#probably the longest post i've ever made

[gotham-daydreams]

Not Here

[Yandere! Platonic! Neglectful Batfam × Gender Neutral! Sibling Reader]

[Warnings: Mentions of neglect, Mild Yandere Behavior, Batfam being hella stupid.]

(Not really proofread. The birds and bats seeing that y'know- maybe not paying attention to people and neglecting them isn't a good thing. Chaos ensues. More of a development thing. Might be a little ooc?)

Tags: @bigcandlesmolbrain

Chapter 2 of this post. Chapter 3 Pt. 1, Pt. 2. [Series Masterlist]

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Bruce liked to think he was a good father, for anything that was worth. Or at the very least, a decent one.

He wasn't perfect by any means, but he felt like he raised his children the best he could, and had made them into responsible and diligent adults. Dick was a great example of this, and even if Damian was still growing up, Bruce had hope that he'd turn out to be good as well. The hardships his current Robin had to face would pay off in the end, Bruce was almost too sure of that.

Those he decided to take under his wing had their flaws, yes, but even if he didn't say it out loud or point it out often. He did believe that they were good at what they do, or at least were on the right path to becoming good vigilantes. Bruce couldn't help but be proud and prideful of where his children and sidekicks were, and could only look forward to how they would continue to develop as time went on. Despite their feelings towards him, and his own faults, mistakes, paranoia, and so on. Along with how he felt about them, and their flaws — he couldn't help but respect the people those in his little mess of a family where becoming, and turning out to be.

Or maybe he was both overestimating and underestimating himself, and the true effects he had on those he decided to look after.

Since, for a few days now, he felt like something was... off.

The Manor seemed quieter these days, and even if he couldn't remember a time where it was particularly loud, the detail felt misplaced to him. Sure, he hasn't hosted a gala or party in a while, but that didn't feel like it was the reason why the silence suddenly bothered him.

Bruce tried to think of all possible reasons, a little surprised himself that this feeling of his was bothering him so much, but the more he thought about it the more confused he became. There didn't seem to be a particular reason for this... and yet, just as he was about to put this feeling aside, he heard it.

["I, um, I was just wondering..."]

["Oh, uhh, that's quite alright! Oh, one moment please... oh! Second chorus... T'was brilling, and the slithy toves, did gyre and gimble in the wade..."]

It sounded like some sort of... play? Bruce wasn't too sure, but still decided to check it out regardless, wondering why something like that was playing in the first place.

So, allowing the sounds of the play to guide him, he continued on.

["Why- why you're a cat!"]

The voices grew louder as Bruce drew closer, interest peaked as he tried to recall and see of he knew this play. The lines sounding familiar, now that he was really listening to them.

["A Cheshire Cat. All mimsy were the borogoves..."]

Once Bruce rounded the corner he saw a... familiar face on the screen.

A student play was being filmed, and the play itself was Alice in Wonderland.

Whereas Bruce didn't recognize the actor for Alice, he did recognize the actor for the Cheshire Cat, but couldn't quite put his finger on it...

Was... was that...?

"Y/n?" He whispered your name, voice barely above a whisper.

No, it couldn't be. You didn't participate in any plays, and surely if you did he would've known about it. Even then, that didn't explain why he was seeing this now. The play itself had to have been a recording, since you looked so young...

How long ago did this take place?

["Oh, wait! Don't go, please!"]

["Very well. Third chorus..."]

["Oh no, no, no... thank you, but- but I just wanted to ask you which way I ought to go."]

["Well, that depends on where you want to get to."]

["Oh, it really doesn't matter... as long as I g-"]

["Then it really doesn't matter which way you go! Ah-hmm.... and the momeraths outgrabe..."]

Bruce was staring so intensely at the screen that he hardly noticed how the lines and voices faded into the background. His focus centered on you, disbelief gnawing at the back of his head.

He had never seen you smile like that before, not during all the times he's seen you anyway. Even if those moments themselves were small and short from what he could remember, the smile you wore during your performance felt... new in a way. Like something he hadn't seen before — not on your face anyway. Though that wasn't the only thing that made Bruce feel weird as he watched the play.

It wasn't anything to do with your acting skills. They were fine for the most part — and honestly considering the age you probably were during the time of the play, they might've been above average, or even a little higher than that. Not even the girl who played Alice, who also did relatively well, was the source of this odd feeling.

It wasn't the costumes or the set up, or even the lighting, and how he could faintly see the silhouette of other actors and such just behind the curtain, because of the camera angle. No, it hardly had anything to do with anything like that, but, how should he put this...

... How come he didn't know about this? How come he wasn't aware of this play before? Let alone that they had a recording of it, and that you were even a part of it... but Bruce still felt bothered by this whole realization because, well.

Why didn't you tell him about this?

"Master Bruce?"

The sudden voice snapped Bruce out of whatever trance he was stuck in, as he whipped his head around to face the source of it.

He huffed softly, "Oh, hey Alfred." Bruce greeted calmly, acting as if the butler hadn't caught him off guard.

Alred couldn't help but raise a brow at that.

Almost in a silent, embarrassed way, Bruce glanced off to the side only to notice that the recording was still playing, and so he decided to ask about it. Since, if someone knew anything about anyone in this Manor, it would be Alfred.

"Say... what's this playing on the TV?"

"It's a recording of one of Master Y/n's plays, Master Bruce." Alfred answered simply, almost as if it was common knowledge. "Apologies if it's too loud, I decided to play it while cleaning. I can change it or turn it down if you'd like."

"No, no it's fine... but since when has Y/n acted in plays? I don't remember hearing about this." Bruce stated, confusion growing as another emotion began to swell in his chest. One he was all too familiar with, but ignored for the moment.

"Since middle school, if I recall correctly, but it was only while they were younger. Having only been in three school plays in total, I believe." Alfred moved closer to Bruce as he looked at the screen, eyes softening for a moment as he watched you move along the stage. You had grown up so much since then, and the stage fright you used to have felt like nothing more but a faint memory now.

You wouldn't believe how incredibly proud of you he is.

"It's a shame they didn't do any more afterwards, since it would've been nice to have a few more recordings of their performances, but I suppose that's what happens when you find a new passion." He looked back at Bruce. That previous softness in his gaze nowhere to be found.

There was a certain way how his eyes looked at the billionaire, as if expecting something. As if expecting this.

Alfred had higher hopes, but you had left for a reason. Even if he knew what that reason was, it was only now did he see it more clearly. Especially as he witnessed Bruce's face shift into one of shock and surprise.

"They've always told you, Master Bruce, but you're schedule has just always been too full." Alfred handed Bruce a piece of paper, and Bruce took it wordlessly, looking it over.

It was a flyer promoting a play — the Alice in Wonderland play that was still going in the background — with the dates and times listed below, along with some of the cast members. Your name stuck out like a sour thumb compared to the rest.

Bruce did remember seeing this before, but one thing did still confuse him as he looked back at Alfred.

"I'm pretty sure you gave this to me at the time, not Y/n."

"That I did, sir, but that was only because Master Y/n was having some trouble with catching you attention, because they had wanted to give you the flyer themself. So I offered to give it to you for them." Alfred replied truthfully, cleaning up a little more while he was at it, and leaving Bruce to his thoughts for the moment.

He didn't remember you trying to catch his attention... but if what Alfred says is true then that makes sense, even if it made Bruce feel bad in a way. The feeling growing a little more when he realized something Alfred had said.

"And this happened all three times?"

"You sound surprised, Master Bruce."

Bruce ran a hand through his hair, eyes pinned on the flyer as he pressed his pursed into a thin line. Countless thoughts floated around in his head, all of them jumbled up and messy as he just didn't know what to make of this. Missing one was probably fine, and maybe two at a push, but all three? How could he have missed every single one?

Sure he was busy, but he didn't think it was this bad. Did he just forget? How did he not notice such a thing had slipped right past him?

All Bruce could do was sigh. There was nothing he could do about it now, and even if there was a way to make it up to you, he didn't know where to start, or if that would change anything to begin with. Besides, he didn't even know how long it's been since these performances had happened.

...

Wait a minute-

"Alfred, how long ago was this?"

Alfred just looked at Bruce, brows just barely creased before he took a breath of his own.

"A few years ago, sir."

What?

At the look of disbelief on Bruce's face, Alfred could only stand and straighten himself out as he calmly asked, "How old do you think Master Y/n is, sir?"

"Oh, well, they're..."

... Bruce couldn't even think of an answer.

Obviously you had to be in highschool since it had been years since you've performed in a play, with the Alice in Wonderland play being one of them, but how old were you exactly? What year were you in? Were you a sophomore? Junior? Surely you weren't a freshman, but even then — what high school did you even go to? Bruce didn't think you were home schooled, or else he'd definitely notice that... or would he?

Oh no.

What if you already graduated? What if you already had gone and done something that not even Alfred knew about? Did you have a job? Where would you even work? Were you already in college? What college would you even go to? Did you manage to get a scholarship? What would be you major? Where would you be studying? Would you even stay in Gotham? Were you even old enough to be out on your own? Could you even drink yet? Could you drive? Did you own a car? Or even a motor bike? When was your birthday? Did it already pass? What's the month? The day? The year?

How old are you?

"I... I think I'm going to go and just check up on them." Bruce couldn't answer, and while he had a vauge idea. That's all it was, an idea. So he moved the subject along, and made his way up the stairs, leaving Alfred behind. Just watching as the world's greatest detective left the room, all because he couldn't figure out the age of one of his own kids. One he had chosen to take in and watch over like all the rest, and yet left behind all the same in the process.

Alfred could only sigh to himself as he paused the recording of the play. Ejecting the disc and putting it in its respective case, and placing it in its usual spot.

This was the only way, he decided. This was the only way.

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

Bruce didn't feel much better by the time he reached your room. It took him mistakenly stumbling into two guest rooms before he finally reached it, and honestly he felt more regret over that alone.

Most of this time he hardly remembered that the room before him now was even occupied, let alone that you had claimed it as yours. What didn't help was that it was only now that he remembered introducing this space as your own, and yet he had forgotten that small detail so quickly.

Regardless, Bruce just pushed that all to the side as he knocked on the door, taking in a breath.

"Y/n?" He called out, only to get no respose. So he tried knocking again, but he still got nothing.

Sure, he was getting a little confused, but just pushed that to the side with everything else, as he stared down at the door knob.

... Should he?

He had to talk with you eventually, especially considering what he just figured out and how little he actually knew about you. He needed to talk with you. He couldn't just let this slide, not with what he knew now. He couldn't. He wouldn't.

So, be tried the knob, and was kind of surprised that it was unlocked. Though besides that little strange detail, he gently pushed the door open, and took a peak inside.

Oh. You weren't even here...

Bruce didn't know how to feel about that.

Regardless of that, however, he opened up the door a little wider, and stepped inside. What he saw only made him more confused, but also feel so much worse when he looked all over the room. How could this be...?

Various things were on your desk, shelves, and hung on the walls. Your room looked surprisingly clean, but honestly Bruce doesn't know what he was expecting. After all, he didn't even know your exact age or hardly anything about you, and even then — by the looks of things, he had missed out on so much more than he originally thought.

Trophies, awards, medals, and certificates were littered about your room. The very sight of them made the paper in Bruce's hands feel so much heavier, and yet he still held onto it as he further inspected the awards, and few pictures hung on your walls.

Every color was here, from bronze to silver to gold, and at some point it seemed you were able to get a consistent amount of silvers and gold. The awards themselves were from various events and activities that barely corresponded with each other. From fencing to swimming, and dance to pottery. From track and field to literacy, and gymnastics to cooking.

It was like you had tried to do so much of everything, and were trying to collect all of these awards from all of these different activities, rather than earn them because you deserved it for all your hard work and dedication to do that particular activity, but Bruce just couldn't understand why. Why go through all of the effort just to move on to the next thing? It... didn't make sense.

Right next to you black belt for martial arts, you had hung up the few medals you had gotten from track, and right below that were some awards you had for gymnastics. Beside your soccer trophies you had some kind of art award, and beside that was more awards and things you had received from playing and participating in other sports and activities. Bruce had no idea you were even into some of these things, but just from looking at your room, he could tell you weren't all that into or interested in some of the activities you did. Seeing as some activities and such had more awards when compared to others, but one thing in particular seemed to really catch your interest.

Music.

Not only did you have a whole wall and section of your room dedicated to it, but it felt more organized, and the placement of awards and such seemed more thought out in a way.

Countless awards littered the wall, and from the placement alone he knew you were proud of them. The pictures hung on the wall showed you shaking someone's hand as you either held up an award or album cover. You smiled, and Bruce could see how genuine it was as he felt like he could feel your happiness radiate off the photo itself. The people you were shaking hands with looked pretty happy themselves, and Bruce was a little surprised that he recognized them, but that made him feel more conflicted.

The people in those photos with you, were famous, and you had gotten those opportunities to meet them and shake their hand all by yourself.

All of these awards — they were only the finishing products of what you had spent all of your time doing. They were only small glimpses into the person you truly were, and as Bruce looked at the records you had hung on the wall, he could feel his own regret spilling out of his bleeding heart.

He wish he was there with you.

He wish that he had been there to see you even get half of these rewards that you undoubtedly deserved. He wish he got to hear the music you played, and what kind of songs you wrote. He wish he had been there to see you go on, and work your way up, with him being there as your support, and yet...

He had missed everything.

From the plays, to the matches you had, to the games you played in and competitions you participated in, and how could he forget your performances that even earned you such big, important awards. Awards that probably meant so much to you, because of how far it showed you had grown.

Bruce missed it all. Every little thing.

... He had to find you.

No if's or but's this time. No more excuses. He had to find you. Bruce needed to.

So he did a more thorough search of your room. Finally placing the flyer down on your desk as he looked around. He checked your closet, your bed, even under the picture frames, and moved some of the awards around, in order to better check and search for anything. Any hint that could point to where you had gone, and or where you might be. Any clue, any thing that could tell him about you.

He even made sure to take a mental note of the people in the photos, just in case he had to reach out to them and ask if they knew where you were by some off chance. Though that was only if Bruce was convinced that you weren't even in the Manor, and getting some extra information on you never hurt anyway. Seeing as he had a lot of catching up to do.

As he searched, he ran into various things. From equipment, art pieces — most of which were unfinished — and old notes, to other random items. Like an airsoft gun, some glass beakers, various ties, a pair of shades, a glasses frame, and a sewing kit next to a first-aid kit? Bruce didn't want to think about how the first-aid kit both looked used, and was empty.

Bruce even stumbled upon a fancy looking tuxedo he didn't remember buying you at all, but a small tag caught his eye and-

Oh, it was a gift from someone else, and with the note you left behind the tag — most likely with the intention of giving the tuxedo back — it was safe to assume that you and this person knew each other quite well...

Bruce just put the tux back. He would've gotten you a better one anyway if you had just asked, or if he even knew you needed one in the first place. Though regardless of that, he kept looking.

Eventually, he looked under your bed, and found a single box under there. Undisturbed... sitting innocently in the darkness.

Bruce didn't waste much time as he reached out and grabbed it, and placed it on your bed. There was a thin layer of dust on top of it, which Bruce found a little strange but kept in mind as he opened the box and looked inside. There, he saw a variety of notebooks and papers, and from the looks of things, the items in here had been collecting a bit of dust too...

When was the last time you touched these?

It seemed a little strange that these were tucked away from everything else, and clearly you didn't want other people going through it or even seeing them since you kept it so out of view. Were they diaries? Bruce would rather learn anything personal about you from yourself, he didn't want to go through your things like this, but considering the situation...

He sighed, and just picked up a random notebook. If this could help him find you, then so be it. He didn't want to do this but he couldn't leave you alone either. Not again.

Yet, he was so focused on looking through your things that he didn't even realize that someone had passed by, and noticed the odd room Bruce was in. A room that they themselves haven't seen before.

"Woah, what's this place? An old childhood room or something?" Dick asked as he invited himself into the room, mindlessly looking around, not really paying attention to anything in particular as he waltzed around.

"It's Y/n's room." Bruce stated bluntly, still looking over the dusty notebooks in the box. Some simply labeled 'Notes' or 'Practice', while one in particular was called 'Ideas/List & Progress' with little drawn sparkles around it. Another two weren't labeled with titles or words, and instead with small music notes doodled onto the cover in your favorite color. Though Bruce didn't know the color was your favorite.

Nevertheless, Bruce decided to look through one of the notebooks with music notes on it, completely missing how Dick had froze, and turned to look at him as if he was crazy.

"What? You've got to be kidding, right?" Bruce just gestured to one of the records on the wall, flipping through the notebook in his hand as he read through it quickly but carefully.

Dick, still not entirely convinced and honestly just really confused, looked at one of the records Bruce had gestured towards, and felt like he had just gotten ran over by a truck with how hard reality hit him. There your name was, signed and everything, with a well-known producer listened as well.

His eyes even darted to the other records, only to find the same thing, and for just one final check, he looked at one of the awards on the wall.

Your name was engraved on it.

"Holy-" He covered his mouth, more than shocked as he looked around the room again, hand falling from his face, "but that means-" Now Dick was paying more attention to the room, moving from one thing to another as he looked over everything now.

"How did they- there's no way they did all of this? And- what. They even did gymnastics?!" To say that Dick was in absolute disbelief and shock was an understatement. Yet he hardly had any time to recover or process anything as another person popped into the room, albeit only temporarily.

"I'm afraid it is quite possible, Master Dick." Alfred spoke up, catching the attention of the oldest sibling as he moved into the room, and set a stack of papers on your desk, right next to the flyer Bruce had set down.

Confused and curious, Dick looked at the stack once Alfred had pulled away from it, and picked up the first paper.

It was another flyer, but this time for some kind of solo event or concert you'd be doing. The date written down was a few days ago... a week or so having already passed since then, but how could this be?

Dick hesitated, but took another one as he looked it over. Again, it was for some kind of concert or performance, but the date and time was further away. Three weeks to a month having passed since, but how did they not notice? Didn't you say anything? Why didn't you tell them?

"This doesn't make any sense... why didn't Y/n tell us about any of these things?" He asked, mostly to himself as he continued to look through the various flyers.

"Why don't you tell me, Master Dick?" Alfred quipped, looking at Dick in a knowing way before stepping out of the room, "Now, I'll be heading off, but I do trust that both of you make the right choice this time around." With that, he simply left. Leaving Dick confused but feeling worse at the same time as he looked back at the flyers, mind racing until he spotted something.

Carfully, Dick pulled out another flyer out of the pile as he placed the others to the side. He recognized this one, but where had he seen it before? Was it...

... Oh god.

Dick whipped out his phone and checked his messages. He had to scroll down a bit, but he quickly found your contact and tapped on it. He flipped through your messages, hundreds upon thousands of which he never responded to, and even if that alone made he feel bad. When he found what he was looking for, he felt even worse.

He found a message of you sending him a photo of the flyer, and said how you hoped you'd see him there. The message itself had been sent almost a year ago, and as he looked back at the flyer, he didn't know how to feel. Yet he kept looking, especially as he spotted another familiar poster.

Some of them he was able to connect back to another message you had sent, and the further back he went the more he responded... but it wasn't much, and he seemed to leave you on read more times than not. He had made an effort, but clearly it wasn't enough.

Dick couldn't imagine how that must've felt for you, and he almost didn't want to. Yet he still continued to search through the flyers, and came across one he had an odd memory of. He did remember seeing a text for it, but also remembered hearing about it somehow? He wasn't too sure, but just incase he did decide to look through his voicemail. He didn't know what he'd find, but he decided to just have a little look, even if he wasn't sure he'd even find anything.

So, he matched the date of the message and scrolled until he found it.

The voicemail innocently stared at him, and Dick couldn't help but hesitate before he tapped on it, and let it play. Heart already heavy as he stared down at the flyer. The kind of look someone gave when they already knew it was too late, and Dick didn't know what was worse. The fact that he basically missed out on your entire life at this point, or that he had nothing to say for it besides that he was sorry, and had just forgotten about these things one too many times.

["Hey, Dick! I, um, I hope everything is going well and that patrol hasn't been too bad." Your voice wavered as you spoke. You were clearly nervous but you tried to push on anyway, and cleared your throat before you tried again.]

["How are you, though? I heard that you had a rough night the other day- and I know I'm not really into all this crime-fighting stuff like everyone else but... I just hope you're okay, y'know?" You chuckled nervously before you cleared your throat again, "An-anyway, um, yeah. I just- hope you're okay." The sound of a paper being fiddled with could be heard, and you took in a small breath.]

["So... I have this performance I'll be doing next Saturday- it's more of a competition really, since other musicians and stuff will be there too. It's at 7 o'clock, and I know you guys mostly work at night and everything- but if you could drop by or even just quickly come around at 8:15 that would be great! Since, um, that's when I'll be performing..."]

Dick looked at awards you hung on the wall as the voicemall continued to play. Based on the date of the performance he was able to find the award. You had gotten second place.

["It's um, it's a piece I wrote that's a tribute to your family- the Flying Graysons, that is, since we're allowed to play songs we wrote if they were approved beforehand, and it was! So, um, I really hope you don't mind. Your family is cool! Not that Bruce and everyone else isn't or anything- um, I'm going to stop talking about that before I say something stupid. But! I couldn't help but feel inspired so I, y'know-" you cleared your throat again. Clearly nervous.]

["Sorry for my rambling- but, yeah. You can pass by if you want or have the time, and it's right by that one place Bruce had that whole charity announcement on Monday. You can't miss it, there will be lights and all this other stuff- not to mention that it'll probably be loud considering things, but uh, yeah."]

["So if you think you can make it or pass by, it's at 7! Next Saturday! And if you can't make it by then, I play at 8:15! So, yeah. Remember that! If- if you want to. Hope to see you there! And if I don't, that's okay. I just hope you enjoy the piece if you hear it. Have a good night! Or-! Or day! Whenever you listen this- um, bye!"]

What? You had wrote a song for him? For his parents? For them?

Dick's heart swelled. He didn't even get to hear it either, he wasn't able to. He didn't have time, and he forgot, but that didn't make things better, did it?

You had gone through all of that effort, and not only made a song for him but even played it during a competition and got second place. Yet he couldn't even put a few minutes to the side to listen to it. He didn't.

Now Dick definitely felt awful.

However, he did notice that there was another voicemail left by you just a few minutes after the last one. So, he decided to play that too before his guilt and regret could fully settle in, as if it'd make him feel better somehow.

["8:45! IT'S 8:45! THAT'S WHEN I PLAY! NOT- Not 8:15, sorry! I mixed up the times- that's when a friend of mine plays, not me! Sorry! Uh, but yeah. I play at 8:45- stop by if you can! I hope to see you then! Buh-bye!"]

Okay, well, Dick officially felt worse now. So much worse.

You had all this character and personality, and yet he was never able to fully see it — to hear it like he has now. Not like this, not while he was paying attention.

Your voice was so much different than what he remembered, and despite your nerves you really tried to tell him because you hoped he'd be there. You tried to tell him in hopes he'd actually show up, and he never did. Even as he listened to your other voice messages, he could hear how his own actions, or lack thereof, were affecting you.

The messages grew shorter, more to the point, and while you did still sound enthusiastic — it's like he could hear the hope dying in your voice. The hope that'd he show up. That any effort would be made, but that didn't happen, and it didn't help that Dick was listening to some of the voicemails he was going through right now, for the first time.

He could only imagine the pain he caused you, and Bruce was thinking the same thing.

Bruce was still looking through your notebooks as Dick was regretting everything he had done to you in the past.

The notebook Bruce was reading now was one where you had written down majority of your more recent song ideas, along with things you wanted to try and melodies you were trying to mix together. It was mostly full of lyrics and small notes to yourself about certain things you wanted to keep in mind, and though there was a lot of things crossed out, Bruce couldn't help but be... charmed in a strange way.

How you talked to yourself was adorable, and seeing your excitement for your own performances and such through each word you wrote, just made Bruce feel so happy for you. He could almost picture your smile and how giddy you felt when you were writing some of these things down, or how focused you were when trying to figure out how to continue the chorus of a song you were making — or if there should even be lyrics to begin with. Along with how you wanted the song itself to sound, and what emotions you wanted to capture in it.

With each page turned it's like he could see the entire process you went through when it came to your song composition. Like he was almost there with you in the moment, watching you do your thing, and honestly? Just by that alone he couldn't help but grow... softer.

Bruce loved seeing how your mind worked when it came to music, and your thought process behind each and every little thing. He just... he felt like through each line and little note he read and looked over, he was falling in love. The kind of love that he couldn't quite describe, besides just the love only a father could feel when they really see their child for who they are for the first time. The kind of love Bruce hadn't felt in a long while, nor this intensely.

You were so creative and passionate, so driven to achieve your dream and do what you loved. You were just so... you, and there was just something about the way you expressed that in the notebook that felt charming. The deeper Bruce got into the notebook, the harder it was to not love you, and each time he saw one of your little notes, he could feel himself smiling. You were so precious, how could he not see that before?

Though, besides all of that, he did notice a small pattern.

Every performance you had, you mentioned in the notebook and would express your feelings about it, and every time you did — you'd write something beneath it. Just a small paragraph about certain hopes you had. Hopes that made Bruce's heart squeeze tighter.

It was you hoping that they'd get to see you perform, that they'd show up, and suddenly Bruce was reminded of why he was doing this in the first place. So, he started to flip through your book, shaking out of whatever trance he was in.

With each performance that passed, the little paragraph got shorter, smaller, simpler. Like a quiet prayer that was dying down, as the believer slowly lost their hope and faith. It even came to a point where only one sentence was written for a while.

"I hope I see one of them."

Bruce's heart broke a little more each and every time he saw it, but the page that really got to him was when the sentence was smudged, small wrinkles and creases were on the page, and you couldn’t even finish writing the sentence as the end of the 'e' in 'them' dragged out.

What didn't help was when he flipped a few more pages, and found the last performance you had written about. It was a few months ago, but the date didn't immediately catch Bruce's eye. No, no, no, what caught his attention at first was the change of that single sentence.

"I hope the audience enjoys it."

His heart shattered at that, smile fading as he took in a breath. A moment passed, with Bruce just stating at the writing. Wishing for the impossible, and to change things that had already been done. It was too late, but he somehow refused to believe that now.

Finally, he noticed the date and paused.

That... couldn't be right. You used to write in this notebook all the time from what he could tell, why did you stop? Did something happen that day?

If months really have passed... then that would explain all the dust on the box and contents within it, but still, it didn't make sense. Weren't you still here in the Manor? Bruce honestly couldn't think of why'd you would stop writing unless you somehow couldn't reach the notebook, but you couldn’t have left, right? Surely, above everything else, he would've notice that, right?

...

Bruce finally looked at Dick, seeing the oldest just staring at old flyers from various events and such you had participated in throughout your life. A life they never got to see.

"When was Y/n's last performance?" He asked bluntly, getting straight to the point.

Dick glanced at Bruce for a moment before looking back down at your desk. He moved some of the papers around before he found the most recent one and looked over to his father with a raised brow.

"About a week ago, why?"

Bruce looked back down at the notebook in his hand, eyes scanning over the date again before he closed it. Looking back at Dick, he asked another question.

"Have you seen Y/n around?"

Dick grew quiet at that, and after a moment he just sighed and shook his head.

"No, I can't say I have." It was only then did he catch what Bruce may have been thinking, "You don't think they-"

"It's a possibility. We can't be too sure just yet," Bruce just wanted to hold onto his hope that you were still here, and even if the chance was small he was willing to take it. He didn't want to believe that they had pushed you so far away that you would not only consider leaving, but actually went ahead and did it. He wanted to be doubtful, but he couldn't rule out anything. Not yet.

"Just keep looking, I'll go ask the others." Bruce stated as he placed the notebook back in the box and headed out the room.

"Keep looking? For what?! Other events we missed? More ways we ignored them? Things they did without us?!"

To say Dick's guilt was eating away at him would be an understatement. It was practically devouring him at this point, and he could just barely take it.

Bruce paused at the doorframe, sighing as he looked back at Dick, "Any hints or clues to where they could be. Favorite spots they might frequent, places where their lessons were held, people they know, anything." He left him with that, causing Dick to just run a stressed hand through his hair as he took a breath.

Worry and regret heavily weighed down on him, but all he could do was carry it for now. He'd make it up to you somehow. He would, and he'd finally get to hear that song one way or another.

As Dick started his search, so did Bruce.

Bruce did a general search around the house, looking for anyone he came across while also trying to look for you. He thought that if he was lucky, he'd run into you. Even if the possibility was small, it could still happen — or he hoped so anyway.

Just this once, Bruce really hoped for the best.

Though, he did end up running into someone, even if it wasn't who he was looking for.

"Woah, someone looks serious. What's got your bat panties in a twist?" Jason asked, amused, "Actually, wait, don't tell me. I don't c-"

"Have you seen Y/n?" Bruce cut Jason off, getting straight to the point.

The sudden question confused Jason as he gave Bruce a weird look, some of his amusment still remaining but it began to die down a bit.

"No... why?"

Bruce took a breath, fingers twitching, "Do you know where they could be?"

"How the hell am I supposed to know?" Jason's own confusion began to take over, his amusement continuing to die down, "Seriously, did something happen? Why are you suddenly looking for them?"

Bruce took a moment, just looking at Jason before he sighed.

"When was the last time you saw them?"

"... A few days ago..." Jason glanced off to the side.

"Jason."

"Okay, okay! Fine. I don't fucking know! A few weeks ago? Maybe?!" He answered, getting agitated already. "I'm barely here enough as it is, how am I supposed to know where they are!"

Again, Bruce took in another breath, but there was something about it that Jason didn't like. Maybe he inhaled too sharply or deeply — Jason wasn't sure, but all he knew was that he wasn't going to like what Bruce was about to say.

"Dick hasn't seen them either."

"And that's supposed to be a surprise, how? He lives all the way in Bludhaven, of course he isn't going to see Y/n. 'Cause they live here-"

"I haven't seen them."

"..." That was a little more surprising, but just a little more. It still couldn’t mean anything... right?

"With all the shit you do, I would be surprised if you even saw them on a semi-regular basis." Jason crossed his arms, still not convinced — not entirely anyway. Yet Bruce could only exhale softly, the action bothering Jason even more.

"It's just a possibility. I'm trying to find them. Think you can help out?" Bruce clarified before asking. Additional help would definitely be great, especially because it meant that they could find you faster. He could find you faster.

"What makes you think I'm gonna do that?"

"Did know that Y/n wrote a song that's a tributed to you?"

"... What."

Bruce sighed, "You don't have to do it because I asked you to, or even because I want to find them. You can do it for yourself, Jason. But I'll leave that decision to you." Then, he just walked off to continue his search for you, and the other occupants of the Manor. Leaving Jason by himself, alone...

"That bitch-" Jason cursed under his breath as he walked off, deciding that he'll help look. Though only so he could ask you if Bruce was bullshiting him or not, and not for any other reason...

... Wait, you wrote songs? Like, actually?

Jason just shook his head, already upset enough as he shoved the thought to the side. When he found you he could ask, and how hard could that be? The Manor was only so big, and besides, you were just one person. He could probably find you before Bruce if he just looked in the right places, but the only thing now was finding those places...

Okay, so maybe he saw the problem, but still. This couldn't be too hard. You were the only one in the whole family who wasn't a vigilante, and so it was only about a matter of time.

Nevertheless, Jason began looking around as well, trying to figure out where he should look as he mindlessly checked every other room he came across. Where would you even go anyway? He'd probably check your room first but he figured that Bruce had already checked there, and it wasn't like Jason knew where your room even was. Though he just chalked that up to how infrequent his incredibly short visits were.

Still, he didn't even know where to start, and would rather avoid searching the entire Manor if he could. He tried to scratch his brain for anything but he just... had no idea.

Well, okay, he had one idea, but that was only because of one night. Even then he's still not sure it was you who he saw on the-

["Master Y/n? Are you alright?"]

Jason's thought process was cut off by a sudden voice. He immediately recognized it as Alfred's, and a realization hit him. Right! He should look for Alfred first, he'd know where you are. Alfred practically knew everything about everyone in the Manor, so he'd lnow something for sure.

So, he followed the sound until he stood in the doorway of one of the lounges. The television was on and playing some kind of recording, but Jason paid no mind to it.

Confused, Jason called out, "Alfred?"

When he didn't receive a response, he huffed as his eyes drifted to the television. What was playing, anyway?

You — a smaller, younger version of you — stood in a door way, looking out in the hall before turning back to the camera. Big, innocent eyes looking up. Looking at Jason.

You couldn't have been no older than eight or nine.

[You gave a little nod with a small hum, "I'm okay, Alfred. Just... waiting, like you said."]

A small, soft huff could be heard from the other end of the camera, and the camera moved to be placed down a counter of some kind. Which revealed Alfred to be the one having been recording everything so far.

["Yes, well. How about we do a little something while we wait, hm?" Alfred asked, moving a stool closer to the counter — moving the camera again to be placed on the kitchen isle this time.]

Ingredients and tools used for baking could be seem on the counter. The stool Alfred had place was next to where he was standing, and a good distance away from the stove.

[You looked at Alfred curiously, "What are we going to do?"]

["Oh, nothing too much, Master Y/n. But... I do require a bit of assistance baking this cake, that is if you'd like to help, of course." Alfred patted the top of the stool as he spoke, "Though you can always just watch, if you'd like."]

[You perked up at what Alfred said, climbing up onto the stool enthusiastically with a smile. "I wanna help!" You exclaimed, looking over the ingredients before looking back at Alfred, "But... what cake are we making?"]

[Alfred hummed, pretending to think before be looked back down at you, "Well, what kind of cake would you like, Master Y/n? It is your birthday after all."]

["Really?" When Alfred nodded, you gasped excitedly before suggesting your favorite flavor at the time.]

["Well then, let's get started, shall we?"]

From there, the rest of the recording was of you and Alfred baking. With Alfred helping you when he had to, and laughing lightly when you would inevitably make a mess.

Laughs and jokes were exchanged, and it was probably the happiest Jason has ever seen you... which made him feel weird in a way. He didn't like it, not one bit, and yet he continued to watch the old, wholesome memory play out before him.

Jason watched as you got a bit of flour on your nose and how Alfred wiped it off. He watched as while Alfred was deciding on the shape of the cake, you gathered all the different colors and types of sprinkles you could find, and was looking at a particular color of food coloring. How you nearly fell trying to grab the food coloring, and how Alfred just narrowly managed to catch you. How after that, Alfred visibly recovered from the near heart attack he had gotten from watching you fall, and just watched you add the food coloring to the frosting after you had thanked him for catching you, and apologized for falling.

... It got Jason thinking, if only a little bit.

He didn't know much about you, not really anyway. Even if his visits were few and far inbetween, not to mention incredibly short, someone would think that he'd catch onto a few things about you, or just generally have more interactions with you, but he didn't. All he really knew was that you knew how to play the violin really well, but that was assuming that who he saw that night really was you. Even if he doesn't know who else it'd be.

Jason still remembered that one occurrence despite how long it's been since then... but that was for a different time. He had to focus now, but he still couldn't help but watch the little version of you trying to frost the cake without being too messy, but failing miserably.

It did get him thinking about how many small moments he had missed with you, and just... how little time he had actually spent around you.

Obviously, you weren't a little kid anymore. After all, the last time he remembered seeing you — you were already a teenager. Though was that really a good thing? Jason did remember having some kind of interaction with you in the past... but it wasn't much of anything, and even then he probably forgot half of those moments. What definitely didn't help is that you both didn't have each other's phone numbers, and the only form of communication you had was seeing each other in person.

.... Okay, maybe this whole 'finding you' thing was definitely a lot harder than Jason had originally thought.

["... Are they going to come, Alfred?" You asked, sitting in front of the cake you and Alfred had just made together, looking up at the camera that Alfred was holding once again.]

[Alfred didn't respond right away, but did eventually say, "I'm afraid not, Master Y/n, but if you'd like we could wait a little longer."]

[You shook your head, looking at the cake before looking back at the camera, "It's okay. We can blow out the candles now, but..." you hesitated, looking down at the table, "could you... stay with me? Please?" You looked away, embrassed for asking but didn't take back what you said.]

[Again, a soft huff came from the other end of the camera. "Of course, Master Y/n."]

After a short happy birthday song, the camera was placed down on the table as Alfred cut the cake. It was only after Alfred had given both you and himself a slice did the footage cut out.

Nothing could describe the face you made when Alfred said that no one was coming. Just like how Jason couldn't even begin to describe what it made him feel.

Even when a new recording started, he could hardly pay attention to it as all he saw was your face staring up at the camera. Expression not necessarily sad or upset, but it was easily the most heartbreaking thing Jason had ever seen. A kid shouldn't have a face like that. You shouldn't have a face like that.

Jason was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't even notice Cassandra trying to get his attention, nor did he feel her even pull on his sleeve. All he could think of was you, sitting at that table all by yourself. Alone.

He just turned the other way, practically stomping down the hall as he looked straight ahead, glaring.

He had to find you. Now.

Cass, on the other hand, was just confused. Watching as Jason stormed off before looking back at the recording that was playing on the television. What about it had made Jason sp upset? She didn't know, but she was a bit curious.

Bruce had already confronted her and asked her where you were, and of course she didn't know either. He did mention something about how Damian was trying to help a little, which was a surprise in itself, and how Jason might be trying to search for you too, and had asked her if she could do the same. She agreed, of course, just wanting to help out, but having run into Jason just now? That was... odd. Especially when he suddenly stormed off like that, but that wasn't her main focus right now. She still had to-

["Are you still trying to record this, Alfred?"]

Wait... was that your voice?

Cassandra turned back to the television, only to see the camera pointed towards the floor.

["Of course, Master Y/n. Just give me one moment, I almost have the camera set up."]

Oh, Alfred was there too? What was going on?

[Light laughter was heard before you spoke again, "Here, let me help you."]

The camera began to move, and as it paned up, there you were. A soft smile on your face, shining colored hues looking at the camera as you made a few more adjustments before stepping away.

Now, you definitely looked like a teenager or young adult. Voice more matured and settled, almost calm in a way.

["There. That should be good, what do you think?" You asked Alfred, tilting your head to the side a bit, most likely looking at the butler.]

["I have to agree, Master Y/n. Everything should be working properly." Alfred then came into frame, moving towards the counter as you moved around the kitchen isle to follow him. "Now, what is it that you wanted to make this year?"]

["Oh! Right, well..." and you told him, already grabbing a few necessarily ingredients from around the kitchen.]

It wasn't long before the two of you started baking again, but this time around you were clearly more experienced than your younger self — not that Cass was aware of that anyway. You both did your own parts, working exceedingly well together as the conversation between the two of you was nothing but natural.

Cass never saw you talk so naturally, or even knew you could bake, but there were a lot of things she didn't know about you.

She could see that in the footage, you were really relaxed and happy. Almost at ease as you skillfully moved about, as if knowing the necessary steps to make what you were hoping to bake by heart, and how you navigated the kitchen made it look as if you almost knew it as well as Alfred did. It was almost refreshing to see you just be so... in tune with your surroundings, and Cass almost wished she had been there to see you bake for herself. Though she could settle watching footage of you bake for now.

Even if she didn't know why you were even baking in the first place until Alfred mentioned something about a gift for your Birthday, and how that led you to talking about some of the things your friends had given you.

This was... your birthday? Just you and Alfred?

That didn't feel right... but then again, she didn't even know when your birthday was to begin with — and now that she thinks about, had you ever celebrated Christmas with everyone? As a whole family?

... She wasn't sure.

["Are you certain that you don't want to wait, Master Y/n? You never know, someone could show up this time." Alfred asked, looking at you with slight concern.]

[You only smiled, "I'm sure. Besides, even if any of them did come, we both know that it'd be on accident." You laughed lightly to yourself, looking down at the pastry both you and Alfred had made together. "I doubt they even know when my birthday is, but that's okay." You looked back at Alfred, your smile still happy but... there was something off with it.]

["I've told you before, haven't I? You're all the company I need in this house. I'm happy just spending my birthdays like this with you." You took a piece of the pastry and ripped it off before holding it in the air, as if doing a toast, and held it toward Alfred. "So, happy birthday to me?"]

[Alfred sighed softly, but could only smile as he took his own piece of the pastry, copying your actions as he held the piece toward you, "Happy birthday, Master Y/n."]

The footage cut right after, and suddenly Cass found herself in a similar position that Jason had been in just a few moments ago. Just staring at the screen, unsure what to do with this new information, the weight on her chest growing.

Had you really spent every birthday like that? If so... then why didn't you tell anyone? Or had you tried, only for nothing to come of it?

The thought alone hurt, strangely enough, and all Cass wanted to do was... well. She wasn't sure.

She wanted to do so many things, and yet she didn't know if anything would work. Or if anything she could do would fix... well, anything at all.

She wanted to try your baking and... and celebrate a birthday with you. Or maybe she just felt obligated to do so after having seen the recording, but a big part of her did mean it. Especially because she didn't want you to feel alone or anything ever again, not after seeing the extent it went to. Though perhaps there was some irony in that thought that Cass failed to realize.

Regardless, Cass found herself walking off too. Completely missing the figure who turned off the television, and unplugged the camera from it that held all of the footage both her and Jason were shown.

Cass was practically speed walking as she checked the library — remembering have seen glimpses of you in there before — while Jason checked the music room, only for both to turn up equally empty. Yet they kept looking. Everyone did.

Dick tried calling and texting you while trying to see if there was anywhere you could be outside of the Manor. Tim ended up helping as he ran into Dick, and was basically locating and tracking down all the places you've been to with the help of your notebooks and awards in your room. All the while listening to some very earlier pieces you've wrote and played on the mp3 player he found in your box.

Bruce was still looking all over the Manor for you, each minute that passed making him more paranoid and worried. What started as a small possibility was growing into a certainty and he did not enjoy that at all. Damian had decided to search for Alfred, since it seemed like the smartest choice if they wanted to end this quickly. Yet when he did find Alfred and asked him where you were, it turned out that Alfred didn't know where you were either.

While yes, he did know some of the teachers and coaches you've had in the past, he didn't know where you were at this exact moment. How could that be? It was simple, really.

Alfred hadn't seen you in a while either, and once that little piece of information spread around the family... what followed after could only be described as chaos.

The Manor was practically flipped upside down as Bruce, Damian, Jason, and Cass searched for you. Not a single room went unchecked, and when they still came out empty handed, their own worries began to fuel each others.

Dick was the first one to suit up and head out, already calling Barbara as night fell on Gotham, with Tim beginning to suit up — yet Jason had beat him to the punch and was out the second the Manor was cleared. Cass was next to follow, with Bruce and Damian not following too far behind. Tim only left after informing Stephanie — and after downloading some of your songs — and telling Alfred to keep a look out just in case you came back home.

In just a few hours, what started as an unusually uneventful and calm, quiet day for the family, quickly turned into one of the most panicked induced searches and painful night of their lives.

All because of you.

---------

You were tuning your guitar calmly, tapping your foot to the melody playing in your head as you hummed. The silence surrounding you was peaceful for a chance, and didn't feel suffocating or as unnerving as the silence in the Manor did.

Honestly, it took a bit of getting used to but after a few weeks you had grown to love it. Waking up everyday and having someone there to not only greet you, but actually acknowledge you also took a bit of getting used to, but you managed much more easily with that.

Sure, there were other things as well, but you eased into it and had come to accept these small things as just parts of your new life. Yet, you still found yourself appreciating and noticing the smallest things, and almost crying over them too.

It had been a few months since you had left the Manor, and honestly you couldn't be happier.

You now shared an apartment with one of your closets friends, and your career helped you cover your half of the rent, as well as other expenses. You had truly found comfort with this new lifestyle, and even if you'd like to move out of Gotham one day — you could settle for this for now.

This, you believed, was what peace truly felt like.

Even when your phone started to go off like crazy — you just took one look at who it was and rolled your eyes, putting your phone on silent as you placed it face down on the table in front of you. You didn't know what Dick and Tim needed so badly, but you were sure they'd be able to figure it out themselves. After all, they were the sons of the world's greatest detective, right? They could handle themselves.

So you just leaned back into your couch, sighing softly as you mindlessly strummed away at your guitar, smiling a little to yourself when the tune was just right. Creating a melody came all too naturally to you, and all you did was carry it on — humming softly as countless ideas filled your head. A small song beginning to form, even if unintentionally.

A song that went on — with the suffering of Gotham going on in the background. The city being cleared out and searched by the vigilantes that dared to protect it, all of it being done just to look for one person. You.

The shouts and screams served as the base, with the shattering of glass and bones being the lower kick, perhaps. The heart beat serving as the tempo, and so on.

So, just as you had years ago, you played on. Calm and happy in your own little world, unaware of the horrors to come — and destruction being made in your name.

–––––

Well, that's long, isn't it?

Might be making a another post that kind of details what some of the others did before everything went to hell? We'll see. Maybe.

Sorry again for any mistakes, especially towards the halfway point/end there.

[froschli96]

You know what, fuck it, I have to speak my truth! (this is gonna be a rant, so anyone who actually likes assassin's creed revelations and/or the secret crusade, be warned or maybe don't read this at all)

remember how altaïr talks to king richard at the end of ac1, and richard is like "[humans] come into the world kicking and screaming, violent and unstable. it is what we are. we cannot help ourselves."? and how altaïr answers "no. we are what we choose to be." and how that ACTUALLY has meaning bc he himself was "violent and unstable" at the beginning of the game but he has learned and is now CHOOSING to be a better person who cares about others and humanity at large? remember how his calmness and gentleness was something that he ACQUIRED over the course of the story?

and remember how in revelations they then suddenly had a PRE-AC1 altaïr say about the first of his targets "no man should pass from this world without knowing some kindness." and be all wise and calm and collected during a nice little chat with al mualim, who suddenly acts all fatherly? (like, this is suddenly supposed to be a positive relationship? what??)

also, during the confession the target says to altair: "you put too much faith in the hearts of men, altaïr. [...] humans are weak, base, and petty." and altaïr answers: "no. our creed is evidence to the contrary." KJASJFJDKL???? like, it’s almost insulting how close this exchange is to the one with richard. you know, the one that was actually earned after a whole game of character development. like WTF??? cool congrats now that development means nothing. like, apparently that was just altaïr reverting BACK to being the exemplary assassin who understands and believes in the creed that he was apparently just born as. (i also hate how having a young inexperienced altaïr saying this implies that altaïr's faith in humanity is a sign of naivete instead of a sign of the wisdom he has gained after being confronted with counter arguments for a whole game, and also something that distinguishes the assassins from the templars who use humanity's supposed wickedness to justify controlling them like in AC1, but whatever)

altaïr’s development in AC1 mattered BECAUSE he is not NATURALLY a good person, it actually said something about humanity's capacity for both bad AND good and how humans don't have to be forced to be good through mind control bc they can by their own free will choose to be better when taught how and when allowed the freedom to grow. but no. apparently altaïr has just always been calm, wise and gentle. and he just sort of forgot about that during AC1 bc…. ? bc of adha?? bc of abbas???

oh don’t get me started on the whole abbas thing. (it doesnt even make sense that abbas is so hung up about his father and "his family’s honor", like what about the whole point of al mualim not allowing parents to be close to their children bc it would make them weak? like, my dude, you’re not supposed to HAVE any family aside from the brotherhood)

they used the throwaway character that had like 5 lines and made him into altaïr’s main antagonist in revelations… like, abbas wasn’t supposed to be this ONE dude who had personal beef with altaïr, he was just supposed to show how while altaïr’s revered by many, a lot of his brothers also hate him, bc 1) altaïr is a shitty person at this point and 2) bc there’s no real feeling of community and family in this version of the brotherhood, but just a pervasive sense of competition and jealousy — these assassins don’t care about their goal of safeguarding humanity bc they’re too hung up on petty squabbles and divided by rivalries (you know, the things that made malik hate altaïr even before solomon’s temple and that he overcomes in the end which enables him to forgive and to reconcile with altaïr so they can work together and stop al mualim? (you ever just think about "we are one. as we share the glory of our victories, so too should we share the pain of our defeat. in this way we grow closer. we grow stronger." and cry? bc i do. all the time. malik, the man that you are))

and now abbas is altaïr’s childhood best friend turned lifelong enemy?? like, bowden bent over backwards to come up with an explanation for why altaïr is an arrogant ass at the beginning of AC1, when the explanation is right there: he was raised to kill without asking questions and was constantly praised for how good he is at murder, which resulted in him becoming arrogant and disregarding human life. like, it doesn’t have to be some shakespearean family feud type shit. and guess what, this "simple" explanation actually plays into the story’s themes, who’da thunk!

(like, abbas might not have been a "fleshed out" character in AC1, but he had a specific function and now that function is gone. mr bowden, mr mcdevitt, you know characters are allowed to simply exist to tell us something about their worlds and the systems they live in and sometimes that’s more important and also more interesting than having every single character have a detailed backstory to explain all their behaviors, right?)

with all of this revelations loses all nuance in regards to the levantine brotherhood and also the creed in general. like, altaïr being a master assassin at the beginning despite being a terrible person and not actually understanding the creed is a criticism of the brotherhood and the creed itself. like, it said something about the order that someone like altaïr was able to get that high in rank, simply bc he's good at killing, which also tells us what is considered important in the al mualim era assassin order. when you make altaïr’s arrogance the result of his personal conflicts instead of how we was raised by a brotherhood that only valued one's ability to kill, you lose that characterization of the assassin order itself!

and by suddenly making al mualim a semi good "father figure" you also downplay his manipulation of not only altaïr but all those under his care. (altaïr says something about al mualim being "as a father" to him exactly twice in the codex, but he doesn’t mean by that that he WAS a father to him, what he means is that he was the CLOSEST THING he had bc HE DID NOT HAVE PARENTS, not because his mother died in childbirth and his father was executed when he was young btw, BUT BECAUSE IT WASN’T ALLOWED, like his parents actually lived but weren’t allowed to be close to him, he says he came to view al mualim’s "weak and dishonest" love as enough and even better BECAUSE HE HAD NOTHING ELSE, BECAUSE AL MUALIM ISOLATED HIS ASSASSINS FROM THEIR FAMILIES. al mualim "loved" him bc he was good at killing people for him! hm, i wonder if this could be trying to say anything about cults and indoctrination and the inherent contradiction in fighting for peace and free will by taking children away from their parents and raising them to become killers?? like, altaïr wasn't ~the special orphan boy~ taken in by al mualim bc his father died a hero's death, it was "the way of the order" to have al mualim be the closest thing to a parental figure for everyone to ensure absolute loyalty! altaïr saying al mualim was like his father is not supposed to make you go "oh, he must have actually been a good guy for altaïr to consider him a father", it should make you go "oh that's kinda fucked up that he considers the dude who made him into a killing machine and who manipulated him a sort of father figure"!)

and then in revelations they suddenly portray that relationship as positive and healthy??? like, it would be one thing to give it some nuance by delving into the psychology behind al mualim’s "love" and maybe showing how al mualim did care about altair in a complicated, fraught sort of way (like, you know, there’s a lot of interesting things you could say about al mualim at several points addressing altaïr as "my child" in AC1 and how that parallels Garnier referring to the people he drugged and abused as his "children", and what that says about how the templars view the people who they say they want to save and in whose best interests they supposedly act (in any case, al mualim doesn’t use that phrase because he has any real parental feelings but rather to patronize and to invalidate any objections, like in a "mother knows best" way))

but they even fucking DARE to parallel that relationship with that of altaïr and darim in revelations, by having the reflection in the puddle of darim hugging altaïr showing altaïr hugging al mualim…. like their relationship wasn’t inherently abusive but just tragically cut short because al mualim was just "corrupted by the apple"… like WHAT???? so it’s not the very real problems like grooming, manipulation and indoctrination and the hierarchical structure of the brotherhood itself (all of which are antithetical to the assassin ideology), it was just the evil apple all along. great. that’s DEFINITELY a lot more interesting.

god im sorry i really dont want to spread negativity but this is driving me INSANE. like, somebody please tell me im not crazy bc i feel like somehow most of the fandom is in agreement that revelations and the secret crusade have better storytelling and characterization than ac1.

SPEAKING OF WHICH, can we talk about how, even IF we completely ignore AC1 and treat revelations altaïr as his own character…. the narrative still doesn’t really work?

basically, the whole point of his story in rev is that "he gave his whole life to the brotherhood", this obsession led to him not using his time with his family which has him ending up dying alone in a dark library and this in turn makes ezio reevaluate his life choices…. except. he doesn’t? neglect? his family? or whatever? like, his devotion to the assassins is sort of painted as this tragic flaw that leads to a lonely death bc it supposedly comes at the cost of his family, but… his wife has joined the assassins, (at least) one of his sons is in the brotherhood and even when he goes to protect the assassins against the mongols, he takes his family with him (except for the son who stays behind bc he has a family of his own and who, ironically, ends up dying bc of that)… like, you can’t describe altaïr as a good husband and father in the database and have his son tell him that "everything that is good in me began with you, father" when they say goodbye, and then want to make us believe that he put his family behind the brotherhood and that that is a character flaw that leads to his tragedy.

because you HAVE to have a character’s tragedy be the result of a character flaw. like. that is how tragedies work. otherwise it just becomes tragedy for the sake of tragedy which is… boring bc it has no purpose. and we know it is SUPPOSED to have purpose bc ezIO FUCKING QUITS BEING AN ASSASSIN AFTER WITNESSING IT!

it’s like they want to have their cake and eat it, too — they didn’t want to actually make altaïr a bad husband/father, but still wanted to make his life a tragedy where he loses his family which is why instead they outsource all responsibility to abbas who now has to be the reason for ALL the deaths.

like, they try to make at least maria’s death kind of sort of the result of altaïr’s rashness or whatever but like… these guys KILLED THEIR SON and TOLD HIM THAT ALTAÏR HAD ORDERED HIS DEATH. like, altaïr losing it in response to that is not rash, it’s fucking logical and justified! if anything the scene made me angry at maria for trying to stop him. like, GIRL, he was YOUR son too??? but god forbid we give female characters actual real emotions, she has to fill the role of "voice of reason who dies for altaïr’s man pain" i fucking guess.

like, it’s this weird mix where his tragedy is simultaneously painted as his own fault but also not really bc abbas is the one responsible for all the shit that happens. it just… it just doesn’t really go together.

the only way to make his story make sense narratively and to give it actual purpose is by looking at it in the context of ezio’s story, bc the things he sees in altaïr’s memories are supposed to be a revelation (ha!) to ezio specifically. and i guess that’s maybe the crux of it all — altaïr’s story in revelations was conceived of first and foremost to support ezio’s story and development. which is probably also why many people maybe don’t notice bc, having skipped ac1 and started with ac2, the majority of people mostly care only about ezio and only really appreciate altaïr’s story in as far as it serves to push ezio forward. (tho i’ve also seen a few people say that ezio is also written kind of weird in rev, but i’ve never really been an ezio girly myself so i can’t speak to the truth of that)

like, altaïr dying alone in the library doesn’t really have to make sense for his character, i guess, bc it’s only really supposed to be a cautionary tale for ezio.

so, i guess, for once, they actually had a MAN dying for another man’s character development, which is pretty woke actually. ubisoft, i take everything back jksdsfjhgdsahfhsdhfghfdsgjhsdgjh

[tattlestarbeepbop]

I'm tired of this fandom being so small that everyone that makes content for it basically knows each other, sooo...

A la Randy Feltface's skit about Hemmingway, I bring you...

THE BACKSTORY OF: JANE WHITMAN

(In the span of however fast or slow you may read this.)

[Just a heads up, spoilers for Date Time ahead.]

GO!

Born in the year of, or at the very least some year before 1974, (Inferred by the newspaper we find in one of the first rooms of what we can only assume is her headspace and the fact that she has a teacher named Mrs. Afee in this year) Jane had an eventful childhood, such as her father basically abandoning her and her mother, leading to a childhood that Randy would call uneventful, but I know led to a majority of Jane's life being the way it is.

Mrs. Afee was concerned for her health because she usually just drew all day, never interacting with the other kids (Oh, hey, it's me!) She was also not that cooperative with her mother, which... granted, most kids aren't. There's also a cat plush that you can squish, but I can either say "This must've been Jane's comfort plush!" or I can just admit I don't know why it's there and move on.

In 1975 (Inferred by another newspaper) Jane was asked to draw something else by her teacher... and the result wasn't very pretty. Either way, it was in this year that Jane caught wind of Silicon Valley, a place in California known for it's technological whimsy!... which her mom thought was a financial fad. I want to see the look on her face when she finds out she was DEAD WRONG!

Jane liked watching TV, and one show she watched had a little sock puppet man named Klippy. He told her that she was loved and cared for and that somebody else out there in the world was the same way, which is true! Klippy also told Jane to never give up! And ya know what her momma said?!

"Don't listen to the TV, Jane. It'll rot your brain."

Everybody say it with me: FUCK YOU, JANE'S MOM!

...okay, I shouldn't give her too much shit, she was struggling with rent because her husband fucked off to Valhalla. (probably)

Anyway, next room/part of Jane's life! No year this time, but we can assume she's older. Now she's some quiet gal trying to get a job for the summer at a restaurant, but those guys rejected her. She got shoved into a locker by some bitchass named Jackie, some Mrs. Sophie woman (probably another teacher) tells her to give up on art and focus on getting her life together (and gave her only two options: Work force or housewife), and Jane's mother forces Jane to get into a prom dress that even Anna thinks is dreadful AND DATE SOME A-HOLE!

Literally. If my theory about the next room is right, her date is literally just called 'A-hole.'

Anyway, we have another year on a magazine! 1980! Woo-hoo! Anyway, this guy takes the time to share weird facts like "Did you know we only use 10% of our brains?" WHICH IS FUCKIN' BULLSHIT. He also claims to be a lawyer and that a limousine can still turn if tilted at a certain angle- actually, wait- no he didn't He told her it's not true after saying it! WHAT THE FU-

He says he's a fan of 'Art of War,' an ancient Chinese military treatise by Sun Tzu and that he'll pay for the meal if Jane gives him another date, to which she rightfully declines. Good on you, Jane. You deserve better. Anyway, she's scratched out her drawings because nobody supported her art career and her mom, despite being the partial cause of Jane's dismay was like "You used to draw all the time! What happened?"

Again, say it with me: FUCK YOU, JANE'S MOM!

Jane also tried to get a job working for a "John Avast," who, like basically everyone else in her life, rejected her. And then, finally, after so many years of heartbreak and depression... Jane met Melissa, a character from a dating game that's been there since the start of the series. She's also self-aware and will someday grow tired of the fruitless cycle of dates and smooches and cafes with only three choices on the player's side, including a SCRUMPTIOUS PANINI.

Anna's tired of Melissa in general and slices that memory to bits right in front of Jane. Yikes.

Anyway, Jane loved Melissa so much that upon actually getting her arm held by Melissa's pixelated figure as she begged to be with her, that she couldn't help but say yes and immediately start to gather the supplies for a break-in to the library, which her mother catches her in the act and SENDS HER TO A MENTAL INSTITUTION CALLED ST. PALO AFTER GETTING A NEW ROOMMATE.

ONE MORE TIME: FUCK YOU, JANE'S MOM!

In the next room, we meet the biggest bastard to ever bastard in Jane's life (other than Anna,) and his name is Dr.Kaperski. Real piece of work this one. Jane's restricted while she sits down and is basically forced to tell Dr.Kaperski what happened at the library, and when she's done, she rightfully tries to attack him, but a nurse forces her to take the medicine prescribed to her and possibly gain a fear of needles as a result if she didn't have one already.

And that's where the flashbacks end... but wait. There's more.

At the age of 24, Jane is let go, courtesy of the Data Time company, because SHE GOT HIRED AFTER SO FUCKIN' LONG, LET'S GOOOOO! She gets a copy of Anna and as we check her emails, we see an email from her mom. Again, I'd love to see the look on that woman's face when she thought semi-conductors were a financial fad! Sorry isn't going to cut it for scarring your kid for life!

Anyway, Anna takes Jane's wheel after taking her down memory lane, they shuffle on over to the library and confuse the fuck out of Melissa, but then when she's about to make her move and give the Anna-possessed Jane a big ol' smooch, she whips out a device that sends Melissa right back into the computer with one last moment of clarity that this ain't Jane, and with that, the (probably first ever) copy-protected Melissa diskette is born.

Jane ain't having it.

She fights with all of her might against big bad Anna and manages to tuck the diskette away in it's character's favorite book, Pride and Prejudice. Speaking of which, HOW, pray-tell, has nobody found that thing yet?! There's a demand in romantic books, so surely someone would've found it by now! (Not a knock against the game, just a joke.)

Anyway, Jane rushes out of the library before Martha (the librarian) or Anna (the bitch) can get her to show the diskette to them, and ends up running out of breath in the middle of the street before a fuckin' semi shows up AND SPLATTERS HER BODY ALL OVER THE STREET!

WHAT A GAL!

How I knew her age?

I found it on a funeral thing that I couldn't tell you about until you knew she died.

[13skeletons]

The more I think about it, the more I think I should've paired a mage Hawke with Tobias Cousland. (Knight Enchanter so he spent most of the game fighting with sword and shield.)

Like, your family has had to move constantly your whole life because of magic. But you've finally settled outside Lothering and tried to just stay in one place for a while, but then the Blight comes and you have to flee with your lives, barely making it out in time. You're refugees in a templar-controlled city and you have to hide your magic harder than ever, but you're determined to make it work this time. Then the Hero of Ferelden ends the Blight in record time and rises to the throne. The official word out of Denerim is that he's a warrior of great skill, but certainly no mage. Certainly no apostate. The noble Couslands hiding their son's magic? CERTAINLY not. And what Ferelden would refute that? They owe everything to him, what's a little blasphemy to a hero? But the rumors persist.

("I have a cousin who saw the Hero crush the life right out of a hurlock with magic!" "Well my sister was living in Denerim during the final battle and she swears she saw him in a field of frozen genlocks and there were no other mages anywhere NEAR him." "Me nan lives in Amaranthine and she saw him walking around with a staff on his back, bold as you please!")

The rumors reach your ears and you think, "if he can do it, why not me?" And for a while it even seems to be working out that way. You regain your family's estate. You save the city from the qunari, you defeat the Arishok himself in single-combat.

But it all falls apart. Champion you may be, but the Arishok is no Archdemon, and you have no queen in your corner, no ancient and respected family name. The mage-templar war erupts right there in your city, and no amount of magic can stop it.

History will remember Tobias Cousland as a warrior and a Hero, but you're just another apostate - a danger to yourself and everyone around you.

Like. OoF? Ow? Pour that salt directly into my fucking wounds??

And also the more I think about it, the more I think I want to completely swap out my canon. Like. I LOVE the narrative circle of starting Jasper Mahariel's journey by being corrupted by this ancient relic of his people and ending it by following his lover through the same. And I LOVE that the first human Merrill ever met took Jasper, one of her only friends away, and she never saw him again. Then the second human she ever meets ends up falling for her and taking care of her and giving a her real home and supporting her unconditionally for the first time. I love that through-line, that's why I did it.

But also I set it up years ago and I'm slowly finding that other stories are more compelling in my old, depressed state. [weary emoji]

[1tspcinnamon]

so i started going to the gym for the very first time and i have some Thoughts to share:

for context physical activity has never been my strongest suit nor my cup of tea. the lowest grade i've ever received in my whole life (all 12 years of school and 2 years of uni) was in PE lmao

so naturally i was not exactly looking forward to being in a gym. but my mental and physical health has been suffering lately so you gotta do what you gotta do

suprisingly the gym was a much less intimidating environment than i anticipated. yes there were people who looked super buff and experienced, but there were also all other kinds of bodies and ages and levels of fitness. and no one seemed to pay attention to what the others looked like or what they were doing, so my social anxiety settled down and let me be

observation 1: it's amazing how music can make exercise go from pain pain pain discomfort embarrassment shame to pleasantly dissociating and imagining yourself as a fictional character of your choosing

observation 2: isn't it kind of dystopian that gyms are simulating the kind of physical activity that is normally meant to be done outdoors? running, walking, jogging, cycling, even rowing. if i could walk or bike to places instead of having to ride in a car i wouldn't have to resort to a gym in the first place, but the roads are not designed for that and the weather is too hot

this brings me to the reason i absolutely hate modern exercise--it just feels so fake!! and meaningless!! and aimless!!! rationally i knOw there are many benefits but it's like there's this primeval part of my brain that's like. if i am not escaping or hunting or racing, then why am i running? i am not even moving from one point to another, how strange. why am i squatting or bending over if i'm not picking something up? what are these weights that i am lifting - if it is not a jug of water or a sack of grain, then why am i carrying it?

afaik in pre-industrial times the poor got their exercise in the form of physical labor while the rich had their leisurely sports like horseback riding and archery. gyms on the other hand divorce physical activity from both usefulness AND entertainment, making it a very unpleasant experience imo. it takes a lot of mental effort to remember that exercising is going to help me in the long term when in the short term it just feels like time wasted on pain and getting nothing real done.

observation 3: i've seen many individuals who someone could easily look at and say "oh that person is overweight/obese, they must not exercise at all" but then you see them lifting heavy weights like it's nothing, doing intense workouts without running out of breath, etc. meanwhile i with my "normal bmi" am struggling to do basic stuff. so yeah fatphobia is definitely not about health or fitness or whatever

observation 4: the kindness of strangers <3 that's it that's all there is to say

[erispenelopeandalittleviolet]

Penelope and eris mentioned yayyy

Otome Isekai x Text Post Meme

(Originally posted this on r/otomeisekai, but I'm posting it here too on someone's request)

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ IS IT OVER NOW? (IT ISN'T) ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ streamer!au: all good things come to an end, including your relationship—but don't worry, broken hearts can be mended, but only if you're both willing to try.

contents: fem!reader. you two break up and make up! you guys fight/break up over something that coulda been resolved with better communication. kinda suggestive ending, maybe i'll drop a part two if this does alright. satoru announces your break-up on his stream. longest fic i've posted so far, 4k words (kms).

author's note: the long awaited angst has finally arrived.. big thank you to @screampied for beta-reading!! tagging @yunymphs who read it early and @sutorus + @kentopedia who i both miss very much!!

ever since you first joined satoru on his stream, it’s gotten way more popular than either of you could’ve ever expected. before he brought you onto his live, he was averaging about eight thousand views per stream. now, his average was well over fifteen thousand—and that wasn't even including the publicity he got from other websites. when satoru accidentally left the camera on while you two made out, you two went viral on twitter. and when another user tried to swipe him away, the clip got over a hundred thousand views on youtube.

at first, satoru didn't mind the change his stream was going through—in fact, he welcomed it. but lately, things have been… different.

last week, while satoru was playing in some competition, he won first out of hundreds of equally proficient players. had it been anyone else, their comments would've been filled with congratulations and good job's, but in his case, all satoru got were messages asking where you were. that wasn’t the first time—ever since that very first day, when you showed up on his stream, satoru’s audience has entirely shifted. and honestly, if you were in his position, you'd be a bit annoyed. anyone would be. 

but you had never expected that it would be so big of a deal that you and satoru—the "cutest couple on the internet"—would break up over it.

you walk along the chilly, suburban sidewalk up to your boyfriend’s house. satoru had just sent you a message asking if you could come over, and like always, you answered with an immediate yes. a flock of crows fly by, raven feathers providing a stark contrast between them and the pale gray sky around you. it’s gray and gloomy, but not unpleasant. 

a sweet, romantic song plays in your ears as you knock three times on satoru’s front door. his familiar voice calls out “coming!”, and you can hear his footsteps grow louder and louder until he swings open the door. satoru smiles down at you, cheeks already rosy from the cold winter air. “hey.”

you tilt your head and smile back at him. “that’s all i get? hey?” you huff, walking into his living room behind him as the door closes behind you. “d’you have any hot chocolate? i’m freezing,” you say, licking your lips. satoru turns and pauses, an unreadable expression on his face. “satoru?”

after a moment, your boyfriend snaps out of it. “oh, yeah, sorry,” he says ruefully. satoru rubs his eyes with one hand and uses the other to open the door to his bedroom, and as you follow him in, you’re hit with a blast of warm air. “i’m just kinda tired, but yeah, i have some hot cocoa in here. c’mon.”

“anything i can do for you?” you offer, sitting down on the corner of his bed. you’ve been to his house so many times that it feels like home—maybe even more so than your own place. everything about satoru’s room is comfortable, from his plush chairs to the faux-fur blankets draped over every single piece of his furniture. you could probably fall over at any given point and it wouldn’t actually hurt—you’d just land on something soft and/or fluffy.

but that wasn’t all that made you so in love with his home. it was just the way it felt—words couldn’t describe the way everything was just so right and just so perfect, and you really did hope that you’d never have to see a time where you wouldn’t be able to spend time with your boyfriend here.

it really is a shame that all good things had to come to an end. at least, that’s what you kept telling yourself as satoru finally told you why he called you over. unlike nearly every other time, it wasn’t because he missed you or wanted to cuddle—it was quite the opposite, really.

“i don’t think this is working.”

six words that shattered the life you had come to know and love.

“is this a joke?” you try, an unnerved smile spreading across your lips against your will. he doesn’t reply instantly, which is so out-of-character for him that it makes you stiffen up. “satoru, this isn’t funny—”

“i’m not kidding,” satoru murmurs, looking away. he refuses to meet your eyes, and some part of you is still desperately trying to find reason in the chaos that’s slowly taking over your mind. how could it be that everything was just fine two minutes ago and now it’s anything but that? did something happen? did you say the wrong thing? did you—

“it’s not funny,” you insist, still somehow clinging onto your slowly-dwindling hope. maybe you’re in denial, but still, you were sure that everything was fine—no, that everything is fine. there was no past-tense, right? how could the glass home you’d built with your bare hands just crash down at the throw of a pebble?

satoru finally meets your eyes, and your breath catches in your throat. there’s no amused glimmer in his eyes, no “just kidding” in sight, and even worse, you can’t even see an ounce of the love or adoration you’d come to grow so attached to in just a couple months.

“what happened?” you whisper, miraculously managing to keep yourself together. you’d never forgive yourself if you just started crying over a breakup you weren’t even sure was happening—what little’s left of your pride is holding on. you allow yourself to wrap your arms around your chest, curling into your own embrace. 

satoru doesn’t reply for a long second. right when you’re sure he just won’t reply, he does, and it all comes spilling out in a messy stream of words. “it’s just… i can’t do this anymore. i can’t keep going online and seeing everyone on my stream talking about you. i love you, i really do, but it’s just—” satoru shakes his head frustratedly. “i don’t know how to say it, but you know what i mean, right?”

your eyebrows furrow and you shake your head. “you’re breaking up with me because you’re tired of seeing me?”

“no, fuck,” satoru groans, running a hand through his hair. his previously cool and collected demeanor starts to fall apart as he takes a step back. “i don’t know how to explain it, but— shit, you wouldn’t understand.”

you swallow and start to stand up, still willing to try. “then help me understand, satoru, i—”

“you’ve seen the comments, and you’ve seen all the posts on twitter,” satoru says, tilting his head back and glaring at the ceiling. “it’s not your fault, but i really just can’t stand everyone disregarding me and turning my own stream into a youtube channel starring you.”

his words sting like alcohol in an open wound, and you fight the battle of your life to prevent the thousands of tears hiding behind your eyes from being visible. even so, your voice wobbles ever so slightly as you say “that’s a bullshit reason to break up, satoru—”

your boyfriend—is he even still your boyfriend?—scoffs and shakes his head, stumbling back and falling into his chair. "for you, it isn't. you wouldn’t understand. for me, it's like everyone's just... invalidating the three years i've spent on this shit. and i can't do it anymore, i just can't."

you blink slowly, backing away towards his bedroom door. "what does that mean?"

satoru exhales a bitter laugh and turns away, the back of his chair facing you. you think you can hear him take a soft, shaky breath as the room falls silent. neither of you make a sound before satoru turns back toward you, a blank look on his face.

he looks up at you, azure eyes devoid of the sparkle you've become so familiar with. satoru smiles sadly, but to your dismay, there's no real emotion behind it. it's almost like he's already accepted it when he says, "it means we—" he pauses and looks away. "this is over."

you reach out toward him, desperate to hold on to him—to the invisible string that ties you and satoru together, but he's just out of your grasp. "satoru, it isn't even that big of a deal, why are you—"

satoru turns and fixes you with a stern glare, and just like that, the string that kept you and satoru together for months, maybe years snaps, and you're left with a limp strand of what it once was. taking the hint, you walk out of his room in a daze, hardly noticing the way he says "i'm sorry".

and the worst part? he said he still loved you. but apparently that wasn’t enough.

satoru has every right to be annoyed that his stream is only growing because of you—his stream was the way he made money, and after all, it was never meant to be about you. 

and maybe he was never meant to be for you either.

the walk home is cold and lonely. you slip a hand into your pocket—the pocket of satoru's hoodie, which you should probably return to him—and extract your earphones. it probably isn't a good idea to wear both outside as you walk home, but you do it anyway—this day can't possibly get any worse.

a soft voice murmurs words of sorrow and encouragement in your ear as the music takes you to another world. maybe this—the breakup—was meant to happen. maybe it was a mistake to date a boy with thousands of fans.

as soon as you get home, your phone dings softly. you pick it up and frown when you see it's from toru. you'd have to change that name later.

toru: idk if u blocked me already but i still have a lot of ur things, do u wanna come pick them up later?

toru: or i can drop them off tmrw ig

you miss the way he used to text you—with an obnoxious amount of exclamation points and an even worse amount of emojis. now, it's like all of the flavor's gone from his words, and it hurts. that's when it actually settles in, that this is really over. it hurts like an icicle being driven straight through your heart, and it stings like one, too.

satoru's texts are left on delivered for five whole minutes before you reply, and it's only with an "i'll come by tmrw". he likes the message less than a minute later, and you're left to wallow in your misery alone until you finally drift off to sleep.

the next morning, you open your phone to a notification alerting you that satoru’ll be live on stream in ten minutes. curiosity kills the cat, but in this case, maybe it’d be worth it to see what he tells his viewers about your breakup. after all, there’s no way he wouldn’t tell them—he always had something to say about you, and he’d probably rather tell them for sure rather than let them come up with ridiculous theories on their own.

so you hastily make a new account using some email account you haven’t touched since middle school, trying a couple different passwords until you remember the one that works. the website hits you with a hundred questions, asking you about your favorite games and who’d you like to subscribe to first. you choose satoru, albeit after a second of hesitation. two minutes later, sparklingzebra672 joins your ex-boyfriend’s stream. you wait a second, holding your breath as the live loads. a brief moment later, satoru’s painfully familiar face appears on your screen.

“hey guys,” satoru says, forcing a smile on his face. even from behind a screen, you swear you can feel his eyes on you. “how’s everyone today?” 

the already unstable smile on satoru’s face falls when he opens the comments and gets greeted with a flurry of where’s your girlfriend’s. had you been anyone else, you probably wouldn’t have noticed the way satoru’s eyes dulled ever so slightly or the way he curled into himself, but being the girl who once knew him best, you could tell.

“oh, she won’t be back on here for… a while,” satoru starts, dancing around the topic. he leans back against his chair and tilts his chin up, azure eyes focused on the ceiling. “we broke up.”

nothing could’ve prepared you for the way satoru’s comments explode. it’s almost like you can hear the shocked gasps coming from all fourteen—no, twenty thousand viewers as the words nobody thought would ever they’d hear from satoru are spoken.

suguru-geto: holy shit im so sorry 

toji-fushiguro: wait wtf r u kidding?? that's fuckin crazy

yuuji-itadori: omg i thought u guys were together forever :(

inumaki: chat is this real??

satoru shrugs, averting his eyes from the hundreds of comments pouring in, but you scroll through and read them all. everyone, even satoru’s haters, seems genuinely shocked. in fact, had this not been your own breakup, you would’ve been one of them, begging and pleading satoru for more details.

“yeah, we did,” satoru murmurs, eyebrows furrowing just enough for you to read his expression. now that you’re looking closer, you can see the subtle redness underneath his eyes—had he been crying too? and maybe you’re imagining it, but his hair seems a bit dishelved too. your ex-boyfriend shrugs, forcing his face back into his usual lighthearted expression, but it’s not fooling anyone.

satoru scowls at the new flood of comments asking him why you two broke up. some people are already hypothesizing—maybe it’s because you got jealous of his fame, or maybe he got sick of you. maybe you left him to go date some other streamer, or maybe—

“i’m actually gonna end the stream here, ‘cause i don’t really want to deal with all of this right now,” satoru says with a frown. his eyes are narrowed irritably as a couple users protest, still begging for more details. “you guys know that i’m a real person with my own life, right? fuck off.”

and just like that, the stream ends. you’re left with a blank screen and a message saying that satoru’s ended the live, so you shut your laptop. your stomach turns as you groan, just remembering that you have to go over to his place later to retrieve your things, and somehow, you’d have to pretend that you didn’t just stalk his stream to see if he’d say anything substantial about the breakup.

a couple minutes after the stream ends, your phone blows up—every mutual friend you and satoru have is messaging you about what he said, but you can’t bring yourself to open any of them. except for one.

suguru: r u ok?

you: yeah ig

suguru: do u want anything?

satoru’s best friend’s question catches you off-guard—there are a lot of things you want. you want this whole situation to go away. you want the world to disappear. and most of all, you want satoru back, without the online world attached.

but suguru can’t do any of those things, can he? so you leave him on read. 

somehow, you fall back asleep, tossing and turning in your bed without satoru’s steady arms to accompany you. a couple hours later, you wake up again, wincing from the dim sunlight that pours through your windows and directly into your eyes. it’s just past five, so you figure that you might as well go down to satoru’s house and get your things. better to do it now than drag it out for an uncertain amount of time.

the walk is shorter than you remember, but maybe it’s just the absence of music pouring into your ears that makes it seem that way. you watch the wilted autumn leaves flutter in the wind, falling down onto the sidewalk like pieces into place. once upon a time, you had walked these very streets with satoru—it’s a fond memory you remember only all too well.

when you finally step onto your ex’s doorstep, the door opens before you even have a chance to knock. and there he is—the boy who’d once been the love of your life. satoru looks down at you with an unreadable expression. “hey.”

you think you’ve seem this film before, and you didn’t like the ending.

satoru spares you from having to reply by opening the door wider and beckoning you inside. “i already put most of your stuff into a couple boxes, but i thought you’d wanna check on your own. just in case i forgot something.”

you nod and walk past him, not trusting your voice to be steady. this was harder than you expected—much harder. in fact, you’re practically on the verge of breaking down when you step into satoru’s room and look around and see just how different it looks without the touches of you everywhere.

the fortnite poster you’d given him as a joke for the second anniversary of his stream was gone from his wall, and so were the two mini succulents that used to sit on the corner of his desk. the white cat plushie that used to rest on his pillow was gone, too—probably stuffed somewhere in one of the boxes outside his bedroom door.

after nearly a minute of looking around, you decide that whatever satoru possibly could’ve missed wasn’t important enough for you to have to stick around any longer.

you turn and start to exit satoru’s room so fast that you nearly crash into him when he suddenly appears in the doorway. “shit, sorry about that,” you mumble, trying to walk around him. but of course, because the universe is actually praying on your downfall, you and satoru both walk the same way at the same time. you awkwardly try to go around each other, and eventually, the humiliation is over.

“so, you got everything?” satoru asks, walking beside you with his hands in his pockets. you nod, bending over to pick up one of the two boxes. it’s pretty heavy, but not unmanangable. you just don’t really seem to know if you’ll be able to carry both back home at once. 

“oh, uh, i’ll be right back,” you say tentatively. a flash of confusion appears in satoru’s eyes, so you clarify, “i’m gonna go grab my car. that’ll make it easier.”

satoru’s eyebrows furrow and he shakes his head. “no, it’s alright. your place isn’t far from here at all, i’ll just take the other and walk back with you.”

“no, really, it’s alright.”

“it’s the easiest option, ba—” satoru cuts himself off, stopping himself from calling you baby for the first time since you two had started dating. “sorry.”

“let’s just go.”

the walk back to your house is brutal. you walk side by side with satoru since the path is wide enough for you to do so, and you two just keep bumping into each other. had you still been dating, satoru probably would’ve dropped the box and scooped you up instead, kissing your cold face to warm it up. of course, that would’ve added five minutes to your walk, but it would’ve been better than the tense silence dividing you and satoru right now. 

the wind whistles around you, brushing at your skin and making you shiver with every gust—there’s nothing more you’d like than to go home, plop on your couch and cry while watching the titanic for the hundredth time. 

after what seems like three hundred awkward hours later, you and satoru finally make it to your house. “thanks,” you say quietly, setting down your box in front of the door. 

satoru places his next to yours and slips his hands back into his pockets. he nods and replies, “no problem,” but still doesn’t leave.

you cross your arms, and tilt your head, meeting his eyes hesitantly. “umm, do you need anything else?”

satoru coughs tensely and shrugs. “oh, uh, not really, just—” his eyes drift down to your top, and your face grows warm when you realize you’re still wearing his hoodie. 

“shit, my bad,” you mumble, internally cringing and resisting the urge to say every curse word you know. could this day really get any worse?

well, at least satoru looks equally as embarrassed. he shakes his head and gestures for you to keep it on. “it’s fine, it’s kinda cold anyways. keep it.” satoru hesitates, shuffling his feet before continuing, “if you want something… to remember me by.”

what you say next was done entirely against your will. “do you still love me?” you ask suddenly, not sure what otherworldly force prompted you to do so. you instantly regret it when satoru’s face goes even redder, and you can tell it’s not from the cold the way his blush spreads to his ears.

“i— uh, i mean—”

“answer me, satoru, i think i have a right to know.”

he looks away and mumbles something about needing to go back home, to feed his fish or something (he doesn’t have a fish), and you grab his hand just as he starts to turn away. “please, satoru, i need to know,” you breathe, squeezing his hand harder when he flinches. 

ten silent seconds tick by, but you still don’t let go. so satoru sighs, a soft white puff of air coming from his lips. “yeah.”

your heart breaks again.

“then why did you—”

“because i don’t know how to do this,” satoru says, blue eyes darting all over the place. “i love you, i really do, but i just can’t— i don’t like having thousands of people thinking that i’m only worth looking at if i’m with you, it’s annoying and it pisses me off and i don’t want to accidentally take it out on yo—”

you cut him off with a kiss, ignoring the way he yelps a little in surprise. but thankfully, he doesn’t push you away—instead, his arms instantly wrap around you and pull you closer into his warm, warm chest. satoru’s lips are a little dry, but still minty as ever from the peppermints he’s constantly munching on. he kisses you back like a man starved of affection, and when you two finally break apart, his eyes are just as hungry.

“you idiot,” you whisper, trailing your fingers through his hair as tears prick at the corner of your eyes. “you shoulda just talked to me about it first.”

“i know,” satoru mumbles, looking down bashfully. “‘m sorry.”

“you should be.” you pause, watching satoru’s lips curve into a pouty frown. “i’m sorry too,” you murmur, and he looks up, confused. “i should’ve seen this coming.”

satoru shakes his head and presses his lips to your forehead, lingering for a couple seconds before pulling back. “i missed you.”

“i was gone for less than a day, satoru.”

“oh, so you didn’t miss me?”

“i did,” you admit, exhaling a puff of air when satoru smiles smugly. “shut up, it’s not a competition!”

“yeah it is, but fine, you win,” satoru gives in with a dramatic sigh, reaching down and twining his fingers with yours. his hands, which are significantly bigger than yours, instantly warm you up. “but only ‘cause i don’t want you to break up with me next.”

“i hate you, y’know that?” you grumble, leaning into his side and letting satoru kiss the top of your head. he hums in agreement, reaching out and opening your front door. 

“i’m sure you do, baby. now c’mon, let’s get inside n’ warm up. i wanna make it up to you,” satoru says with a grin, bending over and scooping up both boxes. 

“oh, yeah? how do you plan to do that?” you challenge, going inside first and holding the door open for satoru. once he’s inside, you close the door and instantly get pinned against it by satoru, whose hands are already creeping underneath your clothes. “satoru, your hands are col—”

he cuts you off by pressing his equally cold lips to yours, smiling against your mouth as he tugs at your clothes. “i know, baby. but i’ll keep you nice n’ warm for the rest of the night, i promise!”

[rimatsu]

I feel like the mood among the bucktommies has changed once again, it was more hopeful and now it seems like it's more in the phases between bargaining and acceptance, as if a reconciliation was already out of the realm of great possibilities.

I don't know if this is just because of the renewal, which I find kind of absurd since the renewal was already a sure thing, or if the last episode + the lack of any mention of Tommy after 811, made people less convinced that the show will deliver something narratively satisfying. I don't know, I personally end up being affected by these waves of reality/negativity and my expectations have also lowered again.

What do you think? Has anything changed in your expectations for a reconciliation? Do you have any hopeful words to share?

i'll be honest, i don't understand how doom and gloom can still persist given everything we know about upcoming episodes. i've said it before and i'll say it again: the 806 press debacle (wrong buzzer noise) made the bucktommy troops entirely too cynical. there's being cautious, and then there's being unhelpfully pessimistic. as per previous tags: please be serious 😭😭😭

nothing that we’re seeing unfold on screen (and off-screen for that matter when it comes to leaks) points toward closure — quite the opposite, actually. and the simplest explanation is usually the correct one: if it feels like the third act of a romcom, it probably is one.

alright, this is going to be long, and redundant, so please bear with me as i try to convince stubborn doubters that a reconciliation is in fact very, very likely.

first things first... tommy is officially an outlier in buck's romantic history. let's review the facts, shall we?

in order of narrative importance:

- ali was arguably the most underdeveloped LI of this list. dating her was a decision made in an effort not to regress to past behaviors and she brought buck to his loft. ultimately she couldn't handle the risks of the job and broke up with him in the s2 finale. ali got one mention post-breakup

- natalia was the supposed happily-ever-after partner the show paired buck with under the threat of cancellation. she was the extreme opposite of ali and had a morbid fascination for buck's brush with death, something that was initially refreshing before becoming off-putting. their breakup happened offscreen in between seasons 6-7 and she got one expository mention

- taylor was his longest relationship and the most fleshed out, at least in term of screentime, their story spanning seasons with casual hookups in s2, a friendship marked by romantic tension in s4, and finally a committed relationship in s5. the first fracture was caused by buck's infidelity and more importantly the lies and overcompensation brought on by guilt, but the reason they split was ultimately because of fundamental differences in morals/work ethics/ambitions. his experience with taylor was formative because it taught buck not to give up on the whole relationship at the first sign of trouble (a valuable lesson he seemingly forgot since then but i digress…) she got one tv cameo post breakup (indirect mention)

- abby was the person who opened buck's eyes to his true desire (emotional closeness and romantic intimacy) but they had vastly different attitudes toward their relationship: she was the first big love of buck's life, but as much as she cared for him, maybe even loved him, he was mostly a distraction from the chaos of her life, and she seemingly had realistic expectations about their future together. their 'breakup' is a case of unusual circumstances. buck was hung up on her for a good chunk of s2, but they didn't technically end things in the previous finale. buck wholeheartedly believed she'd return to him after a few months and abby never dissuaded that notion. but once he realized she wouldn't, buck promptly moved on: first by pursuing taylor, and then ali. abby only got mentioned again in s3 to foreshadow her guest appearance for closure purposes. i'll compare and contrast her reintroduction to tommy's later on.

- and then we have mr. self-sabotage himself, tommy kinard, who unlocked the wonders of bisexuality laying dormant in buck (and unleashed his #Spoiled Brat tendencies). the first distinction from previous LIs is that their breakup wasn't written as definitive or unfixable. allow me to quote myself like a pompous asshole because i can't be bothered to rephrase the same sentiment (i'll be doing a lot of copy/pasting, actually... i did warn you against redundancy): they didn't part way because of irreconciliable differences or because passion/attraction fizzled out or because they envisioned different futures. if they wanted that door closed, tommy could’ve simply said he was uninterested in pursuing longterm commitment with buck, that they’re not compatible in the long run. there: a clean, uncomplicated break. instead, we were told that tommy desperately wants to be the person buck settles down with, except he’s convinced buck is propelled by the excitement of novelty, that he suspects buck is latching onto him for the wrong reasons, that he can’t allow himself to merge their home life together in fear that he’ll never recover once buck wants out. the implication here being tommy was in love with buck already, or at least halfway there. for his part, buck came to the realization that he wanted a future with tommy and immediately decided to pursue it because that's just the type of man he is: never one to do things by half-measures, seeing no value in waiting once his mind is made up. so there was no conflicting desire there. they wanted the same thing: permanence with each other, but fear and insecurity derailed the whole thing. let's call 806 Miscommunication 1.0. the second notable distinction? there has been a grand total of 4 tommy name drops post-confessions when we usually only get the one before buck moves on to greener pastures. hell, buck was having such a hard time with the breakup he developed a coping mechanism in order to deal with it. the baking was comically excessive and lasted 5 whole episodes. buck considers the breakup to be the beginning of his life unravelling — he implied that being with tommy was life as it should be, even... yeah, there's no precedent for this behavior. we've never seen him stuck on an ex to this extent before. tommy is starting to earn his most transformative relationship title beyond the obvious queer awakening aspect of it all, isn't he? now these repeated mentions weren't necessary (and unnecessary will be a word i use liberally moving forward), especially the one we got after a 4 months hiatus. we know why the writers included them now: they were keeping the thread alive for buck & tommy's reunion in 811. that's something the most optimistic of us kept pointing out despite those disheartening "exit interviews" — the breakup was too abrupt and open-ended, and the tommy mentions too frequent and pointed, for 806 to be the end of their story. 

speaking of 811, let's dissect that episode and establish why holy mother of god alone is a strong indicator of an upcoming makeup. because my god, did it do the opposite of presaging closure...

time to compare and contrast with abby! when she reappeared, both her and buck had moved on. yes, there was still some lingering affection, and he was single and had plenty of unaswered questions, but he wasn't haunted by them or abby anymore, and she was happily engaged to another man. i repeat: they both had moved on. getting back together was never an option introduced by 318. abby came back for one thing: firmly close that chapter of buck's life and heal whatever scars he still carried because of her. that isn't the case for the bucktommy Bare Mattress Fuckfest of 2025.

first of all, a hook-up? really? unnecessary. if the only goal was to shoehorn in the buddie question (as some people naively claim), then that could've happened at the bar. hell, tommy didn't have to be brought back for it at all: maddie could've floated the idea by herself when buck kept showing up at her doorstep looking as pathetic as a wet dog. it sure would've saved production some money! and if the showrunner was going for closure (he wasn't), having buck sleep with tommy was counterproductive. it only served to highlight desire and sexual chemistry between them (something that was only ever vaguely implied in s7-8a). why emphasize an aspect of mlm relationships that was missing from the og show until now? (also, remember when the doom-and-gloomists were convinced buck's queerness would be buried, never to be mentioned again, after the hiatus? only for him to initiate gay sex on national tv? it was an understandable concern considering the current fate of DEI programs, but catastrophizing caused unwarranted stress and grievances. let's maybe give the show a modicum of grace until proven otherwise?)

more importantly, 811 established that tommy regretted the breakup. that's something we could infer from the bubbling in 807, but there's a world of difference between considering contact a week post-breakup and still actively pining for buck 3-4 months after they ended things. tommy drove by the loft just the other day. recently. he hasn't moved on — is more affected by the breakup than buck himself, even. that's... you guessed it, completely unnecessary (and frankly cruel) if closure is the destination ahead. but it can't possibly be, because you know what else 811 nearly established? a reconciliation. tommy asked for a second chance, and buck was receptive to the suggestion before Insecurity and Foot-in-Mouthism derailed the plans.

instead of letting their romance naturally fade into the background after the hiatus, the writers purposefully reignited that flame. they crafted a scenario meant to prolong uncertainty about bucktommy's future together instead of closing that door forever. even without the contagion spoilers confirming that tommy will be back for the two-parter, the audience expects another conversation between the two exes. there were too many things left unsaid after that aborted kitchen argument. buck owe tommy an apology and a clarification, and he has yet to reveal that he missed tommy as well during their time apart — the viewers know that to be true but tommy was left with no reciprocation after admitting he fought constant urges to call. worse, he was left heartbroken after being told their night together meant nothing. sorry if i sound like a broken record, but that was unnecessary: there's no point in introducing conflict and Miscommunication 2.0 if they have no payoff.

as for the jealousy over eddie reveal... as many have pointed out, narrowing down tommy's insecurities is actually a good sign. the fears he spoke of in 806 were more formless and abstract, harder to assuage. jealousy over one specific person is easier to confront and work through as a couple (and it can be fodder for more drama if the writers don't sweep the whole thing under the rug). though i'll say that i'm inclined to believe tommy when he claims he was mostly joking — as in i don't think eddie was the root cause of the breakup. 811 doesn't retcon 806, only adds an appendix. tommy questioning the nature of buck's feelings for eddie is part of a larger picture (and a larger issue).

now i keep parotting the word unnecessary because 911 does not exist in a vacuum. every writing and acting choice is intentional and must serve a purpose. the hookup could've ended amicably but it didn't. tommy could've agreed with buck when he said their drunken romp didn't have to change a thing but he didn't. buck didn't have to sniffle and look miserable when he admitted that loneliness was no reason to pursue a relationship. in fact the whole episode is peppered with parallels and callbacks. buck and tommy wearing their breakup outfits as if they've been suspended in time since november is deliberate. the fact that the first night buck ever spent in his new place was with tommy in his bed was also deliberate. and this isn't my bucktommy-addled brain reading too much into a scene. slamming each other into walls while a song about never finding home plays in the background is no coincidence. quoting myself like a pompous asshole again: tommy was the necessary catalyst for buck to make peace with eddie's departure and start viewing the house as his own. he says verbatim "[sharing a bed with tommy] was the first night i was actually able to sleep in that place" — once again tommy is linked to comfort and safety and the beginning of a new journey. tommy started the unpacking process for him with that coffeemaker. buck is baking (an activity that was established as a visual indicator of pining for tommy) while he firmly shuts down the notion that he might harbor buried feelings for his straight-heterosexual-notinterestinmen-notanoption best friend. he expresses frustration and anger at the idea that tommy seemingly spent their entire relationship worrying about another man. later when maddie (the audience/buddie stand-in) assumes he's talking about calling eddie, buck corrects her and reasserts that tommy is the person he's thinking about. that was the throwback to 704. it's not about eddie.

for a brief moment in that kitchen, buck and tommy slipped back into domesticity. tommy waking up at the asscrack of dawn to buy groceries and prepare a veritable feast isn't meaningless either (at least i hope it isn't): it's a callback to masks — tommy the caretaker dotting on buck. i want to believe that scene was intentionally designed to contrast buck's dynamics with tommy compared to his relationships with the rest of the cast: the baker being fed, the eternal giver being the recipient of care. buck is loved but he's no one's priority. everyone he knows (with the exception of ravi who wants nothing to do with him lmao) has a spouse and/or children who naturally take precedence over him, but he could be tommy's priority.

it's also worth noting that tommy's "i can't move in with you" morphed into "i'm not ready to move in yet." could it be... foreshadowing i sense? third time's the charm is shaping up to be bucktommy's operating principle.

alright, enough yapping about 811. let's move on to spoilers territory. i'll try to keep speculations to a minimum but they're inevitable so take everything with a grain of salt.

tommy's unique skills set (tim's words) will be featured in the two-parter. his status as a previous member of the 118 was also emphasized. he'll readily assist his old firehouse in a time of crisis agsin (the rule of three strikes once more). contagion is described as a season opening/finale worthy emergency. 814-815 will be a large scale spectacle and is sure to be memorable given bobby's alleged death.

again, involving tommy in the two-parter is unnecessary. if a pilot is needed, background character #34 could do the job. i won't bring up the "it's way too much effort and money for closure" argument because we know for a fact that 815 isn't the end of the bucktommy storyline. tommy is featured in at least another episode, and a major one at that. i beg all debby downers out there to exercise reason: why on earth would they bring back buck's ex not once, not twice, but THREE TIMES (and counting) post-breakup if it's not for a reconciliation? a makeup is the only thing that makes narrative sense.

bts pictures/videos place both tommy and buck on the rooftop helipad during daylight and in the coliseum at nightfall, surrounded by heavy military and fbi presence. i think it's safe to assume they'll be stuck together in a helicopter for a few hours. forced proximity is a classic romcom trope for a reason: if there's ever a time to hash out their issues, it's midair with nowhere to run.

now let's focus on buck for a second. he followed maddie's advice: learning to be alone, to be content on his own so he doesn't spiral again the next time he's broken up with or a friend moves away. and content buck seemingly is, comfortable in his home and in his skin. it's a breakthrough: when he interacts with tommy again, loneliness will no longer be a factor influencing his desire to reconnect. buck has gained some measure of clarity since 811.

and reuniting under these less than ideal circumstances? pretty promising actually. tommy's loyalty and his willingness to help the 118 are two characteristics that captured buck's attention in the first place. it's an opportunity to recreate the initial spark, with the added knowledge of the man hiding behind the confident façade.

as for the presumed 816 leaks... tommy is part of bobby's honor guards. that tells me he plays a crucial role in 815, and if you ask me, there are only three reasonable options to explore:

1. buck and tommy makeup during the two parter. they're officially a couple again by the time the credits roll

2. what i think is more likely to happen: they start to reconcile in 815. they have a frank conversation and the groundwork for a reconciliation is laid down when buck asks for a saturday date but a proper makeup is put on standby as soon as the ripper knocks on bobby's door. they're left to navigate grief in this weird in between-state, but the desire to give it another try has been expressed free from the influences of loneliness or grief

3. they reconcile in the finale. tommy offers support as a 'friend' and buck leans on him until bobby inevitably rises from the dead ("i'm not lonely, and i'm not mourning, and i still want you")

i'm optimistic but not delusional: a love confession in the two-parter is way too ambitious and i'm not holding my breath for it. i don't think buck is quite there yet. his feelings for tommy are pretty... nebulous. he saw a future there, one he wanted to cement, and he sure looked and acted in love, but he never said it. hell, he had to be talked through realizing he was serious about tommy. in contrast, he readily defined his feelings for ex-girlfriends (he loved abby and taylor and told us as much) and for eddie (he knows he's not in love with the guy). i find buck's limited introspection when it comes to tommy endlessly fascinating... but that's a conversation for another day.

i'm losing steam so let's wrap this up. i wasn't thrilled by the s9 renewal but that's only bc 911 is an objectively mediocre show with a godawful fandom and i'll be held hostage around these hellish parts for at least another year. i don't see why the renewal would automatically mean bad news for bucktommy. the point of wanting them back together is to see them explore the joys and challenges of a committed relationship. another season is a prerequisite. oliver said buck is maturing: he's entering a new, more settled phase of his life, and i can't imagine the return of the hamster wheel at this point. if anything, i expect buck to reach new relationship milestones next season.

anyway...... i'm not claiming it's a 100% guarantee, let's start celebrating now (let us not forget the black mold infestation plaguing the writers' room) but logic dictates that a reconciliation is underway. so, long story short... yes, i am genuinely very optimistic about our chances <3

[shadowsviper]

Thanos and Nam-Gyu as Cats

I mean as literal cats.

I've been wanting to continue my Birds of a Feather fic but idk if I want to continue it. I have part two half written and I could finish it and post it but that would mean a part three, four, and so on. It's been like a month since I posted the first part and it does end without any cliffhangers so I feel like I could just leave it without continuing it?

Feel free to leave any recommendations for new fics though, no full smuts though I'm bad at writing them. I only write for Thanos and Nam-gyu at the moment. Please don't expect them to be done in a few days either lmao I'm a senior college student I'm busy af and I only write when I have time.

Anyway, enjoy Thanos and Nam-Gyu as cats, and you eventually finding them! I kept reader neutral.

Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Thanos is an orange cat

Nam-gyu is either a black cat or a tuxedo cat

Not a single brain cell between the two of them

Thanos is bigger than Nam-gyu but skinnier due to not being able to eat much on the streets

Thanos has a long tail and he has little control over it. He's smacked Nam-gyu multiple times before without realizing

Nam-gyu has longer fangs, his top ones stick out of his mouth and he thinks it makes him look badass but to Thanos and everyone else, they think he looks adorable

They were strays for a long time. They found each other on a rainy day.

Nam-gyu had a little cardboard box under some stairs, it's not the best home in the world, but it's the best he's ever had. Thanos squeezed himself into the box one day, drenched from the rain. He didn't realize Nam-gyu was already inside but he couldn't care, he was just happy to be out of the rain

Nam-gyu definitely hissed and scratched at Thanos the second he saw him climb in

Thanos couldn't be bothered at all

Nam-gyu decided to leave him be for the night, assuming he'd be gone in the morning

He was wrong, Thanos didn't leave. In fact, he never left.

They quickly got used to each other and decided to stay together. Thanos did most of the hunting when they were hungry since he was faster than Nam-gyu. He would always return with food, scraps taken from people nearby

Thanos was more likely to get into fights with other cats. Whether it's over territory, food, or literally anything. Nam-gyu has to drag him away every time. If Nam-gyu wasn't there, then Thanos would definitely return home with a few scratches

The two of them were smart when they needed to be. When the two of them would go out to hunt together, Nam-gyu became the distraction. He would purposely rub against the store owner's legs, meowing. The store owner would kneel down to pet him and it took everything in him to not try and bite their hand.

While the store owner was distracted, Thanos would jump over the products and snatch up a big fish. As soon as his paws hit the ground, Nam-gyu chased after him, leaving the store owner confused for a second before he realized what they had done

That strategy kept them fed for a while before they started getting recognized and shooed away before they got close to food

At this point, it's probably been about a year since they found each other. Their home remained the same spot, the little cardboard box they met in. That was until their alleyway was cleaned up and their home was gone

Nam-gyu refused to leave for a while. That spot had been his home for the longest time. He didn't know where else to go

It took a while for Thanos to convince him to leave the spot and find a better place. He had suggested places across the river, where the people had more money, meaning more and better food, and maybe even a better home

They slowly made their way across the river, purposely moving at night to avoid people.

If they ever moved during the day, it was guaranteed that Thanos would try to get people to pet him and give him all their attention

Nam-gyu hissed every time a hand came close to him

If he hadn't considered Thanos as a friend, he would've bitten his head off by now

After traveling for a few days, they settled in a alleyway, next to a small cafe. Scraps were limited but it tasted better than anything they had before

This is where you meet them

You were closing the cafe one night and out of the corner of your eye, you saw an orange cat sitting at the corner of the alleyway. You could tell he wasn't getting enough food, the poor cat was scrawny for his size

You knelt down and offered a hand for him to sniff, only for him to simply shove his head into your hand. You could hear the rough purrs coming from him as you scratched his chin

"You're probably starving, huh?" you reached into your bag and pulled out your lunch from earlier. It was just some leftover chicken. You offered it to the cat

After a few sniffs, Thanos ate the chicken without any hesitation. He picked up the last few pieces and looked up at you. He blinked once before walking away and disappearing into the dark alleyway

It was days before you saw the cat again. This time he was sitting at the entrance of the cafe, meowing for your attention.

You gave him your leftovers again and watched as he ate it, took the rest, and disappeared. It became your routine for a few weeks

The next time you saw him again, he was with another cat. He was a sleek black cat with piercing eyes. You could tell he wasn't as friendly as the orange one

"Are they the ones giving you food?" Nam-gyu had asked. His tail flicked from side to side, distrust was evident in all his movements

"Yeah, I didn't even have to do anything. The food is good so I kept coming back," Thanos had said

You didn't know the two of them were talking to each other. All you heard were meows and assumed they were asking for food so you fed them

It took Nam-gyu a while to trust you. He would snatch the food up and eat it from a distance

Thanos was easily attached to you, he loved the attention, the warmth. He soaked it all up

Nam-gyu was the complete opposite, he had a natural distrust of humans and refused to get any closer than he needed. You're lucky if you can hand him some food without him hissing

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

I'm gonna end this here lmao this became longer than what I planned. I might make a part 2.

I kinda want to make this idea into a fic idk though. Please give me some ideas.

[childofdemon]

A couple tips to (try to) prevent something like this happening, from someone who works with cybersec:

1) Docusign, which is the service impersonated here, is a real document signing service, but it's very common to see it impersonated in phishing and scam cases like this. So are Dropbox, Google Drive and other file sharing services; always double (or triple) check if the page looks at all odd.

Adding to the previous point: You can see page's url and domain (in this case the domain would be app[.]fastsigndocu[.]com) at the top of the page (if you've already clicked onto the page) or by hovering over the link with a mouse (if you're on your PC) - always check that the domain looks right! If you're not sure, google the service/web page first to check what the domain should be.

2.) If you're downloading something, always check the file type of what you're downloading! If the file is supposed to be a text/pdf document like in this case, it's name should NEVER end in ".exe" or ".bat". I suggest being careful of ".zip" and ".rar" files too, because it's very common to hide malware inside them. (And if you're purposefully downloading ".exe" files, please be careful of what you're downloading and from where)

3) Consider whether or not you actually need to stay constantly signed in to a service or site on your browser, or if you could sign in separately each time and log out when you're done (and clear your cookie data sometimes). I know, it's convenient to not have to sign in each time, but as seen here, it does mean that if your browser cookies are stolen, your MFA/2FA will probably not help you. If you don't use the service or website constantly/daily, you probably don't need to be signed in all the time.

Continuing point 3, the same goes double for any and all passwords saved in your browser data. There are malware going around right now that steal both your browser cookies AND the login data (meaning: any passwords saved in your browser), from any and all browsers the malware finds on your device. These are generally called "infostealers", but the one going around right now is called "Lumma stealer".

4) Related to point 3: Lumma stealer is currently being spread with fake Captcha (that "I'm not a robot" thing):

(image source: Finnish National Cybersecurity Center)

What happens is that if you click the button you see on the left, it copies a malicious Powershell script onto your clipboard and opens the pop-up you see on the right side of the image. Pressing the windows button + R opens the Windows "run command" window, to which Ctrl + V copies the script from your clipboard, and runs it when you press Enter (which then downloads and runs the actual malware file and anything saved in your browser data will be gone).

Never, EVER run ANYTHING in the run command window if you don't know exactly what it is and what it does.

Real Captcha will never ask you to do this. If you see a window like this, exit the page you were on immediately.

If you did run the script before realizing something is wrong, run a malware scan on the device, log out of everything you were signed in to on your browsers and change your passwords immediately.

5) Despite all of the above, do have 2FA/MFA activate whenever possible, because even if it might not help you if your session cookies are stolen, it will protect your account if your password is leaked some other way (such as from the service or website itself).

(And if anyone has any cybersec-related questions, feel free to ask!)

Someone accessed my Gmail 2 days ago, compromising my linked accounts like Twitter and YouTube. Here's how it happened, why I fell for it, and what you can learn to avoid making the same mistake:

The scam I fell victim to was a cookie hijack. The hacker used malicious software to steal my browser cookies (stuff like autofill, auto sign in, etc), allowing them to sign in to my Gmail and other accounts, completely bypassing my 2FA and other security protocols.

A few days ago, I received a DM from @Rachael_Borrows, who claimed to be a manager at @Duolingo. The account seemed legitimate. It was verified, created in 2019, and had over 1k followers, consistent with other managers I’d seen at the time n I even did a Google search of this person and didnt find anything suspicious.

She claimed that @Duolingo wanted me to create a promo video, which got me excited and managed to get my guard down. After discussing I was asked to sign a contract and at app(.)fastsigndocu(.)com. If you see this link, ITS A SCAM! Do NOT download ANY files from this site.

Unfortunately, I downloaded a file from the website, and it downloaded without triggering any firewall or antivirus warnings. Thinking it was just a PDF, I opened it. The moment I did, my console and Google Chrome flashed. That’s when I knew I was in trouble. I immediately did an antivirus scan and these were some of the programs it found that were added to my PC without me knowing:

The thing about cookie hijacking is that it completely bypasses 2FA which should have been my strongest line of defense. I was immediately signed out of all my accounts and within a minute, they changed everything: passwords, 2FA, phone, recovery emails, backup codes, etc.

I tried all methods but hit dead ends trying to recover them. Thankfully, my Discord wasn’t connected, so I alerted everyone I knew there. I also had an alternate account, @JLCmapping, managed by a friend, which I used to immediately inform @/TeamYouTube about the situation

Meanwhile, the hackers turned my YouTube channel into a crypto channel and used my Twitter account to spam hundreds of messages, trying to use my image and reputation to scam more victims

Thankfully, YouTube responded quickly and terminated the channel. Within 48 hours, they locked the hacker out of my Gmail and restored my access. They also helped me recover my channel, which has been renamed to JoetasticOfficial since Joetastic_ was no longer available.

Since then, I’ve taken several steps to secure my accounts and prevent this from happening again. This has been a wake-up call to me, and now I am more cautious around people online. I hope sharing it helps others avoid falling victim to similar attacks. (End)

(side note) Around this time, people also started to impersonate me on TikTok and YouTube. With my accounts terminated, anyone searching for "Joetastic" would only find the imposter's profiles. I’m unsure whether they are connected or if it’s just an unfortunate coincidence, but it made the situation even more stressful.

[daffodils-and-viscera]

i've seen a lot of posts comparing mastermind to truth seekers but hear me out: ozzie's

SO this may be long buckle in. these episodes kinda have the same plot?

blitzø has found himself in a bit of a sitch, as it were...

our beloved dramatic gay owl is at home watching gabriela pine over alejandro, when suddenly... blitzy is in trouble! omg let's get cunty and go save the day!!

however, despite showing up and saving lives (he may have literally saved blitzø's life in mastermind but that outfit from ozzie's changed all our lives forever soo...) blitzø isn't necessarily ((outwardly)) happy to see stolas (((we all know he does not mind stolas' ass in his face but stay with me here)))

stolas' privilege allows him to be immediately heard and not punished by the people who would never listen to blitzø's side of things, and stolas gets to be his dramatic lil bitch self and we love to see it

in ozzie's, blitzø has his past come back to haunt him in so many ways, he is put in the spotlight and he is decidedly not comfortable there, being called out for all the shit he's done to fizz and verosika and even m&m - HOWEVER! as we all now know, all of those people actually care about blitzø and he was just being his lil destructive self. he is given the chance to defend himself but it's overwhelming and he kinda freezes up

in mastermind, blitzø is being outright blamed for things he didn't do but like.. he actually didn't do any of that ! and yet he can't defend himself because nobody would listen to him even if he wasn't gagged.

the difference between these 2 episodes is in stolas' behaviour when HE is put in the spotlight- at ozzie's he is freshly separated from stella and probably hasn’t done anything social for a long ass time and he’s not used to being in public. and here’s this thing that he thinks is gonna be fun and will help blitzø but he is not able to express himself so he hides and the result of that is blitzø pushing him away, literally doesn’t want to touch him

in MASTERMIND our birdy babe is singing his lil heart out with no regard for what anyone else thinks of him or what might happen to him, which is so beautiful (but also stolas pls try not to inhale the water).... when he doesn't hide his feelings from blitzø we see how perfect it could be when their inner worlds merge and they are finally on the same page, and blitzø does the furthest thing possible from pushing stolas away !!!

(he did however still neglect to consider octavia's feelings when he decided to drop everything for blitzø... with devastating implications in mastermind) sorry to bring the mood down but this needs to be pointed out

in ozzie's, stolas tries to invite blitzø to his place (and we all remember how well that went)........ blitzø goes home alone and loona is not there, he is all alone and sad curled up on the couch on his phone looking at all the people he believes he's let down and it's heartbreaking

when stolas goes to blitzø's place in mastermind, stolas gets all the love and support blitzø has to offer and loona is there too and blitzø curls up on the couch on his phone looking at all these people who love and support him!!! and then he makes the couch all comfy for stolas and he’s not alone?? like they’re both so not alone that it hurts my heart to think about. these 2 have so much love for each other and yeah there's gonna be tough times ahead but they are not alone! !!!!

basically both eps end the same? but also everything is better now? because blitz was loved before he just couldn’t see it through all his nonsense

and stolas is still in a messed up situation and he's still kinda problematic and he couldn’t see it before through all his nonsense but now he’s more self aware?

the real difference is they have each other now! they are so not alone it makes them look stupid!!

anyway this is the longest post i've ever made sorry if it's rambly i have adhd and a lot of feelings about these two

[sinsmockingbird]

GOOD LUCK, BABE | Zoya

PAIRING: College!AU!Zoya x College!AU!Afab!Reader

WARNINGS: Smut, Angst, NSFW, Dom!Character, Sub!Reader, College!AU, Bad Girl!Zoya, Little Miss Perfect!Reader, Trans!Zoya, Zoya has a penis, Heavy Cheating, Reader is cheating on their boyfriend with Zoya, Jealousy, Hate Fucking, Fingering, Alludes to Unprotected Sex.

CREDITS: Credit to @sea-lanterns for making the banner

AUTHORS NOTE: Probably the longest fic I've ever written. I actually decided to change the ending to something else last minute, as I realized the original could be triggering. Instead, enjoy a very very sad (slightly rushed) ending.

YOUR AN epitome of perfection in the eyes of many.

From the students at the college you attend, to the professors and school staff, you were a woman who could do no wrong. You were the student council president of your prestigious college, the captain of the women's soccer team, and the school's debate team leader. You were involved in everything at your school, from the events being held to the various clubs and societies. You knew everyone and everyone knew you.

At least, everyone thought they knew you. But who could ever imagine that little miss perfect had chosen the college’s bad girl and the drummer of a band, as the person she would start an affair with?

◃───────────▹

It was late at night, about 1 in the morning. You were laying back in your bed, disheveled and trying to catch your breath while Zoya collapsed beside you, who was equally disheveled and out of breath. You weren’t sure how long you both had been going at it, but it was long enough for you to feel too sore to move.

“Too much?” Zoya’s voice cut through the air, a soft chuckle falling from her lips as she moved onto her side and wrapped an arm around your waist, tugging you closer. You looked gorgeous in her eyes with that post orgasm glow to you.

You laughed softly at her question, pressing your body close to hers. “No. It was perfect.”

It was always perfect with Zoya. Whether you were having a quickie, a rough fucking, or even love making, it was always perfect. She just did everything right, and it was only made better with how well she’s learned your body.

“Good.” Zoya hummed in content, relaxing against your bed while holding you close. It was these moments she loved the most where it was just the two of you. No outside eyes, no knowledge of what you did known to others, just you and her in this relaxing silence.

“Are you coming to Chelsea’s party today?” You asked, tilting your head up to look at her, admiring every little detail of her face that you normally wouldn’t be able to.

“Mhm. Kinda have to.” Zoya answered, gazing down at you, the blue of her eyes more prominent in the soft darkness of your room. When you gave her a look, she quickly continued. “The band’s performing, at the request of Chelsea. So, yeah, I’m technically obligated to be there. Like you are.”

You simply hummed at her words, your eyes moving down to her chest. You raised a hand up, lightly tracing your fingers over the marks you had left over the hours of passion that you shared.

She was right about you being obligated to be at Chelsea’s party. She was not only one of your good friends but it was also the end of the year party, one of the biggest she hosts all year. Plus, you were miss perfect and popular, so everyone at school expected you to be there, and you being you wanting to maintain your image, always went.

Zoya watched you closely, recognizing when you were getting lost in your thoughts or contemplating something. So she gently placed one of her larger hands over yours, making your attention snap back to her. “You want me to take you?”

“No.” You quickly shook your head, your eyes looking away from her and into the darkness of your room. “Nate’s picking me up and we’re going together.”

Oh, she should have assumed that.

A frown quickly tugged at Zoya’s lips upon hearing your boyfriend’s name. You both had made rules between you both when your affair started, one of them being to never mention your boyfriend’s name. It was mainly because you didn’t want to think about him when you were with her, and Zoya hated to hear it as it was a cruel reminder that you weren’t hers. She hated him for that.

“Right.” Zoya mumbled, suddenly seeking sleep. She turned onto her back, staring up at the ceiling before forcing her eyes closed. She wanted the conversation to be over now, not wanting to be angry with you or anything. She could feel her jealousy boiling, making her seethe internally. “Should get sleep. We both have a busy day.”

“Zoya…” You whispered her name, looking up at her. But she didn’t respond, pretending to already be asleep. You sighed, feeling guilty now. So you just rested your head on her chest and closed your eyes, hoping sleep would take you quickly.

◃───────────▹

Chelsea’s parties were huge and grand. She came from a family with wealth, meaning she had big money to spend when it came to the parties she hosted, but no party was as big as the end of the year parties, especially this one considering it was your guy’s last year, so it was a celebration of your year’s graduation.

Every student on campus was there, making the place packed. You stuck close to Nate, who was luckily a huge guy that was able to make room for the both of you. You guys were standing at a ping pong table with a group of your closest friends. You were cheering on Donald, Nate’s best friend, who was going up against some jock guy that you could never remember the name of.

But you weren’t actually paying attention to the match going on in front of you. You were too busy scouring the sea of party goers in search for the familiar face of the woman who has taken up the majority of your thoughts. You still hadn’t seen her, and it was making you a bit restless. You wouldn’t even be able to walk over and talk with her in fear of suspicion starting that something was going on between you both, but you just wanted to see her, even if for a split second.

“-Baby?” You let out a startled breath as Nate tilted your head up towards him, his eyebrows furrowed together when he realized you weren’t hearing him, too lost in your own thoughts of… Zoya, not that he knew that.

“I-I’m sorry, what?” Your face grew hot as your attention moved to him, embarrassed at how distracted you were.

“I was asking you how you were feeling about graduation coming up.” Nate stated, searching your face for several long seconds, as if he was trying to discern what could be possibly going on in that head of yours. “Everything okay, baby?”

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, I was just- just thinking about mom coming tomorrow.” You quickly lied, plastering a smile on your face. You’ve learned how to fake a smile over the years.

Nate hummed your answer, believing that you were just thinking about and worrying about your mom coming tomorrow for your graduation. She was… an intense woman to say the least. She was the one always pushing you to be perfect, have great grades, and participate in more things than a person can handle. She always said it was to prepare you for the future and push you, but it only led you to stress over wanting to be a perfect daughter in her eyes.

“Don’t think about her. Focus on now, okay?” Nate whispered that more quietly to you, giving you a soft smile while squeezing your hand that he tightly held onto.

It was moments like these with him that made you feel awful, knowing that you fooled around with someone else behind his back.

Nate was an amazing guy, he really was. He excelled academically and was a prominent figure at your college that almost everyone looked up to, and was also the star football player that led the team to the championship on numerous occasions. He was also an amazing boyfriend, always picking you up from things, walking you to classes and even your dorm, no matter the time of day.

But he had a possessive nature, something you noticed as your relationship went on. He always had to be with you no matter what, going to your trainings, debates, and other events. You didn’t mind that he went with you to those things, but it was the fact it felt like he was preventing you from doing anything else that revolved around your college. He’d also push you to your limits when training for soccer, studying late into the night, and pushing you when it came to debates.

He was too much like your mother, and it hurt you every time you were reminded of that.

“And that’s another win!” Donald’s voice rang out over the cheers that followed, throwing the last plastic red cup aside and throwing his arms up in the air in celebration. Nate quickly looked to his best friend, congratulating him and patting him on the back and you smiled at him.

“Y/N!” Your attention was pulled away from the two males as Chelsea came running up to you, quickly grabbing your hand and pulling you away from Nate without even sparring him a glance. She never was a fan of him. “Come on, Serpent’s band is about to perform and I want you front and center beside me!”

“O-Okay-” You felt your face heat up at Chelsea’s words, stumbling behind her as she easily moved through the sea of people. You were gonna be front and center… in Zoya’s line of sight.

Chelsea was easily still clutching onto your hand as you made your way to the front of the small stage that was set up. The members of the band were already there, having finished setting up. Eleven was on the keyboard, focused on making sure it was right. Serpent was by the microphone, considering she was the lead singer, with her electric guitar ready, she immediately smiled brightly and waved at you and Chelsea. Bai Yi was by the drums, her bass ready as well, a smirk spreading across her face when she saw you, and you noticed her lean over the drum set.

Your heart was beating rapidly as Zoya perked up at whatever Bai Yi had said, her head immediately turning towards the gathered crowd, until they landed on you. You only gave her a small smile, one she returned, but you could tell she was holding herself back from waving at you. But she couldn’t do that, after all you both had to act like you didn’t really know each other. You couldn’t do anything that could make another person suspicious.

“Are you really just gonna give her a small smile?” Chelsea suddenly asked, leaning her mouth right by your ear and whispering so only you heard. It made you jump, immediately leaning away from her.

“Yes…” You muttered, giving Chelsea a warning look to not continue. She was one of the very select people that actually knew about you and Zoya’s affair. You had ended up telling her so you could have some cover for you for the times you’d steal moments with the woman.

Only Chelsea and Zoya’s bandmates knew, and you were going to keep it that way as long as you could.

Chelsea pouted slightly, giving you a look back that you couldn’t quite discern, before her attention was back on the stage as the music started. When the first song started, you were immediately enraptured by the music. You’ve heard Zoya’s band play before, and everytime you were blown away. At first you tried to focus on Serpent, or Eleven, or Bai Yi, trying to not look at the woman on the drums.

But eventually your eyes strayed to her. They always moved to Zoya like she was a magnet, screaming for your attention no matter where you were or what you were doing. She looked handsome sitting behind the drums, her hands moving up and down as played, finding her own rhythm in the song. Sometimes she’d twirl her drum sticks in her hands just to show off before continuing to play, and you could see a smile adorning her face as people in the crowd cheered.

Zoya never really admitted it, but she loved the attention, hearing fans singing along to their songs or cheering. She never felt more alive than on stage playing her drums with her band that had become her family. And it was only made better for her knowing you were in the crowd, in her direct line of sight. Her eyes almost never strayed away from yours when your attention was finally on her, and she was making it difficult for you to look away as her eyes just seemed to suck you in.

But every small moment like this had to be ruined.

Zoya felt her eye twitch and her lips flinched down into a frown as she watched Nate appear beside you, his arm quickly circling around your waist as he pulled you in close. Your attention was immediately off of her and onto him, a big smile spreading across your lips as you leaned up to kiss his cheek. She watched you laugh as he leaned down to whisper something into your ear, before kissing your head and turning his attention to the performance.

Gradually, Zoya began to hit the drums a lot harder as her anger and jealousy built up. She should have been the one to have an arm wrapped around you, be the one to place kisses on your head and face and have you smile up at her like you did with him. It was agony for her, a pain that grew every day, making the hole in her heart widen even more, a hole you caused because you’d never be able to fill your place in it.

As soon as the performance was done and Serpent thanked the crowd, Zoya was off the stage, her jaw clenched tight.

◃───────────▹

It had been an hour when you finally decided to leave the party, exhausted from the whole thing and having to put up a front the whole time. You convinced Nate you could walk back to your dorm on your own, considering it wasn’t too far down from the sorority houses. The walk was something you needed, the cold air feeling nice on your face. You felt relaxed, but also felt empty, an emptiness you couldn’t help but take notice of whenever you weren’t with Zoya.

Thinking of Zoya, you remembered how quickly she was off the stage after the performance ended, and it made you bite your lip. You wondered how hard you had screwed up and upset her, if you even were responsible for it (you were). You decided that once you were at your dorm, you’d make a plan to see her the next day and check in on her.

But it seemed Zoya had her own plans of seeing you earlier than that, as she was waiting for you in your dorm room when you entered.

“I thought you would have stayed a bit longer at the party.” Zoya stated, sitting at the chair at your desk, checking her nails and not even looking at you as you entered and shut the door, the sound of the lock turning echoing inside her head.

“I was planning to leave a little after your band’s performance.” You answered, biting your bottom lip as your eyes moved up and down her body, noting how she seemed a little too relaxed.

Zoya then stood up, her figure already towering over you as she walked towards you, and you tried to read her eyes to gauge how she was feeling. “You and Nate seemed to be having a lot of fun during it.”

You clenched your jaw at the name of your boyfriend, narrowing your eyes just slightly at her. “Isn’t one of our rules to not mention him?”

“Heh.” Zoya couldn’t help but chuckle softly at your reminder, briefly looking to the ground before placing a hand on your chest and gently, but firmly pushing you back against the wall, her lips grazing your ear. “Says the girl who mentioned him last night.”

With those words, Zoya slammed her lips against yours, silencing anything that you were about to say. You immediately melted into it, your arms wrapping around her neck before you pulled her closer, opening your mouth to deepen the kiss, something she was all too willing to allow.

Zoya pushed her tongue inside your mouth, exploring it like she always did while her hands landed on your hips, pushing you more firmly back against the wall. Then she was kicking your feet apart with her foot, before slotting one of her legs between yours. A moan immediately fell from yours lips as her knee pressed up against you.

“Zoya…” You whimpered, moaning a little more as she began to grind her knee against the area you wanted her most.

“That’s right, moan my name, baby.” Zoya growled, her lips moving down your jaw and to your neck, quickly kissing as much as she could and lightly nipping at your skin. She so badly wanted to leave a mark on you, but she knew she couldn’t, and it only annoyed her.

You did as she asked, continuing to moan her name and throw your head back, resting it back against the door as you focused on the feeling of her knee grinding up against you just right. Though it wasn’t enough, and you whimpered softly, one of your hands moved down to grab one of her’s. You brought it to the waistband of your pants, silently urging her to slip it past the barrier of clothing.

Zoya growled at the action, a sound that made you shiver and bit your lip. She sounded so primal, like a wolf about to devour its prey, and you were a willing victim to it as she slipped her hand by the waistband. You gasped as soon as her calloused fingers made contact with you, sending a jolt of pleasure through your spine.

“Fuck, your so wet.” Zoya mumbled, feeling you already slick like you had become wet the second you entered your dorm room and saw her, which was the case.

“All for you-!” You bit down on your bottom lip as she easily slipped two fingers inside you, making you feel full. “Yes, yes-!”

The sound of your moans and the slick sound emitting from your pussy as she fingered you was like music to Zoya’s ears, a song she was addicted to. Her thumb circled your clit, while her fingers continued to pump in and out, making you curse and arch your back, pushing yourself further into her. She wanted- no needed to hear more from you. She needed to hear you scream her name.

“Scream my name.” Zoya husks out, her breath hitching as she feels your walls tightening around her fingers. “Let me know how good I’m making you feel.”

“S-So good, Z-Zoya!” You tried to speak, finding it harder as you neared your climax, your gut tightening making you whine a needy sound, a sound only she could make. “C-Cumming… p-please let me cum..!”

A tear rolls down your face as the pleasure builds up to a point it’s almost painful, and it makes Zoya’s smirk widen a bit more as she goes back to kissing your neck. She hums against your skin, her tempo increasing, leaving you more numb with pleasure. But she doesn’t say anything, simply focusing on pleasuring you.

Eventually you can’t hold back anymore, and cum around her fingers with a scream of her name, “Zoya!”

Your body arches into her’s, your head falling forward and onto her shoulder as the waves of pleasure leave your body weak and shaking. Zoya immediately supports you as you collapse against her body, her arm tightening around your waist and pulling you closer. She pulls her hand from your pants and brings them up to her mouth, quickly sucking your cum off them. The sight makes your pussy pulse, but you're too exhausted to act on it.

Zoya easily picks you up in her arms, carrying you over to your bed and gently laying you down. She moves to unwrap herself from you and pull away, only for you to grab her shirt to stop her, whispering, “Please stay, Zoya…”

Your words make her freeze, leading her to debate whether to stay or leave like she planned. But she looks down at your face, seeing you had already begun to fall asleep, your eyes closed. Then she can’t bring herself to leave your side, so with a heavy sigh, she climbs into your bed with you, quickly wrapping her arms around your body and pulling you against her.

Zoya gazes down at your now sleeping face, raising a hand up and gently brushing some hair away before caressing your face. You looked so beautiful and at peace, for once looking relaxing and content while being in her arms. You didn’t have to pretend around her, you were vulnerable and it made her feel special knowing you felt comfortable enough to not put up that front of yours that you had around everyone else.

She wished you could be like that not just behind closed doors with her. She wished she wouldn’t ruin your perfect image by holding your hand in public and kissing your cheek. If she had it her way she would do all of that with you, and maybe it was selfish considering she didn’t care about image. But you did, and she had to respect that openly being with her would ruin it.

For her, keeping your affair a secret was easy for her, but after so long, genuine feelings began to form and she found herself thinking about you every second of the day. She thought of your eyes, your smile, the sound of your laugh and the way you would chew on your bottom lip when you were focused. She noticed every little thing you did, and it was that knowledge that made her realize that you were more than just a person she slept around with.

She needed to tell you how she really felt, because the weight of knowing she had to keep this thing a secret was beginning to weigh heavily on her. She had to say something, because she yearned for the day when she didn’t have to conceal her feelings or hide her presence, or act like she didn’t know you when in reality she knew you better than anyone else.

Was it really too much to ask for?

◃───────────▹

Everytime Zoya tried to confess her feelings to you, something would happen or come up, leaving you to either leave or leave her too afraid to actually say anything. She never felt so weak or scared before until she was faced with a situation where she could finally tell you that she loved you. It went on for two more months, and your affair was still going and was still secret. Now graduation was upon you guys, happening the next day when Zoya received news that utterly tore her apart and left her feeling so cold and heartbroken.

“You didn’t know? Nate and Y/N are getting married.”

The words echoed in her head like a plague, leaving her wanting to claw at her skin and sink into herself and just break down. She found herself at a bar and hung out there late into the night, drinking down beer after beer all to try and numb the pain she was feeling. By 3 in the morning she wasn’t in a coherent state, her mind fogged with alcohol as she stumbled through campus. All that was on her mind was you, and it was why she found herself knocking loudly on your dorm room so late.

You opened the door, rubbing sleep out of your eyes, before they widened when you saw her standing on the other wide, reeking of alcohol, and weakly holding onto the door frame to keep herself up right. “Zoya-”

“When were you gonna tell me?” Her voice cut through you like a knife, leaving you frozen as she stared you down with anger and hurt swirling inside her eyes. You’d never seen her so… broken, and that’s how you knew that this was about.

“I’m sorry…” Was all you could say back in response as tears welled up in your eyes, your hands beginning to shake along with your whole body.

“Engaged?” Zoya stated, looking at you with pure hurt as she leaned slightly towards you. “You didn’t tell me…”

You remembered when Nate had proposed to you a couple days ago. It was when you were at dinner with both of your families, celebrating the final debate you participated in. Suddenly Nate had dropped down onto one knee in front of you, holding out a ring and asking the words, “Will you marry me?”

How were you supposed to say no when you felt everyone’s eyes on you, when you felt your mother’s eyes on you. The weight of maintaining the image of the perfect daughter, the expectations, and the pressure of the entire situation weighed heavily on your shoulders, leading you to saying yes.

You didn’t keep it a secret that you were engaged to him now. You were planning to tell Zoya, you really were, but you had been so busy that week that you weren’t able to find time to meet with her. But you didn’t want her to find out this way, because it now leads Zoya to your dorm room, alcohol heavy on her and intoxication clear in her glassy eyes.

“I did everything you wanted!” Zoya suddenly yelled, her voice cracking in anger and pain. “I followed your stupid rules, your demands. I stayed away from you when you asked me to just to keep our-” She stopped, letting out a laugh and looking away with a shake of her head, stopping herself from uttering the word “relationship.”

As far as Zoya knew, you weren’t even a couple, just two people who fucked.

You had your head hung low, staring at the ground while Zoya entered your dorm, beginning to pace back and forth while you quietly shut the door. She was muttering some things to herself, tugging at her hair before suddenly punching the wall. The hit made you jump and squeeze your eyes shut, tears falling freely down your face.

Zoya’s anger was justified, which is why you didn’t stop her as her fist collided with the wall until there was a hole. You wanted to stop her, in fear of her hurting herself, but you just couldn’t. All you could do was stand there in your guilt.

“Y-You know. I played along… to have you.” Zoya whimpered out, leaning her head against the wall, tears welling up in her eyes as her anger was quenched for now. Her hand ached, shaking in pain at her side, her knuckles split open and bleeding, but she paid no attention to it.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, her confession cutting into your heart like a knife, leaving you shaking uncontrollably, tears falling rapidly down your face. The guilt was prominent inside your body, eating away at you.

“I just wanted you to be mine.” Zoya whispered, tears falling from her eyes as she turned towards you slowly. “I love you.”

There it is, those three words that held so much pointless weight in the end. It left you gasping for air between your sobs, your head snapping up to Zoya and staring at her with wide eyes. You always hoped to hear her say them, but you knew you shouldn’t have, knowing it wouldn’t make you change the secrecy of your affair. In the end it wouldn’t change anything, just like how it won’t change anything now.

Zoya then approached you, and with every step she took, you took a step to retreat, until your back hit the wall and she was quick to cage you in between her arms. “But you were never mine to begin with.” She gives you a sad smile, finally coming to terms with that fact. The engagement ring on your finger was proof of it, after all. “Now I have to live with that fact…”

You looked away from her, wrapping your arms around yourself in a protective manner, while trying to make yourself look small. Zoya raised a hand up, gently dragging your chin and tilting your head up until you had no choice but to look at her. She was crying, just like you, and the knowledge of knowing that you were the reason behind her tears made you whimper.

When your attention was on her, she grabbed your one hand and slipped your engagement ring off of your finger, examining it. “Engaged…” She whispered softly, finally letting that fact register in her head.

Then Zoya dropped the ring, letting it fall to the ground, and before you could process it, her lips were on yours. Her lips were soft, feeling familiar and bringing a warmth to your chest that you knew you didn’t deserve. You kissed one another like you were the only reason for each other breathing. You kissed her like this was the end… because it was.

One final night with one another couldn’t hurt, right? Just a night to say goodbye.

Finding yourself back on your bed, naked with Zoya on top of you left you feeling numb with pain. Your mind was only filled with her. The feeling of her body against yours, her lips on your neck, while her hips moved against yours. It was the same like all those other nights you both spent together, except it was different because this was the end.

When you both reached your peak, with Zoya releasing inside you, you felt complete for the first time in your life, but that feeling wasn’t going to last after this. Zoya had her head resting on your chest, listening to the sound of your gradually calming heartbeat, her arms circled around your waist. Your hands moved through her hair as you stared up at the ceiling of your dorm, tears rolling down your face.

You eventually fell asleep, and once you were, Zoya forced herself out of your bed. She grabbed her clothes and slowly got dressed, running a hand through her hair before looking back at your sleeping form. Her feet moved on her own as she crouched down beside your bed, reaching a hand out to tuck some hair behind your ear, before leaning forward and placing one final kiss onto your lips, murmuring a few final words before getting up and leaving, never looking back.

“Good luck, babe.”

ENDING NOTES: So, one question. Part 2?

[spotofimagines]

Dating George Weasley as a Ravenclaw would include...

A/N: This is the longest Would Include I've done, so long there's a read more! But I'm in a Weasley mood lately so here you go!

George Weasley x Ravenclaw reader

He sits and watches you study in the library every now and then.

Sometimes he just wants the company but is too tired to do anything but he doesn't want to interrupt you so he sits slumped in his chair, watching you write or holding your ink for you.

Other times, he will be scribbling doodles for a new sweet Fred wants to sell, heaps of parchment mixing with yours.

He always helps you put your books back when you're finished, traipsing behind you with heavy feet, but helping nonetheless.

You're the first person he comes to for help with pranks. He and Fred come up with the ideas, but you know whether the potion ingredients will work, how to say the spell properly and whether the creature they want to release in the Slytherin common room will destroy the whole school. They really would have been expelled by now if not for you.

You also helped them branch out their business by selling stuff in the Ravenclaw common room since they aren't allowed in there.

You become very popular amongst first-year troublemakers, and the small group of older Ravenclaws set up a space in the corner of the common room to buy the concoctions that will give them more time to finish their essays.

George makes sure none of his antics blow back on you. You work far too hard to have your post-school career knocked because you got too many detentions and failed your exams and he knows it.

Although you are on Filch's bad side for distracting him whilst the twins get their confiscated items from his office. And George's response to that? "Who isn't on his bad side?"

He absolutely rubs it in your face when Gryffindor beats Ravenclaw in a quidditch match, whether you really care or not, that's what he'll be spending an hour doing after he's won.

You have a running deal; you buy him a butterbeer for each match he wins and he buys you dinner each time he loses to Ravenclaw. So far George has had countless drinks. You are yet to have one meal.

He always gives you his things to wear; jumpers, hats, scarves, anything really.

But he will never, absolutely never, wear your Ravenclaw scarf; lord help him you'd think the thing was made of fire by the way he avoids it.

You don't know Oliver Wood very well, but he gave you one of the biggest scoldings you have ever received when George couldn't play a quidditch match because you'd been chasing him in the courtyard with your scarf and he fell over his own feet, landing weirdly on his elbow and hip.

After the stern lecture from Oliver and spending two days in the hospital wing with George and occasionally Fred, who found the whole ordeal hilarious, you didn't tease him with your Ravenclaw items again for a long time. He still avoids that scarf like the plague.

You're the only friend of the twins that Percy can tolerate.

Probably because when you visited The Burrow during Christmas breaks, you talked to him about his work and being head boy without ridiculing him. (And you smack George's arm when he makes rude jokes which Percy quite enjoys seeing).

George sits and listens to you rant when you need it.

He watches as you pace back and forth, words never stopping until you've gotten everything out. Then he just pulls you into a long tight hug before he tries to distract you from your problem.

About half of George's herbology work is written by you, and half his transfiguration work and probably half his care for magical creatures work too if he didn't manage to weasel Charlie into unknowingly writing him an essay every month in his letters.

George 100% tries making a million invisibility products and polyjuice potions to try and sneak into your common room at night, but Hogwarts is much too equipped to let him find success at it.

So you had to find a secret spot in the castle for your late-night rendezvous without teachers or prefects finding out.

At first, it was the girls' lavatories but Myrtle's snooping and laughter made it less than perfect. The ghost whispering in his ear halfway through a makeout session made George far too irritated to go there for a third time.

He leaves you little love notes all over the place, some telling you to keep smiling, some telling you a weird joke, some telling you how smoking you look (and now you definitely have to make sure no one can see these notes except you!).

When you have exams or projects due his love notes get more frequent since he knows you'll be stressed and seeing him less.

He always attempts to eat every meal with you in the great hall. This way you can catch up on what you've both been up to and how your classes have been while he makes sure you remember to take breaks from studying to eat properly.

If things get in the way (*cough* detention *cough*) he will take you out to The Three Broomsticks on the weekend, just the two of you, and maybe Fred, but he swears he told Fred not to come this time!

He told you about the marauders' map a day after finding it because he was certain there was something special about the spare roll of parchment in Filch's office they found under Fred's nose-biting teacups.

It was you nonchalantly guessing there's a spell keeping its contents secret before carrying on reading your book that gave him the best tool he could have wished for.

That's why you're the only other person who knows about the map. You've spent many hours sitting tucked into his side, munching on chocolate frogs and watching people walk around on the paper.

That's how you found out Fred and Angelina were dating but George's excitement to tease them about it more mischievously outweighed your want to learn the details from your friend.

Despite all of George's silliness and trouble, he might just be one of the smartest people you know outside of Ravenclaw.

Not that anyone else believes you when you say it, as his pranks are known to be foolish, but you've seen the way he and Fred create their products and plan their business throughout the years. No one else has the mix of academic and streets smarts to be that successful, you're sure of it.

[venusplan]

How jjk men treat you on your period

an: I really hate periods so here's a post about what the JJK men treat u during yours <3 challenging myself with the one because I've never wrote for Geto, Nanami, Choso, & Toji.

Somehow I made Gojo's the longest??

cw: blood (obviously) period sex, All characters are 18+,

Satoru Gojo

Would probably get you chocolate to share 💗

We're talking about Gojo, so you know it means wayyyy more than you eat. If you are it all you'd probably get sick honestly. Somehow he doesn't though??

Would definitely take a picture in front of the feminine products and send it to you asking "What size pussy do you have?"

Somehow I think he has warm hands, instead of a heating pad he'd probably cuddle with you warming your stomach honestly.

Definitely bought ice cream.

Period sex would probably be a thing tbh (it's kinda half and half for me idk, could see it but at the same time maybe not)

Doesn't wanna leave you when it's the time of month.

If you leave the house and like to go buy groceries and eat something he'll walk behind you. Looking out for you know, blood in case if it seeps through the back or something. (He'd mostly do this for if you use pads instead yk)

I low-key see him knowing what a period is 🎀 because I mean 💗 yeah thinking about it. So you wouldn't have to really inform him.

Suguru Geto

Gosh it's hard to think URGHHH. 💔

Sighhh, honestly if we're talking about adult Suguru I think it's more off he'd know because of Mimiko and Nanako to so.

It gets BAD when all three of his girls get synced up.

He'll make sure to buy like dark chocolate, keep stocked up on pad (&/or) tampons.

Also makes sure we you're comfortable 💗

He'll buy the two heating pads and stuff you know

Meanwhile he'll buy you one for when he's out and about.

Otherwise he also holds his hand on your stomach.

Nanami Kento

Makes sure you're always comfortable.

Also like makes you some warm coffee/tea whichever you prefer.

Wants to help you through the hellish week.

He'll make sure to wash the sheets if you ever get blood on them accidentally.

Tries to keep you warm.

Bought you your favorite chocolate and gets whatever you're craving🎀

Toji Fushiguro

Bro's broke.

He can't buy pads/tampons, etc.

Honestly though hear me out, he'll take on a really quick job from Shiu and buy you some stuff.

Maybe some chocolate and a pack of pads/tampons.

He'll come back to you with it and then hand the bag to you.

After that he'll either hold you from behind, or his head on your stomach maybe.

Honestly there could be period sex, but he's noticeably not as rough, or anything.

Stays with you the entire time 💕

Ryomen Sukuna

Asshole.

But a nice asshole.

Would make Uraume go out to get your stuff.

Laying in bed, or sitting on his throne he'll put his massive ass hand on your stomach.

Makes sure no one bothers you much.

If you catch an "attitude" with him trust he'll fuck it out of you.

PERIOD SEX. He literally kills people, he is not going to be afraid of blood on his penis(es).

You mostly just stay around him during it (like you do even when you're not) that or you're in your room (his)

Choso Kamo

Scared the first time it happens. Like, "why are you bleeding?!?"

You'd have to explain the whole thing to the poor baby :(

He'll ask questions which you answer.

Later he'll come back to you with everything you need 💗

Doesn't wanna leave you.

Makes sure you have like a whole damn grocery of your pads/tampons.

Would probably get you some sweets.

(he asked Gojo to help him buy it.)

Lays his head on your stomach 🎀

[phoebe-delia]

Four Years in Fandom!

Hiii! It's been four years since I posted my first fic on AO3, and while I started reading fic before that, I consider April 25 my fandom anniversary.

To celebrate, I want to talk about my favorite fic I wrote each year. And I'm going to make it a tag game! Y'all do it too if you feel like it! Make a list of your favorite of your own works, one from each year you've been a creator. It can be fic, art, podfic, etc.—anything you made. I'll start by tagging some folks (but no pressure): @basicallyahedgehog @getawayfox @kittycargo @phdmama @peachpety @lqtraintracks @greattemptation @written-in-ash and @cailynwrites

2021 (Year 1): this is me trying

Rated T, 12.6k

This is still my favorite thing I've ever written. If you read only one of my fics, I'd want it to be this one. It's one of the more personal stories I've written, and it means a lot to me. It was also, at that point, the longest fic I'd written, and I feel it marked a turning point for me as a writer. I'm also so grateful for the friendships it's brought me, and I am always humbled when people tell me it helped them through a difficult time. It helped me, too.

2022 (Year 2): Goodnight, and Have a Pleasant Tomorrow

Rated T, 1.4k

This was for LCD in 2022. I won't lie, I am very proud of this fic. It's an SNL AU with Drarry as hosts of Weekend Update. I wrote all the jokes myself based on real news headlines at the time. It was difficult, but probably the most fun I've had writing a fic. (Note: Lyssa @written-in-ash made some lovely art for it, but I think the image host link isn’t working).

2023 (Year 3): Just Take Me Home

Rated T, 4.7k

This was a fun one, too. I love it because it feels like the kind of fic I'd love as a reader, especially when I was first getting into Drarry. I was also really happy with the idea/concept, not to mention how fun it was to come up with a, let's say, unfortunate acronym for this fake Ministry department. AND the incredible @cailynwrites made a podfic of it and made it sound 10x better.

2024 (Year 4): I Could Never Rescue You

Rated M, 1.6k; (mind the tags!)

This has a VERY different tone than what I usually write. It falls into the category of: Fics I Enjoy Writing but Wouldn't Like to Read, mostly because it's angsty and I am very selective with the angst I read. Mind the tags on this one, if you do read it. I won't spoil it, but all I'll say is, it is structurally (and somewhat thematically) inspired by the musical The Last Five Years by Jason Robert Brown. (There are a few major differences; if you're familiar with the show and you want to be spoiled/know the plotlines I changed for the fic, message me!) I had the idea when I first started writing fic, but I put it off for so long because I knew how hard it would be to make the unique structure of the show translate to fic form. I also hadn't figured out how to honor the angst of the show without making myself too sad and/or writing Drarry in a way that felt inconsistent with how I view them.

[nyx-knacks-writes]

Ceilings

Another Cobra Kai fic! And probably the longest single one-shot I've ever posted, clocking in at 3216 words! Unless I edit it. This is just a little romp through Robby's mind while he tries to take care of himself after what is, by all accounts, a pretty rough day. If you read this, please leave a comment! Even if it's just a single emoticon, I still wanna know what you thought. I'm nosy like that. I hope you enjoy! (This one's set toward the end of S1, so... You should be fine on spoilers unless you're really new, in which case, welcome. Welcome and maybe don't read until you've hit the end of S1.)

The door slammed shut in his wake, kicked from behind as Robby tore into the shitty little one-bedroom apartment. The cramped kitchen was dark and dusty with disuse. Where was his mother, again? He didn’t know. The angry part of him declared that he didn’t care. After all, it wasn’t like this was any different from the norm. The dim light over the kitchen sink flickered before blinking out entirely. Shit. Was that the power going out, or did the bulb just die? Robby reached toward the wall to flick the switch. This was familiar. Checking to see if his mother had paid the power bill. All-too familiar, in fact. The overhead light blinked on, and Robby couldn’t help the crooked, bitter smile that crept onto his face. He had electricity. That was something, wasn’t it?

Assuming that they had no extra light bulbs to swap for the dead one, Robby flicked the light back off and trundled toward the bathroom. It had been a long day of skateboarding, getting smacked into the sand, and getting chewed out for running “a con” or playing a “sick mind game” on Mr. LaRusso. A shower would do him good. Once again, he flicked on the lights, but this time, there was a face waiting for him in the darkness. His own face, but a face, nonetheless. In the mirror was an equally sad boy, one who seemed so much younger than Robby. Soft cheeks not quite done losing their baby fat. Smooth skin, sour-apple green eyes, a thin, slightly pointed nose, bow-shaped lips pressed into something akin to a scowl, and messy, floppy hair combed toward the back of his head. He took after his mom, that much had been established over the years, but in the moment… His eyes had that same hard quality to them, like chips of cutting green glass, just like his dad in all but hue. His lips bore a resemblance to his father’s too. They sat in that same sort of line where the corners weren’t pulling up or down to smile or scowl. His eyes darted away from the mirror, away from that boy who was so sad and so angry, landing on his hands where they laid bracing him against the vanity. 

He had the same nails as his dad. Not particularly prominent parts of his body, but... They were broad, taking up most of the width of his finger. Extra rounded on the bottoms. Short, not poking out past the tips of his fingers. He supposed that that last one was a matter of choice rather than genetics, but they’d still both independently made that choice, hadn’t they? Like father, like son. How fitting it was that the one thing they seemed to share was one of the body’s natural weapons. After all, what were nails meant for in nature but scratching at things? Probably more, but that was the only function of them that Robby could call to mind in the moment. How fitting that the parts of his body that could most easily be used to harm another were the parts where he saw the most similarities to his father. 

Robby turned away from the mirror and pulled at the lever in the shower, starting the water. It was loud, deafening almost, striking the bottom of the shower curtain like a thousand tiny drumsticks against a thousand equally tiny snare drums. As he waited for it to heat up, he slowly peeled the clothes from his body, dirty with sand and sweat. He’d need to dust them off later, before they went in the bag he’d have to take to the laundromat. Otherwise, well… It was sand. “It’s coarse and rough and irritating, and it gets everywhere,” in the words of Anakin Skywalker. The last thing he needed was to find sand in clothes that he thought were clean.

As the soiled clothes came away from his skin, Robby only felt heavier in body and mind. Staring down at himself, he didn’t quite know what he thought. Strong-if-lanky limbs, a slender torso, and hey, look at that. Muscles. All of those chores he’d so despised when Mr. LaRusso had first started teaching him karate had paid off. It had all paid off, really. However, he still had to wonder if getting into karate was particularly wise. After all, with no karate, he wouldn’t be dealing with all of these emotions. Mr. LaRusso would have just been his boss. His uptight rich asshole boss who he couldn’t care much about one way or another. He wouldn’t have gained one more thing in common with his father, wouldn’t have become just that much more like a man that he’d spent so long hating. Like a man that he continued to hate. He'd still be in that nice comfortable bitter bubble, resenting his dad and letting every other emotion rot somewhere deep inside, hidden away by the scorn for Johnny.

Stepping into the shower, he remembered how his mother had told him about that fateful karate tournament way back in 1984—just eighteen years before Robby had been born—when his dad had lost to Mr. LaRusso. The karate tournament after which his father had almost been killed by his own sensei. Robby didn’t quite get it at the time. After all, it was all in the past, wasn’t it? What did that have to do with him? Why did that mean that his daddy couldn’t be there for him? Why did that mean that his daddy didn’t love him? But apparently that had been the derailing incident of his father’s life, and Robby couldn’t change it, so he just had to live with it. Now, in the light of his own sensei turning on him… it made a little more sense. Robby’s life already wasn’t going anywhere, really, but now that Mr. LaRusso had turned his back on him, what else did he have? Not a pair of functioning parents. Not a chance at finishing high school. Not even a rich stepdad to be a last resort to fall back on even when the guy couldn’t care less about him. Maybe this was how his dad felt after that tournament, so utterly hopeless and abandoned that he didn’t know what to do. His life wasn’t going anywhere now that his sensei wanted nothing to do with him. What sense was there in continuing to try?

He stepped into the shower and put his head under the water, letting it soak through his hair and run down his neck in warm rivulets. From there it was just numb autopilot. Squeeze a dime size glob of shampoo into his hands. Rub ‘em together to spread it, start building a lather. Scrub it into his hair and try to make it cover everything. He’d heard once that for longer hair, it was important only to wash the roots to avoid drying out the ends. He hoped it was true. It helped save on the shampoo. Rinse and repeat. Literally. Once the second round of shampooing was done, he’d take a washcloth, squirt on some soap, build a lather, clean his face. Squirt on some more soap, build yet another lather, scrub his body from behind the ears down to between his toes. He scrubbed with a little extra vigor that day, as though trying to wash away all of the anger, shame and unease. 

Unfortunately, it wasn’t that easy. Nothing ever was. Robby’s mind meandered back to his father once more as he carried out the usual routine. How could his father possibly be feeling even close to what Robby was feeling at that very moment? After all, Johnny did have that rich stepdad to fall back on. He did have a mom who wanted him to succeed in life. Hell, he had a mom who married and stayed with a rich asshole for the entire purpose of attempting to provide Johnny with a better life than she had had herself. What sort of mom did Robby have? The kind who ran off to the club every other night and blew their food and bill money on tiny dresses and shiny accessories while her son ate cereal with water. 

About five minutes into the shower, the light blinked out. The water ran cold not long after. Shit. He could buy that they might have two dead light bulbs at a time, but no way was that long enough for him to have actually used up all of the hot water. His mom must not have paid the electricity bill, after all. Wonderful. He shivered and shook through the rest of the shower, attention consumed by the ice rain stabbing into his skin. At least the water itself hadn't shut off. At least he wasn't left covered in suds that would dry to soap scum on his skin and feel gross in a couple of hours. 

The sleep clothes he pulled on afterward were Old, with a capital ‘O’. The ensemble was composed of a threadbare t-shirt and gym shorts, each about a size too small with oh-so-fashionable holes eaten into them by moths. Really, given the lack of heating, they were too light for May. However, his heavier pajamas would be too thick, and he'd rather be a little chilly than way too warm, so… The moth-eaten t-shirt and gym shorts it would be. Another wave of anger seemed to rise up in his throat. He’d bet his father never had to sleep in too-cold, too-small, holey PJs that were probably only a few wash cycles away from disintegration.

Having been focused on getting himself clean, the lack of food in Robby's stomach hadn't been at the top of his list of priorities. Now, however… The boy needed something in his belly. A quick look into the pantry yielded nothing but a pack of crackers, a small bag of rice, and several miscellaneous ingredients, some of which were expired and others of which were utterly useless with crackers or rice. Robby grimaced. Mr. LaRusso usually fed him during training. Robby knew what his sensei was doing, knew that he could tell his pupil was just a little too skinny, a little too lethargic at times. Normally, Robby wouldn't be one to accept charity, but it made Mr. LaRusso and himself feel better in their own respective ways, so he'd let this one slide. Besides, it meant he was able to save more of the food that his mother brought home. He guessed that that was all over, now, too.

Robby grabbed the rice out of the pantry and groaned as he realized he couldn't use the stove to cook it. No electricity. Dammit. Maybe he could microwave—? Nope, no good, also requires electricity. Clearly he needed some sleep as well. So the rice was off the table unless he thought it a good idea to start a small fire outside and boil the rice in a pot on some sort of makeshift stovetop. Actually, if he thought about it, that might just work. If the fire stayed under control and didn't attract unwanted attention, the odds of which were not good. So no rice.

He threw the bag back into the pantry and selected the crackers instead. What was he gonna do with those… He really wasn't supposed to go into the fridge. The first rule of a power outage was to preserve the cold air inside the fridge. Preserve the cold air, preserve the food with it. At least, the food that was still good to eat in the first place. However, there was lunchmeat in the fridge. Lunchmeat and cheese. It was only deli ham and American cheese that they'd gotten on a discount, but that didn't make it any less edible. That'd do. It was like the Lunchables that the other kids had in elementary school, just… homemade. There you go, Little Robby. Exactly what you wanted, just six years too late and without the little Kit-Kat for dessert. Good enough, right? 

Sort of. It wouldn't exactly satisfy a boy of sixteen as well as one of ten, but it was certainly better than nothing. Even better, it was healthy-adjacent. Meat, dairy, and grains. Those were in that school food pyramid, right? He'd never paid all that much attention in class, but those all sounded right. Cue another wave of anger at his parents, burning and boiling like a vat of acid that would melt solid titanium. Homemade Lunchables for dinner at sixteen. Easiest game of “What's Wrong With This Picture?” ever. He swallowed it down and crossed the kitchen to pull out the meat and cheese that would soothe the ache in his stomach. Deciding to properly indulge the vestiges of his younger self, Robby began to cut the meat and cheese into little circles on top of a paper plate for the purpose of satisfying stacking, and as he did so, tearing the food methodically apart, some of the anger began to ebb away. Toward his mother, at least. His dad could still go to Hell. But his mother… Well, she was trying her best, wasn’t she? Robby knew he hadn’t exactly been easy to raise, what with the scams and the drugs and the fact that he was an active little bugger who’d injured himself one way or another more times than he could count on one hand. He was lucky that the worst of the bunch had only been that sprained wrist. 

He slowed in his cutting, minding that he didn’t accidentally cut himself while his brain boarded this newest train of thought. Whenever he wondered if his mother loved him, that broken wrist was the first thing that came to mind. He remembered how she’d fussed over him, hugged him and brushed the hair back from his face to look at him whenever she thought he was sleeping. He remembered watching Dirty Dancing with her for the first time when he’d come down with mono. He remembered her teaching him how to dance before he could even manage to recite his times tables. He’d stepped on her toes about a half-million times, but she’d never gotten upset with him for it. She’d only ever winced, laughed, and gently corrected him. Part of him could still feel her soft, warm hands holding tight to his, see her looking down with a big bright beaming smile, like he was the only thing that mattered in the whole entire world. Like there was nothing so important as her precious baby boy. It still stung if he thought back to how she’d gradually pulled away as he got older and older, turned from mother to roommate in an all-too rushed gradient. He finished cutting the last slice of cheese and crossed the room, setting the knife down in the sink and casting off the painful memories along with it.

As he munched on the spoils of his hunt, Robby's mind came back to the LaRussos. In particular, he found himself thinking back to that first dinner he'd had with them. Everyone had smiled, talked with him, made an effort to make him feel like part of the family. Especially Sam. He'd known that he liked her then. It was hard not to when those crystal-blue eyes lighted on him as soon as he spoke and stayed glued there until he was done. When she laughed that sweet, musical laugh that seemed to fill any room it rang out in with a fresh, airy love for life. When she gave as good as she got, playfully calling him out for his bullshit before turning around and spouting her own for him to call her on. Didn't hurt that she was drop-dead gorgeous.

What did hurt was Miguel. Knowing she already had a boyfriend… it stung, admittedly. He wasn't going to interfere, of course. Much as his previous less-than-legal escapades would beg to differ, he did have morals. Getting in the middle of someone else's happiness wasn't something he wanted to do. But now they were broken up. After all, accidentally or not, Miguel had hit her. And Samantha LaRusso wasn't the type to put up with that or try to explain it away. Though he still didn't have much of a shot now that her dad hated his guts. “Hi Mr. LaRusso, I know that I'm the son of your worst enemy and lied about it to you for months on end, but I'd like to ask your daughter on a date.” Yeah. That'd end well.

He bit into the last meat-cheese-cracker stack with a particular malice, glowering at the air. A moment later, the fight left his body, and he slumped forward on the table. God, what had he done? He’d had a good thing going. A mentor. A friend. A new way to look at his life, even a path forward off the road to nowhere. And he’d screwed it all up simply by being Johnny Lawrence’s son. The sins of the father were passed down to the son, no need to wait a couple of generations. It was something he could never get rid of, no matter how he tried, a big bright scarlet letter pinned to his chest, marking him repulsive to the very man he’d been growing to see as a new father who he could actually look up to.

Something at the far edge of the table, illuminated by a stray streetlight beam from the window across the apartment, caught his eye. A flyer for the All-Valley Under-18 Karate Tournament. He didn't remember purposefully bringing it home. It must have come into the apartment through the mail. Robby pulled the flyer closer and scanned through for the vital information. Ooh, it was May 19th. That was tomorrow. Sponsored by LaRusso Auto… So Mr. LaRusso would most likely be there. So this could be his shot at redeeming himself. If he just entered into the tournament, unaffiliated—they'd allow that, right?—maybe he could show Mr. LaRusso that he'd been paying attention, taking his teachings to heart. Of course, Miyagi-Do karate was for defense, not tournaments, but this could still work. This had to work.

Robby tipped his face up toward the ceiling with a heavy sigh. This had to work. The neighbors were screaming next door. An ambulance wailed by on the outside of the building. The streetlight gleamed on. He couldn't be all alone like this. Not anymore. 

One quick tooth-brushing later, he made his way to the couch that served as his bed. Like most everything else in the apartment, it was old and ratty, and not exactly comfortable, but it was better than the floor. He settled himself onto the geometric-patterned pillow, pulled the old, slightly matted green throw blanket over his body, and folded his arms over his ribs before casting his gaze up at the ceiling, looking up at the brushstrokes left behind long ago. Huh. Those two kinda looked like a person doing a roundhouse… And those three looked like a trophy… How'd he never seen those before…? Robby's eyelids grew steadily heavier, eventually falling shut as he drifted off to sleep, dreaming of the next day's tournament and exactly how he'd win it all. Yeah. He'd win it all…