice hitches on the words.

Robbie sighs. “Look, I asked Coulson if he was going to. I thought he should have.”

“Oh, don’t shift the blame.”

“I’m not shifting anything.”

“Yes, you are! You just don’t want to take responsibility.”

“I don’t have responsibility to take. Coulson’s the one who suggested the move, and Ghost Rider’s the one who accepted the deal. If you haven’t noticed, he doesn’t bend to my will. I have to bend to his.”

“You didn’t with Mace. Gabe got you to —”

A ring of amber glows to life in Robbie’s eyes. In an instant, he fights through the quake. It goes no further than that, but the reminder of his power is there all the same. Voice low, he warns, “Keep my brother out of this.”

Okay, maybe on that one thing he has a point. Weaponizing Gabe won’t get her anywhere, friend or not.

“I’m saying you could have tried harder. You know what Coulson meant to me.”

“What other option was there? What was your plan for taking down Aida?”

“Well, I —”

“There was none. The Rider jumping into someone else to surprise her was the only way.”

“It didn’t have to be Coulson.”

“Who, then? You?”

“Maybe! Fitz is good enough at hacking to do what I did, and Coulson could’ve helped Simmons.”

“It was his choice, Daisy. He chose to take on the Rider, he chose not to tell you about the deal, and he chose to ask me not to tell you either. That’s just the way it is. You getting pissed at me isn’t going to change any of it.”

Daisy grits her teeth. He’s right that she can’t change anything, but that doesn’t mean she can’t still be furious about it. “Why are you even here? After everything, why is now when you show up?”

“Because the Rider wanted to be sure Coulson held up his end of the deal. That he didn’t figure out some new way to extend his life.”

“He — you’re here to dig up his corpse?” Daisy asks in queasy disbelief. “I hope you know how to swim because you’re gonna have to wade through a whole lot of the South Pacific.”

“I know. The Rider’s satisfied.”

“Then why the hell are you here?”

“Because I’m not satisfied.”

“I told you, Coulson’s not —”

“It’s not Coulson I care about.”

Daisy goes silent, her chest heaving. She knows what he’s not saying. She’s known it from the moment he entered the hallway. He has no other reason to put up with her being argumentative, nor a reason to show up at the base at all. Except knowing about it and dealing with it are two different things, and dealing with it is not something she has the capacity to do.

“I didn’t ask you to come, and I don’t want your pity,” she snaps. “Leave me alone.”

“It’s not pity. And I’m not leaving until I get what I came for.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“This.”

She protests as he wraps his arms around her, wholly not goddamn interested in what he wants. Entirely aware that with the creature currently making its home inside his body nothing she does do could actually move him if he’s not inclined to let himself be moved, she nonetheless gets her elbows between them and tries to push him away.

He permits only some of it, leaving his hands on her shoulders. The weight and heat of them feels both grounding and claustrophobic. “Get off me.”

“Daisy.” Robbie moves one of his hands up to run his thumb along her cheekbone. “It’s okay.”

“What is okay? There’s nothing about this that’s okay.”

“It’s okay to break.”

There isn’t pity in his eyes. What there is, is sympathy, hurt, for her. Which only serves to piss her off — what right does he have, he of all people, to feel that when he’s the one who kept the cause of that hurt from her in the first place?

“It’s not,” she objects. Her voice is thicker than she’d like it to be. It’s unfair for him to be here, let alone trying to comfort her. It’s unfair, and he can’t — he doesn’t even know her — he hasn’t been around — he left —

Her protests are weak this time as he pulls her once more into him. She doesn’t want his touch, and yet, she’s craved it. It’s the worst possible situation for him to come back for, the worst timing, but all the same … he’s come back. Coulson’s gone but Robbie isn’t, he’s here, even if only for a brief moment.

“I miss him,” she whispers, and breaks.

[obxone]

Assumptions (Part 8)

Rewritten/Edited. ~2k words

Master Page

Rafe’s hand found yours after you both start down the path to the beach party. It seems like there will be one every week or so, but what else did everyone plan to do during the summer if not enjoying the vibes of the island?

The summer breeze creates a soothing balm over your sun-kissed skin, and your dress allows you to stay cool despite the lingering summer heat from the sun. The entire day had been spent on the My Druthers with Rafe and Ward fishing while you spent time with Wheezie, Rose, and Sarah sun tanning and swimming. Rafe had stolen moments near a sand bar after Ward had declared it was the best family day in a long time. He was happy today, and you are hoping it will stay this way as you progress into the night together. Especially if your group of friends and his sister will be here together and you know they will be even without a text confirming it. He had mentioned it twice in disdain while on the boat, but you had been the dutiful friend to Sarah and redirected him.

A bonfire/kegger promises fun and relaxation despite the constant back and forth between pogues and kooks. It is one of the few times kooks, pogues, and tourists alike could come together and not try to kill each other. Usually.

Rafe’s long fingers are warm in the spaces between your own, his thumb tracing circles onto the back of your hand. He watches you as you take in the large clusters of people sprawled all over the beach before you.

“Are you going to be clingy tonight?” You ask, your voice teasing even though you are trying to figure out if he actually will be. Tonight is your first public appearance outside of a handful of dates in town as a couple. This will be the first time the pogues see it front and center. 

“Only a little.”

You turn your face to him, and he smirks, dragging his eyes over you before licking his bottom lip.

“You can’t blame me.”

“Do I need to remind you who insisted I wear this dress?" You ask, glancing down at the mini cotton dress he had spotted in your closet. "I want to see my friends at some point, Rafe. Alone.” You say pointedly. He frowns. “Their pogues, Baby, you don’t want to be around them either.”

“Okay,” he nods once while squeezing your hand. “But you are my girlfriend, and I would like you beside me for some of the night.”

“Fine,” you bite out, although you know you could probably push him enough to make him angry to the point that he would not want to be around you for the night. But then the risk of another fight is heightened and you cannot risk that. 

He grins triumphantly before bringing your hand up to his mouth to plant a kiss across your knuckles. Your breath does not catch, nor do your eyes meet his, and he knows he is pushing the line. “Don’t be mad.”

“I’m allowed to be mad,” you huff back, eyes meeting his, and he frowns at the frustration brewing there. “You can’t demand my attention constantly and expect me not to have a say about it.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re being childish.”

“And you are picking a fight.” You return, and he opens his mouth to protest, but you do not let him. “Even if that is not your intention.” You tear your hand from his and stop just at the edge of the party. “I’m a person, Rafe. A real-life person and I told you at the beginning of the summer that I was not your entertainment.”

He grimaces at the memory.

“Did I not?” You ask sharply.

“Yes.”

“Okay, then. So, treat me like a real-life girlfriend and not a toy. Let me live outside of your bubble.”

He exhales a heavy breath before closing his eyes.

“You have not backed off since that one time I went four days without seeing you. It is every day, and I have work and you right now because you won’t let me breathe.” You soften your gaze, hand reaching for him once you see the emotional storm ripping through him. “I’m not trying to be mean and ruin our night, but I need breathing room. I told you before you started this that I was not the type of girl you wanted. I meant what I said then. I’m not going to change who I am because you want me.”

He nods, running his free hand through his hair, ruffling the gelled bits before hooking his arm around your waist and pulling you closer. He nuzzles his face against your throat and his breath tickles your skin as he speaks. “I understand. And I don’t want you to change.”

“Then let me be my own person.”

His forehead presses to yours. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

You are a bit taken aback by his apology. Rafe did not apologize to anyone, but maybe Ward. You reach up to touch his face. He leans into your palm, and you exhale a sharp breath. Your frustration is deteriorating from his shift in attitude. 

"What am I going to do with you, Rafe Cameron?"

“Come find me when you have had enough breathing room. I’ll be around by the fire.”

“Thank you,” you whisper with a smile before pecking his lips. “That’s called compromise, by the way, Baby.”

He laughs at your sass before releasing you. “Our first fight.”

“That was not a fight,” you return before patting his chest. “A tiny hurdle.”

 He rolls his eyes, and it makes you laugh a little. His hand stays in yours until you are out of reach, and then you go into the crowd in search of your friends.

You spot Pope and John B first and grin as you merge into the line for a beer. It progresses rather quickly, and you see John B filling and handing out cups while Pope lingers beside him. His wide brown eyes scan the crowd in interest. The girl in front of you takes her cup and goes. Neither notices you, and you hold back a laugh while you wait. John B looks up, offering the filled cup, and instantly smiles.

 “There is our girl!”

“My favorite dudes!” You smile and take the cup before moving to hug each of them. “Quite the turnout. Where are the other two?”

“Mingling,” Pope says as he squeezes you against his side. “Where’s the kook prince?”

“Probably up Topper or Kelce’s ass,” you offer before taking a drink. Pope snorts, and John B laughs. “It’s where he usually is if I’m not around.”

John B studies you, noting the hint of sadness in your expression now. “You, okay?”

“Yeah…” You fade out. “Rafe being all-encompassing Rafe.”

Both of them frown, agreeing with you instantly after not having seen you all week.

“We’ll work through it. It’s $5k and JJ's freedom on the line, right?” You offer, and they both laugh and agree.

“Hey!” Two strong arms wrap around your waist, and the familiar smell of JJ wraps around you. You lean back against him as his chin parks itself on your shoulder. “How are we doing tonight?”

“Good,” you smile and peck his cheek. “How is my favorite blond surfer?”

He grins brightly. “Doing good. Met a nice tourist a few seconds ago.”

“Ah,” you clue in with a smile, and he chuckles.

“Where is the royal boyfriend?”

“Giving me space,” you respond, and he quirks an eyebrow in a mix of surprise and concern. “I’m fine,” you say, addressing the concern first. “We spoke before we joined the party, and I told him I needed to be a person without him sometimes.”

“Standing your ground, I like it.”

You laugh a little and lean back into his warmth. “How are you?”

“Missed my friend for a bit,” he offers nonchalantly, but a teasing grin begins to tug at the corner of his lips. “Tried to hunt her down, but she’s been stashed away in Figure 8.”

“That damn boyfriend of hers,” John B adds with a shake of his head as he offers a cup to another person in line.

“We should get rid of him,” you offer jokingly. “Teach him a lesson about messing with P4L.”

JJ’s hand pats your hip. “That’s my girl.”

“Actually, Maybank, she’s mine.” Rafe’s voice comes from your right, and you look at him. His hands shoved into his board short pockets, his blue eyes icy as they lock on you. “Want space, huh?”

“Fucking hell,” you mutter before gently removing yourself from JJ’s arms. He frowns, his nose scrunching up in disgust that you were giving in to Rafe. “See you guys tomorrow?” You ask, looking at the trio. All three nod immediately. “Tell Kie, I’ll see her tomorrow since she’s off somewhere.”

“Will do!” JJ says, saluting you.

Rafe takes your hand, glaring at the blond. You squeeze his hand and pull him away. You know if you do not relocate soon, the chances of a fight breaking out drastically increase. And Rafe will take the opportunity to put JJ down if he is given it. Something between those two caused pure hatred to brew, and that was before you were even involved with Rafe. You are not sure what it is, and you are not going to ask tonight.

Once you are far enough away from them, you find a large piece of driftwood for Rafe to lean against. His body is warm against yours as you step into his space.

“Hardly gave me fifteen minutes.” You whisper, fingers teasing his forearms.

“I gave you an hour.”

 You shake your head, running your hands up his arms to shoulders. “Better than I thought you would do.”

 He frowns, his hands pressing into the small of your back, and shuffles you closer to him, with no space left between you. “I was fine until I saw Maybank with his arms around you.”

“JJ is a friend.”

Rafe rolls his eyes. “Right, and you are just a bookworm.”

You frown, and he sighs before dropping his head, so his forehead is on yours.

“I’m not used to sharing.”

 “I can see,” you muse before pecking his lips teasingly. “But I told you, I was yours, so I’m yours until you get bored of me at least.” Your lips ghost along his jaw, his fingers digging into your back.

“I won’t ever get bored,” he murmurs before kissing you. When you kiss him back, he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his hand weaving through your hair to cup the back of your head. You moan into his mouth, and his other hand drags down to squeeze the swell of your ass. 

"Rafe," you whisper when his fingers tease the back of your thighs which your dress does not cover. "We are on a public beach."

"So?"

You blush as his mouth hovers less than an inch from yours. "I will not be charged with indecent exposure because you are a horndog."

He chuckles before moving his hand to the front. His fingers are now teasing the front of your thighs. You bite your lip as he presses between your thighs. 

"Rafe."

He smirks before kissing you and easing his hand deeper between your legs. 

"We can't," you whisper, your hand stopping his, and you clench your thighs to keep him from moving higher. "I won't. Not here."

"Come home with me then.” He murmurs. "I'm over this party."

“My house is closer.” You say, almost in a moan, when his mouth drops to trail over the line of your neck while his hand stays right where it is between your legs.

“Your mom?” He mumbles against your skin.

“Night shift again.”

He moves quickly to haul you over his shoulder. His arm clamps down across the back of your thighs, and it helps keep your dress in place as he heads for the parking lot. You laugh, gripping his t-shirt and waving at a few stray partygoers who all smirk and laugh at your expense.

“You owe me for this massive display of my dick is bigger than yours energy tonight,” you say.

“Deal,” he responds, his hand coming down hard on your ass, and you yelp before slapping his back in return. He laughs, and you cannot help but smile a little at his shift in attitude. Playful Rafe surfacing. 

Part IX

[web-novel-polls]

Best (Web Novel) Hater Tournament

Last Updated: July 27th, 2024 - Please check the original post for updates

Submissions Closed - Masterpost here

[Plain Text: Submissions Closed /end pt]

Rules:

Must be from a web novel or adaptation

Can be a hater of any kind or just have the hater soul

Please submit one character per response (no limit overall)

Tournament Tag: #best hater tournament

Arthur Galvhan from Unlucky Clover

Submission: Legitimately nominating him because he's such a hateful piece of shit that his irrational hatred causes the apocalypse. That is simply an impressive amount of being an absolute asshole. 

Han Sooyoung from Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint

Submission: She spent years hating on a web novel similar to her own through an anonymous account and hate reading the comments it's sole reader posted. Even after the novel came to life, she still kept criticizing its horrible writing and protagonist. 

Hua Cheng from Heaven Official’s Blessing 

Submission: Treats nearly everyone that isn't Xie Lian with derision

Wiki Link

Jiang Cheng from Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation

Submission 1: Hates Wangxian's relationship. 

Submission 2: Dude devoted more than a decade of his life to hating on his dead kind-of-brother (it's complicated) how has he not been submitted already? bonus points for his actor's many faces of utter disgust in The Untamed 

Mod Propaganda: Haterism so bad you can start fandom discourse just by name-dropping him. 

Wiki Link

Jun Wu from Heaven Official’s Blessing

Submission: 

(Spoilers) Tossing his old pals into lava and then destroying an entire generation of gods wasn't enough! He also ground the old generation of gods up and made them into the foundation of the new Heavenly Realm, so everyone steps all over them whenever they're walking around. Also an over simplified explanation of the entire plot is basically Jun Wu hears one phrase that sets him off and decides to be a giant hater because of it, destroying a whole kingdom within like three to four years in the process. This guy is the epitome of "...and I took that personally."

Wiki Link

Lan Jingyi from Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation 

Submission: jingyi hates su she so much even though they've never interacted before and then absolutely obliterates him verbally in front of almost every sect leader, what a legend

Lan Wangji from Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation / MDZS

Submission: Just because he's quiet doesn't mean he's not a hater. He gets his hate across economically. Jin Guangyao? Hated. Su She? Hated. Jiang Cheng? Don't even ask. Loathed entirely. Anyone else not in his immediate family (including problematic cancelled husband Wei Wuxian)? Not even worth his time. Bro even hates himself (sometimes) 

Mu Qing from Heaven Official’s Blessing

Submission: https://www.tumblr.com/bonesblubs/708661194148511744/inspiration 

Mod Propaganda: Mu Qing can split a tower bell in two yet can’t admit he wanted to be friends with someone he’s known for 800+ years without trying to immediately kill himself. Randomly started reciting a poem about his least favorite coworker’s dick just to fuck with him (Feng Xin). Said he’d kill a bride like Xie Lian if she was sent to him. 

Wiki Link

Shen Jiu / Original Shen Qingqiu from The Scum Villain’s Self-Saving 

"Even if all of this could be redone from the beginning, in the end, the conclusion would remain the same. My heart is full of malice, my insides hatred and resentment. Today, Luo Binghe wishes for me to die horribly, and I only have myself to blame." - Shen Jiu, The Scum Villain’s Self-Saving System, Volume 4: Chapter 24 (Reddit 1, 2)

Submission: Both the Shen Qingqius are haters just in very different ways 

Mod Propaganda: The Scum Villain that beefed with a 14-year-old out of jealousy & tried to kill him. 

Wiki Link

Shen Yuan/Qingqiu from The Scum Villain’s Self-Saving System 

Submission 1: He was an anti fan that literally got so mad at a novel he was reading that he died and then was transmigrated into the novel he hated (besides the main character) as the villain. The author of said novel also transmigrated and they formed a love/hate broship.

Submission 2: 

My man is the hater-est hater to ever hate, except like Kendrick Lamar. He hate-read a webnovel with over 20 million words, and left scathing commentary on every single chapter. Even the author Shang Qinghua, of the webnovel PIDW, which by subtext was very very popular, knew Shen Yuan (Peerless Cucumber) as the legendary anti-fan.  He hated it (everything except the protagonist Luo Binghe) so much that after reading the last chapter, he choked and died (...slight exaggeration). Shen Yuan also proceeded to transmigrate into the novel, make everyone fall in love with him, use the power of headpats and 'a smile from the cold beauty' to overturn the genre from harem-esqe to danmei, bending the protagonist. Tldr, the power of Shen Yuan's haterism turned Cool Edgy Awesomely Powerful Protagonist Luo Binghe to soggy wet clingy white lotus bing-bong Bingmei, and it's honestly better off this way <3 

Submission 3: he's an internet hater screenname Peerless Cucumber who hates this webnovel so much he dies and transmigrates into it to fix the entire plot and also he's left so many hate comments the author (fellow transmigrator) knows and remembers who he is after being in the webnovel world for decades. Dedication.

Su She from Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation / MDZS

“Stop thinking so highly of yourself. Who told you I cursed Jin Zixuan in order to frame you? Back then, I wasn’t working for Sect Leader at all. I cursed him simply because I wanted to!” ….Su She, “Those as arrogant as him--I’ll kill every single one who comes my way!” - Su She to Wei Wuxian, Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation, EXR, Chapter 104

No propaganda submitted

Mod Propaganda: Haterism so bad he straight up made a new sect. Cursed Jin Zixun. Has beef with a guy who barely knows he exists. 

Wiki Link

Yin Hanjiang from Devil Venerable Also Wants to Know 

Submission: Second half of the novel YHJ in particular, hater energy unmatched! Righteous sects? fuck them up. His own sect? on eggshells. His best effort at not murdering someone is to start wiping his weapon with their clothes. General vibe of 'if anything happened to Venerable i'd kill everyone in this room and then myself AND SOMETHING JUST HAPPENED TO VENERABLE'. Anyway get their asses babe <3

Yu Ziyuan from Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation

Submission: I would not blame anyone who went through the first half of the story believing that Yu Ziyuan hated every single person she ever met because she talks shit about her husband, her son, her adopted son, and her daughter whenever she gets the chance to. Sometimes all at the same time. She projects so much raw hater energy that she psychologically scarred her son for life. 

Dealer's Choice

Qi Rong from Heaven Official’s Blessing

“Obviously, those things weren't within the realm of consideration for Qi Rong. He swore like there wasn't a single person in the Three Realms he didn't want cursed to death. He called Pei Ming a rotten manwhore, Little Pei a kiss-ass, Jun Wu a faker, Ling Wen a damned bitch, Lang Qianqiu a moron, Quan Yizhen dog shit, the Water Master blackhearted, the Wind Master a tramp–he probably didn't know Shi Qingxuan was actually a man.” - Heaven Official’s Blessing (Tumblr)

[miraculousagentsofkrypton]

Just a small frustrated stream of consciousness, don’t mind it’s rushed nature:

You know, there's a very specific kind of behavior and type of trauma response that people like in characters. Fandoms go out of their way to justify their lashing out, to make it cute. Many times, there are understandable reasons for how they turned out the way they did. To each their own, if someone wants to latch on to different characters, that's their prerogative and there is nothing wrong with that.

However, there are two aspects of the way some fans approach things that I am so frustrated by. I run into them time and time again. Obviously, part of it is just how it attacks my own favorite characters constantly, but it can also be a sign of unhealthy patterns in how people think about real people with trauma or in certain circumstances.

First part: Lack of recognition that there is more than one way that trauma presents itself. I find it is often the case that people give characters like Jinx, Catra, Lena Luthor, Adrien Agreste, Leo Fitz, and Steve Harrington a pass. And I get it, they are likable characters! They have complex reasons, and tragic pasts, and weren't ever actively trying to be bad people. Many of them are genuinely good people. Their mistakes are treated with compassion and understanding by their fandoms.

Their friends or significant-others’ traumas, however, are frequently not. Vi, Adora, Kara Danvers, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Daisy Johnson, and Nancy Wheeler are examples of group ones' counterparts. These are characters that respond to trauma in a different way from the first group. Theirs is less immediately obvious, as they don't lash out the same way.

They tend to repress and avoid. They react to hurt by trying to help. These are masks that many people overlook. The second group are the kind that like to take responsibility onto themselves unnecessarily. They all deal with survivors' guilt, or something of the sort. They are hard on themselves, rather than others. This does not mean that they are correct in that blame. They don't look as obviously in pain or in need of help, and so people take them at face value. This creates a different perspective when they do lash out, or when they do make mistakes. Suddenly, there isn't any of the compassionate understanding given to others. They should have been on top of things, should have understood what others were feeling, and how it hurt them. Because they had been shown to make an effort to understand before.

And THAT'S DUMB.

Believe me when I say that that is an extraordinarily harmful way to approach people like that! Just because they hold themselves up to an extremely high standard, doesn’t mean others should too! The second group needs just as much help as the first, and be given equal levels of leniency and compassion. Because of their outward appearances though, people don’t realize that. Fandom’s don’t find that as appealing, because they still take these characters at face value, even though they are shown more of what’s going on under the surface than anyone in the character’s world. 

And that leads to the second point, that people like to shift blame and responsibility off of the first group and onto the second. People project onto characters, it’s just a part of fandom. What ends up happening though, is that creates a desire to remove the responsibility/blame from their chosen character, and place it onto someone else. 

There’s a difference between understanding and feeling empathy for someone, and removing responsibility. Removing responsibility means the responsibility must be put on someone else, because it can’t be removed entirely from the equation. Someone needs to come down, to prop the first one up, in situations where character one either hurts the other, or shares the blame with them. Doing this does two things, which are harmful to both characters. It infantilizes character one, as suddenly they aren’t capable of truly making their own choices. Two, it warps the view of character two. It villianizes them for things outside of their control. It becomes more than just preferring one character over another. I don’t know how else to say it other than, That’s Bad. 

It also ruins fandom content for people who like character two. They don’t have to be the center of everything, but no one likes reading a fic only to realize that character two is being treated with hate by the author. 

It doesn’t have to be either or! People can have compassion and empathy for multiple characters in a conflict! Heck, there are plenty of examples where people on both sides are both right and wrong. I don’t know where I’m going with this, and I’m not hating on people who love those characters, but gosh darn it, is there anyone else who understands?? I am so sick and tired of having to avoid large swaths of fan content because they are so populated with dislike for the types of characters I relate to or love.

[aho-dapa]

Chaol and Aelin getting a confrontation scene in queen of shadows I need for personal catharsis. Meant as pro chaol, but I really just wanted aelin to look at her hypocritical views on how she values the lives of others.

・✦・✦・✦・

“This was my home too.” Aelin snaps.

Chaol scoffs, “Some home you must have had. If all you talk about is burning it to the ground.”

“Shouldn’t I?” Aelin asks, dangerously low, “Adarlan conquered my people, killed my family, made us slaves!”

Aelin stalks closer to him, shoulders tight, “Don’t you think that’s worth burning it down for?”

This time Chaol watches her, stares right into her eyes to find her answer—and laughs. Laughs so hard he’s nearly crying, nearly falling to the ground in hysterics.

“Ohhhhh,” Chaol says, stretching out the sound almost maliciously, “so that’s what this is?”

Chaol takes in a deep breath, that damned smile still on his face and asks, “Just tell me the truth. You just want an excuse for all your rage. You want to burn these streets? Fine. But don’t blame the people of Adarlan. They were just as much slaves to this kingdom as you were.”

That rage that Chaol taunted her for boils over into something sharp and the fire in her veins becomes molten.

Chaol’s head turns back with such force that she’s almost surprised that she’s slapped him. Almost.

After a silent, tense moment, Chaol chuckles and the anger in his eyes almost looks like pain, “Is that the only way you know how to treat me, Celaena?”

Her old name whispers against her heart, slithering its way into her soul, biting and poisoning her blood. It feels like an accusation.

Horribly, it feels like the truth.

“Don’t you dare,” she chokes on her fury, “Don’t you dare.”

“Is it?” He asks quietly, all of his previous humor gone like it was never even there, before he begins again with hollow eyes. “My people were forced into this war, and were hunted down when they resisted. Magic was so newly stolen away that they didn’t stand a chance. You’ve forgotten, oh great queen, that the slaughter began here first.”

Chaol steps closer, close enough that his breath mingles with hers, “Did you also forget that Adarlan also used its own people in labor camps, to make the war even possible? Do you know what family names were wiped out on that day? What children were put in chains for? Where they were buried?”

Quietly, almost like a dying breath, he leans in closer and his words gut her like a dagger, “They don’t have graves. Or records. Or even anyone here left to remember them. To know their lives, to know their fucking names.”

Aelin takes in a sharp breath, hating him. Hating him with all her broken heart. Hates the tears in his eyes, hates his last name, hates his grief. She burns and burns and hates.

“If you really hate anyone, Aelin,” and something in her rips apart in the way he says her name, “you should at least hate the right people. After all, if you want to hate me for serving a king I never wanted to serve, just like you, or even if you want to hate me for Nehemia,” Aelin can feel the crack in his voice as his says her dead friend’s name, “alright, I’ll carry that hatred for you.”

“Just think, that when you do finally point your sword at Adarlan, know you’ll kill a beggar’s child before you even reach his throne.”

Aelin gasps as the tears falling down her face scald her cheeks. She stares into his cold gaze and she can’t look away as that part of her she’s achingly fueled her whole life dies out, and she’s left with something worse than hate.

“That is what killing means to me, what the weight of a life means to me. Assassin or not, queen or not, I am sick of hearing of how you only value life when it suits you.”

・✦・✦・✦・

(Here’s some more because I’m being petty)

・✦・✦・✦・

The sword is heavy in his hands as he beheads another Valg.

When his sword stops ringing and everything stills, he pauses to feel the black, rotting blood that stains his clothes, his blade, his skin—he knows he’ll never forget the smell even at his dying breath.

Still, he kneels next to the severed head. Not a guard, or a rebel.

He grabs a large cloth from his vest and ties it closed next to the other three heads leashed onto his belt.

He stands up, the weight of his bones aching, and he continues the hunt.

Step by step, the only thing that can comfort him is the knowledge that he might have a sliver of a chance that he would one day know the names of the heads at his thigh.

As they brush against the scabbard of his sword, he swears to himself and all his wretched dead that he won’t let them die nameless.

・✦・✦・✦・

Did you notice how I didn’t name him once, yeah that was intentional, thank you and goodbye

Also yeah I mirrored aelin’s way of her talking about her beloved dead / his wretched dead all refer to all the people he’s killed

[thatgirl4815]

This isn’t about sandray but I like your thoughts and so I need to know your opinions on this: is it just me or are Top and Boston being unfairly punished by this show? i know they both did wrong and their mistakes were huge but at this point I just feel like they’ve gotten it back tenfold and it just KEEPS going, especially this episode. It doesn’t help that I can’t tell if the show knows it’s wrong they’re being treated like this or they think the karma is justified.

I have a lot of thoughts about this, and most of them have come up after this last episode, so I'm gonna dive into both characters' treatment by the narrative.

I'm going to start with Boston because this episode in particular made me feel differently about him. I'll start by saying that Boston is a character I have loved to hate. He's not my favorite by any means because his behavior towards his friends is horribly unjustified. Let the record state that I have absolutely no problem with his lifestyle--he can sleep with as many people as he wants as often as he wants. I could (possibly...maybe...) forgive him for sleeping with Top while Top was with Mew if he hadn't pre-meditated it so much. This is a guy who chased after Top and came onto him multiple times even knowing that Top did not want it. Even though Top eventually relented and slept with him, I think Top deserves an apology for that, because that behavior was very uncomfortable.

I would not blame any of Boston's friends, especially Mew, if they did not forgive Boston for sleeping with Top. Mew has every right to never want to see Boston again, no matter what Boston does to try to make it up to him. That being said, I do not think Mew would have been justified in publicizing Boston's sex tape. Taking revenge is a slippery slope because it makes you just as bad as the offender, but the sex tape is especially bad because that is something with very major repercussions (and it's also just an insane invasion of privacy). Not to mention, Boston's dad would have also gotten tied up in the fallout. Thankfully, Mew took the high road by not posting it.

Overall, I think Boston has been facing the consequences of his own actions for the last several episodes. But what really rubbed me the wrong way this episode was Atom. I don't care if he feels hurt (which, btw, Boston never promised him anything more than a one-night stand)--he had no right to paint himself as an SA victim when he knows that he was the one coming on to Boston. Yes, I think Cheum is vindicated for being upset that Boston slept with her brother, particularily given Boston's relationship with her atm. But for Atom to convince Cheum that Boston not only slept with him, but forced him into it and also took his nude photos without his consent is wildly unacceptable.

In general: I think Boston deserves being cut off by his friends. I think he deserves being shunned by them. But he didn't deserve to have Atom punish him by painting that narrative around their night together.

Okay, now to Top. Top has rubbed me the wrong way from Ep1 just by his attitude; it was originally very hard for me to tell whether to trust him. Like Mew, I wanted him to be tested to see whether he was true. I still don't think Mew has to forgive him for cheating on him, but I do think taking revenge on him by being in a relationship with Boeing (or even just pretending to be in one) is exactly the opposite of what Mew was trying to get across when he decided not to share Boston's sex tape. It seems immature quite frankly, and it makes Mew no better than Top. In that sense, I think Top is being unjustly punished, because though he deserves to have to fight for Mew's affection/trust again, being cheated on himself isn't right either. I'm also not entirely sure why Boeing is so intent on punishing Top when it seems like they were on good terms (though I guess Boeing feels like he's just been used by Top?). I don't think what Boeing is doing is deserved either. The one thing I think Top has deserved is Mew's distrust, but revenge against him doesn't feel right, even if it is "making things equal." Then where does the cycle end?

Anyways, sorry for the rant but yeah, I have a lot of opinions about Boston and Top as characters. As to whether they are being treated unfairly by the narrative, I don't think there's a clear-cut answer. They're being punished for the things they did do, but they're also being punished above and beyond that.

[solar-nightengale]

hi hello I am here with prompts! 💕 How about: ‘you scared me!’ or ‘there’s nothing to say!’ ? :)

Hiiii Libby 😏 💕 Heck yesssss thank you so much for this!!! I apologise for how long this got DFJTKHCLKSR But ahaha…. Had fun with the idea once it hit

Hope you enjoy a little, ah, Mother/Daughter time between Bethan and mother dearest, Nimue 👀

𝐄𝐗𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘  𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒

prompt: ‘there’s nothing to say!’

CW: There’s some emotional manipulation going on here, so reader discretion is advised!!

The clock tower ticked silently, each minute passing with another added point to the dread Bethan was already feeling. The Mark of Charon was the last thing she had wanted to see tonight, yet fate continued to toy with her like the sick and twisted puppet that she was in its marionette play. She heard the hand tick into place, as another minute passed while she walked through the streets and her hands tensed in her pockets. She wanted to hit something damn it. If her helplessness could be personified, maybe she’d have punched it. She wanted to rid herself of it somehow, and the fact that she couldn’t do a damned thing to help anyone (I mean who could battle against the Mark of the Underworld for goodness sake. Who was she? A God?) but the fact that she had no weapon or tool to help-

“Damn it!!” she exclaimed, as she hit the wall she was walking by, her chest rising and falling heavily all the while. Her gaze burned.

A cold sensation suddenly fell over her where she stood. Her hands returned to her pockets, Bethan not looking up as she heard the footsteps approach. She knew who was approaching. The eerie feeling she felt the second they had appeared was more familiar than she would like to admit.

Too much grief. So much… hurt. Gods above, when will they finally have peace at last?! Is the only way to earn it through death alone? Is that all that would be left for them? To enter the world’s under and find that better place?

“You can take your leave now, Nimue. I have no intentions of commuting with you.” Bethan croaked out, her head still cast to the ground.

“Is it wrong that I wish to speak to you once more, my dear?” She heard her say back.

“You've lost that privilege a long time ago.” Beth murmured.

“Now that's just harsh,” Bitterness rose up like bile at her words, as Bethan straightened up and turned around at last.

Standing before her was an individual she hadn’t seen in a long time. Frankly she looked almost unrecognisable. Because despite certain similarities, the scaly skin notable for a dark one is enough to distinguish them. Bethan’s face remained unreadable even as Nimue took a step towards her.

Beth’s gaze narrowed. “If that's supposed to upset me then you've lost your touch, my dear,” she sneered.

Nimue’s smile morphed to something sickeningly sweet, Bethan finding herself squirming under her gaze.

“It’s harsh, because for someone that claims she treats other people differently your lack of sympathy is no different from those you think of as your friends. Look how quick they were to turn against your fairy, your best friends,” she pointed out.

“An’ you- an’ you’d blame them?!” Beth retorted, tensing under her gaze. “After the damage you caused through their souls and bodies?! Cause I sure can’t! Not after all the shit you had them do!”

“You wish to see the rest kill them then? Kill me? Is that what you want?” Nimue continued, her voice holding a sadness Beth wasn’t sure if it was true or not. And yet her own words and feelings died, giving way to fear once more as she turned away, glaring at the ground once more. “That wounds me. After all these years of making sure you stayed alive even after I was gone, and yet I cannot earn forgiveness or a second chance, Bethan? Isn't it cruel to grant them to others yet you can't give it to your own mother?”

“Mother!!” Beth’s laughter was shrill and unkind, as she looked up and took a step forward. “What kinda mother are you if the only way you’re gonna get through to me is whatever this method is?!

“Use your words and not your volume-”

“Stop telling me what to do, you have no right!” Bethan snapped as she took another step towards the dark one. “All your life you-you spent spreading nothing but your corrupted self across the land, leaving none bu’ harboured hate in your wake. I can barely even remember your face or if there were any kind word you spoke to me without intending to use it as a means of keeping me, your darling pawn, close.” She could feel the wound she still had on her side burn. The cruel irony of it doing so, given stood before her was the agonising reminder why she had it; who it was caused by. It was reckless perhaps to blame it all on the woman in front of her but Bethan was too angry to care.

Her life, her misery, her loneliness and fears were all born from her. Her inactions, her choices. The last of any love she might have had for Nimue had been simmering away, leaving none but apathy and disdain.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to shout, she wanted to let go and show just how much this all seared on the inside but the words couldn’t form. No matter how much she would like them to, she couldn’t speak even a syllable of them, as though they were only for her to hear.

She breathed in shakily as she took a step back. “When I said I wanted nothing more to do with you I fucking meant it, Nimue. Stay the hell away from me. And keep your ruddy hands off of my people.”

“Not like there will be much left of them soon enough, my dear.” Nimue hummed, making the other freeze.

Another tick on the clock tower sounded. Another reminder.

Stop reminding her. Stop reminding her that time was short, she should probably be with them and talking to them even if it were for the last ever time, and not wasting it with this-with this!!

Nimue huffed.

“What? Got nothing to say on the matter?”

“There’s nothing to say! There never was!” Bethan spat, glaring up at her and ignoring the resettling sting behind her eyes. “May-maybe fate has another plan the way it always bloody does for people like them! But the one thing it won’t change is that I'm through with you. For good.”

“Hm, pity.” she heard Nimue hum as she turned around and started walking off once more, swiping at the tears on her face. “And here I was going to give you a chance to say goodbye at least. But if this is your choice-” A subtle chill draped over Beth once more. “Tell your father I said hello.”

Shit!

She turned thrusting her hand out with a silent spell readied but not only was she unable to summon it, Nimue was faster. She grabbed her wrist, blue smoke engulfing the girl until even her wide eyes were shrouded by the dark haze.

The clock ticked above once more, a quiet chime sounding the half time for all to hear.

But the only one standing beneath it was Nimue.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

Gulps…, hellohi.. confession I’ve been daydreaming about angst recently and that cult leader Geto drabble u wrote only made me think about it even more… <///333 ignore that I’m a little bit obsessed with the mentally ill/traumatised reader + stsg trope but… can u really blame me ☹️ they would be so good and I think they would be the best comfort u could possible have :((

Ok but. more specifically reader with a rough childhood (a lil like sugu.. he def has some sort of daddy/mommy issues i will die on that hill) or some sort of abandonment/trust issues that has a habit of self sabotaging or intentionally distancing themselves. More specifically maybe grown up stsg where they’re a little more mature and have more of a grasp on how to help you better.. maybe reader has a nightmare or something, goes out for a smoke on the balcony etc etc.. sugu meets them out there n. They just have a good old fashioned talk like :( just being honest and vulnerable because it’s late and u just need a hug most of all :(( def ends with him carrying reader back to bed n playing with ur hair until you fall back asleep GODDDD KILL ME NOW ☹️☹️ moments of tenderness/vulnerability are my absolutely favourite thing in writing/shows/etc ESPECIALLY when it’s from characters that usually don’t display those sort of feelings because you just know it means there’s such a strong bond between them…. Can u hear my heart breaking

^^ either this one or reader with trust issues that’s a little cat-like personality wise (which I think fits so beautifully because stsg are the most wolf coded boys ever) who’s fully convinced they’re better off on their own, they don’t need friends or people to rely on. Until they meet stsg!!!!! Because suddenly there are two irritatingly charming losers following you around and worming their way into your heart and you just. Physically cannot bring yourself to deny them, even if it’s a little scary allowing people in. And god i think it would make them feel SO special once you started warming up to them. Allowing satoru to greet you with hugs or pinch ur cheeks… letting sugu baby you a little…… (distant screaming)

THIS HAS BEEN ANOTHER YAP SESSION BY ME ^_^ it’s literally so late at night rn I don’t know why these ideas always come to me just as I’m about to sleep ffs ☹️ N E WAYYYSSSS im looking forward to that satoru fic/drabble thing u were talking about :3 a mix of scared and excited ngl I feel like I gotta prepare myself incase it’s angsty….. but WHAT HAVE U BEEN UP TO?? It’s literally just been grey n windy where I am so I hope ur getting better weather where u are 😞😞 I HOPE U HAVE BEEN HAVING FUN N TAKING CARE OF YOURSELF!!

(Also irrelevant but I was just about to add a silly image to finish and I stumbled across this image of satoru and I’m laughing my ass of why is he so lanky?????? I could NOT be his friend I would just make fun of him for being built like a fucking STICKBUG 😭😭😭 LOOK AT THE RESEMBLANCE)

(Yes I made the second image myself what do you think of my artistic talent ^_^ ignore the flag)

HELLO HI MY DEAREST OLLIE i am gulping right with you ……… this made me so insane 😔😔

i’ve said it before n i’ll say it again . ariollie STAYS synced up i’m convinced we share a brain……. your scenarios always make me feel so ill (affectionate) and this scenario just means sm to me :((( they really would be the best!!! a reader like that would be treated so tenderly and with sm understanding…. especially since suguru and satoru had rough upbringings too!! (not canon for sugu maybe but i agree w you 100% ollie i literally can’t see his childhood being anything but messed up…. he def has both mommy and daddy issues i know my own kind 🙏🙏)

aaaaa just!!! yeah. reader isolating themselves when they feel down and overwhelmed and being taken care of so effortlessly… stsg just wouldn’t let you face your struggles alone. you’re a team!!! and yeah grown up stsg would for sure be the best at this. i think that as teens they won’t know exactly how to help/might be a little overwhelming….. but as adults they’re more mature and grounded and have a better understanding of your struggles and their own!!! goshhhhh the balcony scene 😔😔😔 ollie do you want my heart to shatter (also what if i told you that exact scenario has popped up in my head multiple times we’re so linked) suguru would just be so vulnerable and patient and caring :(((( our papa bear…. carries you to bed and lulls you to sleep. for sure makes you a warm cup of tea too… sighhh i need him i fear 💔💔

AND AND ANDDDD a catlike reader 😵‍💫😵‍💫 one of my personal favs. independent and a little distant….. used to being on their own……. very picky with who they allow close. it’s just PERFECT for stsg (WOLFCODED BOYS SO TRUEEE)… ollie the way you describe it all makes me feel ILLLL they really would feel so honoured 😭😭😭 cue satoru melting into a puddle when you finally wrap your arms around him….. suguru literally grinning like an idiot (he’s trying DESPERATELY not to but it’s impossible) when you shyly ask him for affection. yeahhhh their hearts would explode i think

ANOTHER BANGER YAP SESSION FROM OLLIEEE i look forward to them sm yknow!!! i can always trust you to have the tastiest stsg scenarios ready to go 🙏🙏🙏 i’m a lil late to this BUT i hope you had a cozy sleep my friend <3 AND WAHH i’m so glad you’re excited for bfb!satoru!!!! i’m gonna try to get it out by next weekend…… i promise not to make it angsty hehe it’s just a lil bittersweet!!! a tiny bit!!!! (depends on how you feel abt the unrequited love trope though 😭😭) IT’S GRAY N WINDY HERE TOO i’m hoping for more sunlight soon………. and i’m doing well hehe i’ve been playing a bunch of pj sekai + watching my favorite streamer play zero escape >:33 WHAT ABT UUU OLLIE what have you been up to?? good things i hope!!! pls remember to rest up and take care of yourself as well <333 it’s what stsg would’ve wanted!!!

(also PHDKDVDJDJYFU NOT THE SATORU SLANDER?????? 😭😭😭 LEAVE MY STICKBUG ALONE???????? i snorted so loud thank you for the free art it’s beautiful <333 i’m gna print it and hang it on my wall.)

[serafiel-jacobs]

Porcelain (FANFIC)

New Chapter of my angst fic series 💜

Romeo screwed up, but he has no one else to blame but himself, he tried to convince Carlo to leave again, he hasn’t done it in such a long time and Carlo didn’t take it well, he was hysterical, even more than usual, until like aways he tires himself out to keep going, he finally ended up fainting, he carried Carlo back to their room and laid him to bed, he leaves him alone, he walks a few steps to the living room, where he sees Geppetto sitting, waiting for him, Romeo knows that he heard what was said.

He just stares at him, Romeo knows that he is in trouble and that he should have kept his mouth shut.

“Romeo please sit down, I just want to talk,” Geppetto says to him, Romeo obliges, he knows what Geppetto is capable of, he takes a seat on the large couch of the living room, looking directly at Geppetto.

“You aren’t in trouble”

Romeo wants to believe him but he is still skeptical.

“I know that the situation we are in is not ideal” Geppetto had started his speech. “But I can’t let the two of you leave, you know that”

He knows that he knows that he and Carlo are supposed to be dead and whatever necromancy bullshit Geppetto pulled on them wouldn’t be seen favorably by others.

“I’m sorry, I was just… frustrated” Romeo isn’t really sorry but he has to ask for forgiveness, he doesn’t want to make this harder on himself.

“It’s okay I understand, I know that at first the way I treated you wasn’t the best”

“Yeah, I didn’t like being locked in the basement” Technically he is still locked inside of here, he just has more freedoms, if you can even call them that.

“Please forgive me, I shouldn’t have done that” Geppetto is sincere and Romeo hates that, why can’t he just be an evil old man, why does he actually care about him and Carlo?!

Romeo lays down on the couch, he puts his hands up to his face, this is too much, he is feeling overwhelmed, and the fact that he realizes that Carlo feels like this all the time makes it worse because he deeply cares for Carlo and the thought of his friend constantly feeling like this makes him sick.

He can’t do this, he can’t act polite anymore.

“Why couldn’t you have just fucking leave us to die? Why couldn’t you have just let us stay dead?” Romeo doesn’t care that he is swearing anymore, he doesn’t care whatever punishment he decides to give him. “I hate you, I fucking hate you so much, why can’t you let us be free?”

Today is one of those days he really wishes Carlo would kill his father already.

Romeo expected Geppetto to be mad at him, furious, but he just looks at him with a smile, a sweet understanding smile, he gets closer to him and kneels down to his level, gently playing with his hair.

“It’s okay Romeo, I understand that you aren’t feeling well, I’m not mad at you” He isn’t mad at him, and Romeo now feels bad for saying all of that, Geppetto is such a kind man, he takes good care of him, maybe he really does see him like a son.

Romeo uncovers his face, he looks at Geppetto, he looks at his father, and he feels loved by him.

Dear Lord, I sound like Carlo now

But Romeo is starved for affection, so he lets Geppetto, he lets his father keep playing with his hair, he asks for a hug and his father gives it to him.

Romeo needs to feel the touch of others, he still remembers the petrification disease, and he still can feel the complete stiffness of his body, the cold, it was agonizing; he likes being hugged, it makes him feel warmth. He hates being cold, he remembers when, when-

When Pinocchio killed him

And how he felt cold, despite all the fire around him, he was freezing, he thanked him, Romeo thought that it was Carlo who had taken his life, and even when the ice cold of death was unbearable, he had at least died, the pain would be over.

But here he is again, alive, against his will.

He is starting to feel sick again, Romeo starts to shake, he feels cold again, his body is shivering, Geppetto, his father looks at him with a worried expression, and he touches his forehead.

“Mmm it doesn’t feel like you have a fever, but maybe you should go and rest”

Geppetto always does that, every time he or Carlo suffer the grueling pain of what it is to be alive again, and the many conflicting feelings that come with it Geppetto just sends them to bed, as if they are both toddlers.

But he really does need to rest, he is too tired and too cold.

——

Romeo is now in the basement playing with Carlo, he tries to follow along and pretend, but he still feels like he is freezing, Carlo gives him a blanket that was lying around, and he covers himself as well, both are together, Carlo says nothing, but he understands, as he was infected with the disease as well, they stay silent, there is nothing that can be said to make him feel better.

They stay quiet for hours until finally it’s Carlo who speaks up.

“I’m sorry, I… I asked him to bring you back, I shouldn’t have”

Romeo feels as if he was stabbed through the chest, “Carlo don’t say that, please never say that again” Yes this is painful, and he wishes he wasn’t here, he wishes he was dead again but this isn’t Carlo’s fault, and Romeo isn’t going to let him blame himself for it.

Carlo looks at him, he looks at him and there is a deep sorrow in his eyes, he knows why Carlo asked for him to be brought back, he was lonely and alone; no matter how horrible this situation is, he can’t leave Carlo alone, he can’t let him face this by himself.

Romeo only had two friends at Monad, Carlo and Sophia, and he didn’t see Sophia often, partly because their interests were too different and it was rare for them to hang out, especially when he and Carlo started to train to become stalkers; but also because when her parents died her uncle took over, and she was scared, Romeo had promised her that he would be by her side, and he broke that promise.

He has to stay with Carlo, he is and will always be his best friend, they even are brothers now. Romeo already failed Sophia, he failed to be there for her, so he has to be there for Carlo no matter what.

——-

“I… want to hurt myself” That’s a lie, Romeo doesn’t really want to hurt himself, even if he really wishes he was dead; but when Carlo says that Geppetto always gives him more attention, and it works, Romeo is in bed next to his father, who is confronting him and giving him reassuring words.

“You are a brave boy for telling me, for not doing it”

Romeo starts to feel less cold now, the more he gets praised, the better he feels. He never thought that he would have a family like this, he remembers back while studying at Monad how others would mock him for not having a family, he wasn’t the only orphan yet most of his peers had gotten adopted at one point or another, but no one wanted to adopt him, because he was a bad boy and did a lot of things he shouldn’t have, Romeo remembers others telling him how no one would love him because, how can somebody stand him and deal with him? He even overheard some of the faculty members say that he was a lost cause.

“You are my good boy Romeo”

He finally feels warm again, his body has stopped shaking, a deep weight lifted from his shoulders, Romeo wants, needs, more attention, so he asks to be cradled.

You are pathetic you know that?

Romeo knows that this is pathetic, that this isn’t normal, that he is an adult who should be able to care of himself, but at this moment he can’t take care of himself, he desperately needs someone to take care of him, and his father can do that for him.

——-

Carlo is trying to kill Geppetto again, Romeo is watching and for the first time ever he speaks up, he wants to tell him to do it, that if Geppetto dies then all of this will be over, to grow a spine and finally slit his throat.

“Please don’t do it”

Why did I say that?

Carlo stops and drops the knife, he starts crying, constantly repeating that he is horrible and that he is a bad boy. Geppetto is there for him, Carlo has his face buried in his father’s chest; Geppetto looks at Romeo, he looks at him with a smile.

Why did I stop him?

Romeo is freezing again, he wants to take it back, but he can’t take back what he said, Carlo is looking at him now too; Carlo doesn’t say it but he knows exactly what he is thinking, they hate him, they both hate him so much.

But they need him, who else is going to take care of them, who else is going to love them?

Romeo is crying now, he feels as if his body is made of ice, fragile, and about to break at any moment, his vision starts to fog, he closes his eyes and faints, wondering if his body will shatter into dozens of ice fragments.

——

Romeo wakes up, he can tell it’s dawn already, Carlo is sleeping next to him and he can see Geppetto sitting in a chair next to the bed, he looks extremely tired, he most likely hasn’t slept at all due to keeping an eye on both of them.

“Are you feeling better?” Geppetto asks him, he is concerned, unlike Carlo, he doesn’t pass out often, in fact, this is the first time he has lost consciousness.

“No” Maybe physically he feels a bit better, but mentally he hasn’t been this bad.

“Romeo sweetie, you can talk to me about anything,” Geppetto says in that disgusting sweet voice.

“Can you please stop treating me like a child? I’m not a child, I can take care of myself” Romeo doesn’t like being talked to that way.

“Can you really take care of yourself, Romeo?”

Geppetto’s words are simple but still have a cutting edge, Romeo starts to wonder if he is right, he sometimes gets confused like Carlo, he now feels cold all the time and he constantly has to endure being fatigued all the time, his body is stiff, it´s a chore to move even his fingers, they feel hard, it makes him feel rigid; and sometimes, sometimes he thinks this is rigor mortis, he is supposed to be dead after all. But he desperately tries to not think about that, he doesn't want to think of the muscles of his body slowly rotting from the inside.

“It’s not a bad thing if you can’t, it’s not bad to ask for help, and I’m here to protect you” Geppetto looks directly at him again, and Romeo is desperately trying to look for a sign that he is lying, that he an evil bastard who trapped them here so that they could suffer; but he doesn’t see that, why would he make his life harder this way, he is constantly doing his best to make them feel better, he doesn’t fight back when Carlo attacks him, he loses sleep to make sure that of they need help in the night he is there for either of them.

“I… don’t think…” Romeo is stuttering, he no longer feels confident in what he said before.

You are feeble, you are weak and fragile.

“I’m your father and I want to help you” Romeo really is weak because he feels sick and just wants to be told that everything is going to be okay, that all of this will be over soon.

Romeo feels like he is a porcelain doll, that he will shatter at any moment, a doll that needs to be handled delicately, otherwise he will break and he doesn’t want to be broken.

“I feel cold all the time” Romeo finally confessed.

“Then let me help you”

Can he really help him? Geppetto isn’t a doctor, he doubts that he can do anything about it. But Romeo is willing to accept anything at this point.

“Please help me”

——

Romeo has started to feel better, although now he wears a fluffy sweater all the time, it helps when the cold comes back; he tends to feel more sick when it’s deep into the night or when it’s dawn, but after eating breakfast it always dies down, his muscles are more relaxed.

Romeo isn’t stupid, he knows that Geppetto is giving him some sort of sedative in his food so that his body doesn’t feel stiff all the time, he thinks he should be angry at this, but he isn’t, Romeo is happy with just feeling better.

Right now, the three of them are resting on the couch, Geppetto is in the middle and Romeo and Carlo are each on the opposite sides, they are cuddling with him.

“I love you father,” Romeo says and Carlo says it as well, they both love their father.

Geppetto pulls them both closer to him, his precious boys know that they can always rely on him, they have been behaving so well lately, maybe he needs to give them a reward.

Maybe he can let them go outside, briefly, only outside the house, and he isn’t worried that they might try to run away.

He won’t let them run away.

[csa-survivor-confessions]

(?) First off, thank you admins for taking the time to run this blog- the resources and comfort y’all provide means so much. I’m on mobile so sorry for writing a poorly formatted novel length ask lol

I have unique trauma, and I never see it discussed anywhere else so in the interest of possibly helping someone who hasn’t put the pieces together yet I wanted to talk about it.

When I was around 3, I got a UTI (im a cis woman). My doctor wanted to make sure I didn’t have kidney reflux, so they ordered a test called a VCUG. In short, what they do is put a catheter in you with no sedative/topical anesthetic, pump your bladder full of radiocontrast fluid until it literally backs up to your kidney (incredibly painful), and then you’re supposed to piss it out on the table or into a towel. I read a study (Goodman et al 1990, can send a link if y’all are interested) researching the validity of children’s testimony in court about CSA trauma (like how accurately they could remember the incident), and the “test” they used is the VCUG because it has every characteristic of a rape, but it’s a medical procedure (direct, painful genital contact and penetration with a foreign object by a stranger while a parent watches). I had it done twice in 6 month, and when my doctor ordered a third test “just to see” my mom put her foot down and said no.

It was my first memory, but for 23 years of my life I believed it was an exaggerated or false memory because it seemed cartoonishly traumatic and I didn’t believe it was a real medical procedure. I thought that it was just an ultrasound and because I was so young and scared I constructed that memory. But it WAS real. I found my medical record and put the pieces together myself as an adult. my first memory is of strangers undressing me, touching me, my mother helping the nurses restrain me, them “taking photos” of me with ultrasound and X-ray equipment, being denied autonomy over my own body and being treated like a science experiment. My entire life, I’ve been so confused, not knowing why I can’t set boundaries or have normal relationships, or why I gravitate towards people who have severe trauma, and why I understood how they felt. I always felt guilty because I didn’t have a “story” like they did. I believed I was just Incredibly Fucked Up For No Reason because I grew up in a stable home (for the most part), and I felt like I didn’t “deserve” to have those feelings because I didn’t think anything happened to me. But it did, and it /severely/ traumatized me. Because it’s my first memory, it’s a cornerstone of my personality, for better or for worse.

So my question is- now that I know what happened, how do I cope with feeling like a victim if there is no true perpetrator? There is no face attached to my trauma, nobody to blame. I was a toddler, the doctors and nurses were just doing their job, and if my mom didn’t follow their advice she’d be accused of medically neglecting her child. I guess I can be mad at the for profit medical system and the fact that doctors are financially incentivized to order those tests, but I feel like I can’t get complete closure from that. I want to tell some of my friends who have opened up to me about their own csa trauma, but I feel inadequate. Like on one hand, I didn’t get raped. It wasn’t like a family member I trusted was coming into my room every night. But on the other hand, it’s more extreme in a way? Like a medical bdsm gang rape while my mom watched. It’s dehumanizing in a different way because I wasn’t even seen as an object of attraction, I was like a lab rat. I have all of the same problems, the disassociation, the identity issues, the sexual problems, addiction, and self harm in the form of an eating disorder. I know that its not fair or healthy to compare my trauma to anyone else’s, but I’m just anxious about the reaction I might get from my friends whose experiences were more “textbook” abuse. So I’m kinda testing the waters here, if y’all have any advice for me I’d appreciate it.

This is more of a confession than a question, but I also have a memory gap from ages 7-9, and my therapist thinks something else was happening because losing two entire years like that is Not Normal. I can’t even recognize myself in photos from that time period. It’s a pretty disturbing feeling. I was already showing hypersexual behavior around 6- is it bad to hope that I do find out someone hurt me, so I can have a face to my trauma? So that I can find someone to blame other than myself and externalize the pain?

thank you again for reading my novel again I’m so sorry for the formatting 💕

Hello,

I think it could be good to understand it as a medical trauma along with sexual aspects. It sounds like you had a doctor who didn't know what he was doing or had incentives to put you through unnecessary testing which could count as medical malpractice.

Medical trauma rather from necessary procedures or unnecessary is something that feels like a violation of bodily integrity. Because you are having things in your body that are not a part of you. It's not gang rape, but it is a group of people treating you not like a person and putting your body through extreme physical and emotional stress. That is extremely traumatic and will have huge effects on anyone, especially children.

I personally have gone through a lot of medical trauma along with my CSA and psychological abuse. I have nightmares, body memories and flashbacks to medical events.

You are not alone in having gone through rare medical procedures and experiencing medical trauma from them. It might feel like you have extremely unique trauma, but other people have experienced rare medical procedures that caused trauma reactions or feel like sexual assault. Many tests and medical equipment go into the body (all kinds of feeding tubes, ostomy bags, catheters, tracheal tubes etc) and can feel like our bodily integrity has been broken.

Even if there isn't one huge perpetrator because the people were doing their job, that doesn't make you to blame for what you are going through. You can blame the doctor I suppose for ordering a test you didn't need, but you can also blame no one. No one had to be "evil" for the trauma to be real. Medica trauma is extremely real and no one is always in the wrong, it's just extreme stress on the brain so you experience trauma being held in the body.

I think when you get thoughts about your trauma not being valid because there is not one perpetrator, try and counter that thought. Maybe something like medical trauma is real, and so are my feelings. You can also practice journaling or making art about your trauma as this will help externalize your story and organize thoughts and emotions.

Many coping skills and trauma processing therapies (examples: somatic experiencing or EMDR) that work for CSA will also work for you. There are nuances to every trauma type but many skills overlap. [Resources-Info & Coping Skills]

Your trauma is valid, important and discerning to be heard and respected. Because you were put through something that hurt you and that's important. You are important and so is your story.

I wouldn't tell your friends your trauma is worse, as I don't think it is going to go over well with them I would also say knowing your abuser found you sexy isn't a protective factor against becoming traumatized.

I think telling your friends could be good, maybe don't frame it as "I experienced the same thing you did" or "I went through some more unique so it's worse" but instead frame it closer to "I experienced extreme medical trauma that had similar effects to sexual trauma. I could use some support in dealing with it." I think that framing will get you the best outcomes. Because you deserve to have the way it affected your sexuality respected, but framing your abuse in competition with there's might cause bad results.

Wanting our abuse to look like what trauma is generally shaped as, looking for a perpetrator or wanting the trauma to be "worse" is all totally normal. You are not a bad person. Also please be careful with recovering memories trying to force it can hurt.

I hope some of this helps,

-Admin 1