#spent a good chunk of time trying to figure that out

[sneaky-eel]

That Bunny!Desmond art is causing me to have very... Impure... thoughts... Especially involving his ancestors

They just want the chance to love their bunny

But Desmond knows they’re just trying to fatten him up.

[bonnvivre]

a funny thing- ch 24/25 word dump

WUAHAHAHA 4AM BABEY YOU KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS

i’ve been cookin low and slow with this one and i mean real slow like. too slow . as in 2 weeks later whoops

this one’s a real doozy so grab a snack

FIRST PAGE ON THE GOSUKU TAG WHEN YOU SORT BY KUDOS LETS GOOOOOOO major rweiser W

———————————————

ch 24

thinking abt yuuji flying down the sidewalk and megumi becoming the equivalent of a flag whipping behind him pls yuuji not everyone can keep up 😭

fred says fuck

mmmmmm crunchy cookies i love me some egg shell

yeah with cooking, you can play around with the measurements and adjust along the way, but baking is whole different beast :[ i made creme brulee for our new year dinner, my first time baking actually, and i was terrified the entire process cus one wrong step and its over (they turned out good in the end, though i wanted to leave it in the fridge longer) 

sukuna and uraume on the same wavelength love that

daww megumi just be a kid its okay 

gojo’s nicknames for toji PLS father-fushi and fraidy-guro

hehehe he technically called sukuna pretty ,, i agree

LMAOOOOO AINT NO WAYY OFC HE SABOTAGED HIM 

i feel like toji would actually do well in getting sales (if he had the proper cookies) considering he’s “a pro at freeloading off women” which leads me to believe he’s got hella charisma . 

“Fushiguro stops just before the table, one hand balled into a fist so tight, the muscles of his arm are easy to see, flexing dangerously beneath his skin.” uwwheheheerhfbud sorry

OH SHT THE GIRLIES ARE FIGHTING YOOOOOOOO AND SUKUNA JUMPING IN FOR GOJO ???? in front of the kids in a school fundraiser is crazy lmao

pinky

gojo taking bets on who’s gonna win reminded me of mei mei betting on the gojo-sukuna fight

i had a crazy amount of secondhand embarrassment going thru that hhhhhh yknow that feeling when you just wanna curl up and cover ur eyes and you’re fighting to even look back ? yeaaaaa

“Hurting people is bad. And you’re not bad!” ohh yuuji ughhh he has no idea of what sukuna was before, that he’s done more than hurt people .. children really only see the side of their parents that they’ve allowed to show them. it’s why kids usually think the highest of them, so yuuji saying that sukuna’s not bad gets me cus he’s known and seen only the best of him. but it makes me feel gooey inside cus, while everyone else sees the former king of curses, yuuji sees his dad and when he does eventually find out, he’ll still always be his dad before anything else (does this make sense i hope it makes sense im trying to make my thoughts coherent)

oh hey they’re talking abt it !

I GASPED OH MY GOD PLEAS EOLASOE APLEAS EPLAS EPALEAPSLEAPSH NOOOOOOOOO FFGGHGBBVV HITTING MY BED GRFGHJVNGRRAAGGHHFEG

im being tortured i thinj you’re trying to kill me here this is the worst case of edging ive ever had in my life (no not like that) 

post-chapter notes:

IM ALREAYD RIOTING YASTOP BLUE BALLING ME

id read real housewives of jujutsu sorcery

————————————

ch 25

GRADE 1 ?? AS IN ONE ?? AS IN  O N E  ?? AS IN, YUUJI IS NO LONGER A PRESCHOOLER

when you said small time-skip, i thought you meant a few months later . i was wrong

aight time to update the time board: yuuji’s in first grade so he’s 6 yrs old, we’re in 2013 now (i think), gojo is 24 yrs old  23 yrs old (chap takes place during summer, bday not passed yet)

it’s 2013, he can get a 3ds now :D im gonna get him on smash bros . OR KID ICARUS UPRISING IT SHOULD BE OUT ALREADY

they should totally name the potential pet after me (jk)

OKAYYYY THATS A START HE KISSED HIM ON THE HEAD !! WE’RE GETTING SOMEWHERE :O now go lower. preferably on the li

oh yeah yeah definitely not together whatever helps you sleep at night man

im gonna need the bad bitches birthday bash one-shot someday with the way shoko’s bringing it up

the fact gojo’s heard the threat so many times before that he can finish it and brush it off

CANDY CRUSH  !!?!??

AWWWWWW THATS ADORABLE ;____; sukuna wanting to do something to surprise gojo’s first day as a teacher and yuuji suggesting to make a cake cus he knows his daddy loves sweets AND they spent the whole day prepping awawawawaw so cutee

they called on uraume for help too LOL poor them 

yuuji being a snitch HA i can’t help but think of my siblings

you can’t be serious gojo, not after that? people also don’t usually sleep and cuddle the homies cmon man

mother is mothering and mother is leading the herd (no but i love how he adapted to the role very easily, likely to prior experience)

whuh the fundraiser was last year ? am i overthinking the timeframe … ok im back after going thru the calendar that makes sense 👍 carry on wait hold on first semester of first grade ended so they’re on break ... summer break ?? unless this is going off of a different schooling system (oh yeah duh japan lol)

ohhh please let them meet mama-guro i can imagine the absolute shock on their faces trying to comprehend how someone like toji managed to marry someone like her 😭 bonus points if toji is much more softer around her too and the sheer whiplash of seeing him having ANY sort of loving side is enough to send gosuku into a spiral

“It’s exactly the type of thing Sukuna would never be caught dead wearing, which means Satoru must do all in his near-infinite power to make him wear it.” real

THESE THREE ARE RIDICULOUS LMAOOOOOO sorry kids your fathers are busy trying to one-up each other

“But, then again, these are just go-karts; how much damage could he really do?” famous last words before disaster

oh no

hey sukuna’s living life at least he’s having fun and that’s all that matters 🥰

not the pyramid projectiles

CONICAL AMMO !?$&7)-)26 MARIO KART IRL GONE WRONG oh my god its too late for this i need to sleep

OH MY GOD ?????? 

WHADDYA MEAN THEY’RE GONE ??????

post chap notes:

what just happened

no really what jusr happened

the amount of times i’ve said oh my god throughout the entire go-kart scene i was clutching my pearls

he recreates his reign in the silliest ways, all while wearing nice little red bow :3

nah i get it the entire first arc was dedicated to how messed up he was abt suguru so i understand the doubts but they’ve also near kissed multiple times .. unless they were super down with kissing the homies 

“I sure hope nothing bad has happened to them...” STOP

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

on tumblr lot more people know about it which great! that improve life of all AAC users. but pretty much with anything disability/developmental disability space on social media (which need certain amount of cognitive/intellectual & language abilities be on even if have support), good majority you see be teen & adult people who already literate learn language via speech n write *first* n then *independently* learn AAC base on it *later*.

especially symbol based AAC, but all AAC, is new system n hard n take long time learn even when you literate & not moderately severely cognitively disabled. but also, “literate teen/adult independent learn AAC” not at all full face of AAC user community.

as in like. experience of theirs. not universal. independently motivated & able to look up different AAC options different AAC apps, compare n contrast. download app n immediately know how to use, or able figure out by self. first time use app n may be clunky n slow, but make sentence on first try. need learn AAC, but most of that learning is for where words are (if button based), how exist as AAC user in public with confidence, etc. those all valid but not true for everyone who need AAC, especially not developmentally disabled children (& some adults) with complex communication needs.

most developmentally disabled children (n some adults) w complex communication needs who need AAC, can’t just hand them tablet with symbol based AAC app or text to speech AAC app n then wait for magic. many of them developmentally delayed in way, not taught in way that fit them (e.g. gestalt language processors), n their language abilities behind peers, so they can’t read, can’t spell, can’t grammar, etc.

some of them need learn where word is not by read word, sometimes not even by understand symbol, instead is by other people press button n hear sound n associate that with meaning n location on AAC n symbol associate with it. in other words, they learning language alongside AAC.

for some their learn process look like, learn how use AAC say one word. n then much later, try make two word message, “want food” “go school.” “two word message” incredibly common goal for many these developmentally disabled children, teens, n even adults, that is something rare n truly extraordinary for that person that need be celebrated.

for others it look like learn by phrase (gestalt), then slowly break it down into smaller phrase n chunks n finally single words.

many of them babble (click random/seemingly random buttons on high tech device, stim with it, etc). but ultimately, won’t be able learn all by self. need be taught, see you accidentally spill water n crying, maybe you “feel” “sad”, n when that happen you “need” “help” from adult. need learn AAC by adults around them constantly model with it, constantly use it in conversation, show them how use. because they learning language along side it.

but also some of them don’t know what this thing in front of them (AAC… device, low tech boards or picture cards, etc) is. don’t know what communication is or you should do that. don’t know people exist who you should communicate to & with. heard many parents n SLP say they try model all time, try all kind of stuff, but child just not seem interested in it, don’t look at it, don’t touch it, don’t use it.

people who use AAC, not all them struggle with only speech. some them struggle with language, with intellectual/cognitive. some of them very developmentally delayed.

n some people, too disabled learn or use AAC. yeah, they exist.

for people who cannot use / cannot only use speech to be understood, AAC can be life changing. but is so much more complex thing. AAC still not as widely used n accepted n properly taught n supported as should, some parents n professionals n schools still many pushback n refuse. but sometimes answer to “have you tried AAC for them” is “yes, but they need long time n lots help to learn n we not very far yet even though spent long time on it” or “yes, but they simply not show interest even after constant model” or “god, wish can, but insurance only cover if show some amount of communication competence n ability use AAC, while only give 1 month trial, which simply not enough time” (wide spread thing that happen) or “yes. many types. it not work.”

for many AAC users & AAC user-to-be, it not as simple as “be handed AAC n check back in while they figure out by self”

[gatorbites-imagines]

Anakin flirting with m reader and ending making out? Pls

Anakin Skywalker x Male reader

Headcanons

You are a non-jedi general during the Clone wars, cuz yall lost focus and had a consensual workplace relationship.

This turned out a lot sweeter than i had planned ngl.

You were a general during the clone wars. You weren’t anything special, you couldn’t use the force, you weren’t from some rich or special background, your name didn’t carry any weight. The only gift you seemed to have, was your inability to be affected by the force. All in all, you weren’t anything to write home about.

Of course, that’s also what made you so damn useful in your role. No one kept an eye on you, everyone underestimated you, you could get away with so much because to most people in charge, you didn’t exist. You not being able to be manipulated by the force, also made you extremely skilled in what you did, without anyone seeming to notice.

Your feat of climbing the military ranks in leaps and bounds only got you mild acknowledgments, and a handful of attempted manipulations from some people in power. But when they realized you didn’t bend, but you weren’t important enough to get rid of, they left you alone.

At 22 you had reached the rank of senior general in the republic army, placing you above even a good chunk of the jedi you fought against, which was also why you had been placed with the 501st, to apparently teach their general the basics.

Anakin and Obi-Wan had both been unsettled by the fact that they couldn’t sense you in the force the first time you met. Every being, even the nonliving, had a presence. But you didn’t. it was like you didn’t exist.

That took quite some time to get used too, especially to someone as force sensitive as Anakin. But over time you two started getting along, and though it took him some time and a lot of grumbling, Anakin did learn quite a lot from you.

The flirting had been subtle in the beginning, or as subtle as Anakin could be. From getting your help on reports and readings he just “couldn’t understand”, to getting you to help him stretch after he had spent hours going through his katas.

You weren’t oblivious, you couldn’t be with the life you lived, so of course you noticed his attempts at flirting. It was endearing in a way. To see someone who was supposed to have no connection to people like that, seem so drawn to you.

It also left you feeling uneasy in a way, as you had never really had much time to relationships or even flirting for that matter, having spent all these years making something of yourself.

Alongside the flirting you two became good friends, and you had even signed yourself up to stay with his platoon, even when your training was done. This was also where you learned he had had a thing with Padme, but they realized they were better as friends a while ago.

When you shared your own lack of experience, it seemed to boost some of Anakin’s confidence, seeing as you both were on new ground. And like with anything else, he took to it with gusto.

The fact that you never turned him down or rejected him, sometimes even laughing and playing along, only made Anakin try even harder. It was cute, to see him trying his best to woo you in a subtle and less noticeable way, seeing as he was still a jedi and it wasn’t actually allowed.

The 501st knew though. Of course they knew, and when Ahsoka came around she figured it out very fast, and she most likely took up the role as hype man and background support.

Your flirting became part of your dynamic, it was just something that you two did, which to outsiders was just seen as banter to keep the spirits up.

It also didn’t go past flirting for a long time, seeing as you guys were always surrounded by people. And being besides Anakin didn’t let you slip into the shadows like you were used too, since he would glow so brightly.

The need for privacy was what had you two slinking off to the side during one of the nights in camp, the platoon having settled down on a planet and waiting for their next orders. Anakin and you had decided to wander off, settling somewhere nearby, but far enough away to get some time alone together.

There might also have been a bottle of alcohol in your coat. It was nowhere near enough to get either of you drunk, especially with the force helping clear it out of Anakin’s system quicker than average folk. But it was enough to loosen up and get comfortable.

Your normal banter of flirting was constant, but as the buzz settled it became something softer and somehow hotter, the feelings growing thick in the air and noticeable enough that even you, who was as force sensitive as a rock if not lesser, could sense it.

Anakin must have made some corny pass at you, that cocky grin on his lips and his hair brushed back and out of his face, letting you truly see his handsome features. Something came over you, later you would blame the force, but it just felt right.

Leaning in and closing the gap between you seemed to have shocked Anakin, his eyes wide before he seemingly melted against you, arms wrapping around your neck and torso and pulling you even closer.

The kiss was far from the most skilled or pleasant, but your shared lack of experience was fully made up for by enthusiasm.

Anakin would pant and grunt as the kiss turned steamier, lips parting and tongues rubbing together, spit gathering at the edges of your mouths and a line of drool running down his chin. His eyes were shut tightly in concentration, his brows furrowed and hands grasping as your coat.

You had no idea how long you two were laying there, kissing like two lovesick fools from some romance novel. Hands were grasping and exploring, but never going further than that. Now wasn’t the time to go any wilder than what you were doing, but the possibility of it was enough to make the kiss even better.

When you pulled away, Anakin leaned after you with a soft noise, bottom lip pouting out and red from the insistent kissing, his eyes cracking open to look at you with the softest look you had ever seen from him.

“Not all of us can hold our breath for hours” you snarked with a soft chuckle, since you knew he could, thanks to the force. Your jedi grumbled, but tucked his head under your chin, still clutching you close and brushing his lips against your neck.

Neither of you spoke for a while, just holding onto each other. You found yourself brushing your fingers through his hair, Anakin almost arching into the touch like an affection starved tooka, a sight that only made you smile more.

“I like you a lot” he mumbled, glancing up at you through his lashes with that insistent determined, but somehow still soft and warm look in his eyes. Just seeing him like that made you wanna kiss him again, to devour him whole.

“I think I like you too” you replied, an upwards tick to your lips as you pulled him close again. Even without the ability to feel the force, you could still feel it flare, like the sun rising in the morning. It would be no surprise if Ahsoka knew exactly what had happened, and the padawan would be confronting you guys about it later.

But right now all that mattered was laying there with Anakin, and maybe stealing a couple more of those deep insistent and longing kisses, since he sounded so pretty when you did. You guys could deal with everything else later.

[pastorpresent]

part 2 to this, but it's not necessary reading to understand this:) tw for panic attacks

-

Logan is going to find every motherfucking TVA agent and rip them methodically into a hundred little chunks, which he's then going to serve to dogpool for her lunch.

He's just got to find Wade and get out of this stupid fucking warehouse first - and seriously, dingy old warehouse for an evil fucking lair? Get creative for once, jesus christ.

The thing was, this mission was supposed to be the definition of easy. The TVA just wanted them to catch some stupid deadpool variant, slap their cuffs on him and be done with it. Hell, Wade had even been looking up nearby lunch spots because they were so convinced they'd be done for then.

They weren't. The variant thing was a trap - which somehow completely went over the TVA's heads - and the place was actually an experimentation warehouse for mutants. They were baited there like fish to a hook, and Wade had been grabbed before either of them could fully grasp what was happening.

Wade was grabbed - and Logan was loosing his god damn mind, because he'd seen the uncharacteristic flicker of fear over the mercs face when they realised what this place was, watched Wade thumb through the paperwork with a tight expression, unsettlingly silent.

He understood. He'd been there, quite literally, but he had the small mercy of not remembering it so completely. His time spent chained to an experimentation table was mercifully shorter than Wades, and he only recalled brief flashes of it.

Wade had told him one night after a few too many drinks that he remembered his weeks in that warehouse vividly. Every second of it was etched into his brain like a branding, and if Logan had known that this mission would take them anywhere even slightly resembling that trauma he would've told the TVA to stick their mission so far up their ass they start choking on it.

He didn't, though, and now he was stuck hiding outside trying to figure out a way to get in there and grab Wade without getting caught himself. He needed back up, realistically.

It stung to call the X-Men. He hated doing it, because seeing them in this universe... it just reminded him of what he'd failed to protect. Of the team he'd essentially killed.

He'd gladly suck all of that up and toss his baggage aside if it meant helping Wade, though.

Even with their help (and their insistence on cuffing instead of murder) It still took a good half hour for them to clear the place.

Logan was growing antsy. He'd seen the sideways looks from Storm and Rogue as his murders grew more brash and violent, prioritising wiping the bastards out as rapidly as possible over doing so in a way which was... more composed and less bloody.

He'd killed about thirty. The team had cuffed and sedated the other lucky twenty, and had taken the... test subjects somewhere safe. Most of them were mutilated beyond looking like recognisable people, half alive, and honestly Logan thought they'd be better off just being put down and freed from their agony, but he didn't voice that. He didn't have time for a morals debate, not when the bastards have had Wade for almost a fucking hour.

"Wade!"

He was dipping in and out of every curtain, trying to find the idiot. His booming voice was echoing through the entire place, and so wherever he was he mustn't be conscious, or verbally able to respond.

Finally he pulled back a curtain and found him.

He was in a glass cylinder, strapped down with thick leather bindings, and was gasping for breath periodically as his skin burned.

An oxygen deprivation machine. The same type that gave Wade his mutation in the first place.

Those fucking sick bastards. He hoped that the team had gotten those men they cuffed the fuck out of here or Logan was going to chop off their fingers and make them eat them, then beat them to the point they were begging for death, and then he'd beat them some more and let them die from blunt force trauma, slowly and in agony on a dirty warehouse floor.

He surged forward, using his claws to bust holes in the machine, allowing immediate air flow while he figured out how to get the damn thing open.

He figured it out, the lid lifting, but something was wrong.

Wade was still gasping for air, his now free hands scratching at his neck desperately.

"Wade, breathe," Logan ordered a little harshly, grabbing the younger man's shoulders.

Big mistake apparently.

Wade was up in an instant, grabbing a nearby scalpel and driving it harshly into Logan's shoulder, his teeth bared and the air missing his usual cry of 'baby knife'.

"Wade, what the fuck are you-"

He was cut off by the medical scissors being thrown at his face, embedding deep into his cheek just below his eye, and fuck that hurt.

"Wade-" he grabbed him, trying to stop him from reaching for any more makeshift weapons, but Wade punched him hard in the face, driving the scissors deeper, and then proceeded to kick him in the balls.

Logan grunted at the impact, barely staying upright and releasing his grip in the momentary recovery.

Wade grabbed a gun from the side and started shooting recklessly, and Logan was painfully aware that some of the X-Men currently standing just a few flimsy curtains away were not as bullet proof as what he was.

He dove atop of Wade, tackling him to the floor, hissing with every bullet that the merc emptied into his torso.

"Wade, stop!"

"Get the fuck off me! Let me go!" Wade screamed, actually screamed at the top of his lungs, his breathing rapid and eyes hard but full of suffocating fear as he thrashed and struggled.

Logan felt horrible. He felt like the shittiest person on the planet, because Wade clearly had no idea what was happening in his panic, didn't recognise Logan or remember the circumstances, and he was terrified. Terrified of continued torture that was sure to come in his mind if Logan 'caught him', and he had no clue what to do.

"Wade it's me, alright? It's Logan. I'm trying to help you."

"I don't- get the fuck off me! Please! Just let me go!"

Wade was sobbing and begging, and from the grip Logan had of his lithe body he could feel his breathing growing shallower.

"I will, bub. I will, but I need you to put the gun down, alright?" Logan said carefully.

He wasn't going to let Wade come out of this having killed somebody he cared about accidently. He wasn't letting him be burdened by that guilt.

"I- I don't- please," Wade sobbed, and Logan swallowed thickly.

"Gun down, Wade," he repeated firmly, and this time he felt the barrel leave his torso and clatter onto the ground.

He continued to pin Wade down with just one arm as he grabbed the gun and tucked it into the back of his jeans.

"Good boy. That's good, thank you. I'm gonna let you up now, bub. Think you can stop trying to kill me for a second so we can talk?"

Wade whimpered softly, and nodded once in response.

Logan eased up on him gradually, rising to his feet and offering out a hand to help Wade do the same.

The younger man didn't take it, scrambling up by himself on shaky legs, taking a few stumbling steps backwards away from Logan.

That stung a little, but he understood. Wade clearly still didn't grasp who he was, and it was probably a very natural reaction to want distance between yourself and your conceived captor who had you pinned to the ground moments ago.

"Look at me, ok? You know me, bub. You know I'm not here to hurt you."

"I- I just want you to let me go. I just want to go home to Vanessa, please."

And maybe that one stung... a lot, more so than any of the sharp objects lodged into his body right now. He often worried about what his existence in this universe meant for Wade. He worried him being here, some sort of unnatural and inconvenient prescence, made it so Wade felt he couldn't truly go after what he wanted. A life with the girl, a few kids, a decent home.

Instead he got stuck with Logan, an alcoholic mess who could barely tolerate basic human interaction most days, and he knew Wade would argue that it was actually vice versa - that Logan was the one stuck with him - but it just wasn't true. Not when Wade was the one with a life he imposed on.

That day with Vanessa, when he'd just almost killed Wade from his own stupidity, rang clear in his head.

('You almost killed him, Logan! He could be dead right now because of you!' Vanessa screamed, voice thick with emotion.

Logan couldn't even bring himself to disagree, or defend himself.

'I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. You know I didn't mean it,' he stressed, staring at Wade's limp body on the couch, his torso wrapped with blood stained bandages.

She looked at him too, and for a painful few moments, there was just heavy silence. It felt like a boot hovering over them, waiting to drop.

'You know, ever since you... appeared here, bad shit has happened. Wade's not himself, because he spends so much of his time on you. He's always in danger trying to drag your sorry ass to safety. It's not fair.'

The boot dropped, and squished him whole.)

"We can. I'll take you to her, but you need to settle down first, bub. Look at me?" Logan said, taking the tiniest of steps closer.

Wade didn't move back, which he took as a win, and he did finally stop his rapid searching to look at him.

"Good. Good job, think you can try match my breathing?"

Another step forward, this one intentionally impossible to avoid noticing, just to gauge Wade's response.

He looked uneasy still but didn't move, and nodded minutely.

Logan breathed in and out slowly, intentionally exaggerated and verbally guiding Wade through it.

It took several minutes, but eventually after calming down considerably, the confusion seemed to evaporate alongside the panic.

"Good boy, again, ok? 1...2...3...4.... exhale-"

"Logan?"

He could've just about collapsed with fucking relief. For a minute or two, he was growing worried that the temporary confusion and amnesia was from more than just the panic attack and the torture chamber. That those bastards had done something to erase his memories just like Stryker had done to him.

"Yeah, it's me, bub," he sighed, shoulders deflating.

"What- what happened?! They hurt you?" Wade hissed, marching into his space and pulling out the scalpel. He reached for the scissors but Logan grabbed his wrist to stop him, opting to ease those out himself.

"Well, you could say that," Logan shrugged, and Wade's brows knotted together, until it seemed the events of the last ten minutes hit him and he gasped, stumbling back and away from him.

Logan didn't know exactly what came over him. Maybe he just couldn't stand the idea of Wade slipping away from him again so soon, even on the most basic physical level.

He filled the space between them, grabbing Wade by his shirt and yanking him forward into a tight hug.

"I hurt you, I fucking shot you-"

"Isn't the first time, won't be the last. Don't you fucking apologise to me, you idiot - you can shove your apologies into that smart ass mouth of yours and swallow 'em," Logan warned, and Wade laughed, but it quickly dissolved into a muffled sob, his hands coming up to fist the back of Logan's shirt desperately.

"They- they-"

"Are gone. It's done. You're safe, unlike those fuckers at the TVA the next time I see them," he growled, and Wade let out another watery laugh, hiding his face away in Logan's neck.

"Take me home?"

"Glady, bub."

[lowkeyrobin]

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

Anyway make sure you’re looking after yourself!!

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

MINHO ; they

summary ; minho loses you again

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

disclaimers ; top ten most unneeded deaths in cinema

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

word count ; 2.5k

masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hey"

"Oh, you bloody genius!"

"Oh, shit"

"What the hell?" Minho mutters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"This way!"

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

"Sorry!" You shout over the noise.

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

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

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

"The cure!"

"We can't leave him here like this"

"We can't take him back-"

"We have to, please"

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

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

"We have to leave him, Minho"

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

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

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

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

"What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I don't wanna say goodbye"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why are they stuck in the sky?"

"They're afraid of coming down"

[hestzhyen]

Analysis: Hakuri & Abusive Backstories

Hello dear void. Hakuri is a character that is near and dear to my heart so I wanted to yap about him and why his story is so important to me on a deeply personal level.

This is a LONG yapfest- the Tumblr Edit Post UI is hitching and lagging while I try to type this little notice there's so much word vomit in here. I honestly don't expect anyone to read it all the way through. I just wrote this to figure out why I was so goddamn attached to a fictional character. I spent too many hours on this to just delete it all once I found my answers though, so... if you wanna strap in, go ahead. But maybe make sure you've got a decent chunk of free time and high tolerance for extremely subjective interpretations first.

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DISCLAIMER: This is purely my opinion- I can't speak for anyone's experience but my own.

First, this isn't a trauma dump. Not for me at least. I'll be talking about what Hakuri endured and how it shaped his character in relatable ways thanks to the quality of the writing. But there won't be anything discussed outside of what happens in Kagurabachi canon, so rest assured on that front.

Second, fictional characters don't have to be 1:1 mirrors in terms of type or severity of trauma the reader experienced themselves to be helpful self-reflection tools. Please take care if you choose to read this, and make sure you're in a good frame of mind if parts of Hakuri's struggle could send you into darker places.

Third, I started writing this around chapter 53 and it's being posted as of chapter 58. If it ages poorly, well, I'm not saying I'm smart just because I yap a lot.

Without further ado... prepare for an expansion of massive proportions under the cut.

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All too often we see shounen characters have an abusive sob story background to give them a sympathetic hook and a reason to start from zero. There's little to say about them other than they go from zero to hero for the good vibes and catharsis. They begin their story as a victim first and foremost, and there are little or no lingering effects from trauma once they have their moment of triumph. In the "good" cases they're healed and whole. In the "bad" cases they have negatively warped personalities for the rest of the story. There's not much in between the two extremes.

Portraying the abuse characters endure in such a shallow way is not the best way to write about it, from my point of view. Writing it as something that can be overcome with strength of will alone is harmful. So is writing the victim as a permanently damaged, defective person. Instead, we need more characters like Hakuri that are shaped but not wholly defined by their abuse, and aren't completely healed by putting the manifestation of their torment in the dirt.

Hakuri is the first character the [abusive past] attribute that actually worked as a hook for me. This is largely due to two key writing decisions: not centering Hakuri's entire narrative around overcoming the abuse he suffered, and carefully depicting how trauma influences his actions. It's necessary to read between the lines of what he says and does to see how much he hasn't said about himself- what he won't admit or recognize, despite how core it is to his character.

Chapters 19-23, Meeting and Getting to Know Sazanami Hakuri

Mantis imagery for courage!

The very first things we learn about Hakuri are as follows:

1) He pushes through hardship with sheer force of will 2) He lost his whole family and has probably been on his own for a while 3) #1 is a lie

I've brought it up before, but food symbolism is all over the place in Kagurabachi- it's often a short-hand for comfort and connection. So Hakuri spilling that metaphor out of his mouth right after telling us he's able to "push through" is a sign that he actually isn't coping with his situation that well. His thoughts about himself and his actual status don't match up. But it's ridiculous imagery that puts us off and pushes us towards thinking he's kind of pathetic rather than making us feel sorry for him. And the rest of his introduction, while accurate to his character, buries the lede on how much he's suffering.

As for his backstory: he was disowned, yes. He says his family will kill him if they see him, yes. But it reads more like Hakuri was punished for being a moral black sheep after he himself framed being disowned as punishment for "being weak" and "getting in the way of business". There's no hint of foul play on his family's part other than being low-life criminals to be fought as the arc villains. So he's primed for some sadness but probably nothing on Char's level. The only hints we have towards something serious until the chapter 24 reveal are not exactly obvious:

-He has a fatalistic mindset and thinks it's natural for him to be overpowered and kicked around because he's weak. (Could just be typical zero-to-hero shounen character things.)

-He's generally unafraid and highly tolerant of pain. He gives no shits about his condition after being kicked around by the Yakuza, smears the blood from his nose while casually talking to Chihiro, and willingly takes a strong hit and is able to yell encouragement to Chihiro while lying bloody on the floor. (Doesn't really stand out in a series as violent as Kagurabachi; this is kind of the bare minimum for being involved in the plot if you aren't a child to be protected.)

-Perhaps the only big tell-tale sign: we zoom in on his trembling fist when describing his older siblings as "strong and scary" in chapter 23. (Could be inferred as fearing for his life since he also says they'd kill him on sight in the same chapter.)

Hakuri's not written like a typical abuse victim in this intro. We don't get commentary from other characters about how much pain Hakuri seems to be in- they comment on how weak and dopey he appears instead. Nor do we get shots of him looking sad, flinching away from touch, or being hesitant to connect with other people. He's actually kind of unhinged with how passionate and eager he is to join forces with Chihiro. He's intense and ridiculous and gets used like a wholesome gag character more than anything else.

So there's not much to suspect here. Hakuri's got more to reveal to us but there are no signs of what we should brace ourselves for. Then the nightmare starts.

Chs. 24-26, The First Glimpse

This page goes from 0 to 100 REAL quick.

Well, shit.

Behold the understated reveal of Hakuri's status as a victim of abuse. The revelation at the bottom of the page only to see his suicide attempt on the page turn is an extremely effective "oh shit- OH SHIT-" two-hit combo that arrests the reader's attention, and I really wish that it was the most memorable part of the chapter for more people. Because holy hell, this recontextualizes everything we know about Hakuri. He's still a passionate, silly, and slightly insane guy, but damn he actually suffered more than he let on.

To find out like this is unusual, isn't it? Char's situation wasn't shown right away either, but meeting her as a scruffy orphan clued us in that she was going to have a tough past from the start. Hakuri, by comparison, gave us very few obvious hints about it. It's like he doesn't want to be seen that way. He openly admits to being "weak" and "useless" but his own pain? The suffering he endured? He's totally fine pushing past it all (lies).

But we're not even close to done yet.

Note how Hakuri's focused on Soya's hands...

Hakuri's first instinct being to jump to his death says a lot. Unlike standing up for the little girl or jumping in to save Chihiro, this is a purely reactionary response. There's no room to think back to Chihiro's bravery for inspiration as those memories overwhelm him. He's terrified. So he jumps and trembles in fear as Soya tries to talk him into coming back to relive his nightmares.

We laughed at the soda spilling out of his mouth and his expressions after he got hit in the face by Hiyuki, but this is deadly serious. Hakuri isn't okay at all. He's actually in very bad condition and the way he thinks about Soya says so much.

The panel explaining Soya's expression of "love" on the page above is important, but it's not emphasized in the same way as what's happening in the present. It feels like an unpleasant detour into Hakuri's inner thoughts for extra context while the main focus is on him and Soya in the moment. Hakuri doesn't even describe what happened to him directly- he says "punching and kicking" like it could be anything from hazing to broken bones, but the backdrop lets us know that it's probably closer to the latter. It gives the impression that Hakuri (understandably) doesn't want to think about this at all.

He also frames Soya's aggression towards him as an expression of "sincere" affection. That's preposterous and heart-breaking to most people- violence isn't love. Even most victims will acknowledge that... to a point. Violence hurts, it's unwanted, but it's still a valid expression of emotion to be acknowledged. It's something they earn or deserve. The rational people are correctly screaming NO IT'S NOT! And most victims would agree again... to a point. Somehow they're the exception to that mindset. Other people don't deserve it, but they do.

So despite it all, Hakuri is still able to be brave for Hinao's sake. He's not going to let Soya hurt anyone else if he can help it, even if it means putting himself back in harm's way. This adds an interesting layer to his character. He's laden with trauma, but he's still able to show courage for others. He thinks he's weak and won't prevent whatever abuse comes his way, but he will put himself at risk to stop others from experiencing the same or worse.

Why is he so devoted to protecting other people at his own expense? Sadly, it's not uncommon for victims to advocate harder for other people than they do for themselves. It also has something to do with the merchandise woman that was mentioned this chapter, but that reasoning won't be revealed for a while yet.

"This pathetic wretch was born a Sazanami, but he can't even do sorcery. He's useless. Worse, he's a hindrance. His life is worthless."

There's another thrill of panic when Kyora summons Hakuri to use his life as a bargaining chip. Hakuri's at his most pathetic here- he's on the ground, helpless under Kyora's foot, not even trying to resist or escape. None of the fire we saw when he saved the little girl, took that hit for Chihiro, or defended Hinao is present. Hakuri can't be brave for himself. He's quite literally trampled by what passes for the Sazanami version of "love" and "basic human decency". It doesn't need to be spelled out any clearer than this: Hakuri's woes come from his family, especially his father. The Sazanamis are fucked up even when it comes to how they treat their own flesh and blood. They're rotten from the head down.

It's obvious then why Chihiro's words and actions affect Hakuri so much. Hakuri thinks he has no value whatsoever- his father says as much, and he falls for Shiba's bluff implying the same. Only Chihiro steps in to directly repudiate Kyora's toxicity and say yes, Hakuri does have value. So much, in fact, that he's willing to trade the precious memento of his father (and the majority of his strength) to prove it. So they're able to leave, but not without Hakuri encumbering himself with a huge amount of guilt for how things went down.

The face of someone ready to spiral down and out.

It's telling that reassurances don't do much to help Hakuri feel better. Shiba tries to help by offering generic comfort (ice cream) and Chihiro tells him it's alright, but it's not until Hakuri hears that he's still needed that he's able to bring himself out of the mire of self-hate.

Of course it's extra effective for Hakuri because he was considered totally useless, but this is very relatable even for folks who weren't told they had no value on a daily basis. Offers of comfort only make the self-hate worse for some people who think they're utterly worthless. Even simple gestures like Shiba's twist the knife and reinforce the idea that the person doesn't deserve any kindness whatsoever. It just piles on the guilt. But being given something to do -especially if it's believably framed as something only they're capable of doing- feels incredible. They might have some value after all, even if only for this one thing.

It's something that I really appreciate the author doing since it's a touch that didn't need to be added. Hakuri could have just found a bit of solace in Shiba and Chihiro's words, which would have given more time for other things to be addressed in the chapter. But it's important to show that Hakuri struggles with accepting kindness because he took his father's words to heart. His feelings of worthlessness and uselessness are essential to who he is.

After this we see him at Chihiro's beck and call, prioritizing his requests over everything- relaxing with Char and Hinao, even his own comfort with another ice cream/food metaphor. It's framed as something silly and dog-like for the laughs, which once again encourages us to downplay the severity of this issue for him. None of the other characters ever directly point this out either. It's one of those informed traits that influences Hakuri's actions without any acknowledgment from himself or others, but just like the soda spilling out of his mouth, we're invited to treat it as a gag.

From here, the focus shifts entirely to building tension for the raid on the Rakuzaichi. Hakuri's circumstances are put on the back-burner to simmer for 5 weeks in real time until he confronts Soya in chapter 30.

Chs. 30 & 32-34, The Soya Rematch (what Chihiro and Shiba know):

Hakuri puts his fear of Soya aside to bait him out to help the mission. Chihiro and Shiba gave him a job to do, so he'll see it through no matter what. Unfortunately things don't go as planned and he ends up all alone with his biggest tormentor.

I'll have more to say about Soya himself in his own section with Kyora later, but it's very clear what his role as Chief Bully is, narratively speaking:

In a lot of ways, Soya is more object than actual character. He's our almost cartoonishly evil device to represent everything that's been repressing Hakuri. He's the demon in his head telling him he's useless, pathetic, weak, and so on. So Hakuri trying to square up to Soya is also him facing off against the things he's internalized that hold him back.

Hakuri's struggle against Soya before he awakens seems very hopeful and standard shounen. He's fighting the internal battle at the same time as the external, telling his brother to "shut up" while his mind races to figure out what he should do now that the situation went belly-up. He could keep playing the victim and take Shiba up on his offer to help since he can't reach Chihiro, or he could play dead and wait for it all to be over... or he could try believing in himself. Because Chihiro saw something in him and even if he can't bring himself to think he's strong and capable, he can at least have faith in Chihiro's words that they would end the Rakuzaichi together.

This time it works and he's able to shove Soya close enough to the tree wall so that Chihiro can give us a great visual metaphor to show us what just happened to Hakuri:

Chihiro is the one who broke Hakuri's mental barrier for him. He couldn't do it himself, but someone he admired believing in him in return made all the difference. Hakuri just needed a little support to start coming into his own.

He stays behind to handle the rest of the fight on his own while Chihiro goes ahead to meet up with Shiba- he can do this himself now that he's awakened thanks to their help. Very wholesome, extremely shounen. But there are deliberate writing choices which make it obvious that there's more going on beyond the surface that winning this fight won't fix or even fully address.

In Chapter 32, Hakuri tells Chihiro and Shiba a slightly condensed version of his experience as an uncomfortable reminder for the reader. Oh, right, Hakuri was abused- at least that explains why he survived a Flame Bone punch to the face. Anyway, let's move on to ditching John Hishaku and kicking Soya's ass.

The framing is so interesting to me. Chapter 32 uses preexisting panels that are cropped and presented slightly differently compared to how they originally appeared: Ch. 24

Ch. 32

Full page for reference.

When Hakuri recounts a version of the abuse flashbacks, they're not merely downsized to fit. They're cropped to downplay the gang-ups and are smaller in size compared to the rest of his story, almost as if he doesn't think it's that big of a deal compared to being unable to keep up with his siblings. We don't even see his own words describing what happened despite him talking freely about everything else. Instead, the abuse sequence is treated like the panel where he describes Soya's "love"- Hakuri talking to Chihiro and Shiba about his suffering is an unpleasant aside to give context rather than the main event.

Seriously. The dialogue of him explaining why his family gave up on him over the reused backdrop of the Sazanami estate is given more time than him being hit and kicked. Chihiro and Shiba get the "it wasn't so bad" version of events compared to what Hakuri remembers experiencing, and we're invited to treat what's normally the foundation of a character's entire existence as a convenient explanation for why he's so goddamn sturdy.

Neither of them noticeably react to his story too. We got a bit from Shiba in the car in Chapter 26 when he realized Hakuri was probably stewing in self-hatred, but we've never seen any of Chihiro's thoughts or reactions since he was disgusted by Kyora using Hakuri as a bargaining chip. He does reassure Hakuri that they'll be there to help him, but isn't it strange we don't see Chihiro's reaction to this information at all? We see little panels of his concerned faces all the time for less than what Hakuri talked about here:

Chihiro cares a hell of a lot, and he's very attentive to boot.

Obviously we don't see Chihiro and Shiba's reactions because they aren't important. This isn't about Hakuri's abuse- we already knew about it. The focus is on Hakuri's awakening and his faith in Chihiro, not the past.

This is a victim's mindset manifesting as clever visual storytelling, in my opinion. Of course it's not that bad when he has to talk about it; he invited it by being weak and not living up to standards. It wasn't a big deal though. There's more important stuff to do right now anyway. And the story moves on as if to agree with him- we go right back to our regularly scheduled action scenes interspersed with some flashbacks to contextualize other characters, namely Tenri and the Sazanamis before Hakuri was rejected.

That's right, Hakuri once again dodges abusive past cliches by being doted on and cared for before he was found lacking. He knew what it was to be loved, even if the Sazanami version is manipulative to the point of being abusive all by itself. There's more to say about this under Kyora's section but no wonder Hakuri's so fixated on being useful- he wants that affection and sense of belonging back more than anything. It's fucked up, but it's all he knows. So Hakuri was abused twice over: emotionally and physically. Damn. He turned out pretty alright despite it all, huh? Wonder how that happened...

Well, it's time to move on now so he can ascend and overcome it all. He's gotta yell "Isou!" and prove himself, and the next two chapters seem to be putting him on course to do just that, albeit with some difficulty. Can't make a character's awakening too easy or it won't feel earned. He's got some serious trauma to overcome thanks to his family's bullshit.

Then chapter 35 hits and we get the nightmare fuel.

Ch. 35, The Real Backstory (what Ice Lady knew):

Chapter 35 is that long-awaited full-chapter delve into Hakuri's painful past with the mysterious woman, and boy does it have some unsettling revelations.

Ice Lady's tragedy is framed as the important driving force for Hakuri as we know him- she broke him free from his family's grip and motivated him to seek help to end their evil ways. She's the entire reason we meet him in Chapter 19. Everything Hakuri is doing this arc ties back to how badly he fucked up with her, setting the stage for him to become the savior he tried to be when we met him. Oh yeah, we got more Hakuri abuse lore. Can you believe that WSJ let the author get away with showing someone slitting their throat in front of a kid?! And make it at least partially his fault? Jesus Christ. Now it's truly time for him to come into his own, though- oh man that cliffhanger at the end of the chapter...! Wait, what do you mean there was more to his suffering besides the situation with Ice Lady?

I was being a bit facetious there but the point stands. We didn't get a tear-jerker reveal chapter dedicated solely to Hakuri's pain and suffering at long last just to make us feel bad for him and nothing else. Instead, we got a full-blown tragedy caused by the Sazanami cycle of abuse. The nightmare of Ice Lady killing herself in front of Hakuri overshadowed the reveal that damn, Hakuri actually had it super rough. Because yeah, that was unexpectedly brutal even compared to Chihiro being baited with Char's severed leg last arc. It really drove home just how fucked up the situation with the Sazanami family was and how it affected everyone that got tangled up in their bullshit.

So the presentation of what he endured is once again subdued even though the panels showcasing the tools took up half the page. Soya breaking Hakuri's finger was called "bullying" (いじめ[ijime], not 虐待 [gyakutai, abuse]). A single flash back frame off to the side seems small compared to the emphasis on Hakuri telling Ice Lady (and us) that it's "not that bad" because Soya keeps losing the tools and going back to using his fists (the terror in Hakuri's expression in that panel is completely at odds with how calm is explanation is, though). It's also not unreasonable to presume that the jump rope, peeler, and wrench were shown for the audience's benefit to clue us in that Hakuri's holding back again, much like the panel describing Soya's "love" in chapter 24. He's always saying the bare minimum and trying not to think of the rest- he buries that shit deep.

But he has to if he wants to keep going. There's no way he can sit down and process all of this right now:

Hakuri: "It's normal for my brother to break my bones and worse before he loses the tools. He usually only hits me anyway, so it's not like this happens all the time."

Woman betrayed by the man she loved to be sold at an auction as merchandise to the boy overseeing her captivity: "That's messed up!"

"This is as close as I can get to being cherished by the people who are supposed to care for and support me."

He even misses the point when he finally does open up:

"You're the one who's trapped in a cage."

This part is the hardest for me to write about, honestly. Again: I was never tortured or anything, much less hit. But this chapter is the one that made me take a good, hard look at what I went through and connect some dots. Hakuri's mindset, the things he says, the way he phrases things- that's someone who doesn't want to acknowledge that they're in a bad situation that's not their fault.

Hakuri will talk about his own worthlessness and all his defects that "invite" the abuse, but he won't acknowledge that he doesn't deserve what's happening to him at all. He's not the kind of shounen character who understands that his situation sucks and uses it as fuel to become better. Instead, he's stuck in that oh-so-relatable spiral of self-deprecating negativity that keeps victims trapped.

It's easier for Hakuri to think he deserved it for his own failings. This wouldn't be happening if he hadn't earned it somehow. He's in this situation because he's weak and any "love" is better than none at all. Then it's reinforced by the genuine helplessness and vulnerability of being too isolated to escape or know better, compacting down into dense layers of denial and self-hate that act as defensive armour against emotions that are too difficult to face. Like anger or the desire for something better. Like hope. Those are only felt on behalf of others, not himself.

At any rate, it's a bit distressing that so many people forget that Hakuri's actually a hell of a lot more complex than he was hinted to be before this chapter. He's not an innocent in all this like Char was, which is incredibly smart and realistic writing from the author. Hakuri was also an abuser himself. An accidental one, but doesn't matter when you talk to someone the way he did to Ice Lady. He didn't swing the knife but he did kill her with the same mentality that was crushing him down on the inside.

He doesn't use his suffering as an excuse for anything he does, good or bad. Not even in the sense of wanting to save others- that's all about Ice Lady and his family's terrible legacy. What happened to him isn't worth mentioning or acting on. Yet another distressingly accurate facet of a victim's mentality, unfortunately.

But this must be it. This chapter was a depressing surprise but surely there's nothing left to reveal. We had his big moment of sadness so it's only going up from here. Hakuri's going to overcome everything and it'll all be okay! Back to standard shounen powerups!

Chs. 36-43, Putting the Past to Rest (things only Hakuri knows):

Oh.

In chapter 36, the storehouse reveal somewhat overshadows all the instruments of abuse Hakuri unwittingly stored inside it. There are a lot of people who completely forgot about the objects in there during the hype of the moment, and I never get tired of seeing "WTF?!" posts and comments from folks doing re-reads of the arc. It's so easy to overlook the rope and sticks and all the other tools when you're cheering hard for Hakuri to finally, finally overcome his tragic past by putting Soya down. Worst Big Bro is gonna pay and Hakuri's ascension will be complete! ... Wait, was that a goddamn chair?

There's also a point made of Soya's defeat not being a resounding victory.

Still framing Soya's abuse as love, but it's got a bitter feel to it this time.

Hakuri is the one who gives Chihiro strength in the moment despite everything he's just been through.

We're cheering when he awakens and pressurizes Soya's guts, but then these panels remind us that there's nothing to celebrate from Hakuri's perspective. He doesn't savor finally overcoming Soya as his abuser or the manifestation of everything that's messed up about his family. There's no immediate sense that things will be okay from now on either. To Hakuri, this isn't a personal victory. It's just something that needed to be done for Ice Lady and all the victims of the Rakuzaichi.

This is a sort of capstone to Hakuri's backstory. The second-to-last new thing we learn about him is that the abuse was still somehow worse than we thought. He really, truly buries the lede when it comes to what he suffered and the writing is in cahoots with him on it. He won't even take the time to smile or feel a little relief- he's not ready for that yet. Instead he just walks past Tenri's mutilated corpse to pull Chihiro along to get the job done.

If this was a different series we might get a little more catharsis- even just the barest hint that Hakuri's gonna be just fine from now on. But this is Kagurabachi and the author fucking gets it so there's still a little more to unpack before Hakuri can have an opportunity to begin the healing process.

In chapter 37, the pain of Kyora looking away was framed as just as important to Hakuri as the fond memories of when he was loved and wanted:

"... I still wanted you to praise me, Father."

The very last thing we learn about Hakuri is that he wanted his father's love despite it all.

Hakuri ended the torment from Soya- he'll never have to worry about his skin being peeled off or getting beaten with a pipe ever again. But the cycle that caused it- and the complex feelings for the people who hurt him- aren't so easily dealt with. It's not so simple as being hurt and flipping a switch to stop feeling affection for the perpetrator. So Hakuri acknowledges that he still wanted his father's praise in spite of the years of torment the man knowingly enabled.

In the end, Kyora grants Hakuri's secret wish and acknowledges him at the very last as the chaos fades away so that they're the only thing in each other's view. He really, truly won it all. He doesn't rejoice in victory, though. Once more there's no triumph for Hakuri to celebrate. Killing his father was just another thing that had to be done so that there would never be another Ice Lady.

It's hard to say what exactly Hakuri's feeling about Kyora's death since it's yet another thing we haven't seen him talk about- and may never. It's not too much of a stretch to think he's got a complex mix of sadness, relief, and guilt going on, though. At least the moment when their eyes met was intensely cathartic after all the times Kyora deliberately looked away. But Hakuri's still not okay yet.

It's not like life suddenly gets better when the abuser is gone for good in some cases. Hakuri's still struggling in the immediate aftermath of seeing his father die at last. It's a relief that there won't be any more pain caused by the Sazanami clan -and Kyora in particular- but it still fucking hurts to lose someone so important to you. It's also frightening to suddenly be thrust into the unknown without a guide of any kind.

Fortunately for him, Hakuri is able to find new purpose with Chihiro. He gets to walk away from his family and stay with the people who believed in him. This is another thing that I can't praise the author enough for. It's far, far too common for writers to frame victims reforming their abusers as some kind of ultimate victory.

No, no, no!

The most charitable way to explain this is that the survivor is so saintly that they'll even reach out to the ones who hurt them to help them become better people. But that is such utter bullshit I don't even have the words to express myself properly. It's terrible messaging for survivors. They don't have any obligation whatsoever to help the people who hurt them. They don't even have to keep tabs on how the abusers are doing in a general sense. They get to fucking leave and find happiness with people who treat them well. That is the true ideal.

Hakuri being given a clear out to leave is where the rest of the catharsis in his story comes from. He doesn't have to stay and fix things even though he absolutely could as the first person since the clan's founder to have both Isou and the storehouse powers. Kyoura and Soya are gone- he could have stepped in to make the clan right their wrongs and atone as a family. But there's not even a hint of guilt tripping from the author about Hakuri's decision to follow Chihiro. It's framed as the best possible thing for him to do, in fact.

If he stayed, he'd never work on the other issues around self-worth that he's burying so deep inside. Switching from villainy to good deeds won't resolve the issues with the clan's mindset about being living tools for a greater cause either. Not to mention the fact that there's nothing his siblings can offer him even if they treat him like a king for the rest of his life- the damage was already done long ago. There's nothing left for him there except more misery and stagnation. He needs to go with Chihiro, his new north star, to learn how to heal.

But lest this outcome be too heartwarming, Hakuri's still not directly facing everything that he went through. Hakuri phrases working alongside Chihiro as "proving the value that [Chihiro] saw in him", not "starting over" or "making the world a better place together" or even "paying Chihiro back" by helping him on his mission. He's still trying to be useful in the service of someone else like a tool.

Hakuri's bruises are already fading; or at least they were until I had to edit this part in light of the events of chapter 56 onward. But the mental scars of the abuse are still guiding his actions and thought processes even if he doesn't acknowledge it. And that's where we come back to the torture implements still hidden in his warehouse.

Hakuri's not home free despite us collectively sighing in relief that he got his Happily Ever After, subdued as it was. He needs to face what he's been avoiding and burying so that he's not endangering Chihiro's plan and the people around him by throwing himself in danger just to be even the slightest bit useful.

Oftentimes, trauma is an invisible scar that needs to be worked around for the rest of someone's life- hence why he's still got those physical manifestations stored deep inside where only he can see and grant access. Hakuri's only just started out on the path to redemption and recovery. He needs to start addressing the guilt over Ice Lady and learn some tough lessons about self-worth before he can even begin to look further inside to those Visual Metaphor Tools.

After that, if the author's interested in continuing this part of Hakuri's character, is exposing them and what they mean to someone who can help Hakuri get rid of them. Whether that's Chihiro, Shiba, or someone else doesn't really matter. Hakuri's got a long road ahead dealing with the lingering after-effects, unlike so many of his fictional fellow survivors. He's still very much in need of a lot of support from his new found family- now more so than ever after what happened in chapter 58.

Soya and Kyora

There's something to be said about the writing for the primary abusers, too. The Rakuzaichi arc was well-received in large part to Kyora being an incredible villain and Soya being... Soya.

Soya

And the "Worst Big Brother" Award goes to...

Soya serves two primary purposes in the narrative: to contrast Hakuri's character, and be the manifestation of everything that was wrong with the clan.

Soya and Hakuri share similar looks, hand gestures, and extreme expressions but they couldn't be more different. Soya has the inverse of Hakuri's character framing: he's shown to be competent and strong, and almost everyone in-universe acknowledges him as such-we're even told he's smarter than Kyora. But he's actually quite the pathetic loser due to his freakish obsession with his "weak" little brother.

More obviously, Soya is the rotten core of the family. He's obsessive over Hakuri to an extremely alarming degree- he even refuses his duties as the next clan head and a member of the elite Tou to find and stay with Hakuri. Kyoura tells him to "stop fixating on that failure" but Soya's having none of it, he just can't let go of his "endearing" weakling of a little brother. Bullying Hakuri is what he lives for and he does it all in the name of purest love. Just like the clan lives for the Rakuzaichi and are devoted to it mind, body, and soul. They're both extremely toxic and Soya's the guy who gets to represent the deleterious effects of cleaving to abusive mentalities on individual members.

Soya's fists and words to Hakuri are the blatant messaging about what the Sazanami mindset did to him. He had that mental block preventing him from using his sorcery because he was constantly being told he was weak and useless. It was literally beaten into him as a form of love, but not all abusive mentalities need to be reinforced with violence. Soya was just there to make the point too obvious to be missed.

Hakuri's final words to Soya say it all. Soya throws a tantrum over Hakuri refusing to lay down and take the abuse any more and screams "Why won't you go down?! Why won't you die?!" Hakuri simply responds that it's because Soya "always loved [him]" and deals the final blow. He was able to recognize the strengths his family gave him through Soya's "love" but he's not grateful in the slightest (and he shouldn't be). He's simply ready to sever all ties and move on with tearing it all down now. Hakuri was finally able to accept that he didn't want or need that kind of love in his life any more.

Kyora

And the "Worst Dad" Award goes to...

Obviously, Kyoura is the key to this whole mess. He's the one who instilled his children with corrupt values, enabled Hakuri's abuse, and generally Fucked Up Big Time when it came to loving his kids properly. But he thought he was doing the right thing because what's what he went through. He was both abuser and victim himself, just like Hakuri.

This is the key part of abusive backstories that are so often missed. Abuse doesn't always come from deadbeat caretakers that hate the innocent little kid. That scenario is actually way too over represented in fiction, honestly. Abuse isn't always constant malice- it can start later in life. It can even be born from love. Ultimately, it's all too often the unintended consequence of a family haunted by the specter of the cycle. And Kyora is the perfect summary of how and why it echoes through generations.

Hakuri was loved and wanted for at least half of his life. His family might not be wholesome or have healthy attitudes about affection, but he wasn't born hated and mistreated just for existing. He was cared for to the best of his dad's ability just like Tenri and his other siblings.

Even when Hakuri failed to live up to expectations, Kyora didn't just write him off and turn him loose. He kept Hakuri around for years feeding and clothing him and let him try to do what he could. Kyora simply couldn't justify protecting him or showing love since the family ideals were so warped around being able to serve the clan's tradition. He wasn't "allowed" to love a failure, no matter how much he wanted to.

Kyoura struggled about his feelings for his "worthless son" in the flashback we saw through Tenri's PoV- he wanted Hakuri to succeed. He acted like Hakuri forced his hand to punish and marginalize him for failing too hard, not out of ill-will. And during the raid itself he was actually "bent out of shape because he used Hakuri's life as a bargaining chip", according to Enji. It wasn't even until Hakuri showed up to break into the storehouse that Kyora truly cast everything away to prioritize the Rakuzaichi. He really did love Hakuri in his own way.

Kyora was a shitty dad and person, don't get me wrong. No one should put family tradition over their child's well-being and he more than earned his death just by being a human trafficker. But it's clear that Kyora wasn't written to be a shallow, irredeemable monster of a person- he didn't exist in the story just to be a villain and to make us feel bad for Hakuri. He's a tragic character in his own right.

He couldn't even understand why his wife's final words about the auction ruining their lives was replaying in his head near his final moments. The what-if scenario of his happy family sitting down to eat dinner in an apartment somewhere showed his longing for something that he could have had, if not for the goddamn auction. If not for the abuse that made him into the person he chose to be until the very end.

It's why Hakuri getting to walk away is such a poignant end to the Rakuzaichi arc. He's the one who gets to break the cycle on his own terms, and that's the true end of the Sazanami dynasty. The auction hall doesn't collapse until he decides to stand tall and follow a new path. Whatever Hakuri's siblings do with the Sazanami legacy isn't his concern any more- he's free.

What About Char?

Char's story was also well told! It's the earliest evidence that the author actually gets it when it comes to depicting abuse victims. She's reticent despite her desperation, unable to open up even when Shiba and Chihiro tell her she needs to or they'll send her to an orphanage. Eventually Chihiro wins her trust through his altruism and she comes to believe in him. She and us are the only ones who know exactly what happened with her mom, but it's not important for the rest of the cast to be in on it. She's safe and happy now and that's enough.

Even though Char's arc ended close to that overly-simplistic "everything is k now" scenario that I hate, there's one key difference that sets it apart to let us know that no, she's not truly okay yet.

Char's still got some attachment issues, which makes perfect sense. She lost her mom in a traumatic way so of course she's happily surprised that Chihiro came back to her. Char's on the path to healing- she's able to thrive thanks to Team Goldfish's care- but her abusive past still shapes who she is in small ways like this.

I doubt we'll see more development of her beyond checking in now and then. She's too young to be consistently involved in the heavy themes of Kagurabachi's story, much less the fights. But it's good to know that the author includes little details like this so we don't assume Char's 100% fine now. He understands that trauma doesn't just vanish when the victim's safe in their Happily Ever After scenario. That's why he made sure we knew that she's going to be okay in the long-run.

Ch. 26, right after Chihiro trades Enten for Hakuri

But Hakuri's not there himself yet.

Food as a metaphor for comfort, security, and/or connection is constant in this series. It's very obvious symbolism to let the author convey a bit more context in the scene than dialogue alone can. So when Hakuri rejects food here, he's rejecting reassurance from Shiba. Meanwhile Char's already comfortable enough to accept it. Good for her, truly!

Hakuri's situation wasn't necessarily worse than hers, but it was a lot more complex. So even though he's safe now, he's not really able to pursue his happiness yet. All those tools he keeps locked up inside, the mindset of being one himself- they're still issues for him to work through. But there's hope for him too.

The author went out of his way to show us that Hakuri's also on the path to healing here. The last time Hakuri shared food with someone, he was forcing his abusive ideology on Ice Lady. She started finishing the meals and truly internalizing the hopelessness of her situation. He fucked up the food as comfort/connection metaphor bad with her.

Yet in Chapter 47, we see Hakuri sharing some snacks with Chihiro on the train. Sharing food isn't connected to the situation at hand or the information dump it's serving as backdrop for, so it's definitely a deliberate choice on the author's part to depict this instead of literally anything else. It was shown to let us know that Hakuri's on his way to his own Happily Ever After.

He's able to connect to Chihiro and not worry about the repercussions. This is a huge step for his character and speaks volumes about the level of trust between them; this is the first time Chihiro's willingly accepted food from someone else too. Hakuri's not only still reaching out to other people, he's still able to provide warmth to others despite it all.

What's Next?

I'm not going to pretend that I can predict what Hakuri's story will look like from here on out. He'll have a hard time for as long as he's slated to get development though- Kagurabachi takes the adage "suffering builds character" very seriously. We're only 58 chapters in as of finally posting this so it's best to strap in and expect a lot more pain.

That said, I feel like Hakuri's self-sacrificing mindset is going to be addressed first. As of chapter 55, he's set up to fail and cause problems by throwing himself into danger despite not being fully healed or rested. The root of this issue would likely be his atoning savior mindset. Hakuri needs to protect and save others very badly after what happened to Ice Lady. He also loathes the idea of others making sacrifices for his sake. So he's willing to throw his life away even when it would be better for his allies if he stayed out of the fighting.

There's also a good reason we met the Makizumi clan in the arc immediately after the Rakuzaichi fell- Hakuri needs to start dismantling the "tool" mindset that was drilled into him. He's only switched his fervor from serving the Rakuzaichi to serving/saving others. This is extremely toxic when combined with his guilt over Ice Lady and drives him to go to extremes to do good, to the point where he's ignoring everyone trying to get him to rest and heal for the sake of the mission if nothing else.

In essence, I believe we are going to finally address the lie of his introduction- that he can keep pushing through hardship with sheer force of will. Because that is not how overcoming trauma actually works.

After that, only the author and his editor know exactly where things will go. But I hope that no matter what happens, Hakuri's lingering trauma is exposed and dealt with. It's informing all of his actions, positive or negative, whether he wants to acknowledge it or not. I have faith that this author can tackle this subject compassionately and realistically- he's already done it twice with Char and the Rakuzaichi arc.

So that's that. If you read all this... thanks. Take care, and choose kindness for yourself for today.

[sunshine-zenith]

Okay, so I have been reading your New Wish posts and I have some theories I'm gonna share with you.

I believe that time passes differently in Fairy World, which could help explain Wanda and Cosmo going on vacay for 10,000 years. Plus it would take Peri 1,000 years to finish Fairy School and become a Godparent.

The reason why Peri was assigned to such a hard kid is because of the whole 'family legacy' thing. Not only was he born to two fairy actively working with a kid and grew up in that environment but he is also very powerful. So I think Jorgen (or who ever made the assignment) figured he could handle it.

I think that retirement means something different in Fairy World. I think it's the equivalent to switching jobs. Like (for example), a fairy retires from working for the Tooth Fairy, goes on vacation for a few thousand years, then starts Fairy School to become a Godparent.

It's also possible that it was decided at some point that fairies could have kids again. Likely when older fairies started retiring from their jobs (and not just Godparenting) and there is a worker shortage.

Ooo I like these, especially the second one — I don’t remember who but someone made a Gifted Kid Burnout(tm) joke on one of my posts about Peri, and that combined with your theory explains so much — Peri was born to a family of good (if unconventional) fairy godparents, raised pretty much as an unofficial FGP, and a lot of stuff just came naturally to him. It’s basically the magical foster parent equivalent of being born to a pare of amazing lawyer/doctors/etc, and never having to learn proper study skills due to being naturally gifted socially and in school, only to be smacked in the face with reality when you’re given a caseload way above your skill set right off the bat and you also don’t have the abilities to adapt because you never had to develop them

Retirement not being permanent for fairies also makes sense — they’re basically immortal, let’s be real they’d probably get bored out of their minds if they didn’t have some kind of task to get up to

Also, it would make sense that the ban on fairy children would be lifted eventually, if only for the practical reason on mitigating a worker’s shortage (lowkey makes Fairy World a little dystopian, but it’s always had semi-dystopian vibes anyway lmao). Plus, Peri proved fairy children aren’t that dangerous (and a lot of the dangerous things that can be pinned on him are mostly the result of like. People trying to kidnap him. Or being unsupervised. Can’t really blame him for accidentally setting off a volcano in self defense or crashing a car because his babysitter lost track of him), so there’s no legitimate reason for the ban to remain. Still, given that Peri was basically a societal practice baby for all of Fairy World after so long without children being born, it was probably a while before a new generation of fairies came to be. Peri probably still spent a good chunk of his developmental years alone

[satancopilotsmytardis]

Romantic Gestures

Pairing:Shigadabi

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Commissioned by @swordcrossedlover. So a few months ago Duster blew him out of the water when it came to celebrating Valentine's Day, and then Dabi completely fucked up returning the favor on White Day. Now, as they hit their one year anniversary of dating, he really, really wants to get things right as he and his lover spend the day together.

Contents: Tooth-rotting fluff, BDSM, Sir kink, Praise kink, Feminization, Lingerie, Anal fingering, Anal sex, Creampie, Riding.

Word Count: 7342

It probably would surprise absolutely no one that Dabi has never been in an extended romantic entanglement in his life. He's not sure how or when in his life he ever would have been able to make some kind of romantic relationship work at all, given how he spent his youth obsessed with living up to his lost potential, his adolescence in a coma, his teenage years on the streets trying to keep his skin from falling off, and time as a young adult trying to figure out how to kill his father. So realizing that he wasn't just hooking up with his boss but that they were actually dating had been a shock. Realizing that they kept dating, that they were sharing their space, and now living together completely in the PLF, that Tomura wants to keep him for as long as he can have him, and in no way seems ready to run for the hills, was a bit of a shock. But what ends up being even more shocking is the fact that they have been dating for a year. Sure there was a chunk of that time where Duster was off floating in a tube, but it's been a year now. Their work with the PLF is getting stronger and stronger, and they're getting so much closer to being able to tear apart hero society before anyone sees them coming. They're stronger than they were when AFO was commanding the organization from the shadows. And, perhaps most astonishingly to him, they're happy. 

Toga is thriving being around so many people without anyone being scared of her. Twice is getting treatment for his condition and is making strides to actually be able to use his quirk to its fullest effect. Compress has the best prosthetic that could be designed and has fully adapted his fighting style around his disability. Spinner's finally not a Stain fanboy anymore and is actually working to grow his own fighting style around his quirk instead of trying to mimic the serial killer’s. Tomura's body is no longer at risk of falling apart under the strain of his teacher's quirk and is making it his own with each new piece he unlocks. And he's... better. He's never going to be good, his quirk will always be too strong for his body, and the scarring across his skin is permanent unless he gets years and years worth of reconstruction, but having access to medicine, money, and a safe place to live means that his open seams have finally closed, the burned skin slowly fusing back together with the other parts and leaving him no longer falling apart if he loses a few staples for whatever reason. He's put on more muscle, his chronic pain has gotten less severe, and he's... happy. 

And that's to say nothing about how he and Duster have been since they became, like, a real couple. A real couple that shares a living space, sleeps in the same bed each night, shares meals, and spends their downtime together. The sex, of course, is nothing to overlook, but the domestic things, the emotional things, that they've had in and around that, is more shocking to him overall. He didn't think he was capable of having anything in him besides his anger and revenge. Duster agreed to take up space right alongside that however, never pushing to be more to him than that. It's unbearably sappy that he'd managed to fall in love with him anyway. 

Which is why, when they start to come up on their actual anniversary, Dabi alternates constantly between being pleased that they literally made it this long without anything disastrous happening, and humiliated because that means he has to come up with something to do for said anniversary. He got lucky that neither of them did anything for each other's birthdays because they just hadn't even mentioned them until well after they'd passed. Christmas had been a League thing instead of a couple thing after how much of a year they'd had so far, and Dabi had thought he was safe from holidays. In his defense, he had never once celebrated Valentine's Day, or seen his parents celebrate it when he was growing up. It was absolutely not on his fucking radar. In fact, he had been extremely annoyed when his schedule had suddenly been cleared and he was without anything to do for a whole day, especially when the others all seemed to be turning and running the other way whenever he tried to find or talk to them. To top it all off, Duster wasn't even around either because he was with the doctor. 

So he had been annoyed, alone, and without anything to do. He went to train with every intention of just letting that wear him down to nothing and then going to pass out for a while, possibly after getting high. He was even more furious when he found out that his training area was currently blocked off as something he couldn't get a clear answer about was going on, so he skipped it and decided, yeah, no, he was going to get absolutely loaded, pull the curtains shut, turn off all the lights in their room, and curl up under the blankets until he passed out from heat stroke. And he had gone back to their room. 

To find that Duster had his lunch already delivered and waiting for him, that the bath was filled and steaming with milk, honey, and fucking rose petals, and his love had left him a bowl to smoke as well. Dabi had caught on then that this, of course, was Tomura's doing, but he didn't know why he'd arranged for this while he was away. Maybe he just felt bad that so much of his work had gotten shifted onto Dabi's pile while he was busy, but Dabi had decided that he would give his lover shit about it later. He had his lunch, smoked in the bath, and when he'd gotten out, it was to find new clothes laid out for him on their bed, his e-reader all loaded up with new books, a set of confidential files that his lover somehow got out of the Endeavor agency, and a note asking him to get dressed and go to the roof at seven. He was more than happy to lounge around mostly naked, reading and scheming to kill time for a few hours before getting dressed in the red lingerie, black dress pants, and black silk shirt that had been left for him before he headed up to the roof. 

To where Tomura had been waiting with a whole candlelit dinner. He fucking went all out wining and dining Dabi, who was already reeling just from the fact he'd paused his treatments to come see him. He'd pampered Dabi and made him feel like a princess before the other man had even taken him to bed, and then he had taken him to bed and made him float so high, for so long, that Dabi had really, seriously thought he was in danger of dying from bliss. And he still hadn't caught on to it being Valentine's day until Duster had murmured it in his ear. 

He was a little mortified then to realize what he'd been missing the whole time, but he was able to deflect that by punching him in the side and telling his lover not to treat him like a girl outside of their sheets. But he still felt like he had to do something for White Day. Tomura told him that he didn't have to, he was more than happy to just spend the day with Dabi, but he had been so thoroughly shown up, he was desperate to prove that he was capable of being as romantic as Duster. Which was a hell of a lot harder to do when he didn't have any clue how to be romantic for Duster. The classic shit worked on him because he had never been treated to any kind of classical romantic gesture, and the embarrassment that came alongside the thin curls of pleasure at being treated as precious now, had made it heady. But Duster didn't care about that stuff, and Dabi had spent a humiliating month trying so hard to plan something only to end up burning dinner because his emotions were going too high and his quirk was out of control, chocolates that melted, and so frustrated and upset at his failures, that Tomura wouldn't take him to bed for anything but cuddling to calm him down and make sure he felt better. It was a massive failure and Dabi was bound and determined not to let anything similar happen for their anniversary. 

///

Dabi wakes up early the day of their anniversary. He has a plan god damn it, and he's not going to sleep through it. Duster isn't in their room which probably means his insomnia kept him up for most of the night, to the point he went to his office to work. So Dabi goes and showers quickly before going back into their closet. He had his lover pick out three different sets of lingerie that he would like to see him in and Dabi settles on the set that he wants to wear and throws on his normal lounging clothes overtop, though he does opt for one of Tomura's kitten-soft fine-knit red sweaters because he knows how much Shig likes it when he wears his stuff and his color. And when that's finished, he heads right to their common area and kitchen. The rest of the League isn't around, and he didn't expect them to be this early in the day, so he starts prepping ingredients without having anyone breathing down his neck. 

He and Tomura agreed that they both got to plan things for the day in equal measures, and Duster gets to plan and surprise him with their scene tonight if Dabi gets to decide on dinner. And this time he's not going out of his way to attempt making the fanciest thing that he can think of. He's not going to stress himself out over any of that. But making dessert in advance and leaving it to chill until later will make it perfect. He does, perhaps, make certain that all of the ingredients that he had delivered were the best quality that money could buy for this, but the recipe itself isn't complicated and he's made it for the League before. It's the only dessert that he's ever had Tomura not only eat, but eat more of without prompting, and he figures that will be perfect for tonight. 

He brews up the strongest espresso he's ever made in his life and makes sure to let it cool a bit before he moves onto the next steps. He also puts aside a smaller container to make a miniature tiramisu without alcohol since Toga hates the rum in the original recipe. It only takes him a short while to have the dessert assembled in its dish and put into the fridge. And then he pauses, , takes their memo pad off the fridge and writes a note, 

'If any of you fuckers cut into this before I do, I'm burning off your dicks. Don't fuck with me.' And then a second note for the little container, 'For Toga, alcohol-free :)' 

He slaps them on, puts them away, and then brews fresh coffee for he and Duster, along with some toast and a rolled omelet and then he heads to the other side of the villa to their offices. He knocks on the door as a formality more than anything before catching the handle and slipping inside. Shig is at his desk and smiles when he comes in, and from the budget reports he's reviewing, Dabi knows that he's happy to see him for more selfish reasons than usual. 

"Happy anniversary, firefly." 

"Yeah, yeah, happy anniversary, come have breakfast with me." 

They sit together on the little couch and have their food and coffee, and when they're done, Tomura pulls him closer and gives him a kiss. "What are you doing up so early, baby?" 

Dabi nuzzles right back in. "Had my own shit to do this morning. But now I'm finished and I want to know what you have planned for the rest of the day." 

"I don't have anything planned outside of tonight, precious." Tomura says. 

"No hot air balloon ride?" 

"No." 

"Picnic on the burned out remains of my childhood home?" 

"Not unless you want to go on a fieldtrip." 

"Proposal in front of the entire organization?" 

"No, you wouldn't say 'yes' if I asked in front of other people." And he looks beyond amused at this point. "But if you want a ring--" 

"Don't you fucking dare. I'm not gonna marry you until after the end of the war." It's an easier thing to say now, because after about six months of dating, Duster told him bluntly, that he was it for him. Dabi was the only person he'd ever been in a romantic relationship with and thought that he wanted that to last forever. He would have probably married him then, just in case they got arrested so that they might still be able to have visits with one another in Tartarus, but Dabi had smacked him across the back of his head and told him to stop being a sap. 

"I guess I better win then." He murmurs, pulling Dabi in for another kiss. He lets himself melt into that. It's been a year. He's tired of pretending that he doesn't soak up every drop of affection that he's given. Tomura kisses him slow and sweet, one hand cupping the back of his neck, all five fingers on him because he can control his quirk completely now, because he made himself so much more powerful, but instead of showing the world what a threat he is, he'd come right home to him so that he could hold his hand without making it hurt. 

Dabi all but crawls into his lap, tangling his fingers through his lover's soft hair, so long now it's curling down his back, and lets his lover hold him close and lick behind his teeth. But when Tomura's hand strays to the hem of his sweater, Dabi catches his wrist and parts just enough to breathe, "Not until after dinner." 

"Alright princess," he rubs their noses together before giving Dabi another sweet peck. "So what do you want to do today?" 

///

And instead of killing himself trying to think of something romantic for them to spend their time doing, Dabi just wants to spend the day with each other. They head back to their room, and it's not fancy baths, rose petals, and candlelight, it's he and Shig lazing about, his feet in his lover's lap as he taps away at one of his games and Dabi reads. They talk when they feel like it, they kiss and press in close for cuddles when the mood strikes them, or strikes Dabi mostly. He doesn't try to outdo the romantic gestures that Shig did for him before. He just lets himself soak in the gentle affection that they've been cultivating between them for the past year. And Tomura seems more than happy with that. Dabi knows he's prickly most other times, too embarrassed, too self-conscious to let himself be as unabashedly warm as his lover is to him. But he doesn't let himself get into his head about that today, he just lets himself enjoy the things about their relationship that he's been receiving for so long now, and he puts away the fear of them being ripped away if he does something wrong. Tomura wouldn't ever abandon him. He would tear down the entire world for him and then put it back together dust particle by dust particle if it meant that he would finally believe that this is something he doesn't have to earn. 

The hours pass, but it's so easy to not notice the time going by. When they were apart, every hour felt like sandpaper being dragged across his mind, but when they're together, time flows like water and it's hard for him to feel like they've spent the whole day together as the sun begins to set because he has just been in a heavy fog of contentment. He only notices because he had an alarm set so that he would know when their dessert had been chilled long enough to be ready to cut. He takes that as an opportunity to text for the dinner he'd already set up to be ordered to be picked up and goes right back to being cuddled close and with his lover. 

It takes about half an hour before his phone chimes and says that the food is ready, so he reluctantly extracts himself from his lover. "Are you cooking?" He asks, and there's no expectation or judgment in the question, just, maybe, a faint concern after how poorly things had gone on White Day. 

"Nope. I'll be back in a minute." 

"Do you want--" 

"Stay." 

Tomura's brows raise and Dabi knows that's going to earn him a punishment, though he hopes he saves it for tomorrow and doesn't change whatever he has planned for tonight. He does stay where he is though, turning his attention back to his game as he looks for a save point. 

Dabi goes and is happy to see the two brown bags of takeout sitting on the counter with his name on them, and is amused to see Toga sitting on the couch with her container of tiramisu, eating it smugly while the others look like they're vibrating as he goes over to the fridge. He takes out the container, cuts two sizable portions, sprinkles on a bit of cocoa powder, and then gathers his bags on one arm and holds the plates in his hands. 

"Go for it, you freaks." He's fairly certain he hears the others descending on the dessert like rabid dogs, but he doesn't pay them any mind. He goes back to his and Shig's room and finds the other has put away their electronics and has clearly remade the bed and probably picked out whatever he wants to use on him tonight and relocated it to the bedside drawer for easier access. 

Dabi sets down the bags and they start to take out the food. Shig blinks in surprise. Dabi tends to gravitate towards more traditional dishes when he picks dinner, or really any meal. His formative years cooking were for things that were traditional because his father was traditional and focused on keeping his house as traditional as possible. But the others, and Tomura especially from his upbringing of meeting with and traveling all over with AFO, means that he is more likely to pick out food from other places around the world if he is tasked with picking their meal. So the Indian takeout instead of an elaborate, romantic Japanese dinner, and the ice cold six pack of beer is definitely a surprise. 

"Why Indian, firefly?" He asks, but it's definitely not a complaint as they start to open up the different takeout containers. 

"Cause the night that you and I stayed up until past three working on getting the summer camp job ready, this is what you ordered, and apparently it was the first time you ever got me to laugh, which you also apparently could not shut up about for a solid week--" 

It is rare that someone as shameless as Duster ever manages to get embarrassed, but faint splotches of pink start on his cheeks. "I don't--"

"Spinner ratted you out." 

"I'm going to kill him." 

"He also said that you consider that our first date, since we didn't really have one before I let you blow my back out." Technically, if that were true, then their anniversary would have been two months ago, but Tomura had actually asked for them to be something beyond fuck buddies a year ago today, and presumably hadn't wanted him to know about how sappy he was, so today is the day they're celebrating. "You can't kill him, he's your best friend." 

"I can maim him." 

Dabi doesn't argue with that, he knows his lover wouldn't ever do it anyway.

///

They eat and the food is good, talking is good, it's so easy to be with Tomura now. He came clean about Toya a few months ago, and doing that had removed a barrier that Dabi hadn't really thought he was feeling in their relationship. Easy for them to talk shit about Trumpet's haircut, to speculate about exactly how much inbreeding Geten had to have from that side of his family for him to be as fucking dense as a pile of bricks now, to talk about their plans, the ones that they'll be putting into practice soon, and the ones that will be getting finished far in the future after the war, and feel... hopeful for the first time in their lives. It's different than things ever felt before, and he is laughing again by the time they're finished with dinner and dessert and he's being pulled into his lover's lap for another kiss. 

"Show me what you're wearing, princess," Tomura orders, his lips curved into a smile as he nips along his jaw. Dabi doesn't protest this time. Tomura let him have the day, let it be what he thinks has been an easy redemption for the absolute mess he made of White Day, and he's always more than happy to show off for his lover. 

He sits up a little and lets Duster pull away his sweater, showing him the lacy red bralette he's wearing underneath, thin, strappy, and see-through the way he always likes. Never wanting Dabi to hide his scars, always wanting him in something delicate because he thinks Dabi's, 

"Beautiful, baby girl." His lover has had so many other words for him and about his body, but the sincerity of this one never fails to take his breath away. 

"Thank you, sir," he manages before Tomura gives him another kiss. He doesn't push to go any faster, but there is a different kind of heat that's crackling through their space now, that slow burn of pleasure that is getting hotter and hotter as his hands move over his skin. 

Duster finds the places on his body that he knows so well now. He touches his sides, along his back, teasing just under his staple punctures on the healthy side where his skin is so sensitive, and he does it without being disgusted he wants to be touched there, or scared that doing so could hurt him because he knows so completely what Dabi can handle. He licks along his neck, over to his pulse point, and nibbles and sucks there to put the promise of a bruise under his skin that no one else will see, but Dabi will be able to feel for a long while, little marks of ownership that he knows he'll carry for the rest of the week with satisfaction deep in his bones. He lets out a fluttery sigh, working his hands under his lover's shirt, touching his cool skin and trying to work it up as he goes. Tomura pulls away and lets him remove the fabric, but once he has, he shifts how he's holding him. 

"Come on, princess, I want to see you all laid out." 

It's effortless for him to lift Dabi now, and a heady heat goes through him as he's carried bridal-style over to their bed. Being made small and easy to carry and care for, being delicate when he's a gnarled mess of scars and sharp edges, makes him feel like he's going to float away already, and Sir has barely started with him. He wraps his arms around his neck, pulling himself even closer so that he can press his own kisses there as he's taken over to the bed. Tomura laughs when he clings to him for a moment longer to give him a few more before he lets himself be put down. 

But when he's on his back, Sir's hands go to his waistband and Dabi lifts his hips, helping him to take away the last of his real clothes. Duster's eyes drag up his body and Dabi is breathless from how he looks at him. "You're so gorgeous, precious." He murmurs, a hand moving up along the back of his leg as he shifts to kneel on the bed. Dabi spreads his to make room for him, and the hand hooks behind his knee, pulling that one up and open further so that he can see how his panties cling to his crotch and ass. "I love seeing you all dressed up for me." He would replace his wardrobe entirely with the clothes Tomura likes if there weren't practical reasons to not. Maybe when they rule Japan together. He could let Tomura keep him in lingerie, dresses, and finery for a whole year just for the hell of it. "But I think you're missing something to make you perfect, princess." 

Through the hazy bliss already pressing in along his nerves, Dabi's mind twinges with confusion. This is the full set, this one doesn't have stockings to go with it-- Tomura leans over to the nightstand and extracts a thin square box wrapped in black paper with a brilliant blue bow on top. Dabi sits up so that his lover can give him the gift. "Thank you, sir." Tomura leans in and presses a kiss to his forehead before pulling back to let Dabi open it. 

The ribbon pulls easily and he runs a nail underneath the edges of the paper until he can slide out the crisp white box inside. Tomura takes the paper and ribbon from him before Dabi opens the lid and finds, nestled in pearlescent white tissue paper, a new collar. Unlike his day collar that is just black leather with a few modest spikes and an O-ring, this one's for scening, and is a thicker pale pink ribbon and lace with gold findings, the ring at the center in the shape of a heart with letters in-- he runs his thumb over the first and realizes that they definitely aren't plastic rhinestones. No, these feel like real stones of some kind, though if his lover actually got him diamonds for their first anniversary, Dabi is going to have to kill him-- gemstones of some kind, spelling out 'Sir's Princess'. It's frilly and pretty, and tells Dabi exactly what he is, what he's supposed to be when he's like this, and how much Sir loves him for giving himself up so completely to him. 

"Can I wear it?" He wants it on now, but that's not for him to decide. 

"Of course you can, baby girl. You know I'll give you anything you want if you are always so sweet when you ask." Tomura takes the collar out, and Dabi gives a soft sigh as the delicate lace and ribbon kiss his neck as he wraps it around his throat. The findings and letters are heavier, making the piece feel substantial even though the body of the collar is made out of lighter materials than his day collar. Tomura secures it and then leans back to look at him again. "There. Oh, baby girl," he sounds breathless when he speaks again, his eyes and words soft with his affection, "I don't think I'll ever be able to tell you how much I love you." He traces a finger along where the lace and his skin meet, "Or how happy I am you're mine." 

His face feels hotter, his whole body feels hotter when he manages, barely above a whisper. "Love belonging to you, Sir." He never thought he would ever be able to dedicate himself to anything beyond his revenge, but he is... he is so dangerously close to letting that go if it means he can be Tomura's sword and shield in the final fight. If he can be certain that being at his side will mean that they win their war. He catches one of Shig's hands, his damaged one with his prosthetics in place, and presses a kiss to his palm. "Keep me?"

"Forever, princess." His lover tells him emphatically. And then his mouth is back against his and he's pulling Dabi close, his hands are back on his skin, stroking and teasing. Every touch screams with the desperation to show him that he means it. He would spend an eternity with him, he would tell him every day for the rest of time how deeply he's loved. Heat starts to spark hotter through his veins as Sir's hands move to his chest and he rubs a finger over his covered nipples. He changed his piercings today, studs with little dangling heart chains for the occasion, and when Tomura feels them, he smiles against his lips before he reaches back to unhook his bra. 

"You're so cute, baby girl. I love how you dress up for me." And he knows how much Dabi loves his praise. He lives for it, and of all of their play, nothing makes him hotter than Tomura's sweet words in his ears as his hands move across his body. "It makes me so happy to see how much you've embraced being so pretty for me, princess." 

He mewls as Sir uses one hand to unclasp his bra, but the other goes down his back, pulling him up from the mattress and then into his body until he's in Sir's lap, his thighs spread so wide. There wasn't a chance of hiding his building arousal already in his thin, tiny panties, but his cock is rubbing against Sir now in this position and his lover is smiling again as he murmurs, 

"Even prettier when your clit starts to blush like that, baby girl." Which only serves to put embarrassment inside of his veins alongside the heat. He tangles his fingers back into Tomura's hair and pulls him into another kiss to staunch the flow of his words for a moment as he shrugs out of his bra and his lover brings both hands to his ass, cupping him and squeezing just firmly enough to have him moaning as he's dragged in even tighter to his body. His panties don't cover his skin completely, and even then, Sir slips two fingers underneath the lace so he can tease him as he steals his breath. He moans as he is touched, clinging onto him and rolling his hips against him to put more of that pleasure against his clit as Sir makes him get hotter. 

Tomura pulls away only long enough to see the charms dangling from his chest, and he spares a hand to tease them, tugging gently on the chain so that the little tug there makes him gasp. "Should've known from the first moment I saw you that you would like having your pretty tits admired and played with." He cups one as his mouth goes to the other, licking along his seam and kissing down to his nipple. Dabi whines as he teases at the bud, nipping just hard enough that the sensitive nerves tangle that spark of pain through him and makes his clit even harder. He sucks and licks at his chest until there is a constant stream of moans coming out of him, and when he switches to the other side, he's so sensitive that just the weight of the charm hanging off of his skin has him trembling. By the time he pulls away from them completely, they're swollen and red and Dabi is even hotter because, "There, now your tits are blushing as cutely as your clit, baby girl." 

"More, Sir, please?" He begs, rocking himself into his lover's hips and feeling his cock against him. That gets them both moaning, and Tomura holding him even tighter. 

"You can have anything you want, princess. I'm going to give you the whole world." He promises. Dabi would give it right back if it meant he could just have Tomura like this forever. He expects his lover to make him shift positions so that he can get him naked, but Sir doesn't. He reaches to the nightstand and pulls out their lube, their best lube, the silicone lube that Sir only uses when he wants to take his time. Dabi trembles and his lover laughs warmly. "I should have had you wear white if you were going to act like my sweet virginal little bride." 

And he humiliates himself by whimpering as he grinds against him again. 

Tomura's eyes light up. "Oh, princess, after all of that protesting? You want to be my bride? Do you want to pretend, baby girl?" 

"Sir," he whines.

"Not the words I need, baby." He's still smiling as he pulls his panties to the side and exposes him to the cooler air. "Does my baby girl need my vows first?" He teases again. He kisses Dabi before he can protest, his body going impossibly hot. It's been a long time since he felt like he was going to completely combust because of his lover's words, his pleasure and embarrassment both burning through him as Tomura slicks his fingers and starts to tease them around his rim. He goes slowly as he pulls back, his lips never fully leaving his skin as they move over his body and as he speaks. "I'm going to stay by your side forever, princess. I'm going to make sure that you reach all of your goals-- and I'm going to be there to help you even after you wish I would have given up." 

The sensations in his body feel like a knife-point he's balancing on the edge of. He can't tell if he hurts or if he feels good as his lover promises those things as his fingers start to work inside of his body, slicking his skin and stroking along his walls. His nerves cry out for pleasure, but the sharpness in his chest, like every word is being taken into his heart and threatening to burst as it gets fuller, is a keening ache. But he's still moaning and desperate, trying to catch Tomura in kiss after kiss as he grinds their cocks together and rocks back onto his fingers, getting more desperate to try and get more of his skin, and fewer of his words before he shatters. 

"Going to tell you every day how beautiful you are, how much I love you," Dabi whines, pulling at his hair as he fucks himself back onto his fingers. Sir gives him what he wants, angling to rub against his prostate on every subsequent thrust, bringing his need higher and higher. "Love how you moan, precious, and the way your skin smokes when you lose control. I never know if I should ever let anyone else see how perfect you are when you're feeling good, baby. They'd want you for themselves, but you're so lovely, and you love to have all eyes on you. I would let them watch so long as I know you're mine. You're going to be mine forever, won't you, princess?" 

"Yes, Sir," his voice is higher, thin with his pleasure, and desperate for more. "Tomura--" 

"Those still aren't the words I need for you to be my bride, baby." He sinks a third finger inside of him and Dabi keens, his clit so achingly hard it's smearing pre all against his panties, so wet that he's making Tomura's pants wet too as they move against one another. "What else? In sickness and in health? You've already been there for me when I was shattered. You took such good care of me-- of our family," Dabi's eyes burn as his chest feels like it's going to burst. "And I'm going to take care of you just the same. I'm going to change every staple, help heal every burn, and I'm going to let you know every day that your quirk didn't break you." 

"Duster," his voice cracks, tears slipping over his cheeks. Tomura kisses them away and Dabi can't stand it anymore. He reaches for his pants and fumbles messily with the button and zip, knowing his hands must feel so hot against his lover's cooler skin as he pulls him out and strokes him, needing to have his cock inside right now. 

"For richer or poorer? We've done both. I wouldn't ever give up the times we spent sleeping curled up together under your coat--" 

"Tomura," he tangles a hand in his hair and yanks hard enough to make his lover wince. 

"Just two words, princess, and I'll be yours forever." 

He keens, tears on his cheeks and a desperation in him that he's never had before, as he pulls their mouths together again, "I do." 

Tomura kisses him so hard their teeth click, pulling his fingers out of him. There's a fumble of movement as he gets the bottle again and slicks his cock, but as soon as his hands are around Dabi's hips again, they're shifting to bring their bodies together. They both lose themselves in a moan as Dabi takes him deep inside, his muscles trembling as he's stretched everywhere he's wanted to be. 

He's too frantic to try to take things slowly. He needs his lover, needs Tomura across every inch of him so that he can be completely consumed. He wants to belong to him. He has belonged to him since the first second he walked into the bar in Kamino, and he's never known how to tell him that. Tomura doesn't struggle with his words. He doesn't doubt anything he says, and he almost never lies. He would make Dabi his forever. He would marry him if Dabi just let him ask. He would give Dabi the world and then some if it meant they could stay together forever. 

"I love you, Iloveyou, Iloveyou!" He babbles against his lips as his lover helps him to move in his lap, drawing him higher and pulling him down faster than he could have himself as his muscles shake and tears drip off his cheeks. 

"I love you, firefly," Tomura tells him, more conviction in this declaration than any he has made to the PLF, the League, All For One. He loves Dabi more than his war, his quirk, his people. He won't ever abandon him for any of those things. He won't ever let him go unless he asks to leave. 

Dabi knows he never will. 

This isn't scening, isn't fucking, it's something different and softer that Dabi never thought he would experience, no matter how much faster and rougher their movements are getting as they creep closer to their completion. For the first time, Dabi really thinks he understands what people meant when they said that they felt like they were one with their partner as they make love. They are so entangled now that Dabi doesn't think that they will ever be able to be separate again, and he never wants to be. He wants this for the rest of their lives. 

It's not a surprise then, as their pleasure builds, that it builds together, and Dabi is aching, loud moans spilling out of him as his lover moves inside. "Tomura," he gasps, "close." 

"I know princess," he murmurs, kissing away another track of tears. "I can always feel it when your pussy gets so hot and tight like this." Dabi mewls, his clit aching, and he can't help it, he has to reach between them so that he can cup himself through the thin, soaked lace, and grind himself against his palm as the thrusts grow harder. "That's it, baby girl. I want you to feel good. Show me how good it is, baby. Cum with me." 

He's smoking as that sends him over the edge in just a few more thrusts, his lover's cock hitting his sweet spot on each one. And as his muscles tense as he cums, Tomura's groan entangles with his moans as his cock twitches before he's painting his spend all along his walls. 

He feels like every bone has been replaced with jello as he slumps against his lover's chest, eyes slipping shut as he tries to catch his breath, soaked inside and his panties stained and dripping with his cum. But he doesn't care. He just knows that he has never felt safer, more complete, more loved than when he's in Tomura's arms. 

///

Duster kept him full and happy a few more times before he ran them a bath and soaked with him in the tub for a long while. Then he'd dried them off and carried Dabi back to bed, and spent the rest of the night finding a hundred other ways to tell Dabi how much he loved him until he'd passed out. And when he wakes up, he is still curled into his lover's chest, Tomura stroking his hair as the sun rises behind their curtains. 

"When I said you could plan a scene, I expected some fucked up, kinky shit with a lot of edging," Because that's usually what he gets when his lover wants to indulge them both for a long time. "Not wedding roleplay." 

"We can do all of that today if you want to, precious. And who said that was roleplay, firefly?" Tomura presses a kiss to the crown of his head and then stretches an arm out to the nightstand, reaching into the drawer and extracting a piece of paper and a pen. Dabi gapes, incredulous as he is presented with a marriage certificate that has already been signed by their officiant (Compress) and their witnesses (Spinner and Twice). "Toga wanted to sign too, but she's not an adult." 

"Are you fucking kidding me?" 

Tomura smiles and gives him another kiss. You don't have to sign if you don't want to, baby, we didn't put any dates on it--" 

"I hate you, give me that." Dabi snatches the pen and scrawls down his legal name. "I'm only signing this because I'm going to divorce you next week." 

"That's fine, firefly, it just means that I get to ask you to marry me again." Tomura signs his name too, and the license looks wrong with 'Tenko Shimura' and 'Toya Todoroki' on it. 

Dabi takes it and shoves it back in the drawer. "This is for the cops and the heroes. If something goes wrong, if we fail, then that's for them. But when we win," he's never been an optimistic person about his future, but he wants a life with Tomura in the world they build after the war. "You can actually ask me and if I'm in a good mood I may say 'yes', and then we can have a real wedding, as us." 

He has never had someone look at him like he was the sun and moon, but Tomura never fails to. "I think that sounds more than fair, Dabi." 

His lover wraps his hand around the back of his neck and pulls him into a kiss again. Maybe when they get married for real they'll do it on the anniversary of their first date, or maybe they'll make it the anniversary of the end of the war. He supposes they'll have time to think about it before then. Dabi nips at Shig's lips. 

"I can't believe you showed me up again." 

"What are you talking about? All I did was get a piece of paper. You recreated our first date. I'm definitely going to have to think of something extra special for our next holiday." 

He can't help snorting when his lover sounds completely serious with that declaration before he leans in for another kiss. 

[ros3ybabe]

Daily Check-in:

July 3rd, 2024 🎀

Twas my payday! I ate some good food, talked to my boyfriend a good amount, called my dad a couple times to talk, went to the store twice, and had a lot of naps.

🩷 What I Accomplished:

studied 2-3 Korean Hangul chapters on Busuu

studied a couple Spanish lessons on busuu

reached out and messaged with my future italki korean teacher about our upcoming trial lesson

bought toilet paper + stuff for my injured toe (toe is not broken but was severely jammed, all is well today!)

ate ramen at a Thai place a d had the most delicious Thai tea with boba

tried ice cream from an Italian corner restaurant next to the Thai place

continued contact with health coach assistant and am trying to figure out if I go through with it or not

looked up new job opportunities for when I'm back home (not exactly a fan of the company/job I work for now)

reached out to my 2nd future roommate and got to know her and her dog a bit, also discussed me getting an ESA in the near future and how to go about that so I don't stress her dog out or cause issues

took a long, 2 hour nap (I think the ramen gave me a slight allergic reaction because it had mushroom chunks in it, which I did take out, but still had cross contamination with the broth. I'm allergic to mushrooms, so I took a big nap after I ate. I think the 2 are correlated)

morning journaled

spent time outside

downloaded a few more korean learning apps on my phone and iPad

💔 What Could've Gone Better

didn't do laundry

ate a lot

did not drink enough water omg

had so much trouble sleeping

didn't workout or take a walk

💗 Stuff For Tomorrow (July 4th)

do laundry

morning journal

morning skincare

work a 9 hour shift

listen to some Spanish podcasts

complete more Korean busuu chapters

practice korean writing on iPad

calculate how much I'm getting paid next week

💕 Song of the Day: Shoong! - Taeyang ft Lisa

I love this type of kpop music lately. that chill, laid back feeling. love it

I'm gonna have a good Thursday, even tho I woke up too early and am so tired. It'll be a good day I'll make sure of it.

til next time lovelies 🩷

[fruitlicense]

before Arcane S2 I always wondered why Vi and Powder went with Vander so easily after their parents died and why Powder ran to Silco for comfort after the warehouse fire.

Vander and Silco knew Felicia and Connol. hell, Vander named Vi! in all likelihood, Vander and Silco were like uncles to Vi and Powder in their early childhood, because they were close friends with their parents and worked the same profession. it wouldn’t surprise me at all if the four adults staggered their shifts in the mines to make sure someone was there to watch the girls at any given time. also, I don’t think Vander and Silco had their falling-out until soon before or during the rebellion that killed Felicia and Connol. in fact, I would hazard a guess that the reason Vander is wandering around post-battle pummeling the remaining Enforcers and looking for the dead is because he missed a good chunk of the fight while he was down in the river trying to strangle Silco.

the key piece of information here is that Vander and Silco were still friends and probably still in Vi and Powder’s lives right up until it all went wrong. when Vander took Vi and Powder in, he wasn’t adopting two kids he’d found randomly out of some sense of guilt or pity - those were his best friends’ kids. they approached him as a safe person even after seeing him beat some random guy because they knew him. when Powder saw Silco after Vander’s death and launched herself at him for a hug, she didn’t do that because he was the closest nearby person. she remembered him, even after however many years spent with Vander instead of her parents. his hesitation before he hugged her back was likely due to the time that had passed and his tension with Vander, not a lack of recognition.

TLDR: Vi and Powder don’t approach Vander and Silco as father figures because they’re the closest people at the times they need support, but because Vander and Silco were their parents’ best friends and they knew them already from childhood.

[magniloquent-raven]

life's what you make it

@tommykinardweek Day 1: Coming Out

CW: descriptions of animal abuse & pet death

(also on ao3)

When Tommy was nine his father bought a lanky Rottweiler with paws too big for his skinny legs. “He’ll be useful when he fills out a bit,” was all his dad said about it, with a chuckle and a backhanded slap against Tommy’s chest. Rotties are loyal, obedient working dogs. Guard dogs.

His dad named the dog Budweiser after one too many. In retrospect, he picked the first thing he saw to get Tommy to shut up about what they were going to call him, but at the time Tommy thought it was a great idea. After all, the dog was his Bud. (His Budweiler. It took three days for his dad to get sick of that joke.)

A week after he came into their home Tommy’s father nailed down a stake in the front yard. Bought a chain to clip to Bud’s collar. And he scoffed at Tommy’s whining about how sad Bud looked out there, all alone. “It’s a fucking dog, Tom, it’s not sad.”

But Tommy smushed his face against the window to watch him rest his blocky head on his too-big paws, and he saw him sigh. A big gusty sigh that moved his whole body.

Arguing with his dad about it didn’t change anything. The stake stayed. The dog stayed outside, where animals belong.

“Wouldn’t have bought the damn thing if I knew you were gonna be such a girl about it,” his dad muttered into his beer.

And that was that.

But Bud was always digging up his stake. Tugging at his collar. Running in circles around the yard, getting tangled up in his restraints. The first time they came home to dirt patches and overturned sod Tommy’s dad chucked his shoe at the dog, irate about how much it was going to cost to clean up. Tommy spent the rest of the afternoon outside, quietly raking up the chunks of grass and taking breaks to sit with Bud, petting his short, bristly fur.

Locked in the bathroom, he would tear up magazines. Left in the backyard he’d paw endlessly at the patio door. Then he started running away. The first time it happened Tommy was in hysterics. He cried his eyes out, and shut himself in his room where his father wouldn’t see.

It didn’t matter how many afternoons he’d spent outside feeding Bud bits of leftover lunch meat from his sandwiches, trying to tell him he was supposed to stay in the front yard, if he was a good dog he’d stay in the front yard. Explaining to him over and over again that he was here to protect them—his job was to scare away Mormons and the tax man, whoever he was—didn’t make a damn bit of difference.

After two years he started to believe his father. Bud was just a bad dog. A stupid dog. Defective. They kept him chained up in the front yard, and Tommy stopped spending time with him beyond giving him a pat or two on his way inside. He was too old to keep pretending that the dog understood what he was saying anyways. And he had better things to do.

When Tommy was thirteen, Bud slipped out of his collar again. It was old news, and Tommy was past freaking out. He’d always find Bud running off down the street, chasing squirrels or trying to wriggle under the neighbours’ fence to play with their fat little Bulldog. Sometime he’d be at the house four doors, laying very very still while the five-year-old who lived there played his back like a drum.

It should’ve been just another day. “Your dumbass dog got loose again,” his dad yelled from the couch the second Tommy walked in. Standard. Usually a twenty minute detour, and he figured he’d still have time to get his homework done before dinner.

He didn’t.

Bud was two streets over, breathing shallow, bleeding into the gutter.

And Tommy watched him die.

He didn’t sit with him, didn’t touch him, didn’t have words. He just stood there, pale and shaken, full of something too cold to be panic and tasting bile on his tongue.

It was his fault. He went to bed before sunset, staring at nothing, knowing that he was to blame. Feeling it.

His father told Tommy the city would take care of the body. He was roadkill, they had people for that. Good riddance to a financial burden. All Tommy could do was nod along dumbly.

Five years later he enlisted. It was the adult thing to do, his only option when he was told to grow up and make something of himself.

It would take him years to realize he didn’t like what he’d made. The person he saw in the mirror looked more like his father every day, and the man who raised him looked less like himself than he ever had. After two divorces, forty years of chain-smoking, three bypass surgeries, and just plain old time, he was hollowed out and had nothing to replace the emptiness with.

They see each other once a year, on Thanksgiving, and the visits get shorter and shorter. There’s only so much of the same tired speeches Tommy can take. He knows his father’s Reasons Why Marriage Is A Sham by heart, so well he could act it out if pressed, cadence and all.

Maybe some of it stuck deeper than he thought. A tired old man’s legacy, the voice in the back of Tommy’s head telling him it’s not worth it, none of it’s worth it.

His father’s influence might explain why he got cold feet and ran out on his fiancee. It’s as good an explanation as any, seeing as he’s still trying to figure out what the fuck even happened.

One minute he’s picking out napkins and listening to her plan their future, the next…

He’s got a decent little place to himself, at least. He got lucky there. No roommates, no rowdy army guys packed into a barrack that smells like the world’s evilest gym sock. Just him. Alone.

He thinks about getting a dog.

It’s fine, coming home to an empty bungalow. Living off of ready-made TV dinner meals like some kind of sad cliche. Work is great, the guys—and Hen—are great. He works as many shifts as his body can take, goes out for drinks with Howie and blames the beer when he sits a little too close in the booth, throwing an arm over the back and letting the booze push them into an almost-embrace.

The warmth doesn’t linger long enough to keep him from curling in on himself at night, hugging his pillow.

He doesn’t tell anyone besides his neighbour, Arthur, that he’s considering checking out animal shelters. The guy isn’t his friend, exactly, but there isn’t anyone else he can ask to pet-sit while he’s at work.

They chat sometimes. He’s a little older than Tommy, and somehow broader in the shoulders. He used to work construction, apparently. Now he’s living off workers’ comp. Tommy doesn’t know what happened, just that he’s in a wheelchair sometimes, and since he lost his job he’s started growing his hair. It’s shoulder-length now, dark and wavy.

“My sister didn’t put you up to this did she? I’ve got hobbies and shit, I swear. I’m fine,” he says when Tommy mentions he might need help feeding a dog in the near future. He’s not entirely sure how serious the accusation is. Tommy errs on the side of glib.

“No, I’m just too cheap to hire a professional.”

Arthur grins, the tan lines around his eyes disappearing into crow’s feet. “I can respect that.”

Months go by, and he’s still thinking about it. Weighing the pros and cons. It shouldn’t be that big of a deal, it’s not like he can’t afford it, and he can just drop the dog back off at a shelter if it doesn’t work out. It would be nice to have a reason to go on walks, or run, if the dog is high-energy. Plus, less chance of someone breaking in and making off with his stuff.

Bud never quite lived up to his potential as a guard dog—an impersonal way to put it, but it's the way he's forced himself to look at it over the years—but his dad wasn’t wrong about dogs having their uses.

There’s no particular reason for it when he takes a different route home after work one day. It was a normal day, normal calls. They pulled a kid out of a collapsed playground structure. Checked out an apartment after someone burned their popcorn. He chimed in with a joke or two when Hen and Chim started ribbing each other over lunch. No one died, nothing exploded.

Then he thought about going home to an empty house again and…

He’s pulling into the parking lot of the closest shelter thirty minutes later.

The girl behind the desk is sweet. She’s maybe twenty, and barely eye-level with Tommy’s collarbone, dressed in a purple hoodie and sneakers with a name tag pinned to her shirt that says Katie. There’s a peeling dolphin sticker next to the K.

“Did you have anything specific in mind?” she asks him, a big smile on her face that he’s sure is part of her job but looks genuine anyways.

When he pictured getting a dog the image in his head was always just… Bud. Black and brown, the tiny spots above his eyes, short bristly fur and somehow always drooling a little bit. He didn’t have his heart set on a Rottie, exactly, it was just all he could see himself getting.

He shoves his hands in his jeans pockets. “No.” Then he pauses, eyes scanning the white tile walls behind her. There are so many brightly coloured posters tacked up on it they all sort of blend together. “I work a lot, if that’s a problem.”

She shakes her head, her expression softening to something sympathetic. “No, not a problem, we just need to find the right match for your lifestyle. Certain pets need more attention, of course, but I’m sure we’ll find someone for you.”

“Right.”

There are so many options. When she leads him into the back room a few of the little dogs start yapping. One that looks like a bathmat with beady little eyes runs in circles making more noise than a creature that small should. Another one with curly fur and white fluff around its ears barks so hard its whole body bounces with the effort.

“They’re just excited,” Katie says with a sheepish laugh.

The whole long room is lined with plexiglass alcoves, and smells overwhelmingly of dog. A black lab paws at its window as they walk past. A lot of the animals are furry lumps with their backs turned, hidden in the corner of their enclosure.

“Did you want a minute alone with them?”

Tommy blinks at her, feeling a little out of his depth.

“I think it’s easier to find out if it’s a good match if it’s just you and the critters, you know? Just come get me if you take a liking to any of them, and we can see how you do with face-to-face time.”

“Oh…kay.”

She pats his elbow and gives him another sunny smile before heading back up front.

He wanders up and down the length of the room for a while, stopping in front of every dog that demands his attention. They’ve all got cards in the upper corner of their windows. Name, age, sex, and breed. Some of them have little notes about special needs. There’s a diabetic Poodle mix that huffs at him when he walks past. A Yorkie with a limp and a mean growl.

Around halfway through his second loop around he notices a fluffy white dog snoozing on her back. She’s a medium size, no listed breed. And she’s running in her sleep. Paws waving in the air, tongue lolling out of her mouth.

He chuckles.

According to her card, her name is Periwinkle—which Tommy wrinkles his nose at, what even is that—she’s two years old, and…oh. She’s deaf and blind. Probably not the best pick for him then. He already had doubts about how much time and attention he’d be able to give a dog, he doesn’t want to bite off more than he can chew here.

She snuffles, nose twitching. It’s stupidly adorable.

“She’s a sweet girl.”

“Jesus Christ—” Tommy startles, hands flying up to his chest where he presses a palm to his racing heart as he whirls around.

“Sorry!” Katie laughs, clearly more amused than apologetic. She clears her throat and schools her expression. “Sorry, it’s just you’ve been in here a while, I thought I’d check in.”

“It’s fine.” He smooths some wrinkles out of his shirt, trying to act like it was his intention all along.

“So, Periwinkle?”

Tommy can’t help but purse his lips. “What kind of name is that, anyway?”

“Oh, she was part of a whole litter that we took in, they were all named after flowers. Periwinkles are pretty little blue ones.”

“Ah…”

“She’s the last one we have left, all her brothers and sisters were adopted as puppies.”

Okay, well. She didn’t need to make him feel bad, that’s just uncalled for.

She’s not what he was looking for. Not the kind of dog that scares away intruders, or anyone, really, she looks like a marshmallow with floppy ears. And he’s not sure he feels qualified to care for a dog with disabilities, she needs someone loving and attentive and patient.

He opens his mouth to say as much, to say she probably wouldn’t be a good fit, and list off all the things he told himself were the reasons he’s here in the first place. No words come out.

“Would you like to meet her properly?”

“…Sure.”

She has him wait in a little side room down the hall. There’s a rickety folding chair in the corner that he eyes but doesn’t sit in, instead choosing to stand in against the wall with his arms folded tight across his chest. The knot of anxiety in his gut is ridiculous, and stupid, and he doesn’t know why he’s so nervous, but he can’t stop shaking his leg and digging his nails into the meat of his forearm.

There’s very little in the room to distract him. Apart from the chair, there’s an empty steel bowl, a grey mat, and a basket with a couple knots of rope, a tennis ball that’s seen better days and a rubber ring that looks oddly untouched compared to everything else.

He’s probably only waiting for a few minutes, but it feels like it’s been an eternity when the door finally clicks open and Katie sticks her head in.

“Okay, here we are!” She sidles into the room, guiding Periwinkle by a short leash. Her posture is alert, tail up, sniffing the air. “I’ve got some treats in my pocket if you want to give her some. Dogs are not above taking bribes.”

Tommy lets out a little breath of a laugh.

She approaches him slowly, squinting milky blue eyes. Now that he can see her properly, he notices the yellowing bits around her ears and under her chin. Part Golden Retriever, maybe. She’s got the face shape for it.

She pokes his shin with her nose. He’s not sure if she bumped into him or if it was on purpose until she does it again, eagerly sniffing at the leg of his jeans.

He came here right from work, he can’t imagine he smells very good. Then again, she is a dog.

“I, uh…” He glances from her to Katie. His arms are still folded across his chest, and he’s not sure what to do with his hands.

Katie pulls a little bone-shaped cookie from her pocket and offers it to him, eyebrows raised and her smile encouraging. “Just make sure you don’t make any sudden moves, okay? Be gentle with her.”

He nods, and very carefully squats down to her level. He gets the treat about four inches from Periwinkle’s face and she starts wriggling up a storm, tail wagging, loose fur flying, snuffling reaching a fever pitch as she noses around trying to locate the food.

It’s impossible not to grin at her excitement. Affection blooms between his ribs when she bumps into his thumb and gives it a test lick. It doesn’t take her long to devour her treat once she finds it, and she cleans the crumbs from his fingers when it’s gone.

Seemingly satisfied with his tribute, she lays down on his feet. Then rolls against his shins in a warm fuzzy heap of loose limbs, clumsily pawing at him until he reaches out a tentative hand and runs his fingers through the fluff on her chest.

“Well, I think it’s safe to say she likes you!” Katie beams.

“Yeah.” Tommy’s voice cracks, embarrassingly, suddenly emotional. He swallows past a lump in his throat.

He stays crouched awkwardly, unable to shift into a more comfortable position even when his knees start to ache. Periwinkle breathes evenly, seemingly content to rest on his boots while he rubs her belly and makes stilted small talk with Katie.

She’s more than happy to pick up the conversational slack, giving him all sorts of tips about what’s good to feed pets and how to train a dog that can’t see or hear you. There’s so much information, he’s sure he won’t retain it all.

By now Katie has migrated to the folding chair, she’s seated with her legs crossed at the knee and talking with her hands. “Now, I recall you saying you work a lot, but is your schedule consistent? It’s important for a dog like Periwinkle to have predictable routines.”

“Yeah, pretty consistent.” Monotonous is the word that comes to mind, and he cringes away from it. He likes his job. His job isn’t the problem. “I work long hours though. Sometimes days at a time.”

Katie’s forehead pinches at that. “Okay. Do you have anyone to look after her while you’re gone? A family member? Girlfriend?”

His stomach lurches. “No.” He digs his fingertips deeper into thick fur, feeling her heartbeat under his hand. She’s calm. Relaxed. He should fucking relax. He doesn’t. “I had a fiancee,” comes spilling out of his mouth, “things ended…weird. I just don’t think I’m ready to date again so soon, y’know?” He forces an airy laugh. There’s no good reason for him to have explained all that, or for it to have felt like a lie.

“I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.” Tommy lets out a slow breath. “I asked my neighbour if he’d help out. With the dog.”

“Oh, great!”

She moves on easily, but he doesn’t. The moment sticks under his skin, like a splinter he can’t scratch out. It aches, dull but present, for the rest of the conversation, and beyond that. While he signs adoption papers, when he walks out the door, Periwinkle’s leash in hand, all through the quiet drive home. She sits in the passenger seat, and he cracks the window just enough for her to stick her nose out while he pretends to listen to the radio.

He has a dog now.

The next week or so is a bit of a mess. He buys everything he thinks he’ll need, and probably goes overboard. Dog-proofing his house is trial-and-error, Periwinkle keeps finding new things to chew on, and he never realize he had so much clutter until there was a blind dog bumping into things all the time.

It’s beautiful chaos and he loves it. She falls asleep on his lap when he watches TV, and he gets stuck there for hours. It turns out she hates peanut butter, and when he tries to fill a chew toy with it for her to play with she only picks it up long enough to jerk her head and toss it across the room.

Katie told him touch was important when bonding with a blind and deaf dog, and he figured it would be a slow process, easing Periwinkle into her new surroundings, showing her that he can be trusted. They have hit a few bumps (no pun intended) getting her used to navigating his house, but amazingly she seems to have no reservations about him specifically. She’s glued to his hip nearly every moment he’s home, pressed up against his leg when he’s standing at the kitchen counter, head on his thigh when he’s on the couch, always nearby.

Thankfully she likes Arthur nearly as much as she likes Tommy. Possibly because he always has a piece of jerky for her when he comes over. Which is understandable on her part.

Three weeks after he brought her home, he finds Arthur sitting on his porch with Wink in his lap and looking mildly sheepish.

“She wouldn’t let me go home.”

Tommy grins. “Want a beer?”

“Please.”

He thinks they might be friends after that. He wants them to be friends after that.

It didn’t bother him so much before, that they were just casual acquaintances. Tommy’s got plenty of acquaintances, and it suits him fine. But one evening with the dog between them leaves Tommy with a strange ache he can’t place. The next day all he thought about was the dying glow from the sun catching on deep-set brown eyes, sparkling with mirth. That adolescent desperation he tried to stomp down whenever he made Arthur laugh, that voice that babbled do it again, like me, like me, please—

It's not until Sal catches him grinning down at his own hands and punches his arm, crowing “Well hot damn, look who finally moved on. What’s her name?” that things start to fall into place.

A lot of things.

He just barely manages to excuse himself without throwing up, and makes it to the bathroom just in time to burst into tears.

Once the dam cracks, he’s helpless against the tide. His lungs burn from the effort it takes to keep from sobbing audibly. Chest heaving slow, painfully, methodically slow, he buries his face in his hands and cries, cries, lets snot dribble down his wrist and doesn’t care, squeezes his eyes shut so hard he sees stars and still the tears drip down his nose. It hurts, and all he can do is hang on, hoping the bells don’t go off, hoping no one walks in or wonders where he’s gone.

He’s so stupid for not seeing it. There’s a whole well of secrets he’s been keeping from himself and he feels like he’s been pushed into it to drown.

Does anyone else know? Has anyone figured it out before him? It’s not like he’s never had anyone make dumb jokes, all of Sal’s favourite jokes seem to boil down to hey, you’re gay. Kids in school would make fun of him for getting weepy about shit, or talking with his hands too much, or being too picky about girls, but…

Christ, he’s so stupid.

Maybe everyone knows, and always has. Fear grips him tight, sharp fingers grabbing a fistful of his guts. Has everyone been laughing at him behind his back. Every time he makes a dumb comment about not getting what the big deal is about a pretty girl, or makes excuses about another breakup.

Oh God, does his father know?

His father can never know.

His stomach heaves again, and he tastes bile.

It’s unclear how long he’s in that bathroom, hazy, knees buckling under the weight of his whole life turning on its head and hitting him at once. He splashes water on his face to rinse off the snot and tears, but it does nothing for the blotchy pink around his nose and eyes.

He spends the rest of his shift jumpy and distracted.

For the first time in weeks he’s hesitant to go home, but he doesn’t want to impose on Arthur any more than he already has.

Arthur’s on his porch again, reading a book and petting Wink. She perks up when Tommy’s truck pulls into the driveway. He’s not entirely sure how she always knows it’s him. Could be a scent thing. Or maybe she can feel the vibrations coming off his engine. Whatever it is, it’s comforting to know someone’s always gonna be happy to see him.

The steering wheel creaks in his grip, and an itch builds behind his eyes. He takes a moment to blink it away and compose himself, but Arthur still shoots him an odd look as he approaches the house.

Great.

“Bad day?”

Tommy shrugs. “It was fine.”

Wink trots down the ramp he replaced the porch steps with last week, meeting him halfway to bump her forehead against his knee.

The ache in his chest twists around his heart.

“Mhm,” Arthur hums. He’s in his chair today, and Tommy absently watches the muscles in his forearm flex as he turns. It takes his brain a second to catch up to what he’s doing, and he jolts, tearing his gaze away. “That’s what I always tell people too.”

Tommy bites his tongue. There’s a barb on the end of it, and the taste of iron in the back of his throat. He’s too tired to start an argument over nothing. And he knows he’d regret it later.

He bends down to pet the top of Wink’s head and lets Arthur leave without another word.

He smells like burnt sugar and cinnamon soap, and Tommy holds his breath just to stop trying to inhale every trace he left in his wake.

It really is like that, huh. He really does…

Three fingers of whiskey later he still feels like crawling out of his own skin.

He’s got the news running in the background. All his comfort things feel dangerous tonight. He can’t be sure he won’t put on his favourite movie and discover he only liked it because he was wildly attracted to the leading man and had no idea this whole time. He’s terrified of finding out anything else about himself, but it’s left him twitchy and bored and mostly alone with his own thoughts.

Wink had taken up residence in her usual place, head resting on his knee, but as the evening went on she got up and re-positioned. Now she’s sitting in his lap, leaning against his chest and snuffling into his shirt.

It’s the closest thing to a hug he’s gotten in a while, and it breaks him a little bit.

He wraps his arms around her, burying his face in the fluff around her neck.

“I think I’m gay,” he mumbles into her fur.

Nothing happens. The world doesn’t end.

He breathes. He’s going to be okay.

[trialbywombaat]

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Okay so I might not be able to commit to 171 sentences 😂 But I will for sure give you a good chunk 💖💖💖

He hesitates, trying to figure out how much Howie knows. He never technically came out to Howie, or anyone else at the 118. He'd relied on the LA first responder grapevine, the same one that had let him know that Bobby and Athena had gotten hitched; that Chim was engaged and had a kid. He settles on a vague-ish response and presses send. Not exactly what I was asking... He waits, and wonders if it takes longer for text messages to travel overseas. He doesn't know much about the science behind it, and he's never had much reason to look into it before, but maybe Evan would know. It seems like something he'd be interested in. If it doesn't take longer for text messages to travel overseas, though, Howie is being frustratingly slow. Probably for a good reason, but it's annoying nonetheless. He swipes out of his messages app and opens Instagram. He barely uses it, and only even has an account because an ex had convinced him to download it, but now he finds himself typing 'Evan Buckley' into the search bar and tapping on Evan's profile. It's only been a few hours, but already he'd started to wonder if he was exaggerating Evan's attractiveness in his mind. But looking at Evan's profile, at the endless supply of thirst traps and selfies he's posted, it's quickly apparent that Tommy hasn't misremembered a damn thing. Evan is exactly his type. His finger hovers over the 'follow' button. It wouldn't be weird to follow Evan, would it? They've already exchanged numbers, after all. Before he can tap the button, though, his phone buzzes again. A response from Howie. Not a particularly helpful response, though. It just says, ohhhh. He watches the three little dots appear and bounce around while Howie is apparently typing more, and he tries not to think about how much he cares about the answer. Finally, another message appears. Sorry man, but he is famously into women. Okay. That's okay. He won't deny the disappointment he feels settling deep in his stomach. He really had thought Evan was flirting with him. And usually his gaydar is pretty accurate. But he's not infallible. Part of him wants to argue that Evan could be into women and men. Maybe Chim just doesn't know about it. But the word 'famously' gives him pause. There's more to the story that Tommy doesn't know, so if Howie thinks Evan is straight, who is Tommy to disagree. He allows himself to feel the disappointment for a moment, to ride it out. But he isn't going to dwell on it. It's not the first time Tommy's been attracted to a straight guy, and it probably won't be the last. He knows how this goes by now. Maybe they'll drum up a decent friendship, and Tommy will have someone to watch Fight Club with when they're back in LA. Or maybe they'll drift apart, and five years from now they won't even remember each other's names. And even if it seems to hurt a little more this time, if he can't seem to get Evan's face out of his mind, it's probably just because they've spent so long together already. Because he'd sat there for five hours refusing to move for fear of waking Evan, of losing the warm pressure of his head against Tommy's shoulder, and he'd imagined what it might be like to wake up like that every morning. So it might take him a little longer to move on than usual. But he'll figure it out. He allows himself one last look at Evan's instagram before he tries to get some sleep. A goodbye of sorts. At the top of Evan's profile he sees a notification that's just popped up. Buckaroo_Buckley_ wants to follow you. He has no choice but to follow back.

[b4mpyre-k1zz3s]

a request for halloween fics? a bam x reader fic, trying to figure out what to be for halloween together! maybe they match? maybe the whole CKY crew matches?

Cky Halloween HC’s!

Bam Margera X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Suggestive content, crude language, alcohol

An: thank you for the request!! A good chunk of this fic was inspired by another set of headcannons I saw regarding the CKY guys and Halloween costumes, and when I find them, I’ll link them here! Thank you for reading and please keep sending requests ;)

Standing in the bathroom, you examined the eyeliner around Bam’s waterline, helping smudge a forgotten corner with a chuckle,

“Y’look like Bambi with this stuff on!”

Trying not to fuck up you doing his makeup, your boyfriend kept real still as he murmured through costume fangs, “Bambi got shot at the end’a that movie.”

Eyes glinting with mischief, you took a step back and smiled at your work, “Well then you’re lucky I don’t hunt…”

You were helping him get ready for this Halloween party the rest of the guys were going to, and it was somebody’s great idea to have the theme for the group costume be stereotypical sexy costumes,

So Bam was a demon, complete with leather pants and those surprising high quality fangs that he offered to try out in the bedroom,

And you were a sexy nun. Of course that’s the kind of couple’s costume he would come up with.

The prince of darkness made his little entrance, strutting down the stairs in what was essentially glorified bondage gear,

Looking Dunn’s sexy lumberjack costume up and down, Bam chuckled, “What’re you supposed t’be, Lumberjack-me off?”

Waving a dismissive hand, Ry threw his jab right back at him, “Later, Bam- later...”

Novak, who in a great act of irony, was dressed as a cop complete with ridiculously tiny booty shorts, arrived fashionably late.

“You’re all under arrest!” Tucking away the police badge he had flashed, he leaned arround the crowd at the door and added,

“Especially that nun chick- she’s hot.” That earned him a hard punch in the shoulder from Bam.

The only one of you who didn’t look like a Village People reject was Dico, who was sporting one of a myriad of costumes he just happened to have on hand at all times.

“Yar-har har!” Brandishing a plastic cutlass, he put on a faux pirate accent and led the guys outside to where Dunn’s shitty limo was parked, “We be plundering booty from all the seven seas tonight!”

Evidently, the amount of skin Bam was showing made your little dress and tights look conservative, but what girl doesn’t enjoy when her boyfriend dressed sluttier than her?

So within an hour of showing up, you and him ended up in the corner, making out.

Raab, who was wearing one of those sexy nurse outfits, observed from afar, “Hey, Dunn. Kinda messed up that it’s a demon and a nun, right? Like, makin’ out and shit.”

“Yeah...” Ryan nodded, arms crossed as he stood next to him, “S’fucked up. And hot, at the same time.”

Rake, Mr. Sexy mad scientist himself, spent a majority of the night trying to pick up chicks by talking about he knows they would have some great chemistry together.

You ran into him at the little faux bar set up in some kitchen, but before you could ask him how the party was going, someone cut you off,

“Y/N! Hey-“ It was Novak, panicking a little with his hands locked in his own cuffs. He spun around, “Y’think you could grab the key fr’these outta my back pocket?”

Snatching a beer from the fridge, you replied sarcastically, “Haha, very funny. I know you!” And you walked away,

Totally unaware that he was actually stuck in them. Novak shot a glance over at Rake, who just shook his head, “No fuckin’ way, dude- I am not touchin’ your ass.”

So the end of the night comes and you’re all pretty hammered, and on the way back to castle Bam you noitice Dico reaching into a bulging pocket of his red velvet pirate jacket-

Pillsbury Halloween cookies. Nearly every pocket was stuffed to the brim with Pillsbury Halloween cookies he’d pilfered from the party. “Wha…dude-!”

So as not to alert the others to his haul, he palmed one into your hand and whispered, “Shhhh…theives’ honor.”

[pumpkinsy0]

HEAR ME OUT: Two-Bit trying to throw together a makeshift Quince for his baby sister. Yes their poor, yes they dont have extended family, But Two has the gang and the Shepards.

His baby sister REALLY wanted a Quince since she was five years old. She wanted the big party,dance, and REALLY wanted the dress. But when she got older she understood that finances were not ideal so she sort of scrapped the whole idea. She didn’t want her mom to feel bad, since she works hard.

And LOOK Two-Bit may not be the best brother but since Johnny and Dallas died, he HAS grown up some. He wasn’t about to let his baby sister down. That being said I like to think he asks The Shepards for help in planning this. Tim connects him with a few friends to get some tables and place that’s fairly cheap. Since Angela’s friends with Two’s sister, she helps to decorate. The Curtis gang also tries to help as much as possible. The only issue is the dress…which I like to imagine Two roped the gang in to help with. Tim also managed to get roped into making the dress.

It wasn’t PERFECT by any means but they got it done! And it was a night to remember.

If you have ANY more to add to this please do!! Especially if they include your Haitian Shepards!! I love those guys!!!

OOHHHH IDEAS ALREADY☝🏽☝🏽☝🏽

1) cant have a party without food, i knowww the shepards spent a good long while staying up trying to make food for the event, was a good chunk of it haitian food and like some food from two’s culture??? yea but look, it was just tim, darry, and two mother cooking, they were stressed out and this was in such little time give them a break, tim decided why the fuck not and made kremas for the “adults”

2) look, the matthews dont rlly have a father figure, but twos lil sister does have two bit!!! let them have that father daughter dance,,,please,,,,

3) twos sister didnt get a LOT of gifts, but everyone did pitch in to try and get his some kind of jewlery, and she never takes it off!!!

4) it was angela who was mainly in charge of the dress, cant have two’s sister looking messed on her big day now, also, twos sister didnt have like a tiara like she saw other girls would, BUTTTT angela did improvide and use shells shes gotten from the beach and some beads!! shes good at getting good ones too, she used to do it a bit in haiti anyways

5) idk???what like those dancers????the quince girl picks to dance w her??? r called exactly??? but it would make me giggle if johnny and curly were forced into it

[seat-safety-switch]

Learning about the world is the sole reason for human existence. We're given this glorious puzzle box when we're born, and we need to figure out as much of it as we can before we kick off. To satisfy this purpose, humanity has developed a whole shedload of cool specialty tools.

Hundreds of years ago, there were a lot fewer tools. You didn't have to know so much, and the chance that you would invent the electromagnet, or discover a new kind of onion, was pretty good. Now, there's still lots of things we haven't figured out, but because it hasn't happened yet, we don't know what they will be. Did that make sense? What I am trying to say is: you need to buy some more tools, because the best kind of tools are the tools that make tools. Took me long enough to get to the point, right?

When you're a teenager, you might think that you're hot stuff figuring out the two-wrenches trick. As an adult, you teach yourself to MIG together two chunks of iron, and then build terrifying race cars. You still have a lot of money, space, and time to get to the point where you're running half of an industrial machining operation just to turn down an oil filter socket so that it fits over your friend's aftermarket valve cover. Such is a life well spent.

Head on out to the garage right now and figure out what tool you're missing. Maybe you can invent it yourself, and then it will forever be named after you. Just let me have a free one, so I can put it on the shelf with all the other specialty tools that I won't use instead of a hammer and profanity.