#taking care of curly hair is kind of a major pain in the ass

[programmedtoexterminate]

It's not that I think people are lying when they say they like my hair, it's that..................... I don't think they're telling the truth........

My friends particularly will often say my "curls are so nice"—that's how they say it and I think that gets to the truth of it. I don't think my hair looks nice but I think other people like "how curly it is"; they're impressed (?) by the defined springy coils. The style doesn't look good, to be honest, I look like a cartoon character, I look like Betty Boop, it's got a kinda "powdered wig" except it's also at least 50% cowlicks vibe, if you can imagine it.

I don't wanna say anyone is being disingenuous, and maybe I'm just cynical, but I think what this comes down to is that for lefty liberal types it's currently in vogue to idolize curly hair.

[millenialfanfictionaddiction]

Being MSBY's Manager

Relationship Troubles with Sakusa

Sakusa Kiyoomi featuring MSBY x Female Manager

Warnings: Swearing (mom drops the f bomb alot 😅 we shall call it a "sentence enhancer" 💅🏼), Sakusa being an absolute ass, major angst to fluff, Sakusa is toxic but I'm making him work on himself 🥰, suggestive ending

A/N: I 💙 emotional pain 🥲 so let's do Sakusa! A big shout out to Gen Z anon for helping me with the ending 😘

Ope 😶

I think we are about to really feel this one

Sakusa can be a little... brash

He's a Pisces/Aries cusp- two very emotional signs

And I totally see him being a "tell it like it is" type character

So being his partner might be kind of tough

I do think this man loves just as hard as Bokuto and Atsumu- but he definitely needs time to himself

I mean we all do- self 👏🏻 care 👏🏻

So let's get into this heartbreak shall we 🙃

First off, you met him at some random place ✋🏻

Sakusa probably isn't the type to date online

But 👀 hear me out

You are in the laundromat doing your laundry

You had just graduated and moved to a new city

Your ex boyfriend, a complete POS, had found you clingy and annoying

Spoiler alert: you aren't, men just suck 😒

He had cheated on you numerous times because he said you were "too needy and not giving enough in return" 🙄

Can we all say Toxic?

Your friends told you it wasn't true and you knew it wasn't

But your past relationship had really affected you

So you decided to start anew in a brand new city 🙌🏻

Honestly goals!

You have a load going and decide to clean out the lint traps of some of the dryers

I mean 1) it's a fire hazard 2) it's just a nice thing to do 🤗

And that's our sweet bby YN

A gorgeous, sweet, caring woman who always wants to help

While you're throwing the lint away, you see a tall man, wearing a mask watching you

He has gorgeous dark curly hair and dark eyes

And his dark eyes lock on yours

You gulp and blush because like, someone's watching you AND he's hot 🥵

Being Sakusa he walks up to you

"What are you doing?"- Sakusa

You 👉🏻 👁👄👁 huh-

"Why are you cleaning the lint traps out? That's not your job"- Sakusa

Ok then- forward much?

"Oh I- I uh like to do nice things. And you never know, it could make someone's life a little easier"- you smiling up at the tall man

He totally just narrows his eyes at you- and turns to leave

Ok then 😐

You turn and walk back to your clothes, moving them from the washer to the dryer

You proceed to wipe down the washer you used with a sanitizing wipe

Again, we are in a pandemic and it's just nice to do!

Sakusa gets up, approaching you again

"Now what are you doing?"- he questions, looming over you

You look up at him, eyes widening 😳

"Uh I'm wiping down the washer I used"- you answering the question

"I didn't know people did that"- Sakusa looking at you

"Well most don't but it just seems hygienic to me. Like common sense I guess"-you shrug

"Mind if I have some of those wipes"- Sakusa asks, mouth still covered by his mask

"Of course! Help yourself"- you hand them to him as you turn to continue your crusade

Sakusa is intrigued by you

An absolutely stunning women doing laundry alone in the laundry mat

Yet you take time out of you day to help others 💙

When your laundry is dry, you take it out and begin to fold it

"Why are you doing laundry in a laundromat alone? Isn't that dangerous?"- Sakusa blurts out, still watching you

"Umm well I don't think it's any more dangerous than walking thought a convince store. I mean there is cameras. Plus I start a new job tomorrow and I need clean clothes"- you say, shrugging as you fold your leggings, putting them in the basket

"Yeah but still anything could happen. I mean you are a stunning women"- Sakusa

Honestly fire signs are way to blunt for our own good

It enters our brain and comes right out our mouths 🙃

"Well thank you, you are a very good looking man as well"- You, winking 😉 at Sakusa

Please this makes him smile behind his mask 😫😫😫

You pack up your clothing and turn to face Sakusa

"Well it was nice meeting you-"

"Sakusa- Sakusa Kiyoomi"

"Kiyoomi, I'm LN YN!! Good luck with your laundry"- you say smiling as you walk out of the laundrymat

Smooth YN, Smooth 😏

Sakusa debates for a few minutes if he should go ask for your number

He ultimately decides not too

But believe me when I say he kicks himself over and over again for not doing it

However, lucky for him, I'm writing this 🙌🏻

And in my world, we grant 🎆 second changes 🎆

Which is EXACTLY what happens 🤩

Sakusa walks into training the next morning tired

He was beating himself up last night for not asking you for your number

He may of thought of a plan or two to try and find you again

Which included swinging by the laundromat daily to check for you

And/or leaving a note on the laundromat bulletin board addressed to you

He thought about it as he stepped into the locker room, hearing Atsumu talking

God it was too early for that 😒

"Did you guys see the new manager? She's hot as hell!"- Atsumu

"Don't even think about it Sumu, Captain already said she's off limits"- Barnes said laughing from his locker

"Hey a man can dream right Omi?"- Atsumu says as Sakusa set his gear down

"Dream big Sumu"- Sakusa said as Bokuto and Hinata came leaping into the locker room

"New manager day!"- Bokuto shouted

"Please take it easy on this one Bo. We'd like to keep her for more than a week"- Inunaki said walking out into the gym

Sakusa changed and made his way out to the gym

He say Meian talking to a women who was facing away from the team

Her hair streamed down her back as she looked up and laughed at something Meian had said

The men lined up as Meian addressed the group, the woman turning around

Holy shit- 😳

Her eyes widened when they met his and he couldn't help but smile

Yn Ln, the weird laundromat girl, was their new manager 😱

The interaction was not missed by Thomas who elbowed Sakusa

"Hey Omi, you know her?"- Thomas probed

"Wait Omi knows that hotty?"- Hinata

Sakusa glared at Hinata as YN approaches him

"Kiyoomi! How nice to see you again. I didn't know you played for MSBY?"- you asked, your smile so bright it almost blinded everyone in the gym

Pure perfection YN 💅🏼

"Yeah, I'm a uh- wing spiker. I didn't know you were a manager?" Sakusa questioned, rubbing the back of his neck

"Yeah I was for my college team! I just graduated a few months ago and this job came up and I figured I'd try for it! I'm so glad we will be working together"- You, so excited and bubbly

"Wow that's awesome"- Sakusa says, smiling down at you

Please all the guys are like 👁👄👁

They've never seem their Omi Omi so happy before

During training, you proved yourself worthy of the title of MSBY's Manager

Practice was ending and Atsumu was still serving

You step under the net and get in position

Everyone watches you in fascination as you get in a receiving position

"Umm- YN what you are doing?"- Meian asks, curious

"Yeah YN, don't you know my serves are deadly"- Atsumu 💅🏼

You just roll you eyes 🙄

"Trust me Atsumu, I'll be fine. Just send it up"- you, getting a perfect receiving stance

The guys all watch you, Sakusa intrigued but also nervous

"Suit yourself YN"- Atsumu says sending up the ball and slamming it into the opposite court

Only it doesn't hit the floor 👀

Because you pulled off a perfect receive, sending it right to where the setter would be

"Holy shit YN that was incredible!"- Hinata shouts as he runs towards you

Sakusas eyes widen and his mouth gapes

Man just fell harder for our Queen 🥰

"I'm betting YN use to play. Libero perhaps?"- Inunaki announced

"You caught me"- you laugh putting your hands up

"That's so cool YN!!! Did you ever make it to nationals??"- Bokuto

"We did, my third year! We were in the top 8 but then got eliminated unfortunately"- you ask smiling at the fond memory

Sakusa walked over to join the team who was now surrounding you

"Atsumu that is one wicked serve you got there"- you, looking at a now sulking Atsumu

"I can't believe you received that"- Sumu said as he looked at you with narrow eyes

You just shrug and smile

"Ok ok- practice is over. Time to get out so YN can do her job"- Meian says, ushering the men to the locker rooms

Sakusa watched you as you went about your duties, taking down the nets and cleaning the floor

It was obvious you were a pro when it came to cleanliness and your job

"God she's even hotter than I imagined she'd be"- Atsumu said, taking off his sweat dampened shirt

Pls at this point I'm writing drabble/hcs and turning it into soft-core smut 🤣

"I wonder if she has a boyfriend"- Hinata

"Nope- she's single"- Meian said interrupting

"And you would know because..."- Thomas

Please Meian is one of those guys you just instantly trust 🤚🏻

I'd spill all my secrets to that man without a second thought

Meian shrugged "she just told me she moved here alone a few months ago. A bad relationship or something"

"Damn well maybe I'll ask her if she's interested in seeing the town"- Atsumu

Before anyone could say anything, Sakusa walks up to Atsumu

Stared him dead in the eyes 😐 and says "stay away from her Miya"

Possessive men am I right 🥵🥵🥵

Please these nosey bitches are like ope- 👀

"Does Omi have a little crush?"- Bokuto

Please Sakusa glares at him and it makes Bokuto so nervous 😅

"Alright alright, Sumu stay away from YN. And Sakusa-" Meian says looking at him

"Don't kill Atsumu"

Please Sakisa grabs his towel, walking to shower saying "I make no promises" ✌🏻

Over the next few weeks, you got accustomed to your job as MSBY's Manager

You learned the quirks of the guys, their likes and dislikes

You realized that Bokuto needs constant praise or you'll be dealing with emo mode

And Bokuto emo mode is the WORST

Please Bokuto laid, face down on the gym floor for 2 hours after practice because he kept getting blocked

You had to drag him across the floor in order to clean said floor 🤣

You also learned a lot about the guys eating habits

You'd often have to set timers to make the guys get off the court to eat

"Ok time for lunch" you announce as Sakusa, Meian, Barnes, Thomas and Inunaki come off the court

"Sumu, Shoyo and Kotaro, I'm talking to you three! Get off now!"- you say, hands on your hips, mom voice radiating

"Make me"- Atsumu

Please, move over Iwaizumi because there's a new sheriff in town 💅🏼

You whip a volleyball straight at Atsumu as it hits him, causing him to fall forward

"Ouch YN"- Sumu

You channeling Dadchi 👇🏻

Please Atsumu practically trips running from the gym

"Geez YN's a bad ass"- Inunaki says as you walk by

You do a hair flip and walk out

Please these boys are SO WHIPPED

Sakusa especially 😏

He would love a partner who can handle themselves and Atsumu

As the weeks continue into the regular season, you start to get more busy

The Adlers and MSBY are scheduled to have a practice match this afternoon and you are so excited 🤗

You are bouncing about, hair in a cute high ponytail as you go about your duties

"YN in leggings is my new favorite view"- Thomas says as the team watches you fill up water bottles in your leggings and MSBY t-shirt

Sakusa glares at Thomas who just smirks back 😏

Please these boys would never infringe on their teammate

But that doesn't mean they can't annoy them a little 🙃

Sakusa would happily admit your outfit is one of the highlights of his day

But then again, everything you do is Sakusa's favorite 😍

Please this man is such a simp for you I CANNOT 🤚🏻

But as much as this man had been crushing on you, he hasn't worked up the nerve to ask you out

Part of him doesn't want to make it awkward if you say no

You'd definitely NEVER decline YN let's be real

But also, Sakusa is a bit self-concious of his social skills

I mean, he knows you're easy to get along with

But like what if you don't find him as charming

Even thought you have numerous conversations during practice 🤔

And you always sit next to him at meetings

And stand next to him on the sidelines 🤨

😐 can it be more obvious that you like this man!?!

He's like 92% sure you like him, still he's nervous

So let's give him a little push shall we 🙃

A push in the form of a certain stoic member from the Adlers 👀

Because you see, I think Sakusa would really be bothered by Ushijima

Like he'd see him as a true rival

So when the Adlers show up for a practice match, and Sakusa sees Ushijima watching his YN

Yes HIS 😤

All bets are off!

Mans will be glaring 😑

At this point, it's clear that Sakusa has a huge crush on you

But also, you only have eyes for Sakusa 😍

Sure Ushi is good looking but Sakusa stole your heart from the first look at the laundromat

Ushijima walks up to you and introduces himself

He's just that type of a guy ok 🤚🏻

"Hello, I'm Ushijima and you must be YN? It's very nice to meet you"- 😐 Ushijima

"Hi!!! Its so awesome to meet you finally!"- you 🤪🤸‍♀️

Sakusa does not like this one bit

Once again, you have zero interest in anyone but Sakusa

Not even Meian has caught your eye

Honestly what is wrong with you YN istg- 😐

Anyways, the teams settle and you begin your work

You notice Sakusa is watching you alot

Particularly when a certain someone is near 👀

"YN might you be able to fill this up for me please?"- Ushijima handing YN his bottle and accidently skimming his hand with yours 👀

Ohhh Omi is NOT happy about that!

Please something about that act alone just pushes Sakusa over the edge 😅

Sakusa will march up behind you and just loom

"Can't you do it yourself? You're use to not having a manager"- Sakusa 😑

🌳 🐜 🌳

👆🏻you right now YN

"I merely asked YN if she could, if she's unable to that is also fine"- Ushijima, still just as stoic as ever 😐

"Kiyoomi knock it off! Ushijima I would be happy to help"- you, glaring as Sakusa and turning your head to face Ushijima

You walk off shaking your head, wandering what would prompt Sakusa to behave like that

Sakusa full on growls at Ushijima

Yes G R O W L S

Again, possessive men 😏

When you return, you walk into a heated rally happening between the teams

Nobody is letting the ball even come close to hitting the floor

Suddenly, Ushijima spikes the ball and it deflects off Inunaki's arms

"YN! Watch out!"- Barnes, yelling as you see the ball headed right for you

You scream and try to cover as fast as you can only to be tackled to the ground by Sakusa right as the ball slams past you

"Shit YN, are you ok?"- Sakusa says, bracing himself over you as he tries not to put his weight on you

You peek out from behind your arms, eyes wide as you lightly shake your head

Sakusa grabs you and pulls you close, lightly kissing the top of your head as he holds you

🥺🥺 please I'm such a sap

"YN I'm so sorry! I thought I had a handle on it"- Inunaki says running up to you

"It's ok! I should have been watching more"- you say, still in Sakusa embrace

Please that mans never letting you go again

"YN my apologies for hitting the ball so hard"- Ushijima says walking up to you

Sakusa pulls you up and in close to his chest and glares at Ushijima

"It's ok Ushi, I know you didn't mean to"- You, now holding onto Sakusa

"Come on Yn let's get your checked out"- Sakusa says, pulling you away from the group as he guides you to the office

Sakusa picks you up, sitting you on the exam table as you speak

"Omi really I'm- hmmpf" you say before your words are literally taken away by Sakusa himself planting his lips right on yours

He moves away, his forehead going to yours as you both breath

When he backs away, he looks at you and says "now let's get your checked out"

You 👉🏻👁👄👁 ok-

Seriously what just happened??

I have no idea, you have no idea, hell idk if Sakusa even knows 🤣

"Kiyoomi, what was that?"- you finally asking the big question

"Something I should have done at the laundromat a long time ago"- Sakusa, putting his hands on your face and kissing you again

Please say less sir 😫

After that, your relationship with Sakusa just kind of happened

I mean, you would hang out during practice and after practice

Kissing and other things 👀

Like playing volleyball 🙃

I know what you all were thinking 😏

Sakusa wasn't much for PDA which was honestly fine with you

Like he would hold your hand after practice sometimes or kiss your forehead inbetween sets

When Atsumu was annoying you, Sakusa would assert his dominance and lay his claim

"Atsumu leave my girlfriend alone before I spike a ball right in your face"- Sakusa, about to channel Iwaizumi for moral support

Your nights were spent most of the time with Sakusa, either at your place or his

You told him all about your previous relationship and why you had moved

Sakusa was very understanding and supportive of you

You had established a great routine 👏🏻

Honestly it was perfect

Until it wasn't 🙃

Because we are here to shatter dreams and break hearts

It happened gradually

You could tell Sakusa was getting frustrated during practice

He would withdraw from you and the team

He wasn't able to hit as many spikes, his receives were off

He was just having a rough time

You figured it was the stress of the olympic try outs approaching

He has told you that this was his one chance to make it big and to compete with the best

He was working so hard and you knew it

Unfortunately, all your efforts at trying to help him, only set him off more

"Hey Omi, why don't you take a break?"- you suggested after another failed spike

"I can't just sit on my ass all day like you YN, I have to practice if I'm going to make the Olympic team"- Sakusa, glaring at you as he turns to walk back to the line

Ouch ☹️

Hinata notices your eyes dampen as he looks from Sakusa to you

"Hey YN-" he starts to say as you stand up

"Im going to do some office work. I forgot I have some- uh some papers to fill out"- you say, forcing a smile as you turn to run to the office

The next day, you arrive at the gym to see Sakusa serving

You walk in and wave at him just as he's tossing the ball up, causing him to hit it straight into the net

"FOR FUCKS SAKES YN CANT YOU SEE IM BUSY?"- Sakusa says yelling at you

You flinch as your eyes widen

"Im- I'm sorry Omi-" you, apologizing for something you don't need to apologize for

Sakusa ignores you as he goes back to the end line, tossing up another ball

Atsumu and Bokuto watch your lip quiver as you run go the office, shutting the door behind you

They look at Sakusa who looks back at them

"What are you two looking at?"- Sakusa

"You're such a jerk Omi"- Bokuto, walking away as Atsumu shakes his head

Sakusa rolls his eyes and goes back to serving

Honestly how hard is it for you to just leave him alone 🙄

Oh idk Omi try communicating 🗣

Men istg-

A week goes by and you've seen the bare minimum of Sakusa

You've asked him over for dinner, out for dinner, over to watch TV, offered to help him practice

He's done nothing but said "not today YN" all week

It's made you feel unwanted and unloved

All you want is a little time with your man

Is that too much to ask?

Spoiler alert: it's not

Thankfully today is Friday and you are determined to have time with Kiyoomi

He promised you a few weeks ago you'd go to see a movie you've been dying to see

You bounce into work, excited and ready for the day

The Adlers are coming for a practice match

You fill water bottles, ready towels and prepare as the Adlers arrive

You run up to greet them and help everyone settle

"You are in a cheery mood today YN?"- Kageyama says

"I am!! It's Friday and I'm so excited for the weekend!"- You, bouncing with joy

Please how could anyone be mean to our precious YN!

Sakusa has yet to say anything to you as you bop around the gym, getting ready

You can't help but feel a little unwanted but you hope after the match, Sakusa's mood with change

Honestly it's a pipe dream YN 😔

The matches start and Sakusa just isn't on his game

He's hitting out of bounds, his serves are crap and his receives just aren't it

You sigh as the second set ends, while MSBY won, you notice how angry Sakusa is

You decide to see if there is anything you can do to help

Because that's who you are YN

Our sweet angel bby who is always here to help

"Hey Omi, you did great out there"- You, trying to encourage our little germaphobe

Sakusa doesn't say anything, he just glares at you

You decide to proceed

"Hey, don't look so down. We can go have dinner tonight and to the movies. It will be so fun-" you, right before your world shatters

"Will you just SHUT UP YN!"- Sakusa, screaming at you

You flinch, backing up as your eyes widen

The gym suddenly quiets

The Adlers and MSBY watching you

"Omi, I'm-"

"Yeah yeah YN I know! You're sorry! Well how about instead of being an annoying fucking baby like you constantly are why don't you try actually helping me and leave me the fuck alone!"- Sakusa, now getting in your space as you keep backing up

"Kiyoomi, please-" you say, tears filling your eyes

"You know Yn, I get it now. I understand why your ex fucking up and left you. You are so annoying and clingy that it's almost impossible to deal with! You literally can't do anything on your own without needing some kind of attention! God it's exhausting being around you!"- Sakusa, now heaving and yelling as your body goes numb

Your eyes brimming with tears, some now falling as your heart shatters in front of not only MSBY but the Adlers as well

"SAKUSA ENOUGH!"- Meian yells as Sakusa looks down as you, his anger brimming as your heartbroken state hits him

With your tears falling, your look to see the players staring at your and Sakusa

Your face heats with embarrassment as you feel your body break down

You run past Sakusa and the guys as you start crying, the sounds of your sadness filling the gym

"Fuck"- Atsumu says running after you as Bokuto and Hinata follow

"What in the hell was that!"- Hirugami says as Meian glares at Sakusa, crossing his arms over his broad chest

"Sakusa your a fucking asshole"- Inunaki says walking past Sakusa out the door to find you

Ushijima stares at Sakusa before he shakes his head

"You don't deserve YN Sakusa"- Ushijima says, the words hitting Sakusa right in the chest

Sakusa's emotions are all over as he walks past the teams, heading to grab his things

Meanwhile, you run from the gym to the parking lot to find your car

You sit down, your eyes flowing with tears as you start to shake and cry frantically

How could Kiyoomi say such horrible things to you?

How could he stoop so low as to point out your biggest insecurities?

He knew exactly how much your relationship with your ex affected you and there he was, throwing it in your face

You put your head on the steering wheel, crying uncontrollably as you turn the car on

Just as you look up, you see Atsumu, Bokuto and Hinata running towards you with Ushijima and Inunaki behind

"YN come on you can't drive"- Atsumu, trying to open your car door

"Just leave me alone Atsumu"- you, crying harder as Hinata and Bokuto watch

"YN please let one of us take you home at the very least"- Inunaki says, managing to open your side door

"Please just leave me alone. I'm so embarrassed. Those things he said-" your tears are now flowing uncontrollably, your body shaking

"YN please don't be embarrashed. None of this was your fault"- Bokuto, his hair deflated

Our sweet little empath 🥺

"He knew about my biggest insecurities and he just threw them right in my face! Right in front of everyone"- you say, crying harder as you gasp for air

"YN come on- its not safe for you to drive right now"- Inunaki says as he reaches for you

You look up at him, tears streaming down your face

"Please, please just leave me alone"- you say whispering

Their hearts break for you as they watch helplessly as you cry in your car

"Maybe we should just back off?"- Hinata

"Yeah I don't think she's going anywhere"- Ushijima says, standing back

"If you need us YN, we'll be inside ok? But please don't drive right now"- Atsumu

You nod a little, the numbness of everything hitting you hard as the men give you one final glance before returning inside

Meanwhile, Sakusa is in the locker room gathering his gear and shoving it in his bag

He grabbed a quick shower and is ready to leave

One thing about Sakusa is that he definitely knows he overreacted

He also knows what he said to you was not ok

But he's not going to apologize until he's fully ready

Because he knows he needs to mean it and think it over

Dick move? Absolutely but at the same time, a half assed apology doesn't mean shit

And he's still mad

He can hear the guys talking in the gym as he throws his bag over his shoulder

"Is she ok?"- Meian says

"She's sitting in her car, she won't let us take her home but we also don't want her to drive"- Atsumu

"Poor girl, what the hell got into Sakusa?"- Romero

"Who the hell knows but man was he ever a fucking dick!"- Hoshiumi says

Sakusa's heard enough as he walks out into the gym and past his team mates who pay him no mind

He walks into the parking lot, straight to his car

The problem is his car is parked right next to yours...

However when he approaches he only sees your car and not you

Deciding he can't be bothered right now, he leaves, heading home

Meanwhile, Atsumu receives a text from you saying you took the train home

You knew it wasn't safe to drive but you couldn't stay there any longer

You knew if you saw Omi come out, you'd cry even more

Once at home, you lock your doors, shut your blinds and crawl into bed

You spend most of the sleepless night crying and replaying the awful words Sakusa said to you in your mind

The next morning, you get up and make coffee, mopping around your apartment

Your phone has been going non-stop with incoming texts from the team making sure your ok

You opt to write a short message and shut your phone off

After a long weekend of crying and thinking, you decide the best thing you can do is hold you head high and walk into the gym with dignity

Because we will NOT let a man define our worth!

You get dressed, do your best to look presentable and head to work

You pull into the parking lot, parking as far away from Sakusa's car as you can

You notice him sitting inside, watching as you get out and make your way to the gym

Little do you know that Sakusa has spent all weekend thinking about the huge mistake he made

He barely slept, choosing to spend most of his time at the gym or running to try to distract himself

He realizes what he's done and how big of an ass he was

But still, apologizing doesn't come easy to Kiyoomi

Once in the gym, you go about your daily tasks

You try to act like nothings wrong but you admit it's hard seeing Sakusa

You try and ignore his presence

He only looks at you, but has yet to approach

And he probably won't 😔

"Hey YN, can you help toss up for spiking please?"- Meian

"Sure"- you say smiling as you take your position to toss

The guys line up beside you as you toss

When Sakusa comes up to spike, he watches you intently

You however, ignore him 💅🏼

As 👏🏻 you 👏🏻 should 👏🏻

Because you see, the anger is now starting to set in

How fucking rude and unwarranted Sakusa's comments towards you were

You toss the ball up as Atsumu sets and Omi spikes

"Nice kill"- you say as you prepare for the next spiker

Sakusa looks at you as you go about your duties

That night, you pick up your bag and head out of the gym

You say goodnight to the team as you make your way to your car

You can see Sakusa watching you from his car but you say nothing and quickly get in, driving off

Honestly ignoring Sakusa is probably going to irritate him the most

Again, AS 👏🏻 IT 👏🏻 SHOULD 👏🏻

The week goes by and you have zero interaction with Sakusa

You still miss him and care very much for him

But that doesn't mean his words didn't hurt

Sakusa on the other hand, is going insane 🙃

He was actually waiting to see if you gave him anything to work with

And YN gave nothing 👏🏻

You gave him no chance to speak with him alone, you barely even glanced at him all week

Honestly, he doesn't blame you

He's starting to realize how badly he fucked up and the man is suffering now

Good! Let him suffer!

The following Monday, Sakusa decides he's had enough

He misses you and the man is willing to admit he's done FUCKED UP 👏🏻

Unfortunately for him, it's too late

He steps out of his car only to see you hugging Ushijima at the entrance to the front of the gym

Oh the rage he is feeling right now 🤬

He's about ready to blow

But then you laugh at something Ushijima says

And your smile just digs the knife penetrating his cold heart deeper

You're vibrant smile and beautiful eyes that Sakusa has grown to love so much

Only you're now giving it to another man

Please we are about to see some jealous Sakusa

Sakusa is going to get out of his car, rage walk up to Ushijima and shove him away from you

"Get away from my girl"- Sakusa says, pushing Ushijima

Ushijima barely budges

Mans is a brick wall 🧱

"Kiyoomi what the hell?"- you getting in between Ushijima and Sakusa

"Back the fuck off of YN- she's mine!"- Sakusa growls as he pushes into you getting into Ushijima's face

"Kiyoomi stop it!"- you now shouting

Atsumu, Kageyama and Bokuto come rushing cover and pull Sakusa back

Please Ushijima is just like 🧍‍♂️😐 the whole time

I can NOT 😫

"Sakusa what the hell man?"- Bokuto

"Omi dude chill out"- Atsumu

"I was merely talking to YN Sakusa"- Ushijima

"Talking my ass! I saw you hugging her!"- Sakusa

"It wasn't anything more than a hug Kiyoomi! And I'll have you know as far as I'm concerned, we are no longer together so what I do and with whom I do it is my business and my business only!"- our queen asserting her dominance

"The hell we aren't! We never broke up YN! Just because I'm an idiot and said some stupid shit-" Sakusa

But oh no no no, YN is not letting this happen

"NO! You don't get to come over here and barge in on my personal life when you made it VERY FUCKING CLEAR Kiyoomi that I'm a burden on your life! I will absolutely not stand here and take that shit from you or any man! I trusted you and YOU KNEW! You knew what I went through. And you threw it right in my fucking face in front of everyone!"- You now screaming

GIVE IT TO HIM BBY! RIP HIS HEAD OFF!!

Bokuto, Atsumu and Kageyama are scared 😅

Ushijima is just like 🧍‍♂️ 😳

And Sakusa, well Sakusa is breaking apart

Because everything you said, every single word is true

And he knows it

You're eyes start to fill with tears as you stomp your way into the gym, slamming the doors behind you

Seriously nobody better get in the way of YN

Our bby is on the war path

Sakusa doesn't say anything, he just stands there stunned and broken

The full effect of his words are now hitting him

The fact that there is no fixing this and that you are done

How could he have taken you for granted?

How could he have treated you this way?

Sakusa says nothing as he makes his way into the gym and prepares for practice

The next few days, Sakusa is on auto mode

Spike, sleep, eat, repeat

Literally he doesn't deviate, he says nothing to anyone and has completely withdrawn from the team

You have also pulled away from the team

It's become increasingly uncomfortable for everyone

Finally, Meian decides he needs to intervene

After practice, Sakusa is sitting in the locker room, packing up his bag

"Team meeting"- Meian says as Barnes, Thomas, Inunaki, Atsumu, Bokuto and Hinata surround him

"About what?"- Sakusa, oblivious

"It's time you swallow you pride and get your girl back"- Barnes

"Yeah, honestly I'm sick of sappy Sakusa"- Atsumu

Sakusa glares at Atsumu but says nothing

"Come on dude. You and YN are fucking miserable without each other"- Inunaki

"You heard her! She's done with me. And honestly I don't fucking blame her. I'm the biggest asshole ever"- Sakusa, deflated more than Bokuto during a bad emo mode

"Well then you need to do whatever you can to win her back! Beg on your knees if you have too"- Thomas says

Sakusa is so deflated

Pls Bokuto's emo modes have nothing on this man's current state 🤚🏻

"But what if she doesn't want me back? I mean I really fucked up guys. Like REALLY"- Sakusa

"Then you learn from it. Listen, you love YN right?"- Barnes

"Yeah- yeah I do"- Sakusa, finally admitting he's deeply in love with you

"And YN is in love with you, trust me. You've got alot of work to do but you need to prove to YN that you are willing to change"- Barnes

Sakusa nods and stands up

He knows he has to make this right in any way he can

Now I don't think simply apologizing in this situation is enough

Sakusa was a complete ass and said some really hurtful things

I also think he knows this and he's willing to do what he can to change

Even if it means attending therapy to help him deal better with his emotions

Honestly we love when people take accountability for their actions 👏🏻

If you make a mistake, you fix it! And that's what Sakusa wants to do

He makes an appointment with a therapist for the following week and goes to work on his plan to win you back

Meanwhile, your heart is slowly healing

You love Sakusa and that's just not going to go away anytime soon

He's been helping you process and deal with your fight with Sakusa

You've found a great friend and companion in Ushijima

Your relationship is strictly platonic and honestly, Ushijima is fine with that 👌🏻

Ushijima is one of those logical guys

He can see things from both sides and provide a very honest and unbiased opinion

At your apartment, you cook as Ushijima sits and talks with you

It's become a weekly thing that you and Ushijima hang out, making dinner and chatting

Tonight, you are making homemade Ramen

Ushijima is sitting at the table as you bring the bowls over

Unfortunately for you, you trip, sending the bowls tumbling on you and Ushijima

"Oh shit! Omg Im so sorry Wakatoshi! Are you burnt?"- You, tearing up because you messed up

"YN I'm fine, are you ok?- Ushijima

"🥺 I keep messing up Waka, no wonder Omi said the things he did"- you, now crying as you sit down at the table

"YN, Sakusa was a complete jerk. And while I know he is stressed, it doesn't ever give him the right to say those things. You did not mess up YN. It was an accident"- Ushijima

You sniffle and nod your head

"I have to clean this up. I think Omi left a shirt here that you can borrow for now. I'm going to go and change"- you, getting up and going to your room

Ushijima remives his shirt, revealing his muscles and broad chest

You pay no mind because Ushijima isn't Sakusa

It's fine YN, move aside and I shall oogle on your behalf 😍🥵

When you are changing, the doorbell rings

Ushijima answers it as you emerge from your room, wearing a crop top and shorts

On the other side is Sakusa 👀

Now remember, Ushijima has no shirt on, as in ZERO top clothing

Nothing, nada, it's completely GONE

And you are wearing the bare minimum

Sakusa's eyes widen in shock as Ushijima stands at the door and you appear next to him

"Kiyoomi? What are you doing here?"- You say, shocked

"I uh- I uh- I came to talk with you"- Sakusa 👁👄👁

Please it hasn't hit you yet the situation you are currently in

"Is everything ok?"- you, still oblivious

Sakusa is just staring, mouth agape 😲

Ushijima is just like 🧍‍♂️ 😐

"YN I uh- I wanted to apologize but I see you've already moved on"- Sakusa, his eyes now filling with tears

"What are you-"

DING DING DING it finally hits you 😃

"Omg Kiyoomi no-"

"YN PLEASE LISTEN TO ME! IM SO FUCKING SORRY"- Sakusa is now inside the apartment, begging on his knees, holding your legs

"Kiyoomi what-"

"YN PLEASE GOD IM SO SO SORRY! I FUCKED UP SO BAD. I SAID THE MOST AWFUL THINGS TO YOU AND I KNOW I DONT DESERVE YOU BUT I LOVE YOU YN. PLEASE IM GOING TO CHANGE. I STARTED THERAPY AND IM REALLY TRYING YN PLEASE PLEASE GIVE ME ANOTHER CHANCE"- Sakusa, full on crying into your legs now

Ushijima 👉🏻 🧍‍♂️ 😳

You bend down, tears pooling in your eyes as you kneel in front of Sakusa who now has tears all over

"Kiyoomi you love me?"- You, tearing up

Please I'm such a sap 🥲

"I do YN. I love you so much. And everyday I think about how much I hurt you. I want to make myself a better man for you. So I called a therapist and I've been seeing someone to help me control my emotions. You didn't deserve any of that yn and I know that. Please- just please know how much I love you and how much on a idiot I am!"- Sakusa, looking into your eyes

"Kiyoomi you are the biggest fucking jerk I know and I love you, you big fucking idiot"- you, grabbing Sakusa's cheeks and kissing him as he holds you close

Ushijima 👉🏻 🧍‍♂️ 🥲

Sakusa pulls away and puts his forehead on yours

Then it hits him and he stands up, pulling you towards him in an embrace

"What the hell are you doing with YN?"- Sakusa says, pointing at Ushijima

"I was having Ramen with YN when she spilled it on herself and me"- Ushijima 😐

"I was getting a new shirt for Toshi when you knocked Omi! It's nothing. Toshi and I are only friends"- You

Sakusa 👉🏻😐😑

Ushijima 👉🏻 🧍‍♂️ 😐

"I think it might be best if I leave YN. It seems you and Sakusa have worked out your issues"- Ushijima

"You definitely should leave"- Sakusa 😑 our jealous bby

"Omi knock it off! Toshi let me grab you a shirt at least"- You

"It's fine YN, I have an extra shirt in my car. Thank you for Ramen"- Ushijima, turning to leave

Please he just walked out without his shirt on 😫😫😫 I love him so much

"Well that was awkward"- you 😅

Sakusa closes the door and locks it as he turns to you and grabs your hips

"Whats more awkward is that you and I are both standing here, fully dressed"- Sakusa 😏

Say less sir 🤚🏻 we have a whole lot of making up to do 🙃

[wizkiddx]

was thinking for toms most recent ig story it sounds like hes working out early everyday, what if u did a blurb where the reader does it with his and its like best friend --> something else ? sounded like a you type of story, id love if you gave it a go ❤️💕

oohkay so sorry this lit just came through this evening and I suddenly got v stupidly into it (if u put in a req before that I promise I am working on it I just got way to invested cos this is stupidly cute) xxxx

summary: what starts off as tom taking you under his wing and some sunrise workouts together might just develop into something more

“It shouldn’t be legal…. to be doing anything… this fucking early!” Spoken, well yelled, in between the fake strokes of the exercise bike and your pants. All you got in response was the two men laughing at you, no sign of sympathy at all, as your gritted your teeth - fighting against every body instinct to stop the movements. Your heart was pumping like the clappers; breathing shallow and rushed and your arms… your arms felt like they were about to fall off. Combine that with the lack of sleep from waking up before the sun did at 5 am - meant you felt like your were in literal hell.  

Why ever you’d agreed to do these workouts with Tom and Duffy escaped you. Being the new and rising actress, with a new supporting role in the next Spiderman, meant you’d spent a lot of time with Tom over the past few weeks. Not to inflate his ego either, but Tom had been a real life hero to you. See, you were the complete opposite of his experienced and seasoned professionalism - this was your first acting gig. And what a gig it was, the second biggest part in a Marvel movie. You never really believed you’d get the part and even when you did, were pretty sure it was some elaborate joke, where Ant and Dec were going to jump out from some corner and go ‘ha its a prank!’ or something. 

Yet somehow it was all still happening, you had been flown halfway across the world to spend three months alone on a film set. Well obviously not alone, but you knew no one - you were a complete outsider. That, really, was the reason you’d agreed to do these sessions with Tom. He’d offered half heartedly while between takes as you were moaning about how out of breath you got in that scene. At that point, you’d only known each other for a matter of weeks, he really hadn’t expected you to commit to 5 am each and every morning. What he wasn’t aware of though, was how ocmplerly stranded and lonely you felt here, hence why you jumped at his offer. 

And yes you loved to moan and complain when you were there, however you were also so incredibly thankful he ever offered. Duffy, Tom’s PT, was a right laugh too and he took great joy in torturing you - and was also entertained by the new and inventive ways you’d insult him after he ordered you about. 

“Come on Y/n, 200m more and then we are done, even your little arms can survive that.”

“Really … not the encouragement… I was looking for.” Still panting, face bright red and blotchy as you pressed your legs straight again.

“Tom? You wanna help Y/n out?” 

“Nah you know… kind of enjoying seeing her in pain.” The British voice laughed from somewhere behind you, making you roll your eyes.

“Why the hell… are you not… torturing him?” He sounded way to comfortable and relaxed to be working hard. 

“He’s got a stunt heavy day today so wanted to go easy this morning.”

Now that was a bloody joke. You were BOTH filming the SAME scene today, doing the SAME stunts. 

“Did I forget to mention Y/n is on set too?” The joy in Tom’s voice made you want to do horrible things to him. Even though you felt like you wanted to collapse on the floor, you’d happily do a set or two on a punch bag right now - if that punch bag was Tom’s face. 

Before you could hurl some fresh abuse at your costar, Duffy called time on the rowing machine, turning the display off and passing your water bottle over as you slouched on the slidey seat. 

“Done good Y/n/n, I am actually super impressed with your progress” The stocky man patted you on the back genuinely, bringing a bit of smile to your otherwise grimacing face. He went over the chat to Tom about some boy shit that you couldn’t care less about, allowing you a couple minutes to get your breath back. As soon as you did and tried to dismount the machine of death, your ruined legs seemed to have other plans, shakily buckling so you ended up starfished on the floor, groaning at the dull ache that came with the sudden movement. 

And what show of concern did Duffy show you? A belly laugh that echoed round Toms indoor gym making you groan again, throwing your forearm over your eyes. It was in fact the curly haired brunette, who came and knelt by your side, wordlessly balling up the towel and placing it under your head as you shot your eyes open in shock. 

“You okay? Sorry… I might’ve taken our friendly competition a bit too far.”

“I just… just might have to gain the power of flight this afternoon cos my legs aren’t gonna bloody work.” Tom chuckled and shook his head at your dry humour. 

“Oh I’m sure we can talk to Jon and get that arranged… not like Marvel don’t spend years crafting the script and storyline for a newbie actor to change it all.”

“Might I remind you… they wouldn’t have to if your weren’t such a dickhead!” You exclaimed, sitting up and staring at him with an exasperated look than only made him burst out laughing again. 

“I’m sorry I’m sorry… I just cant take you seriously when you look like such a tomato!” His voice went an octave higher as he laughed at himself, the situation getting even worse for you when you heard Duffy join in too. 

The boy was bloody lucky you couldn’t lift your arms right now, otherwise they’s almost certainly be attempting to ruin his pretty boy face. 

/////////////////////////////

After a long day of shooting you and Tom were in one of the set buggies, being taken back to your trailers to change for the evening. There was a peaceful silence until Tom ruined it yet again.

“ Got any fancy plans for this evening then?”

“Well you know me, back to my lonely little old place and  frozen pizza - so living the movie star life.” 

“It’s a Friday! You not going out with your team or anything?” He sounded so bemused at your quiet plans, and mention of a ‘team’ had you cocking your head to the side. 

“‘My team?’ Tom until I get my movie star pay check I can barely afford my pizzas, never mind a whole persons wage.” You were still only three weeks into filming and although you spent an hour every other morning sweating your ass off with Tom - apart from that you’d tried not to impose yourself on him too much. You didnt want to look clingy and naturally Tom always had a mountain of people vying for his attention - you would go to the back of a long line. So honestly, you were still a bit of a mystery to him, right now you’d both only scratched the surface on each other. 

“Really? I know this is your first big job but I thought you’d have someone here?” 

“Nah… I mean I’ve kinda clung to the Marty on the camera crew but he’s going to see family tonight sooo.”

“Come back to mine. I’ve swapped Harry for his twin Sam, which is a bit of an upgrade cos Sam’s a chef. He just arrived last night. I bet he can one up any pizza you were planning on.”

“Honestly I don’t want to impose, sorry I didnt mean for this to be a pity party or-“ The buggy slowed to a stop and Tom instantly vaulted out of it, standing right infront of you and blocking you exist off the back sofa. Both of you were still in costume, Tom in latex and you in your corset-esque two piece, but then both wrapped in matching long line black jackets supplied by set. 

“No come on I’m serious… Sam’s dying to meet you and it’d be good to spend more time together. You know, cos of chemistry and all.” The last bit was a switch from his cool and smooth, normally easy going tone - into something a bit more… anxious? Just like that, before your brain even knew what it was doing, you agreed, smiling broadly and nodding. 

So barely an hour later, you were knocking on the doors to Tom’s mansion-ish rented Atlanta home which was much much more grand than what the studio had arranged for you. Even though you were here most mornings, this time it felt different. Yeh it was stupid, but you can’t help the way you feel and you were stressed. For no real reason… just, just because. 

Thankfully, it wasn’t awkward at all  and you especially instantly hit it off with his younger brother Sam. Everything just felt easy and simple which meant so much more considering you’d felt so isolated an alone halfway across the world for your home comforts. Being British too, simply chatting to the two young men about your hometown and growing up was just so familiar, it really helped you feel less homesick.  Naturally too,  you’d fallen into a casual and friendly ribbing of Tom with Sam, making the three of you spend to majority of the evening cracking up (or in Tom’s case pouting at the abuse). It was a nice change from the two on one attack you got from Tom and Duffy that morning. You’d all cooked dinner together… well no, you and Tom had stood idly watching Sam cook an amazing chicken curry dish - which he promised to give you the recipe too. Honestly Sam felt like your long lost best friend, especially when it came to your shared ability to berate Tom for anything and everything. 

About an hour ago Tom had stuck on the film, effectively shutting up you and Sam - thankfully for him since Sam was just about to get to some rather embarrassing stories of Tom as a kid. You and Tom were on the longer grey sofa; with Sam sat  the other side of the coffee table in an impressively soft armchair - looking as though it was swallowing the lanky boy. The calm, the silence and the comfort was only going to go one way for you though. After your workout this morning, plus all the running and jumping during the shoot,  after what had already been a pretty intense week, it was hardly surprising that you didn’t even notice yourself drifting off the sleep. 

Who did notice though? Perhaps your brown haired costar who’d been stealing glances across to you ever since the movie had been put on? Because as much as he hated to admit it to himself, this didnt seem to be panning out as a normal job. A normal job is something you put your all into, for a couple weeks, and then leave with good memories and a good pay check. Yes, he had only known your for a matter of weeks or so but it already seemed to be unfathomable to cut ties with you. How would he go without your kind mannered abuse everyday? You were just refreshing, new and mysterious. And Tom was more than intrigued, his interest was peaked. 

And it was stupid to feel like that…. Of course it was. You can’t fancy a colleague because things get complicated and awkward. Tom knew that. 

Then why was he now delicately draping a blanket over your frame and smiling smally when you hummed in your sleep, in what seemed to be a show of appreciation for the layer of warmth? 

Because you were his excited puppy of a costar who is giving everything she has for the job? Because he is worried and wants to look after you? Because he cares? 

No matter why, in that moment you were contented and as was Tom. Oh and Sam? 

Sam saw the tell tale signs in his brother. He saw the way Tom had been touching your arm or the small of your back just a little more than what would be considered normal while he’d been cooking. He’d seen the way Tom had been laughing purely because you had. His eldest brother never did anything rash, it was always a painfully slow process for everyone involved. But Sam thought this just might be the start of something. The start of a slow burn.

[postapocalyptic-cryptic-hold]

Writing Tips: Armor Edition

Good lord, it’s been a while since I’ve done one of these. Regardless, what follows is a non-comprehensive, entirely subjective list of advice on how to write characters with armor. This is based on my own experience with hockey equipment and is largely geared towards Star Wars Mandalorian-style armor (including clones and storm troopers), but could hypothetically be helpful to anyone.

If it's your armor, it's going to be so comfortable you won't even know it's there.

Actually, on that note, you'd notice right away if something was different. You'd also be thrown off by the absence of the armor, either in part or in its entirety.

When you wear armor a lot, you don't need to think about putting it on. It's instinctual.

It takes five minutes to put a set of armor on and fifteen minutes to bitch about it, catch up on locker room gossip, and realize that the insides of your boots aren't as dry as you thought they were.

Again with the putting on armor being instinctual thing... If you're distracted, worried, etc., it's not at all uncommon to forget a piece of your armor. You put it on in the same way every time, so sometimes your brain just... skips, and you end up with shinguards and no skates.

There are several ways to put on any given set of armor. It's a pretty flexible process, but there are some things that have to be done in a certain order.

That being said, everyone has their own "right" way of putting on armor. It usually doesn't vary much within a team or squad, but get a bunch of strangers together and you can bet your ass someone will start a fistfight over the order you put your tops on in.

Armor usually has some sort of padding system inside, especially if it's stiff. This is the part that gets sweaty and gross. It does not dry quickly, but it does get cold and slimy quickly.

With the sweat thing, weearing armor for an extended amount of time gets gross. If you're working out, you're going to get hot really easily (example: 20F ice rink + 2 hour practice = 20 people complaining about how hot it is). There are always parts of your kit that get really itchy and sometimes, the best way to scratch is actually to hit. If your character is wearing a helmet, have them punch themselves in the head repeatedly to scratch an itch.

Even grosser, the sweat that accumulates has nowhere to go. Under a helmet, this means that it occassionally escapes captivity and runs down your face in CLEARLY VISIBLE streams that sting your eyes and taste gross. Under parts of the kit like shin gaurds, you will often find an accumulation of white slime on the skin, clothes, and armor. This is salt from your sweat. It's gross. It looks like ectoplasm.

If you've been working out and you take your armor off, you'll be visibly steaming.

Hair under helmets. GOD, this is always how you can pick out a writer who's never worn a helmet. Lots of people who wear helmets often will cut their hair short, but there's a set of rules to it. If your hair is long enough to tie up, it stays up. All the time. Best styles are low ponytails or braids, as anything too high will probably be uncomfortable under a helmet. The real thing to pay attention to, though, is short hair. If you've got a character with short hair, make sure it's short enough to stay FAR away from their face. Hair in your face is the #1 cause of insanity in helmet-wearers. Shit that's hanging around your ears or, God for-fucking-bid, your chin, is a major no-go.

Thick hair is also a fun thing with helmets. If you've got thick and/or curly hair, you'll need more helmet space for it. If you've got hair that's notoriously a problem, the helmet is going to turn it into snarls. When I had long hair, I would put it in two braids every time I put my helmet on. Every time I took it off, I had to cut the hair ties out.

Hair will also make you hot and itchy under your helmet. Some people will wear skull caps or some other form of tight hat under their helmets to prevent this. Then again, I had a teammate who regularly wore waist-length, THICK box braids under her helmet and never had a complaint. Some people are just built different.

Helmet hair is not cute and fluffy. It's a flat, greasy mess. That being said, the concept of helmet hair is hot, so please continue writing this as you wish.

Armor can be a pain in the ass, but ultimately, when you wear it all the time, you form a deep emotional connection to your kit. Obviously, this varies from person to person, but it almost always plays a key role in your identity and often revolves around themes such as safety, body image, pride, privacy, protection, or sense of unity/team/family. (Side note: depending on the character, armor can also be an expression on individuality, rank, affilitation, or superiority)

Armor smells really bad. That's all I'll say on that topic.

Actually, no it's not. Some people's armor smells REALLY bad. Like, extremely bad. It's a problem. Other people take really good care of their armor or magically don't sweat, so theirs smells better.

If your character is on the move a lot, they probably have some sort of bag for their kit. This bag will be full of the most random shit you can possibly imagine. Socks enter and never return. Some people carry around extra shirts. Isn't that my water bottle? Is that an orange or a rock?

Upgrading armor is a big deal. People agonize over what to get, where to get it, whether or not they can make it, how much it's going to cost, and whether or not to spend three months of pay on it for MONTHS.

Really old, ill-fitting, broken, or otherwise subpar pieces probably have a story to them. They might be good-luck pieces or a long-running joke. Sometimes, you just forget to buy a new jockstrap for four years (not that I would know from personal experience).

If your characters wear helmets a lot, they probably head-butt each other a lot. It's the easiest way to show affection through gear. Other ways include fist bumps, picking each other up by the back of the chest plate, and grabbing the front of someone's helmet (if there's a way to do that, of course). Fist bumps are less personal and helmet-grabs usually denote a superior-inferior relationship [think of it like "I could beat your ass" (affectionate)].

Some people like to keep their kit flawless. They don't like marks or dents. Other people (most people, actually) prefer the look of "broken in" gear. It's a mark of experience and also, it's actually kind of nervewracking to work with a new kit. No one wants to be the first one to scratch the $400 skates.

There will always be a piece of armor that pinches you. It's probably on your elbow.

There will always be a piece of your armor that comes unfastened. It's probably on your elbow.

Loose armor is much harder to move in and much less protective than tight armor. It might seem counterintuitive at first, but you want the most form-fitting kit possible.

That's pretty much all I've got to say about armor. As always, if you've got something to add, don't be afraid to leave it in a reblog or comment. I hope you all enjoyed me once again turning my skating into writing advice!

[sugar-petals]

BTS Tarot Reading ➝ What Kind Of Porn Do They Watch? (18+)

↳ NOTE - due to several requests, a steamy and detailed one. ☕️ we’re asking the cards about the erotica they fancy in a wider sense. 

warning ⚠️ 18+ // bdsm mentions, worship, kinks left and right. we’re going graphic in all types o’ ways, lads.

♡ DISCLAIMER // tarot is speculative, there is no guarantee for accuracy. believing in the cards is a choice. all portrayals are fictive and for entertainment purposes only.

SPREAD #1:

yoongi

⌈ THE WORLD ⇁ Jesus... Someone’s obsessed with girls in the nude. That card has a stark naked woman wrapped in very little satin on it so you know what our funky little guy is up to. Luscious aesthetic fotos might be just around his corner. Big duh, he’s a photography major. These folks are all about body appreciation. He’s also on a personal vendetta against lingerie 😂 Yoongi won’t get hard looking at even the most HD panty and bra ads. Only the skin in its full splendor will do, no editing. He loves pictures of nipples peaking through shirt fabric, it’s all over his phone. Yoongi likes his gals without underwear 24/7 just like he dislikes underwear himself. If we’re talking porn, the woman on the card is holding two very long rods so may I connect the dots: Threesomes, handjobs, blowbangs, spitroasting. Friction, friction, and more friction. To Yoongi’s brain, handjobs are a great um new version of holding hands. Sex standing up also, keeping it vertical. Yoongi doesn’t care about girth, inches count. Nice and elongated with a perfect plunge, something to hold onto. Yep, he’s pretty deliberate when searching that up. Yes, he loves the look of it. However, and you’ll be surprised: Even if he likes poly porn, it’s still nothing too extreme. This card is more about pleasure than pain. If a guy likes rough and degrading sex, you get swords and wands in his spread. THE WORLD is more about perfected skills and success. So, he likes the more accomplished porn stars. With a preference for curly blondes and redheads, that’s sort of the hair color on the card. Natural B or C cup. Medium height, not too curvy. Oversized booty not needed. In terms of nationality: We have three representative animals on the card. Eagle, lion and bull, plus a light blonde man’s head. So, anything that America/Germany/Albania/Mexico/Namibia (and so on, lot of countries with eagles as their national bird my dude), England, Spain and Scandinavia have to offer. Honey sugar is going international, baby.

hoseok

⌈ QUEEN OF WANDS ⇁ Did I just mention that guys who like rough sex in porn get wand cards in their readings in Yoongi’s segment? Well, there we have our candidate, with a very obvious card since it’s a court figure. Now, the thing is, this is not the guy being rough. The QUEEN OF WANDS is as notoriously femdom as can be. The very fiery and raw and fun version. So, with a degree of lightheartedness, but still being very fit — even buff — and hands-on with the sub. If you get the QUEEN OF SWORDS, that’s the more cool and calculated domme who signs you up for torture and humiliation, and she really looks like a domme. She’s all over the internet because she has the grit. Now wands combined with a tarot queen... it’s more about the stamina and she is approachable. Hobi does not like watching cruel girls, he likes challenging ones. Upbeat porn stars who can take a lot but most importantly dole it out assertively like pros are Hobi’s schtick. He’s unapologetic about that. With him it’s like, please not the local newcomers that turned legal a month ago. The queen cards are all about mature women. Mommy kink, hint hint. The kind of mommy who’s gonna whip out the spreader bar or cane (= wands again) and give a playful type of punishment. See how desert-like that imagery is, Hobi wants to sweat big time when he gets off to this. Now since wands also make for a damn good pole to dance on, go figure. This whole card has me wondering if, well alright, he is a Cardi B hard stan 😅 If Hobi blasts Money to get in the mood, I’d not be surprised. Anyway. Back to pole stuff: If you go through his youtube search history, you will find astounding things. I think he watches the more professional and athletic performers in competition though. High production value is key. Finally, an interesting card detail: There’s a sunflower on it. This is definitely his kind of tarot imagery.

jimin

⌈ KING OF COINS  ⇁ This card always looks like a scene from a medieval movie so you might have an erotic film enthusiast here. The more chaste type of genre, pentacles are very grounded and not hypersexualized. The intimacy is slow and more about security and pleasure. It’s graphic and detailed, but gives you a sense of relaxation. With a bit of romance in the plot, that might absolutely be Jimin’s thing. Castles and wine and nobility. Interesting type of erotica. Historical and classy. As expected of a prince, mind you. He might enjoy books of that genre also. And we know Jimin is an avid reader, right up there with Namjoon. Now, even with more risque and contemporary stuff that he googles up, we have similar dynamics going down on screen. With Hobi we had femdom because it’s a queen card, now with Jimin we get the classic male dom type of porn because that’s how the King usually rolls, unless it’s the KING OF CUPS who’s touchy-feely and subby. Meanwhile, the KING OF COINS is your local sugar daddy. Leaning towards being a soft dom, he’s not aggressive. And Jimin surely has a little crush on that concept. Ye know, if all the other members have female cards and Jimin gets the sugar daddy, we might be dealing with mxm action. Because if this card was a porn star, he’d be a really, really rich producer and a bear who’s done this since the frickin’ 90s. He’s treating his subs very gently and lets them sit on their lap, the imagery is sort of like that because the King is balancing a pentacle on his left thigh. Sex and comfort all in one are life for Jimin. A sexy detail I only noticed at a second glance, the King also has a shortened golden staff with him, which has a rounded tip. If that’s not a butt plug… whenever I see props like that in tarot, I interpret it as a sex toy. So, good vibes in here. And a bunch of aphrodisiacs, the KING OF COINS is a foodie. Which you know, might just be a food porn type of reference. Jimin’s taste in sexy things is quite something else.

jungkook

⌈ THE EMPRESS ⇁ If there’s one thing I like, it’s the Tarot giving me the important archetypes during readings of that kind. The Queens, the Kings, the Major arcana (see Yoongi’s and Jin’s segment). You can really draw a lot of hints out of it. Now with the EMPRESS you have a similar case to Hobi’s, just a lot more softcore. Jungkook has a refined and pretty vast taste in erotica, if not the most refined in Bangtan next to Jimin who likes that kind of dignified touch to it as well as we saw. Jungkook knows his stuff when it comes to searching things up, he is a first class netizen in that regard. In terms of genre: The EMPRESS is your highkey feminist and wholesomeness legend, so — you won’t find any super creepy things in some hidden file on his PC, and things by female producers instead. No slut-shaming or name-calling here, everyone gets their pleasure in their own right. Thanks to online sex ed, Jungkook has a map to the clit and he’s not afraid to use it. He’s the type to watch solo videos ad nauseam. He’s fascinated. Masturbation until it gets all messy with the juices flowing, and you bet he wants to see the girls buzzing themselves off lying on their back. Maybe even outdoors in a field. Cum play is a must, cunnilingus is a must, he loves unprotected sex and creampies, he loves breast massages. And yes. Anything that involves sex with pregnant and chubby women. Similar to Taehyung, it’s all about the focus on the girl, he doesn’t bother much with the guy performers. And given Yoongi’s reading on top of that, we have three members in BTS who are all about worshipping the female body right here, breasts over ass, and he likes blondes, too. The EMPRESS card is like… the entire porn industry who does the MILF and BBW genre is financed by Jeon Jungkook’s website subscriptions. Cue GOT7, with Jungkook it’s girls, girls, girls. The thirst is going strong, and he’s unashamed times ten, sex is sex. 

➝ we also have members who don’t really bother with erotica or have a complicated relationship with it.

SPREAD #2

taehyung

⌈  ACE OF WANDS reversed ⇁ He’s not about beating off until the world ends. Taehyung gets bored by porn or heated literature and doesn’t feel very motivated to search it up. He would rather come up with his own ideas to write but doesn’t have the energy. Sex drive: On hold, even if he tries to look something up it doesn’t feel very fulfilling to him. Most of it fails to turn him on, it’s not his kind of taste. He gets frustrated when he masturbates and would rather rest, dream, and doze. The only thing I can see him watch somewhat frequently — hold your horses — is lesbian porn. I’ll explain. The ACE OF WANDS is pretty much your most glaring handjob symbolism card. A hand gripping a stick. Yoongi’s THE WORLD card has very similar imagery, I mean even two wands and a girl, bisexual explosion much. He would be a big fan of the upright ACE OF WANDS card lmao! But the reversal is like, um no silly guys jerking off in here, pls. Keep your cum to yourself. That means: Zero dicks in Taehyung’s zone, girl-on-girl stuff is his very last resort for quality that he is desperate for but cannot find. And not the stuff where the producers just replace the guys with heavy arsenal sex toys, double-ended dildos, fucking machines, endless strap-on action without any clit stimulation on either side and whatnot. Taehyung is like ugh, cherie, why, give me the juicy stuff, give me the basics. What he wants is just pure scissoring, fingering, oral, little gentle bites, a lot of caresses and kisses. And slow, slow sex. Probably the amateur kind. He hates how brutal and exaggerated most things online are. Tae is looking for softness, a lot of lesbian action is what delivers in that regard so he takes all he gets. And it goes further than that, Taehyung knows the finest yuri recommendations, I’m telling you.

seokjin

⌈  THE STAR reverse ⇁ The opposite of Yoongi: not keeping it very naked in here. The upright card shows a nude woman pouring water from two cups. Hence a strong connection to the card of sexuality, TWO OF CUPS. Everything is very gentle and positive in that scenery. But then, the reversed card rather shows us that Jin doesn’t feel too thrilled watching other people film or write or photograph sex. Like in Tae’s case, he becomes bored, it’s all the same to him. Nothing’s ever new to him in porn. He feels negative and guilty rather than refreshed or entertained. He also doesn’t like a lot of kinks that very literally connect to, well, the pouring water. Squirting, cum play, watersports, sex in the pool or showers, lube overuse, creampies, bukkake, fake cum — Jin is rolling his eyes at that, he thinks it’s a circus. He’s surely given it a try, but ended up feeling worse and even more pent-up or dissatisfied. At best, you will find him on unknown websites looking for the most amateur videos there are. Because: THE STAR quite unequivocally hints at porn stars. If you reverse the card, it becomes someone not very well-known. He roots for the underdog. Accordingly, Jin’s reaction to mainstream videos goes this way: ‚Pipe down, you non-artists!’ 😆 Cause maybe, he does do it better aye, without the awkward angles anyway. He doesn’t want the body cult, like, put that airbrush and silicone out of my face bro. Not because he’s against surgery, but the idea behind sexual extremes and the shady high standards. It’s too polished for him to get turned on. And robotic/staged. Likely because he’s had an IRL sexual experience (gasp!) that set a different ideal to him, so the more glossy porn feels off. Home video has all he needs instead. I think it’s especially because you get so see more body hair there. The woman on the THE STAR card is all sleek, so the reversed card is the opposite, Jin wants that unshaved goodness.

namjoon

⌈ EIGHT OF CUPS ⇁ Now you’d think — and I thought, kinda — we’d get the master of erotica right here. And he’s had one hell of a reputation for that. Think of the ever-infamous Yaman TV interview where BTS were super upfront and revealing about their taste and what they watch privately. With especially Namjoon having the lion’s share. But this card says otherwise if his current state is concerned. The EIGHT OF CUPS shows a man wandering off into the night, leaving eight cups behind him. I think what that means is, he’s moved on. Namjoon’s cravings aren’t as strong as they used to be, nor does he have the time. He knows it won’t fix his loneliness or answer the questions of life. He might be on the search for different things to fulfill him, or ignore much of his hormones in favor for his career. Not that he didn’t dabble in it, he sure did, but that chapter is slowly closing and what’s next he doesn’t really know yet. He thinks about family and being a father, so the smaller and more risque pleasures become less significant. Desire, too. Ye olde soul syndrome is kicking in. The card is also centered around introspection, a quest for self, all these higher topics that aren’t the most grounded and don’t leave much space for being horny. Joon is simply to preoccupied and on the move. He sees porn as a distraction from his real self at this point, and he’s not the type to feel satiated after masturbating to something, similar to Jin and Taehyung. Instead, I think he carries that energy elsewhere, hence the wanderer going from A to B onto a mountain. In short, Namjoon naturally grew out of it by becoming more, well: Namjoon. He’s left a lot behind, he’s choosing self-development over temporary fun, and he will ponder a lot on the topic, the hows and whys and whats more often than not. So, he’s passed the baton to Yoongi and Jungkook if you will, and keeps a low profile as of now. 

tarot mlist | ko-fi

----

for anon:

[nolongerwrites]

I love your freaking work so much 👉👈 can you do dad head cannons for Dazai? I got major baby fever right now lol it’s okay if you don’t want to! I love you Fran

We love a good daddy Dazai 💕

Also thank you so much for 100 followers!!!! 😭🥺 I never would have imagined anyone reading my garbage but here we are!! I love you all 💕💕

💖𝐃𝐚𝐝 𝐃𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐢 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬💖

꧂Dazai honestly was scared to death when you told him you were pregnant

꧂He never thought of having kids before, especially with the kind of person he was and what his past was like

꧂he felt like he could never be the kind of father you wished him to be for your child, and a lover to you

꧂you reassured him that he would do fine, no one was a perfect parent. You two were in this together and that’s how it was going to be for a long time

꧂holds your hair back when you throw up due to morning sickness as much as it grossed him out

꧂during the middle stages of your pregnancy the idea did start to warm up to Dazai

꧂he gave into every want and need that came out of your mouth.

꧂want ice cream and ramen at 2 in the morning? He’s already out the door before you can finish your sentence. Crying because you saw something that was really freaking adorable? He’s crying with you

꧂he liked to lay his head on your belly and feel the baby kick. The first time it happened you swore he couldn’t stop smiling for like a week

꧂ Sometimes he’ll even talk to it and whisper words of promises and hope.

꧂”I’m gonna take care of you and momma if it kills me. I promise to protect you from any harm and danger no matter what..” Dazai would mutter to your belly as you slept

꧂everyone at the ADA threw you the most wonderful suprise baby shower you could have ever asked for! You also totally cried when they jumped out and nearly scared you to death

꧂they were more than helpful to you and Dazai. If Dazai was busy and you needed something atsushi would go out and do it for you!

꧂Dazai is there by your side throughout the whole pregnancy and labor process

꧂it felt like having a knife to the heart seeing you in so much pain. Nothing felt worse than seeing you cry out in pain and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it

꧂it was totally worth it though when your son was born 💕

꧂oh just kidding.. twins!!! One girl one boy!

꧂Dazai bawled his eyes out the moment he heard their tiny cries fill the air and they placed them on your chest

꧂after the cleaning and health check they were finally brought back to both you and Dazai. You swear you’d never seen a baby with such a full head of curly brown hair!!

꧂they were the most beautiful babies Dazai and you had ever seen. His heart leapt out of his chest when his little girl held onto his finger the first time, and you watched again as he burst into tears

꧂somehow by the grace of gods Dazai managed to always keep them quiet when they cried and you had no idea how he did it. It was magic

꧂if one baby wasn’t in his arms then the other one was. Anytime you saw him he was either rocking one or feeding the other

꧂they preferred sleeping on either you or dazais chest rather than their own crib and you often found Dazai sleeping in your rocking chair with both of them laying on top him.

꧂Dazai likes to join in their little baby conversations. Like literally they just babble at each other and Dazai would be like “yeah?” “No he didn’t-“ “oh I understand perfectly” “don’t talk to your sister like that” and it would be the cutest thing you’d ever seen

꧂the ADA was absolutely IN LOVE with the twins. ꧂ They constantly begged you and Dazai to bring them over more. Even kunikida who was an ass to Dazai, he liked you. They loved holding the babies. Not that you minded, they took real good care of them when you two needed a break!

꧂grandpa Fukuzawa, auntie Yosano and Kyouka, uncle Atsushi and Kunikida ✊🏻

꧂Dazai promised to be the best father he could, and he did just that.

꧂after finally getting them to go sleep, you and Dazai spent time cuddling in bed tired and worn out. “Your an amazing father osamu, I cant believe you ever doubted yourself. I love you so much” you whispered to him as you caressed his cheek. He would smile and press a soft kiss to your forehead, “there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you my love..”

꧂cue babies crying 💀

[justcallmefox89]

meet my detective

So this is just a purely self-indulgent post where I introduce one of my detectives.  I’m super interested in finding out how other people imagine their detectives so feel free to comment with info about yours 😊

Name - Detective Kieran A. MacKenzie

Age - 29

Romantic relationship - Mason.  Interactions with Mason are bold.  Slept with Mason in Book 2.

Non-binary - uses they/them/their pronouns

Pansexual

Height - 5′9″

Hair - ebony black, long - to mid back, very curly, side shave - on right side.  Always wears a few leather and silver Celtic hair beads

Eyes - dark green

Pale, flushes very easily when flustered, or angry

Style - skinny jeans, t-shirts, flannels, and a few accessories.  always wears their trusty Adidas Classics

Many, many tattoos - most proud of their sleeve of traditional pin up boys and girls on their right arm.  Will never under any circumstances explain the meaning of the blackout armband tattoos on their left forearm.  Unit Bravo must never know, no matter how much Felix begs.

Has a sphynx cat named Seamus. 

Skilled in combat and deduction/knowledge

Sarcastic and stubborn.  Has never met a problem that they can’t ignore until it goes away or they forget about it.  Crass - often matching and sometimes surpassing Mason.  Loves to shock Ava and make Nat blush.  Shameless flirt.  Impulsive, blunt, occasionally aggressive.  Honest to the point of brutality, but will soften their approach to shield Nat and Felix.  Very emotionally intelligent, but prefers to push down and ignore their emotions rather than deal with them.  “You can’t get hurt if you don’t feel anything.  Rebecca taught me that a long time ago.” - Kieran

Bobby is an ex.  It’s hard for them to be around him, but they try not to let it show.  

Kissed Bobby in Book 2.  It was wanted.

They have a cozy style apartment.  They claim it’s for Seamus’ comfort only.  They’re lying. 

It was either join the police force or go to prison.  They had always been rebellious, but fell into a destructive downward spiral after their break up with Bobby.

Has their mugshot and rap sheet framed and hung in a place of honor in their living room.

Has good relationships with Verda and Tina, and counts the two among their very few friends.

Decent relationship with Captain Sung.  Antagonistic relationship with Mayor Friedman.  

Douglas is an unmitigated pain in their ass.  Zero patience for what they consider to be a “lazy rich kid waste of space.”  Sometimes fantasizes about firing him in a truly dramatic fashion; it soothes their frayed nerves.

Very poor relationship with Rebecca, especially since learning the truth about The Agency.  Resents Rebecca for leaving them alone for the majority of their childhood in favor of her job.  Kieran’s relationship with Rebecca has left them cynical and suspicious towards any type of personal relationship, be it romantic or a friendship.  It takes them a very long time to trust, and they rarely trust someone unconditionally.  Will never admit it, but they fear abandonment.  Often wonders if they’re worthy of being loved.  Their childhood and relationship with Rebecca has killed Kieran’s desire to ever be married or have a family, something they wanted more than anything when they were younger.

Didn’t handle the reveal of the supernatural well; was angry and lashed out.  Kieran doesn’t take being lied to well, and learning they had been lied to by Unit Bravo was hard for them to deal with.

Was not bitten by Murphy.  Joined in the fight and won.  Has buried their feelings about what happened with Murphy, but it still pops up occasionally.

Saved Sanja.

Flirted with Falk.

Bobby was their first and only love, and they were truly devastated by the breakup.  Bobby was the first person who ever made them feel understood, wanted, and loved.  In their weaker moments Kieran imagines how it would be if things had worked out with Bobby.

Kieran has not had a relationship since Bobby; just a string of meaningless hookups and one night stands.  Sex is easy, uncomplicated, and mutually satisfying.  Relationships involve vulnerability and emotions, two things Kieran prides themself in avoiding.  

While in a relationship with Bobby they got a tattoo of his name on their left forearm.  After the relationship ended Kieran immediately had it covered up.

Becomes very uncomfortable when they start thinking about Mason as more than just a fling, but always hurries to shove those thoughts away.

Chose not to snoop on Mason.  Lied blatantly to themself and said they didn’t care; it’s just sex between them, nothing more.

Was genuinely hurt by Mason’s statement in the bakery.  Kieran hadn’t felt that kind of stinging pain since Bobby.  Then they were shocked that they had developed real feelings for Mason, but that shock soon shifted into anger that they had allowed themself to slip after all these years of keeping their emotions closed off.  Kieran has since used Mason’s statement to bolster their resolve and keep their feelings for Mason in check.  “It’s just sex.  Don’t worry Nat, Mason and I both know the rules to the game we’re playing.” - Kieran.  

[godlydolans]

please continue the last blurb.. I wanna know how y/n reacts!

"'Lije, go to your room. I'll be there in a minute." Y/N instructed her son without sparing him a glance. Her eyes remained frozen on the man who was standing in front of her. What kind of sick joke was fate playing on her?

She really needed to install a more complex lock system to prevent Elijah from opening the door to anyone, all the bloody time.

"Okay." Elijah mused, glancing at his mother and then at the strange man who was still standing outside. "I'm going."

With one final look at the stranger, who just so happened to look down at him, Elijah bolted out of sight. The sounds of his feet thundering up the stairs reaching Y/N and Ethan's ears.

Once the boy was out of hearing range, Y/N took in a much needed deep breath and, "Why are you here?"

At the same time as Ethan asked, "Is he mine?"

There was no need to ask, he already knew. He wouldn't have believed her if she would have told him no. That kid had the exact same eyes as him. He even had curly head of hair and a damn freckle by his eye. There was no way he wasn't Ethan's son.

Ethan's son.

Ethan had a son.

The realisation made him take in a staggering breath. Dear God, he wasn't prepared for this.

"Why. Are. You. Here?" Y/N asked again, her arms crossed against her chest, eyes blazing with fury and her jaw stubbornly set. There was no trace of the love her eyes used to fill with when she used to look at him. In its place was a steely mist that prevented any form of emotion from coming to the surface.

Not even hatred. She didn't allow him to see anything.

The change came as a slap to the face but Ethan didn't let the stinging pain in his heart distract him from the more pressing subject matter.

"Y/N? Is. He. Mine?"

Her eyes hardened even more than they were before and her lips curled up into a mocking smirk. "No, he's mine! He's my son."

Ethan clenched his jaw, his eyes closing in frustration before he fixed them back on Y/N. "Y/N, I'm gonna ask you-"

"What the fuck is your problem?! And how did you find my address?!"

"-one last time, is he my son?"

"Yes, you asshole!" Y/N was seeing red by the time those words left her lips. She could feel herself shaking with sheer anger. "Yes, he's your son. But you're not his dad."

Ethan's fists clenched at his sides and he took in a deep breath to calm the storm in his mind. He had a son that he didn't know about until now? He thought things like this only happened in movies!

"When were you going to tell me? At his wedding?" Ethan seethed. He couldn't believe her. She had hidden something this major from him, for three years at that! "How could you? You knew how much I wanted kids-"

"Not from me." She bit out, shaking her head. "Don't bullshit me. You wanted kids with your wife and you left me because she finally got pregnant."

"You hid my child from me to get even with me for leaving you?!" Ethan didn't realise how loud he was getting. He never did.

Y/N did though and she couldn't stop herself from pushing his chest, causing him to stumble back as she shut the door after getting out of the house herself.

"Don't you fucking yell at me in my own house, while my son is right upstairs." She warned him, her finger poking his chest three times. Even though Ethan had a muscular chest, the jabs still hurt like a bitch. Maybe because her fingers were long, maybe because the harsh touch was a clear contrast from the gentle carresses he was used to, from her. "And I didn't hide anything from you! I called a thousand times but you never answered so its not my fault that you didn't know."

All this information was too much for Ethan to deal with at once. He needed a breather. He needed to sit down for a second. He needed to call his brother.

He needed to see his son.

Once that thought registered in his brain, all else went to the back burner. "I want to see him." He declared in his authoritative, 'no-bullshit' voice but got nothing but an eye-roll from Y/N.

"You can't." Y/N made her own declaration. There was no way in hell she was letting this man meet her son. She didn't care who he was. He wasn't going near her baby. "Now get lost."

Ethan's fingers clasped around Y/N's arms as he jerked her to his chest, gazing into her deep eyes as he whispered the words slow, hoping to deliver them straight to her conscience. "Let me see my son, Y/N."

Y/N gave him a smile that looked more like a grimace. "Your son? What do you even know about your son? Huh? I've raised him on my own and I won't let you come in out of nowhere and claim your right on him."

"You won't let me see him?"

"No."

Did they realise they were standing pressed up against each other? That their faces were inches away? That Mrs. Williams from next door was sneakily watching their interaction from behind the creak of her curtain? Did they give a rat's ass?

No to all of the above.

"I will take this to court." Ethan regretted saying the words the second they left his mouth because those words envoked an emotion in those steely eyes. There was a flash of pain that was expertly concealed a second after it appeared.

And as if she just realised he had his hands on her skin, she jerked away from him, putting a safe distance of three steps between them.

"Then I'll see you in court. Now get the fuck off my porch or I'll call the police on you."

Those were the last words between them that night before Y/N walked into her house and all but slammed the door in Ethan's face. She stood with her back against the door as she looked up at the ceiling, her breathing heavy. Her eyes stung with unshed tears.

Three years ago, she had prayed God to bring Ethan into Elijah's life. He hadn't come then.

Now that she didn't ever want to see his face, he hunted her down himself and showed up at her doorstep, demanding to see her son.

What right did he think he have over Elijah? How could he stand in front of her and say he would drag her to court?

With a heavy heart, Y/N decided she hated every morsel on Ethan Dolan's being and that she would never forget those words that he said to her.

[sourwolfstories]

Hey! Can you rec some sterek university AUs pls? Thanks you!

Oh boy… okay so this is one of my favorite tropes and I have a crap ton of these. I couldn’t fit all of my faves on here (well i could have but it would have taken forever and the list would have been HUGE) but here are several for you to enjoy!! :)

No Homo by orphan_account

Stiles’ sophomore year starts something like this:3 FourLokos+ 1 peer-pressuring cat- 1 best bro to end all best bros= 1 Craigslist ad headline that reads “str8 dude - m4m - strictly platonic”.Derek is the fool who replies.

It Started With A Whisper by allyasavedtheday, warmth

“I’m Stiles, by the way. In case you did, you know, need something, cause Librarian is kind of an old lady term and… yeah. So, Stiles. S-T-I-L-E-S, like that one dude in that band from the UK.”

Or the one where Derek and Stiles are both in college, Stiles is the school’s librarian, and Derek is just trying to study.

The Company I Keep by secondstar

Stiles has a favorite table at the library. Then some asshole comes along and steals it from him.

Maybe by MellytheHun

Tumblr Prompt:

my fave overheard on campus moment of all time was the two guys who sat behind me in pop culture theory

as class was starting one of them was like “so… do you want a blowjob after this” in a rly bored voice, and then the second guy was like [pause][dejected sigh] “yes”

Not Mine to Love by Sabeley

It should have been awkward then, as the haze of lust left them, but Derek really didn’t mind the fact that Stiles was collapsed on his chest, breathing heavily. He didn’t care that he was naked in his roommate’s bed, coming down from the best orgasm he had ever had. He didn’t even care that he had just lost his virginity to someone who wasn’t Jennifer.

“That can’t happen again,” he said simply.

It happened twice more that night and it never really stopped.

The Hunt by HenryMercury

Stiles wakes up with a hangover and the phone number of the most attractive (and the frowniest) guy he’s ever encountered.

…Who also happens to be the front-man for the band Scott’s just joined.

Pushed to the Limit by kittylovessterek (kitty_fic)

Watching Stiles get ready to go out is torture. The universe is obviously testing him. There’s only so much temptation one werewolf can take.

I Keep On Fallin’ by xKookiesandCreamx

Ow fuck!“

Stiles sprung up out of his slumber, dazedly looking around for the cause of his roommate’s pained sounding exclamation.

He got his answer when he flicked his desktop lamp on and looked to see Derek sprawled in a graceless heap on the floor by Stiles’s bed.

~~~

Or a little college au ficlet in which a middle of the night accident actually turns out to be a not so bad thing after all.

Hot Nerd Alert by alisvolatpropiis

Derek can’t believe he’s actually doing this: taking a selfie snap of the guy he’s been crushing on for weeks to prove to Danny that one, yes, he really does exist, and two, he really is that hot and thus he is totally justified in being too scared to make a move.

Or you know, even talk to the guy outside of the class they share.

In his defense, this isn’t just any guy. This THE guy. Hot Nerd. The utterly adorable but still somehow insanely sexy freshman in his twentieth century American Lit class who he’s been lusting over since the first day of the semester. If there were ever a time for him to be that person who tries to be subtle while taking snaps of other people, this is it.

Love Comes in Spurts by talktowater

Stiles has always had sort of a hero worship thing going on with Scott’s step-brother Derek so moving into a house with him freshman year was basically fulfilling a childhood fantasy. Discovering how Derek was putting himself through college, well that was a whole other fantasy that Stiles didn’t even know he had.

Your First by Simone (fvckyourfandoms)

It’s Stiles freshman year of college and he decides to rush a fraternity. He becomes Vice President Derek Hale’s favorite pledge and they end up much closer than expected.

or

A story in which Derek can’t keep his hands off of Stiles’ sweet, irresistible, virgin ass and fails at not feeling him up.

A Comprehensive Study in Getting a Boyfriend via Persuasive Essay-Writing by Luddleston

Stiles is a junior Journalism major who takes Rhetorical Strategies because it covers his English requirement. He’s also trying to be subtle about the way he keeps checking out his professor.

Derek is a grad student teaching his first class ever. He also has the most annoying student on the face of the planet, and is done reading essays about the history of male circumcision.

Flirty e-mails are exchanged, Stiles spends way too much time in Derek’s office, and they fall in love over a mutual hatred for APA formatting.

take two and hit to right by gottalovev

Stiles enjoys ogling the very handsome shortstop of the varsity team while in class. One day, when he cannot have the seat he prefers to watch the baseball diamond, he starts a conversation on his desk (including cartoon characters and eventually sharing secrets).

Unfortunately, Stiles’ first meeting with the hot shortstop - crowd darling Derek Hale - doesn’t go well. When Hale turns out to be Stiles’ desk pen pal, will they be able to move past first impressions?

If You Wanna Be My Roomie (Lover) by xKookiesandCreamx

Realistically, Stiles knew that the local University’s popularity and commonality meant that many members of his graduating high school class would be starting the Fall 2016 semester alongside him, but he never expected his longtime crush to be one of them. Even more so, he never expected said crush to be assigned as his roommate…oh boy.

Just to See You Again by MellytheHun

A sterek college!AU where writing student Stiles specializes in love letters, runs a blog about it and can be commissioned to write love letters on behalf of lovers who are at a loss for words.

He makes some cash, he’s good at what he does (especially when he gets to be a little more explicit in his letters), it pays for his textbooks and that’s all he’s really looking for and life is fine. That is, until someone anonymously commissions him to write a love letter to mathematics student, Derek Hale.

It’s Happening by isthatbloodonhisshirt

Derek stopped listening to him, brain going a mile a minute.

Derek, it’s fucking happening!Derek, please!

He would recognize that fucking voice anywhere.

Two years. Two fucking years had passed, and now this little shit was standing in front of him, speaking his name, and grinning like an idiot.

“It’s you,” Derek said, earning him a confused look from Stiles. “The phone call. Two years ago. It was you.”

Beauty and the Ex by aggybird

Stiles doesn’t want to screw up his chances with Josh, so he does something he may regret: he goes to Derek Hale, Josh’s intimidating ex-boyfriend, for dating advice.

Things don’t go according to plan. But with a little magic (and werewolves) they might go all right.

We’re caught in stone, you know we might not make it by LunaCanisLupus_22

He does this thing then, while Stiles is watching, rolls his left shoulder a little as if he’s adjusting the books in his arms and suddenly Stiles recognises him from the gesture.

“Oh my god,” he cries, dumping his books, bag and coffee into one big mess on the ground and rushing over to them at once.

Or the one where Derek and Stiles are childhood buddies who lost touch and reconnect by chance at college. Only they end up doing a lot more than just reconnecting.

There is a Brotherhood by minusoneday

So far, college has taught Stiles three things:

1) Eight am classes are cruel and unusual and should be avoided at all costs, even if it means having to enroll in something truly hideous instead, like Econ 101.

2) Dorm security is just as tight as Stiles’ orientation leader had promised it would be, and the dude guarding Scott’s dorm in particular does not respond well to bribes.

3) Mrs. McCall clearly had no clue what she was talking about when she’d insisted that Scott and Stiles needed to branch out and room with strangers, so it’s all her fault that Scott ended up with a total dick of a roommate and Stiles got stuck all the way across campus with some guy who has a girlfriend two towns over and is thus never around.

‘Linski’s Late Night Antidote To Lame by WhoNatural

Where Stiles has his own college radio show, and the mysterious, faceless Derek is his number one fan.

Also there’s this really hot guy he keeps meeting in the library who totally hates his guts.

Inside This Place Is Warm by wolfcloaks

Coming down; One love, two mouths

Stiles Stilinski:

-Senior at Berkley-Double majoring in Human Biology and Biomedical Engineering-Student Librarian-Closet Artist-Basket case extrodanaire-Hopelessly crushing on Derek Hale (read as: pining)

Derek Hale:

-Grad Student at Berkley-Philosophy Major-Dog enthusiast-Does not cry during The Notebook, fuck you,Laura-Is definitely not pining over the librarian with the cute moles-Would very much like to tell the librarian’s curly haired boyfriend to fuck off

Or

Where Derek and Stiles are complete dweebs in love and jump to horribly inaccurate conclusions

Or

When your meet-cute turns into a bit of an (light) angst fest but it’s all ok in the end

———————

If you want to find more college/university goodness you can check out my tag for it here

[youknowmymethods]

Content Creator Interview #11

Hello folks and happy Friday! We’re back, and this time @likingthistoomuch interviews @ohaine (aka, me) so I’m jumping straight into the interview because it’s awkward af to introduce yourself.

Trigger warnings: here be brief discussions of grief and mourning, and because it’s me, there’s also some bad language. Sorry.

OhAine: She arts, she fics, now you can add witty limericks to her repertoire for she is truly an accomplished young lady; because when the question of how to introduce me for this interview came up likingthistoomuch chose to write a poem.

It goes like this:

 She is smart

She has sass

Thinks her writing isn’t good

Someone get her head outta her ass.

 Charming. And as that isn’t massively helpful to anyone reading, I’ll flesh it out a bit for you. My name is Áine (yes, my pseud is that imaginative), I’m Irish, married to a tall, curly haired Brit (no, not *that* tall, curly haired Brit). I’m a professional doer of double entry (that means I’m an accountant not a p0rn star, get your dirty minds out of the gutter), an amateur writer who is obsessed with Sherlock and Sherlolly to a point that isn’t dignified. I’m the mod of this interview project, and also of the MaybeItsJustMyType Collection on AO3, a double SAMFA winner (yay me!) and I also won a Community Games gold medal when I was eight ( @hobbitsdoitbetter will know what that is, but she’s literally the only one of you who will) for a picture I drew in crayon of a cat jumping over a skipping rope (although if I’m honest I think everyone who entered the competition got a prize so I really don’t know if I should brag too much about it.) Currently I’m in the market for someone who’ll do a better job of my eulogy than I’ve done with this intro, so maybe it’s best if I stop talking now and we just move along with the questions… Ahem… Gee it’s back to you.

 likingthistoomuch: I’m going to start with Kat (aka satin_doll, aka @ashockinglackofsatin) who’s submitted a few reader questions if you’re ready.

 OhAine: Sure. Shoot.

 satin_doll: The Fate of Glass is one of the most beautiful and touching stories I’ve ever read dealing with grief and the aftermath of the death of a character. It also illustrates perfectly Molly’s relationship with Sherlock from her side. We know you were dealing with your own loss when this was written. How much of your writing springs from your own real life emotional experiences?

 OhAine: Well first, thank you dear heart. It’s a tricky question to answer because The Fate of Glass is unique for me. I wrote it and ‘Where the Lost Things Go’ in the same two week period, at a time when I was really struggling to accept what had happened to Kieren. Funnily enough, Gee (likingthistoomuch) and I were talking only a few weeks ago, and I told her this: for the only time I can ever remember doing, I put my words into Sherlock’s mouth. The bit where they’re sitting on the floor, smoking and talking about Mrs H, where Sherlock finally says what’s on his mind – that he’d failed her – was exactly what I felt at that moment about Kiki’s death. I drew on something deeply personal in a way I hadn’t done since ‘Take me and erase me’ and the death of Molly and Sherlock’s son. Initially that story was me working through my feelings and grief, but after the first draft I had to abandon that agenda and remember that this was about Sherlock and Molly now. The real life experience of survivor’s guilt, of losing someone you love was there, but oddly Molly’s rebuttal to Sherlock’s assertions about blame were very much me too, they came from my father’s loss, and that reconciling a terrible end with a life well lived and full of love. Of all my stories, it’s the closest to describing my actual experience in a given context.

 I suppose in the first instance, what you write has be honest, authentic. That doesn’t mean that it has to come from your experience directly, but if you have the framework there for something that you want to say, then you use it. There are small bits of me in all of my stories, but I can’t rely on my own emotional experiences too heavily because then I’m limiting the characters. What I’ve found you can do is take the essence of an emotion, distil it down to its component parts and feelings, and then apply them to a different situation. Your job when writing a story is to tell someone else’s story, so you have to be able to extrapolate beyond your own experiences. But if you can ground that in something real, it somehow gives it a ring of truth that wouldn’t otherwise be there.

 satin_doll: Amor Vincit Omnia is quite simply devastatingly beautiful, despite the pain that runs through it from beginning to end. You’re so adept at writing Molly’s steadfastness and loyalty despite Sherlock’s rough treatment of her over the years and it seems to be a recurrent theme in your stories. Can you talk a little about where this picture of Molly comes from, how she developed as a character in your head?

 OhAine: We get so little of Molly on screen, and in a way that’s a blessing: we have so much room for interpretation, so many directions we can take her in, you know? But something Mofftiss have gone to pains to point out is that not only is Molly loyal to the bone, but that Sherlock trusts her loyalty in a way that he doesn’t trust anyone else’s.

 You have to be careful how you allow her to give that loyalty, it can’t be done in a way that demeans her, or would make her bitter. In order for that not to happen you have to imagine why someone would give so much in the face of – what you termed – rough treatment. I’ve come to the conclusion that although she’s sometimes hurt by it, impatient with it, she views his actions not as intentional, but rather as him simply not knowing how to do things any differently. He’s ever so gentle with her in TEH, when no one else is around to see, and that episode informs so much of what I imagine their between-the-scenes life to be like: he shows respect for her, love, affection, he respects her mind, her opinions, he is eternally grateful for all that she has done for him, and grateful that despite everything he’s done she still allows him to call her friend.

 Sherlock asks in TRF, ‘If I wasn’t everything you think I am, everything that I think I am, would you still want to help me?’ and Molly doesn’t hesitate, she’s straight in with ‘What do you need?’ She has zero doubts about the man that he is.

 Earlier in that episode she says, ‘You’re a bit like my dad,’ going on to tell Sherlock about how her dad behaved when he was dying, and I think that’s a very under rated line. I think it shows that to Molly he’s more than – what other’s call him – the great detective, machine, freak. It shows she sees the man beneath. She sees that he is more than the sum of his parts. She’s telling him that she sees his humanity.

 She doesn’t want to change him into someone he’s not. She sees deeper, she sees the bits of him that he guards, the parts of him that are just like you and me. Molly’s not blinded by his brilliance. To her he’s just a man, albeit one who has a very special gift.

 Even when she says ‘Why do you always say such horrible things?’ she’s not treating him like a bold puppy and smacking him on the nose with a rolled up newspaper like the others do, she’s attempting to understand him, perhaps even asking him to try to understand himself.

 He’s a very vulnerable man, and she treats him with care because of that. His actions weigh on her I think, they have a cost, but it’s one she chooses to accept and she doesn’t punish him for her choice.

 It can be argued that Molly is the only one who loves him just for him. Lestrade wants his brain; Mycroft sees him as an asset; John is a junkie, Sherlock his dealer; Mary takes his help; Hudders once took help from him. But amongst those who take, there’s only one person who takes nothing. Molly.

 I suppose the other large part of her development in my mind is the ethical code that she’s had instilled into her from an early stage of her education. Medical ethics, and the application of deontological and utilitarian principles in her everyday decision making, must have influenced the person she became by the time we meet her. There are four major principles at play for her: do good, avoid doing harm, be fair, and respect individual autonomy. And I think it’s those principles of fairness and respect that she applies to her relationship with Sherlock. I think she respects his mind, his abilities, even his education (because they have components of their formal education in common), but I think it’s fairness that she applies most liberally: he is unique, different, and he lacks certain skills when it comes to interacting with others, Molly takes his treatment of her in that context.

 satin_doll: In Take Me and Erase Me, one of your earliest stories, you mention Lorca (the Spanish poet) and you’ve made numerous references to poetry since you started posting fics. What else besides poetry and fanfic do you read these days? What do you see as the biggest influences on your writing?

 OhAine: Biggest influences. Honestly?  Stephen (both of the King and Moffat varieties) have said that the best advice they could give aspiring writers was to read as much as you can of the kind of thing you want to write, and I’ve found that to be so true. The Sustain Stories are probably the single biggest influence on my interpretation of Sherlock and Molly. I remember saying it to someone once (I think it was actually you Kat) that I’ve been writing Sustain fanfiction rather than Sherlock fanfiction all these years. It was that big a deal for me.

 As for what I’m reading now… I always have a few books on the go, currently open are Leonard Cohen’s Book of Longing (Jesus, the raw intensity of his imagery), Tom Robbins’ Even Cowgirls Get the Blues (the absurdity of it appeals to me) and James Joyce’s Dubliners (The Dead is my favourite short story ever, so I finally decided to read the rest of the book).

 Thank you Kat for your lovely questions x

 likingthistoomuch: Going all the way back to the beginning, what prompted you to start writing fanfic in the first place? Where did that first impulse come from?

 OhAine: I’d never heard of fanfic until I became obsessed by Sherlock, but once I found it, it was like falling down a rabbit hole. I read. And I read and I read and I read. When I first found Sherlolly in mid-2014 there were about 3,000 stories in the tag on AO3 and I went about systematically reading them all in descending order from the largest hit. It took me about six months or so to get through them and then I hit a wall, there was nothing left to read. But by then I started seeing Sherlolly everywhere: in every song I heard, every poem I read… and at the time I was living away from home while doing a master’s degree, and I remember so clearly driving back to my little flat outside Galway one night after a late lecture and Lana del Rey’s Young and Beautiful came on the radio, and it was like, BANG!, this fully formed story of an insecure Sherlock hit me. It was so clear, so well defined and complete, and it wouldn’t leave me alone. The end result was Saving for a rainy day, and the other two stories in The Dance series.  

 Honourable mention too at this point to @sundance201 and her beautiful fic Hello My Old Heart. That story was the beginning of my love affair with music in fanfiction, I started my Sherlolly playlist with the song it references and I don’t know if I would have ever made the connection between music and writing without it. So blame Sundance201 :P

 Likingthistoomuch: When you wrote your first fic how did that process go? Did you have someone review the work? Also, when did you share the fact that you had attempted fanfiction with someone around you?

 OhAine: As above. No, it was a type and go thing. Literally. I have no idea what madness overtook me to actually post it on the internet where other real live people would see it. It was (still is) full of mistakes, and reads like an outline rather than an actual story, but I knew no better at the time. It was the first piece of fiction I’d ever written, and I had zero expectations that anyone would read it. I bawled like a baby when the first comment came in.

 Anyway, it was a Sunday morning, and I was staying at Uni that weekend because I had exams the following week, hubby was coming that day to see me and make sure I hadn’t died under a pile of textbooks and fast-food containers. When he arrived I showed him the post on AO3, and he was so sweet. He still reads all of my fics, gives me feedback and suggestions. He’s even got an AO3 account now so that he can leave kudos. Bless him. He’s still the only one I share with.

 Likingthistoomuch: You are amongst the few who seem to write comic themed, angsty, fluff as well as explicit with ease. At least that’s how it comes across. Which genre is the easiest for you and which one would you prefer to write as, say an outlet for real life pressures?

 OhAine: I’m shocked that it comes across that way, because writing doesn’t come easily for me at all. I’m not a writer, I’m an auditor who writes when she has time. Every single word is like squeezing that last bit of toothpaste from the tube, and although I’m a very verbal person words are not my strong point. My vocabulary is technical and that’s fine when I’m writing reports and letters for work, but I don’t have an emotional vocabulary so I have to work really hard at finding the words to describe the feelings I want to write. And I’m not a fluffy person so writing anything sweet is like pulling teeth for me. None of it’s easy, but Molly and Sherlock are in my bones now so I keep doing it.

 I suppose comedy and angst are slightly less of a struggle. But comedy is a tricky one, because you’re either in the right frame of mind to write it or you’re not. It can’t be forced, you can’t make something funny if it’s not.

I don’t have a favourite genre, and none of them come naturally, but if it’s a question of what’s an outlet, then I’d say all of them serve an equal purpose, although the most satisfying to get right is definitely angst, even if it’s a rare jewel. I think I’ve only ever managed to get it almost right twice, maybe three times: Amor Vincit Omnia, The Fate of Glass and possibly A Sunset Bird in Winter. I kind of hold those three up as times when I was happy with the finished product.

 Likingthistoomuch: How do you plan out your work? Do you plan the end, the beginning and what’s in the middle before you start posting?

 OhAine: Bold of you to assume I plan!!!!

 The beauty of writing (mostly) one-shots is that you’re presenting a finished piece. I’ve written just one multi, Take me and erase me, and that was done completely on the fly. I was so traumatised by the whole thing that I’ve been put off for life.

 When it comes to the one-shots, I usually have a pretty good idea what the beginning, middle and end are before I begin – even if the end result turns out to be something else entirely. I do a first draft, then revise, revise, revise until the flow feels good and I think I’m saying what it is I set out to say.

 Likingthistoomuch: You work with a beta - do you share the entire plot of your fic and discuss before you start the writing process? How does that work?

 OhAine: It works differently with different people. When Kiki and I worked together, every detail was shared and there were masses of emails over and back discussing plot and structure. A three thousand word doc could come back with fifteen hundred extra words of notes. She had an opinion about everything. It worked because we were each other’s beta, and we’d built up a rapport and trust. She was never afraid to offend me and I loved that about her. She was also very verbal, so feedback was always detailed, she’d be very clear about the whys of it. We were both new, both learning, so that extra communication was great to get. And I genuinely miss being a beta for her.

 Kat on the other hand has a light touch approach, she gives me a far longer leash and lets me express myself – just myself and my ideas. If I have a specific concern I’ll share that with her, and she’ll give me advice and her opinion. What I tend to share with Kat is what I’m hoping to achieve, and she’ll let me know if, in her opinion, I’ve done what I set out to do. She trusts me more as a writer, if you know what I mean.

 likingthistoomuch: I am heavily influenced by Bollywood songs and get one shot ideas by the ton. Kat mentioned your love of poetry, and I wondered has there been a poem that literally made you wanna rush home and write down stuff as soon as possible?

 OhAine: Oh that was Where The Lost Things Go, by Anne Casey. She wrote an entire book of poetry about loss (in particular losing her mother) and it makes for a devastating read. When I heard her recite that poem:

“We sat upon a golden bow, my little bird and I, indivisibly apart, we dived into the sky. And to the purple-hearted dark, an ocean we did cry, for all the lost things gathered there, in rooms beyond the eye.”

I could see Sherlock and his little bird crying for the things they’ve lost, things hidden in secret places. I’d had the image for ages and ages of a little girl coming to Sherlock with a case, but the story that went with it never presented itself. Stories are like that sometimes, bits of them linger until the right structure comes to you. The fic came out in one draft, I did minor revisions later, but it was just this one thing all of its own from the start. And it was sort of the poem coming to me at a time when I was grieving too, and it fitted so well with this image I had of Watson in her big boots and pink hair. Everything coalesced into a coherent story. The end result was my own ‘Where the lost things go.’

 Generally that isn’t how it works for me. I usually take away just an image or a phrase, sometimes just a feeling, and I try to structure something around it. But like you, I get a lot from music (Elbow’s music could be the official soundtrack of Sherlolly) and movies as well as poems

 Likingthistoomuch: Let’s be honest here, you get tons of reviews. I know, I read most of them (turn down that stalker alarm!!!). Has your story ever been influenced by a comment given on the initial chapters of a multi fic? Not the plot per say, but maybe a small scene or interaction?

 OhAine: No, I really don’t think so. But then there’s really only ever been one multi of any real significance, Take me and erase me, and the initial chapters of that got very few comments, or even hits for that matter (chapter one got 17 hits on its first day, but I stuck with it and it did okay in the end). What does happen with comments is they encourage me to keep going, to keep writing, especially when I feel like I’m just rubbish at this. I’ve been blessed with people who are generous and kind when it comes to egging me on and making me feel okay about what I’ve written. I tend to be very sure about where I want to go when I write something, and I think that if you allow things to intrude on the picture you have in your mind you run the risk of ending up with something that’s a bit all over the place. The reader you write for is you, and you either live or die by it.

 Likingthistoomuch: In your fic “The Pinch Hitter” (I absolutely love the Simple Chemistry series) there is dialogue that has the potential to turn the fic any way you want:

“I don’t want you because I’m lonely, you little moron.” He shouts, full to breaking point with impotent frustration and clawing at his own hair. "I'm lonely because I want you!" 

Funny and yet heart wrenchingly raw. Did you work specifically on introducing something like that, which can be a palate changer for a moment?

 OhAine: Oh boy, tough question. Short answer is no, I wasn’t looking specifically for that line. The prompt for this fic came to me by way of a pinch hitter assignment in the 2017 Sherlolly Fic exchange, and I had about four days to come up with a story that fitted the brief. I work at a snail’s pace under normal circumstances, and I was under so much pressure to get something done. I’d pissed away three of the four days on a fic that I couldn’t make work (still can’t, *sigh*) and in desperation I turned to the next prompt on the list of four. In the end this one just came out, and I’m lucky it’s as okay as it is given the rush it was written in. That line: if I recall, it came out of some wanky meta that was doing the rounds at the time, the mirror theory, and I guess that line is my response to it. He wasn’t running to her because she was a surrogate, she, Molly, was the reason he ran to Molly.

 On the other hand, that line is very much part of my overall head canon for Sherlock in the series. He’s the cause of his own isolation and I remember either Moffat or Gatiss saying that he was like a child pressed up against a sweet shop, window, longing. I see him very much that way. He doesn’t make friends because he’s lonely – the loneliness is part of the choices he’s made – but he acutely feels loneliness now because he finally understands friendship and love. Does that make sense??

 I don’t seem to be able to do straight comedy, there’s always a little angst with my absurdity, a little absurdity with my angst. Some of that is to do with wanting to introduce contrast, some of it is because I think the show does that too and when I’m writing, to some extent, I’m trying to emulate that style.

 Likingthistoomuch: On the topic of light works or ones with a comedic thread, you seem to have mastered the tough-as-nails art of writing genuinely funny work which is not slapstick by a mile. Is the writing process for that different than your other works?

 OhAine: It is. Totally. I can’t decide to write something funny. It either is or it isn’t, and I don’t have much control over that. No amount of revisions will make something that’s not funny work as a comedy piece. I tried that once with The Truth Will Set You Free, and I think it was 20+ drafts before it started to get giggles from my beta. That was when I realised that trying to be funny wouldn’t work. Kiki said to me after that one was posted that she thought I was rubbish at comedy, which was strange given how often I made her laugh in my emails. It dawned on me then to just be myself, write in a more naturalistic tone and focus on being absurd instead of laugh out loud slapstick.

 The next one I tried my hand at was The Adventure of the Berenstein Baby. I took a different approach and wrote it as though I was telling a friend about something hubs and I did, using the exact same style I’d use in conversations (like the side bar thing, my emails are famous for them, I go off on so many tangents) and the result was one draft with minor revisions to get the finished product. When that fic won the 2017 SAMFA for humour, I almost died of pride.

 Likingthistoomuch: The Fate of Glass, that letter, that fabulous, fabulous, piece of work. How long did you take you write that?

 OhAine: The first draft contained all the bones of the story, it was 1,700 words long and it came out in one afternoon. The letter was there right from the start, always at the end. The rest needed much more work, I think I added another 2,000 words during revisions. I have a memory of it being an easy one to write, but I had a week off work that January, and I know I spent at least another 40 hours picking at it during my leave. It had the story right off the bat, but none of the detail. My vocabulary isn’t what I’d like it to be, so when I feel I don’t have the words to tell a story I read. I had an anthology of Pablo Neruda’s poetry on the arm of my Queen Anne, and every night I’d read for an hour or so, and the next day I’d have the words I needed. Reading, for me, is sort of an ignition tool, it sort of opens that part of my brain that isn’t bogged down with technical language, it opens up my creative side. I sometimes forget just how many revisions even the easy stories take. I forget sometimes that I have to work hard at it, but I do.

 Likingthistoomuch: When it comes to naming you work, how do you plan that out?

 OhAine: More bold assumptions about planning!!!!

 Sometimes a story has an obvious title, like The Science of Seduction (because it was about the application of mathematical theories to love and relationships, so it just seemed obvious). Others, like Better, or The last person you’d think of, they were obvious because the whole story is geared toward making the point that these phrases represent. When I find a name I want to use I do an AO3 search of the Sherlock/Molly tag just to be sure no one else is using it (or has used it for a very long time).

 Names are something I struggle with, and at the beginning I went almost exclusively with lines from songs, but I’ve stopped doing that now because it felt, I don’t know, a little forced? These days I try to make a stronger connection between the story and the title without making it too wordy or over explaining what’s going on in the story. I often have a placeholder title while I’m working on it, but keep trying out new ones as I go to see how they fit.

 Don’t ever underestimate the power of a good title: along with the summary they’re your elevator pitch to the reader. A brilliant story can be sunk by a bland title or bland summary.

 Likingthistoomuch: How do you gauge the success of your work?

 OhAine: Oh jeepers. I’m a numbers girl, so the stats page on my AO3 account is my enemy LOL. I’ve tried to find my own metrics, because it’s easy to fall into the trap of judging success on hits and kudos when there are so many things that can influence those little numbers. Like, Trial by Existence was a failure if you go by the stats, but I still feel in my gut that it’s a strong fic, and I learned so much about writing from it. Anyway. There’s a bunch of things I ask myself during the inevitable post-mortem: first and foremost, did I say what I wanted to say? Did I convey the message that I was attempting to put out there? But then I also consider was the quality up to standard, did I build on my learning from the last thing that I wrote? If it’s a gift work, did I please the person it was gifted to? In terms of grammar and punctuation, phrasing (none of which are my strong suit) have I improved? And though I never set out meaning to, I start to fret about the stats…

 But I also think that if someone has said in the comments that they’d love to see more of this particular story, then you’ve succeeded in making something that someone else connected with. That’s always a really important metric for me.

 Likingthistoomuch: Coming to the topic of Social Media, what effect does that have on your work? Have you ever faced rude reviews or comments or called out for offending people? Because we know, if you log in, someone somewhere is offended.

 OhAine: And I specialise in offending people LOL it’s why I stay off social media for the most part.

 Everyone gets the odd rude comment, I think. It’s the risk you sign on for when you put something out into a public space. I try hard not to take those personally.

 It seems to me people are looking for a fight and they don’t care what it’s about. I’ve come to the conclusion that no matter how convinced I am of my position or opinion, if there’s even a hint of aggression I walk away because to engage with them is just giving them what they want. Don’t add fuel to the fire, you know? And it’s not my job to educate. It just isn’t. So I do what’s healthy for me, and I avoid the nonsense even when I know I’m right and they’re not. I don’t need to explain myself to strangers.

 Having those things said, I wouldn’t trade away the positives of social media just to be rid of the negatives. I’ve found fantastic friends on sites like AO3 and tumblr, I get so much from our little community and the lovely people in it. I suppose the Sherlolly community is lucky: we’re small, able to self-regulate, and the people here are genuine and kind. I’ve learned so much, gotten so much joy from writing, so much from reading, the beautiful artwork that’s posted here, and my fellow shippers… I’m grateful for that, so that’s where I keep my focus.

 Likingthistoomuch: As per the new guideline, the blue hellsite will not allow explicit work to be posted. Does that make you want to write more E rated stuff, in a virtual Up Yours to Staff?

 OhAine: I gave up on writing E-rated fics two years ago, and I suppose I am kind of sad that I don’t anymore because I would dearly love to say to anyone who tries to censor others to go fuck themselves.

 On the one hand, the ban doesn’t really affect me because I don’t create that kind of content anymore, so I could just be tempted to shrug my shoulders and move on. But. It affects others who do create that kind of content, and I’ll support them all the way, not only because they should be allowed freedom of expression, but also because the purge is part of a bigger problem: the suppression of freedoms, under the guise of protecting the innocent, and is driven by a puritanical streak that’s becoming pervasive in our culture, one that is more about control and suppression of free ideas than protection. Tumblr is lying to us, pure and simple. They could deal with the p0rn problem but they don’t, and therefore you have to assume this isn’t about p0rnbots: this is about commercial considerations, and the suppression of creativity that they can’t commercialise. It’s also very telling that the ban is overly focused on the female body (and I can’t help but feel that because a good percentage of content creators are women, that the purge conveniently silences women’s voices) and the ideal of womanhood held by a very narrow band of its user base.

 Historically, censorship (and that is what this is) doesn’t lead us anywhere good. It’s a slippery slope, folks. We’ve got to be careful, or next thing you know we’ll be in red capes and white hats remembering the good old days when women were allowed to read.

 likingthistoomuch: Last question: If you could change just one thing about BBC’s version of Sherlock, what would it be?

 OhAine: Oh dear. Just one??? Okay, let me discount a few contenders first:

 I would ask that there be more Molly. Lots more Molly. That the kiss had been real. That Sherlock be naked at all times. That the shirts were tighter and the curls longer. That Mary had lived. That Holmes got the Watson he deserved. That Moriarty had lived. That Eurus hadn’t. That Paul McGuigan had stuck around. Ditto Stephen Thompson. That they had kept production values at primetime and not Saturday tea-time CBBC levels. That the production staff hadn’t stirred the shit just because they liked the attention. That Mofftiss had had a beta, or at least someone who challenged their ideas…

 But if I could choose just one thing, one thing that would be possible for them to do and not go off at a tangent, then I would have them stick to the cases. Tell the story they were telling at the start: The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, as told by his Boswell. I’ll be forever sad that they chose not to do that.

Next week, Friday 10th of May, part two of this interview turns the tables and @ohaine interviews @likingthistoomuch.

[bakudekuficlibrary]

BakuDeku: Protective Katsuki Part I

Click here for Part II & Part III!

1 Series. 64 Works.

Before Midnight by DriftingGlass ( E | 211,528 | 28/28 )

Izuku Midoriya takes the same train to and from school Monday through Friday, morning and night. His only company during these lonesome hours comes in the form of another boy his age—a teen with scarred hands and blood gem eyes, a stranger with ash-blond hair who walks in a shroud of danger and mystery.

"Would you stop with that fucking muttering, idiot?"

And before Izuku can find his footing, his life becomes a full-blown collision course thanks to walking cannonball Katsuki Bakugou.

(And along the way he may have found the missing fuel to his fire).

[Graphic Depictions of Violence | Underage | Abuse]

Cinnamon Bun Bun by DarkMachi   ( E | 108,071+ | 45/? )

In a world with humanoid creatures called "pets", Katsuki Bakugou finds himself suddenly the owner of a timid curly haired rabbit.  How the fuck did that happen?  Will the reluctant new owner and abandoned pet be the best thing for each other or will it end in disaster?  Only the tags will ever know.

Warm and fuzzy fluff pet AU with hints of angst and humor!  

*This story is mostly about fluff.  Warning and "past" tags for a backstory chapter(s) almost exclusively.  Will warn at the beginning of ANY chapter with ANY sensitive issues.*

[Rape/Non-con | Past Abuse | Panic Attacks]

Lost Omega by GreyDayMoon ( E | 45,574 | 15/15 )

Izuku was just trying to take care of himself and his mother but a single slip up sends him into unfamiliar territory where he encounters an aggressive alpha who drags him into tribe life.

[Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Underage | Dubcon]

Dark Side of the Sun by Synnie ( T | 51,597 | 20/20 )

Staying up too late playing video games, Kirishima wasn't expecting to get an urgent call begging for help. Next thing he knew, he was letting his classmate Izuku Midoriya take refuge in his apartment - without consulting his always angry roommate.

Series Part 1 of Dark Side of Space

[Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Past Abuse | Stalking | Self Harm | Panic Attacks]

briar roses (and hundred years of sleep) by vannral ( E | 15,951 | 5/5 )

In complete honesty, no one who knows the Class 3-A should be surprised anymore. Izuku is asleep.

In which Izuku is hit by a ‘Sleeping Beauty’ Quirk, Class 3-A tries to find his True Love and get them to kiss him, and Katsuki’s very angry about it all.

In A Sky Of A Million Stars (Who Cares If One More Light Goes Out?) by Stringlish ( M | 49,956+ | 15/? )

He could never forgive himself.

It was his fault.

He’d planted the idea like a seed he’d never known would grow.

(Or: What if Izuku jumped?) (OR: The one where Izuku jumps and lives and Katsuki visits him every day and Class 1-A not-so-secretly finds it adorable that their designated angry pomeranian brings flowers to his comatose childhood friend.)

[Graphic Depictions Of Violence | PTSD | Suicide Attempt]

Hear Me by my_name_is_Levi ( G | 22,419 | 5/5 )

It wasn’t as if nightmares were uncommon for the freshman class of Yuuei. They’d seen plenty of things, heard and felt and witnessed enough travesty in their lives to last them a lifetime. But Midoriya Izuku was screaming, and no one, not even Bakugo Katsuki could ignore it.

On The Run by Justaperson1718 ( E | 159,534+ | 29/30 )

(Based in an AU where All Might loses to All For One)

Follow Izuku and Katsuki as they fight together for their very survival and mature through their experiences with each other, on the run together from the League of Villains with no one to depend on but each other. The two will have to work out their differences if they want to continue to live and escape the villains.

Izuku will have to become stronger to finish what All Might started, meanwhile Katsuki will figure out his feelings for his new companion while slowly overcoming some of his bad habits.

[Major Character Death | Underage]

{Note about completion status: The fic is essentially complete, as the author has stated the main story is complete and the epilogue is up. The final chapter that is yet to be posted will show a side-character’s side of the story.}

New To Both Of Us by GrumpyTanner, underoriginal ( E | 37,774+ | 16/? )

Bakugou hadn't expected this when he got his first (and only!) Pet on a whim. He hadn't expected the nibbling, the teasing, the fear...

And he definitely hadn't expected to find the love of his life. But here he is, with a rabbit and a hard-on. What's a hero to do?

[Past Abuse]

Quirks of the Soul by Rxel ( M | 52,047+ | 38/? )

Something in Izuku's mind snaps when Kacchan flings the words "Make a leap of faith from the roof and believe with all your might that you will have a ‘Quirk’ in the next life" at him after he exploded his Hero notebook.

It was the last push he needed to tip over the edge.

Quirk!Izuku

Series Part 1 of Katsuki and Izuku

[Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Suicide Attmpt | Self Harm]

[On Hiatus] Forget Me Not by datboii ( M | 52,542+ | 17/? )

Izuku was hit by a memory regression quirk. Katsuki was having none of that shit.

[On hiatus]

Hummingbird Heartbeat by Tokiji ( M | 76,731+ | 16/? )

“The knife went through his fucking chest, Kirishima.” Katsuki spat his name into his face, mouth twisting into a vicious snarl, teeth and all. “You know that's where his heart is, right? And his fucking lungs? All the vital shit?”

Kirishima blanched. “I-I know, I just meant—”

“What, you mean to tell me that your stupid fuckin’ ass is so ignorant to forget that he lost a shit ton of blood, hah?! Yeah, it was a flippin’ knife wound, oh hoo-ray, but look at the nerd now! He’s fucking dying because of it!”

The World Is Silent (we are loud) by RedHeadsRock1010 ( T | 62,233+ | 14/? )

There is only one Angel and one Demon at a time – born each generation after the previous one dies and destined to keep the balance of the world in a vicious battle of good verses evil until the end of existence.

The current Demon stared at the Angel humming and weaving pink flowers into his own bright green curls next to him. A crown of red roses already sat on the Demon's head.

Yeah, fuck that bullshit.

surveying, reconciliation (and other forms of not-matchmaking) by vannral ( E | 17,449 | 6/6 )

In all honesty, Izuku thinks he really shouldn’t be having this crisis.

In which Mina has fun trying to play matchmaker, Izuku has Realizations™ about his feelings for Katsuki, and the class 1-A will witness many weird things.

Second Chance by Saysi  ( M | 84,140 | 42/42 )

"If you are still breathing, you have a second chance" - Oprah Winfrey

Izuku Midoriya's life has been plagued with mistakes. People have been hurt, friends have been lost, accidents have happened. When the country is nearing imminent destruction, he remembers every bad move, every wrong word, and wonders if he could have changed things.

Then time stops.

Izuku Midoriya grew up thinking he was Quirkless - turns out he just needed to face death to activate it.

PSA: People, please, do your homework before reading. The fic will still be here when you get back, I promise.

[Suicide Attempt]

Scream Like A Banshee, Make You Jump Out Of Your Skin. by LahraTeigh ( T | 2,235 | 2/2 )

Midoriya presents as an Omega in the middle of class, and unfortunately for everyone they witness the moment Bakugou finds out who his soulmate is.

It's Okay, Quirkless by VMarus ( M | 34,187+ | 15/? )

Izuku just wants to make his mother proud and to be happy with himself.

AU. Quirkless Vigilante Izuku!

Series Part 1 of Quirkless, Not Helpless.

[Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Major Character Death

[Series] This is why I don't have kids by Saysi ( T | 15,132+ | 2 Works | WIP )

When Midoriya Izuku gets hit by an age-reversion Quirk, the last thing anyone expected to find out is that Toddler-Izuku is a little shit. Except for one Bakugou Katsuki, who has seen this phase one too many times already. And apparently his "Kacchan" is the only one who can deal with Izuku's screaming fits.

When Bakugou Katsuki gets hit by an age-reversion Quirk, no one is surprised to found out he's still an asshole. Unfortunately one Midoriya Izuku is stuck taking care of him to repay the favour. It's a good thing his "Deku" makes a good wife.

Remember Me by Blue_Writer ( M | 61,066+ | 23/? )

It had been years since Bakugou was exiled from his home and became the savage dragon king, but one good thing finally came to his life when he met Izuku again. The only issue, is that he doesn't remember him.

[Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Racism]

Oubaitori by DriftingGlass ( M | 32,666+ | 4/16 )

From the moment he was born, Izuku understood that he was different. He was a rarity, an omega; not necessarily seen as useful or even desirable. It didn't take long, however, for his entire future to be placed in the hands of an alpha, one by the name of Katsuki Bakugo.

Through many pitfalls, confusion, and pains of growing up in a city where both are outcasts of their own kind, it takes more than just the threads of instinct and arranged contracts to bring two hearts together.

Love isn't fate. It's pure luck.

[Underage]

[On Hiatus] Lex Talionis by DriftingGlass ( M | 40,232+ | 6/35 )

“Are you sure you’re willing to do this?”

Aizawa barely recognized his own voice, ashen in the grasp of a stormy summer night.

Under the glare of his living room lights, Toshinori’s leathery face held a smile. A ghost from times long gone.

He stirred a cube of sugar into his coffee, fingers bony and shaking around his mug.

“If there is one good thing I can do for this child, as dangerous as he is… then it will be this.”

Aizawa knew, once the words fell from his comrade’s mouth—a more solid declaration than the deaths he’d witnessed—that there would be no changing his mind.

[ In which Toshinori Yagi, a shadow of his former self, raises an orphaned Izuku as his disciple... with a little bit of a twist. ]

[Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Abuse]

Law-Abiding Citizen by s_trychnine ( T | 2,131 | 1/1 )

Bakugou Katsuki has very little chill, this is a known fact. He does however, do his best not to get into legal trouble. Bakugou Katsuki couldn't get along with Midoriya Izuku if you put a gun to his head, this is an even more well known fact. Apparently someone decided to chew up those facts and spit them back out because that was definitely not the case in this very moment and christ almighty someone's going to have to pinch the entirety of Class 1-A, because this had to be a fever dream.

Or alternatively: Deku's dad is back in town and nobody is happy about, especially not Bakugou.

[Implied/Referenced Child Abuse (Past Abuse)]

2,645 Miles by mynameis152 ( E | 124,500+ | 36/? )

Izuku wants so badly to get to the other side of the country without his parents realizing he's missing. He just wants to find out who he is.

Katsuki is desperate to make it to Los Angeles without being caught by the police, desperate to fix his mistakes.

Neither know what to expect, but on a roadtrip across the U.S. involving four fugitives, two oblivious runaways, a high risk crime ring, and a police taskforce, the two will discover that there's more in store for them than what they originally thought.

[Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Attempted Sexual Assault | Panic Attacks]

Marshmallow by choimarie ( Not Rated | 3,359 | 1/1 )

day 3: tears

“Yo! Look at what we have here!” A voice said loudly and Izuku's heart stopped.

He turned around, his eyes widening.

A group of six alphas was walking his way towards him.

Series Part 3 of Bakudeku week 2k18

Hero & Zero by GreyDayMoon ( Not Rated | 10,751+ | 5/? )

Bakugou was the number one hero, surrounded by fans, and loaded with fame and fortune. So why would he care if a boy from his childhood still watched him from the edge of crowds? He wouldn't give a shit about Deku who would? Who would even be looking for that stupid messy green hair?

Except maybe he would.

Instincts by HG_Wells ( E | 4,184 | 2/2 )

Izuku presents as a very special and VERY rare type of Omega and enters the worst heat imaginable, he needs to find an equally as rare Alpha to help him with this problem. Not so thankfully, he knows only one person that is able to help him with this situation. His very own personal bully.

Bakugou Katsuki.

[Underage]

Wild Child by SaltyTofu  ( E | 10,309+ | 5/? )

Imagine Tarzan, but KatsuDeku,

with wolves instead of gorillas,

and with a lot more smut.

[Graphic Depictions Of Violence]

Don't Look by GrimReader ( M | 56,089+ | 12/? )

No one spots the cracks. No one notices how carefully pieced together he is. Under his bright smile and determined gaze no one sees, no one hears, NO ONE feels how broken he is.

At least, that’s what he thought.

Izuku is not human. He is a fraud. Not deserving of any love. Nothing but a vile monster.

At least, that’s what he believed.

He’s made of scales not glass. He’s always in control. He is invincible.

That is, until he became Midoriya Izuku.

[Former title: H(iS)tory]

[Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Major Character Death | Self Harm | Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con]

Yūrei no Eiyū by FandomManiac22 ( T | 11,769+ | 5/? )

"If you wanna be a hero that badly, there’s a quick way to do it. Believe that you’ll be born with a quirk in your next life and take a swan dive off the roof!”

When Katsuki’s comment comes at just the wrong time, Izuku takes his advice. But it is not the end.

Alternatively: In another world where Izuku is attacked by the sludge villain on the way to school instead of after it, his dreams get crushed too soon. With nothing to save him and Katsuki’s words ringing in his ears, Izuku decides to end it all by jumping off his school’s roof. As his body cracks on the ground, Izuku does not pass on to the next world. Instead, he is left as a ghost among many others. When the slime villain escapes from jail and attacks the person Izuku can’t help but care for, he learns that there may be more to his afterlife than he thought.

And maybe he can be a hero after all.

[Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Major Character Death | Suicide]

The Offering by Bakuholic ( T | 7,032+ | 4/? )

Every year, an offering is given to the dragon race as a trade off for the dragons' protection. This year, Izuku Midoriya is the human offering.

He trembles at the very thought of his death being by the claws of a dragon. However, his expectations of his future seem to turn when an ash blonde alpha dragon begins to grow fond of him and adds him to his hoard of treasure.

(I"m not good at summaries it seems)

[Graphic Depictions Of Violence]

Not All Heroes Wear Capes by vulcanhighblood ( T | 11,002 | 3/3 )

When Kacchan offered to scare off pushy groupies and nosy reporters for Izuku, he hadn't realized that Kacchan was planning to lie about the two of them being in a relationship in order to do so.

Petals In Your Hair by Yuechum ( T | 16,121+ | 15/26 )

Katsuki sees him with sunlight in his hair, the lines of his face softer and more gentle in these brief moments. He looks breathtaking like this he'll think, watching all the while, wondering just when Izuku became someone to long for so deeply.

The slightest hint of a smile lingers on Izuku's face when he notices, and the urge to touch grows, grows, grows.

katsuki bakugou is incapable of love. or so they thought. by alpwaca ( T | 6,276 | 1/1 )

in which their class tries to figure out if Bakugou and Midoriya are dating.

Lights. Camera. Hero! by brichibi ( E | 23,248+ | 6/? )

If there’s one thing Izuku Midoriya’s good at, it’s dreaming big, and dreaming hard. That’s why he’s in Hollywood, of all places, his hometown an entire ocean away along with his graduating high school class and single mother. But he’s gonna be an actor, an international sensation, a superstar like no other.

He just.

Has to convince the rest of the world.

Which is, admittedly, a difficult task.

[AU where "My Hero Academia" is an upcoming television series, everyone's an actor/actress, and romance happens behind the scenes]

Day and Night by Soundsoftherain ( Not Rated | 18,527+ | 4/? )

Midoriya Izuku was born quirkless in a society where your quirk equates to your worth. What did this mean then, for the child whose smile was made of sunshine? The boy who had selfless dreams bursting from the seams?

His father knew, that’s why he’d left. And his mother?

Well…That’s where the story begins.

[Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Abuse]

Lovebites by mynameis152 ( M | 58,375+ | 18/? )

Katsuki Bakugou was going to hate this summer.

He thought he'd hate it because he was being forced to leave home and work for his mother's friend in a small, seaside town. He thought he'd hate it cause he was being punished for burning his room to a crisp. He thought he'd hate it because he hated change.

But it turns out, he hated the Supernatural Turfwar between four species that shouldn't exist but do a whole lot more....

Or

The one where Katsuki is forced to move in with Inko for the summer and finds himself falling for a particular bloodsucker....

[Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Abuse]

[On Hiatus] The Duo by furipuri ( M | 21,385+ | 8/? )

As children, Katsuki and Izuku make the promise to become a duo hero team. Things don't go quite as planned.

[Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Attempted Rape/Non-Con]

I'll Be Your Hero by bakudeku ( T | 2,536+ | 4/? )

Katsuki wants to protect Izuku. He wants to make sure Izuku never has to cry again. Maybe this was his chance to fix everything, to make sure he didn't make the same mistakes as before. If this really isnt a dream, if Katsuki really is in the past, then he'd do anything his little body could to keep Izuku safe.

This time, he'll stay by Izuku's side.

[On Hiatus] synthesis by DriftingGlass  ( M | 31,325+ | 6/? )

They didn’t know how it happened, or when a concept so fickle and ridiculous blossomed in the garden of doubts, anger, and pain in which they so frequently visited.

Between scarred hands and bloodied knuckles, unspoken thoughts stirred like petals in springtime rain.

Bakugo was not prepared for the undeniable change spurring between them.

Unfortunately, neither was Midoriya.

[Underage]

Baby Boom by Minglisabeth ( T | 20,546 | 10/10 )

Bakugou and Midoriya accidentally have a baby.

NOT MPREG, Baby comes from quirk shenanigans.

Series Part 1 of MHA Adventures in Parenthood

Back to Reality by menengaur ( M | 46,975+ | 10/? )

Katsuki's childhood friend disappeared when they were both seven. While everyone else gave hope, Katsuki made a promise to become the No.1 hero. If he couldn't find Izuku, then he would at least destroy those who took him.

How will he react when Izuku returns with powers beyond what should be possible.

[Graphic Depictions Of Violence]

Room 207 by bakudeku ( Not Rated | 8,796+ | 4/? )

No one, not even Bakugou Katsuki, could deny that Izuku was adorable as fuck.

ᶜᵃⁿ ᶦ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵘʰʰʰʰʰʰ

ˢᵒᶠᵗ ᵏᵃᶜᶜʰᵃⁿ

[Suicide Attempt]

Late Bloomer by HG_Wells ( E | 4,752 | 1/1 )

It's the beginning of their last year of Junior High, Izuku Midoriya is a normal Beta. He isn't anything special, at least he doesn't think so. His first heat comes at school and in the end, he ends up at Bakugou Katsuki's house.

Alone with him.

What's the worst that could happen?

(It's better than it sounds I promise)

Bakudeku Week 2018

[Underage | Bullying | Attempted Rape/Non-Con]

[On Hiatus] The Mummy by Spectra ( E | 98,732+ | 17/? )

[TEMPORARY HIATUS]

Midoriya Izuku's adopted brother, Kirishima, brings him a strange puzzle box that contains the whereabouts to the famed Hamunaptra, otherwise known as the City of the Dead. The city, lost somehwere within the depths of Egypt, is said to have held great power during the golden All Might Era. It is also rumored to be the final resting place of the king's all powerful books; The Book of Life, and the Book of the Dead. Izuku doesn't believe in magic, he believes in history, and that's exactly what he expects to find in these books.

To actually get there, Izuku has no choice but to accept the help of the infuriating, and ridiculously short fused soldier, Bakugou, who claims to have been there before. The ensuing ride tests both Izuku's and Bakugou's patience, and the two form the most unlikely of alliances.

Little do they know, the power that they are messing with should have remained undisturbed, and there is something more lurking with the tombs of Hamunaptra than treasure...

All the Cracks They Left Behind by linkami1379 ( M | 11,175 | 1/1 )

Katsuki and Izuku become soul bound to each other when Katsuki is captured by the League of Villains.The shift in perception rocks them both to their cores and they seek to fill in the cracks life has carved into each other's hearts.

Series Part 1 of My One and Only

[Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Underage]

A Place Called Home ( E | 3,812 | 5/? )

"It's okay now, we're your new family. We won't ever hurt you."

[Past Rape/Non-Con | Past Abuse | Homophobia | Addiction]

and the rest is rust and stardust by youreanovelidea ( G | 8,587 | 1/1 )

Kirishima likes to think that he knows his classmates pretty well. But sometimes, he looks at Bakugou and Midoriya and wonders if he even knows them at all. He wonders if anyone does.

(or, Kirishima notices the moments hidden between childhood friends, offers encouraging words, and maybe kisses Kaminari in the process)

A Little Issue by arealhoe ( G | 6,985+ | 3/? )

Everyone awoke to an ear piercing screech.

“MAMA? WHERE ARE YOU? W-WHERE AM I?”

A child? What’s a kid doing in the dorms…? Aizawa thought, as he lugged his tired body through the hall, trying to find the source of the screams. One by one, students started bursting out of their rooms, “What’s that screaming? “Did a kid get in here?” everyone was panicking at the sudden chaos. “Calm down, everyone. Jirou, use your quirk to find where that shrieking is coming from, everyone else, quiet down!” Kyoka plugged her earphone into the wall, closing her eyes. “It’s coming from… Midoriya’s room?” Aizawa threw open Izuku’s room door, only to find a small Izuku, huddled in the corner, crying his heart out. Jesus fucking Christ… Aizawa whispered under his breath, walking towards the child. “W-who are you? W-where’s my mom? Did she send me away?” Little Izuku could barely get the words before everyone saw him, and the chaos started all over again.

Tinted Windows by sula (black_oak) ( E | 18,250+ | 8/? )

Bakugou and Deku have been rivals since the third grade. Now seniors in high school, Katsuki looks forward to destroying the nerd once and for all. But, on the first day of school, Deku arrives a mere shell of the boy he used to be…

Nothing will ever be the same.

[Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Underage | Self Harm | Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-Con]

[On Hiatus] Please Don't Take My Sunshine Away by estupidaval ( T | 5,994+ | 4/? )

“Oh- oh my god.” He whimpered.

“What?!”

“I,” Izuku swallowed. “I think they heard the phone ring.”

[Graphic Depictions Of Violence]

20% by MayTentacleBeWithYee, MissEmotionallyMasochistic  ( Not Rated | 1,386+ | 1/? )

Izuku should have been paying attention.

The man behind him looks hungry.

[Rape/Non-Con | PTSD]

and the screams all sound the same by youreanovelidea ( Not Rated | 1,265 | 1/1 )

"Quiet, Deku," a low voice says quietly. "I've got you." And an arm slips around his waist and there are fingers carding through his hair, gentle and soft, and he can feel the screams that he had shoved into his stomach threatening to escape.

(or, Izuku's nightmares are cold and Katsuki's hands are warm)

Reignite by MorningMoon ( G | 1,400 | 1/1 )

Their classmates knew there was something going on with Izuku and Katsuki, but they didn't know how much they had been missing out. Also, Kacchan saves the day and proves that he has redeemed himself.

[Panic Attacks]

Yell It From The Top Of Your Lungs by estupidaval ( T | 2,897 | 1/1 )

Being seen as weak by many is frustrating. Even so when it's almost everyone who looks at you.

-

At this, Izuku sheepishly lowered his gaze, and said “Strong people cry…”

At this, Aizawa smiled again, “And what are you doing right now, Izuku?”

“Crying,” He replied as he picked at his finger nails.

Aizawa decided to keep pushing, as Izuku knew what he was implying, but wouldn't budge.

He raised an eyebrow and spoke up once more, “So, you are…”

And ‘Ah, there it is.’ Aizawa thought to himself as a smile crept it's way onto the boy’s mouth. Izuku lifted his gaze once more and looked back into Aizawa's eyes,

“Strong.”

Entanglement by srysmnwrites ( T | 14,847+ | 7/? )

Izuku thought that returning home would be good for him.

Oh, how wrong he was.

Returned Favor by CrystalDragonette  ( Not Rated | 1,332 | 2/2 )

Set when Bakugou was taken by the League of Villains, he finds out that Dabi has less than innocent intentions towards Deku.

Series Part 1 of Dekubowl

[On Hiatus] Daemon Sense by LostBear ( G | 14,266+ | 8/? )

Midoriya Izuku has the quirk daemon sense, to be able to see manifested souls in the form of animals. She is determined to be a hero, with her daemon Naoko by her side. Her best friend Kacchan is taken along -willingly- for the ride.

Watch Izuku nose her way into other -familiar- peoples lives without thinking of the consequences...

It All Started With Beer & Pizza by x_tincan_x ( E | 29,237+ | 11/? )

Half an hour after Kirishima had left, there was a knock on the door. Katsuki had a beer in his hand and walked over to the door. Mumbling under his breath, “fucking shitty hair forgot his fucking keys again..” to himself.

Katsuki opened the door, he looked from the dripping wet Kirishima to the equally soaked male he had gone to pick up. When he saw the familiar tangle of green hair and freckles, he choked on his drink. “The fuck…?” he half whispered.

~~~~

Or, the one where Izuku has a past that he finds hard to talk about. Can he build himself back up with the help of his new friends, and re-kindle a relationship with his childhood friend?

[Graphic Depictions Of Violence | PSTD | Panic Attacks | Past Abuse | Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-Con]

A Reaper's Assistant by TatoBugTheDestroyer ( T | 23,121 | 14/14 )

What kind of fucktard is in charge here? What dumbass thought it was a good idea to pair Katsuki with an angel! Of all creatures to help him play the role of a reaper, they chose an angel! He didn’t even need any help, dammit! So, yeah, he missed a few deadlines, accidentally delivered a few people to the wrong place, so fucking what! He damn sure didn’t need help!

-Or- Reaper Katsuki fucks up and as a result, is paired up with Izuku, a High Councilman angel of Heaven to make sure it doesn't happen again.

Void of Pain by Running_wild829 ( T | 19,308+ 12/? )

Kidnapped by his own villainous father at the young age of six, raised by villains since then and sent on countless missions filled with murder, Midoriya Izuku is anything but normal. He may be fifteen years old, and have a quirk, but that doesn't make him normal. He's been careful on all his jobs, except this one. When Shigaraki turns him loose to kill the infamous Hero Killer Stain, he gets sloppy and goes down at the hands of a couple of Yuuei kids. Dragged into the police station and waking up to a detective giving him a second chance was the last thing he thought would ever happen in his fucked-up life...

[Graphic Depictions Of Violence | PSTD]

[On Hiatus] Two Sides of the Same Coin by LocalTrashBin ( T | 82,009+ | 10/? )

Dangerous missions across the continent are one thing but dangerous missions across the continent with zero experience, a cursed bracelet and accompanied only by a difficult, hot-headed protector is a whole other story.

He's a Little Spoiled by DeathByShyKid ( T | 3,477 | 1/1 )

His class may have babied him while he was still recovering from an accidental femur break but one weekend with them out of the dorms and Katsuki is already there with open arms as well as some non-negotiable terms. Katsuki makes Izuku cuddle with him since he refuses to succumb to his pain medication. (bad summary)

Heroes in Underland by BebbekKuning, HG_Wells ( Not Rated | 45,950+ | 19/? )

Years suffering from wars, Monsters and Humans wars led to the point where the third side of the wars step in. The side of supposed to be neutral. The side that wants peace for both; Monsters and Humans sides, the ones who bear with half-blood. But it’s still not working.

That was until the fourth side of the wars waltzes their way in, they didn’t call themselves humans, nor Monsters or the half-blood. But they called themselves the Artificial. They not made by gods, so the gods can’t bound them to their rules or their dice of fate.

This makes the Artificial do what the three sides can't do; Bring peace.

They stay nameless, and still nameless. Their existence always vague in every history books, and always will be. But their tales always stay at every storybook for the young ones.

Now though, when Monsters, Half-blood, and Human reunited, thanks to Quirks existence, new differences poke their ugly heads yet again; Heroes, Vigilante, and Villain.

With that, the Gods roll their dices and play with their children, again.

That was before the forth side trashed the Gods playground, again.

[eliniei]

Those Hard Days - Chapter 28

Summary: Rae’s brother always made sure she was tough as nails. But when her father flips her world upside down, will she find that there’s a limit on how strong she can be?

Warnings: Rape/Non-con (non-graphic, fade-to-black), child abuse, underage drinking, underage smoking, drug use, violence, major character death

AO3: here Fanfiction.net: here

Masterlist

Previous Chapter |  Next Chapter

Chapter 28 - Visit

"Don't be gone too long," Dally said, leaning into the open passenger side window of Two-Bit’s car. His sister nodded.

“Just wanna see how he’s doin’.” He stood up straight. Rae noticed he watched until they were out of his line of sight. 

It didn’t take too long to get to Shepard territory when driving, but Two-Bit wanted to stop at the Dingo first.

"Let's get something to eat first, huh, kid?" Two-Bit asked.

"Are you a bottomless pit or somethin’?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow. “We just ate lunch.”

“Hey, I’m a growin’ boy. I gotta eat more than just a little turkey on some bread.”

"Alright, fine," she started. “But I wanna take a couple of shakes over to Tim and Curly and you’re payin’.” 

When they got there, she sat across the table from him, occasionally stealing a fry or two. 

"So, I-I gotta tell ya somethin’ Two-Bit," she said after swallowing a sip of Coke. He lowered his burger from his face for a second. “And you can’t tell Dally. I don’t think his anger’ll do any good. It’d prob’ly just make it worse. But it’s weighin’ on my mind and I gotta tell someone.”

“Alright,” he confirmed, and then took a bite. 

"I don’t know how he found out- but that kid I fought. The one from the roller rink,” She bit her lip and started picking at the hair ties at her wrist. “He knew.”

"He knew?” Two-Bit said, incredulously, dropping his burger onto the foil wrap. “And you don’t want to tell Dally? Are you out of your mind?”

“No- please, chill-”

“That kid’s a Soc, Rae. And he’s got it out for you.”

“I know, I know, but-”

“He could go to the fuzz at any time.”

"I know. But, he’s waitin’ for somethin’. He knows, yeah, but he ain’t turned us in yet. If we tell Dally- and Dally kicks the shit outta him- don’t you think he’d do it for revenge?”

"I don't know," he replied, scratching at his sideburns. “We need to talk to my mom real soon.” Rae blew out a deep breath.

“Just...finish your food. I’m gonna go get the shakes. We can talk about it later.”

"Alright, fine," Two-Bit sighed, but she could tell his appetite had disappeared. She got up and went back to the counter. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her friend staring out the window, picking at the skin on his bottom lip. 

The rest of the ride over to the Shepard’s was virtually silent. She couldn’t tell if he was angry at her- but she thought he was more nervous than angry. When he’d stopped on the curb outside the house, she got out and stood on the sidewalk while waiting for him to come around. 

She felt a sudden pain in her shoulder as someone bumped her elbow from behind. She hissed and watched as two kids a couple years younger than her walked past. 

"Sorry," the kid mumbled under his breath as he kept walking.

"Mark," his friend whispered. "You have to watch where you're goin’."

"Hey!" Two-Bit yelled from her other side, milkshakes in hand. The two boys stopped and looked back at him.

"What?" Mark asked.

"Don't ‘what’ me, you little shit. Get back here and apologize right. You hurt her," her friend demanded.

"I said, 'sorry' already.” The kid looked at his friend, who gave him a look. Finally, he sighed and walked back up to Rae.

"I'm sorry for running into you," he said, angrily, his face going red. She shrugged with her good arm and he went back to the other boy. The two turned and started back in their own direction, talking quietly. "See, Bryon? She didn't even care."

"You didn't have to do that, you know," she said to Two-Bit, who shrugged.

"Brat needs to learn some manners.” 

"Look what the cat dragged in," Tim’s voice came from behind them. They both turned to see him leaning in the open doorway of his house. “Thought I heard ya’ll out here. Come on in.” Rae took a good look at him while they made their way up the front steps. He looked pretty okay- didn’t get beat up too badly, she supposed, but he was always real good in a fight. Experience, probably, although she was always curious how he ended up with that long-ass scar down the side of his face but never had the courage to ask. 

"Is Curly here?" she inquired as he led them through to the kitchen. 

"Back in his room. Prob’ly got a concussion," he said and accepted one of the shakes from Two-Bit. “Thanks, man.” He sucked in a mouthful through the straw. “Here, I’ll take you to him.” 

“Sure, thanks.” He led her down a short hallway, to the last door on the left and knocked.

"Hey, shitface, you got some visitors," Tim said through the wood. “Now, don’t be shocked. He ain’t got a lick of grease in his hair.” She stifled a giggle. A muffled “come in” came from the other side and he opened the door to let her in. Curly sat lounging against his headboard, copies of The Avengers sitting in his lap, his long, dark hair light and fluffy, combed and tied back so it wasn’t in his face. Tim took Two-Bit and went back out to the front room.

"Didn’t peg you as a comic book reader," Rae said as she sat down on the edge of his bed and handed over the milkshake. “Dally used to read comics when we were kids.”

“Don’t got nothin’ else to do," he said and smiled. He inspected her face. "Don’t look like you got beat up too bad.” She shrugged out of her jacket. His eyes widened in alarm when he saw the sling. “What happened?”

“You don’t remember? You were there.”

“Nah, don’t remember much. That kick to the head must’ve been worse than I thought.”

“That Soc shoved a knife blade into my arm.”

“Hope you beat this shit outta him for it. Is it deep?”

“Tim had my back. Broke his nose. And yeah- went all the way through. Steve’s girlfriend came and stitched it up for me, though.” She jerked her head in his direction. “You look like shit, yourself. Lose any teeth?”

"Nah," he answered. "Just a little ache in the ol’ noggin.” She rolled her eyes.

“I’m surprised. Your mouth was all red when you smiled at me last night.”

“Whatever. I think you prob’ly win the ‘worst injury’ award.” Curly shook his head. “Don’t know why I’m surprised. Those fucks break the rules all the time.”

"Don’t worry about it. Just make sure you get better quick-like, got it?" she demanded. He reached out and threaded his fingers in hers for a moment and smiled. She leaned forward and pressed her lips against his. “We’d better get goin’. Just wanted to see how you were holdin’ up. Make sure you weren’t in a coma or some shit.” He squeezed her hand, then let go of it and opened one of the comics in his lap.

“Alright. I got some very important readin’ to do, anyway.” He smirked, which made her giggle. 

“Get you a pair of glasses and you’ll look like a real nerd.” 

“Yeah, too bad I’m dumb as shit.” With a loud laugh, Rae grabbed her jacket and made her way to the front room. 

“Ready to go?” Two-Bit asked her, looking up from the TV. 

“Think so,” she replied, a smile still on his face. He got up and slung her jacket over her shoulders.

“Leavin’ already?” Tim asked, poking his head out from the kitchen. “Ya’ll could stay for dinner if you wanted- mom ain’t home, so I’ll be cookin’.”

“Nah- Dally wanted me back home early. Thanks, though,” she said with a smile. “I didn’t know you could cook too.”  He shrugged.

“It ain’t nothin’ special, but it's edible.” When Two-Bit headed out the door to get his car started, Tim came around the corner, wiping his hands on a dishrag. 

“Look, kid,” he started, walking up to her. “I’m sure Curly prob’ly told ya that we threw Angel into a rehab center.”

“Yeah, he might’a mentioned it.”

“I just wanted to tell ya that I’m, well, sorry.” Her eyebrows shot up. The day she figured she’d get any kind of apology from the Tim Shepard for any reason, hell would’ve frozen over.

“You feelin’ okay?”

“Look, Dally’s my buddy and all and even if she is my sister- what she did ain’t right. For what it’s worth- I think she’s sorry, but I can never tell with that girl.” 

“Well, I-I’m sorry that it had to happen the way that it did. But, it means a lot, comin’ from you.” She smiled at him. “So, thanks. Maybe she and I can have a chat when she comes home, yeah?”

“You’re alright, kid,” he said with a smile and clapped her on the good shoulder. “Get that arm healed up quick.” She nodded.

“Good as new in no time,” she confirmed and turned to head back to the car. “Later.”

[thepunisher]

A Bottle Marked ‘Poison’

Tony Stark/Bucky Barnes | E | 3842 words | 1/? |

ao3 link

Summary: The headstones are clean and well preserved and surrounded by fresh, colorful flowers when he reaches them. Not lilies, never lilies. But roses and sunflowers and violets. Someone has been taking care of them for years. (Not him. He can’t even take care of himself.) There’s names and dates and pictures. There’s quotes. Beloved mother. He has a split lip, his eye is a nasty shade of purple and he’s still nursing three bruised ribs. Somehow this hurts more. OR On the anniversary of their deaths, Tony visits his parents’ graves. He has an unexpected encounter. Things go downhill from there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Can you believe I started writing again? Yeah, me neither! Many many thanks to @superbatfleck for being the awesome friend that he is and betaing this and to @timmyjdrake and @imissyourbattlecries for always being so supportive and kind. I love you guys and I don’t deserve you ❤

Chapter One: Loss

At the temple there is a poem called “Loss” carved into the stone. It has three words, but the poet has scratched them out. You cannot read loss, only feel it.

Arthur Golden, Memoirs of a Geisha

He’s close to having a major breakdown, so it’s just typical that a squirrel is giving him the stinky eye. A man like him can’t really fall apart without a judging audience. Everyone’s a critic. Go figure.

It’s a sunny day, the kind where birds are annoyingly chirpy and the wind can’t seem to stop blowing against trees leaves. The kind you fool yourself into thinking it’s going to be warm enough to taste like spring and yet the cold actually seeps into your bones and consumes you from the inside. The kind where apparently even squirrels are not above mocking you when you’ve been sitting pathetically in your car for over half an hour, too afraid to face your demons.

Squirrels can smell cowardice, who knew.

Tony doesn’t know if it’s fitting or not. The sun, the peace. Even the peanut gallery. He’s always lived under the spotlight, after all. But he supposes that rain or hail or fog would have probably been better companions to his mood.

It takes him another ten good minutes, mostly spent with his hands holding the steering wheel way too tight, before he finds some sort of resolution and he gets out of the car.

He feels a couple of stems dent under his vice-like grip and curses when he notices that he ruined the flowers already.

He’s terrible at this, no wonder he never did it before. He’s not even inside yet and he already fucked up.

(Not unusual, he fucks everything up.)

The lilies are delicate and beautiful, and their smell feels like a punch to the stomach.

Maria loved lilies and breathing them in is like jumping on a time machine that takes him back forty years in one second.

Their mansion in New York, the one that sat uninhibited for over two decades, would always smell like lilies, like her. Jarvis would put fresh ones around almost daily.

It doesn’t now. Not anymore. It doesn’t smell like home either.

If the guard at the gate recognises him, he doesn’t show it. Whatever the reason, Tony is glad for small mercies. He battled intergalactic aliens hellbent on ruling the universe and shook the hands of people who stomped on his broken heart this past year, yet he doesn’t think he could master faking a smile for a stranger right now.

(Untrue. He’s been faking his whole life.)

The cemetery itself is mostly deserted, which is a relief. The atmosphere is creepy, with a touch of horror movie beginning, probably, but at least there’s no one to witness his sorry ass.

Maybe it’s the early hour. Maybe other people have better things to do so close to Christmas than chase ghosts at dawn.

(He wouldn’t know, he’s always been haunted.)

There’s an overabundance of marble, of angels, of those stupid birds still chirping way too happily for his own taste, but his mind is too loud and racing to focus on anything around him.

You’d think a grown man wouldn’t have to struggle at the thought of visiting his parents’ graves.

(You’d think the fact that he’s considered an adult wouldn’t be hilarious.)

He doesn’t know how people do not get overwhelmed walking among rows and rows of headstones, of grass, of stories ended sometimes too soon, sometimes too brutally.

He hates every second of it.

Perhaps it’s a matter of practice. He wouldn’t know. The last time he visited the cemetery was the day he put his parents and his youth six feet under. That was twenty-six years ago.

He takes at least 4 wrong turns, and he tells himself it’s cause this place is a fucking labyrinth, but he knows he’s just trying to stall. Again.

(He’s always been a coward.)

The headstones are clean and well preserved and surrounded by fresh, colorful flowers when he reaches them. Not lilies, never lilies. But roses and sunflowers and violets. Someone has been taking care of them for years.

(Not him. He can’t even take care of himself.)

There’s names and dates and pictures. There’s quotes. Beloved mother.

He has a split lip, his eye is a nasty shade of purple and he’s still nursing three bruised ribs. Somehow this hurts more.

He sighs.

The lilies’ stems are ruined, but he still sets them carefully inside one large vase. He doesn’t think Maria would have minded, their whiteness stark against the other flowers.

There are benches nearby. Iron things with pointed and curly embellishments and peeled off paint and marble flat things that look uncomfortable as hell, but he just bends his knees and sits on the floor, the ground under him cold.

He sits there for a long time, his elbows resting on his knees, grasping his hands, breathing in the scents of winter and grass and mourning.

He knows a lot of people come to this place to talk to their loved ones, but Tony finds himself speechless.

He doesn’t think Maria would have minded that either.

And what to say anyway? Hi, mom. Not dead yet and not for lack of trying. You proud?

It all feels so anticlimactic, he’s a bit disappointed.

For all the courage it took to bring him here, now he’s unsure of what to do.

He looks at the grass, green and growing over his father’s grave and all he can remember are his ever disappointed eyes. All he’s ever felt and all he thought he would ever feel for him is resentment.

He looks over his mother’s grave and he’s struck by the sudden realization that he can no longer remember the sound of her laughter.

Tony doesn’t know how long he stays there like that. His ass is a bit numb and sore and the sun is starting to bathe everything in its pale light when he feels it.

Goosebumps raise across his flesh, the hair at the nape of his neck going straight. It seems even the chirping has died down.

Prey have a preternatural awareness; they always know when a predator is near.

He doesn’t have enhanced senses, but he knows he’s being watched.

It’s a feeling he experienced a few times since everything went to hell and then somehow it didn’t. Since they defeated Thanos.

His stalker is a quiet shadow. He always is. So much that Tony thinks not for the first time that perhaps it’s all just inside his head. The fruit of his twisted imagination, the product of his wary paranoia, the delusion of his alcohol ruined brain.

(In his nightmares there are always shadows.)

But he knows the feeling of those eyes on him and for as much he wishes he were, he’s not deluded.

(Would he know if he truly were?)

He is angry though.

It took effort and courage and willpower to come to this place, to march across this sea of emptiness and face his monsters. How is he to battle another one when he’s already so unprepared?

His blunt nails are biting the flesh of his palms and as usual, pain is his anchor.

He’ll go away in a while. He always does.

He just looks and looks and looks, his eyes like coals burning Tony’s skin each time it happens, but he always leaves.

Tony is thankful for that cause he doesn’t know what he would do otherwise. What he would say.

He knows what he should say and he knows what he can’t say. But he doesn’t know what he would actually do, given the chance.

So he stays where he is, pretending he has things to say to his parents, waiting for him to just go, so he can go back to clawing at the scabs of his heart.

He doesn’t.

Tony waits and waits and waits but his shadow doesn’t vanish.

There’s rustling eventually, and then like gravel crunching under boots. It’s not loud, but it’s hard to miss in the silence around them. He knows it’s deliberate.

A cold blooded assassin doesn’t make any noise unless he wants you to hear him.

Tony’s heart speeds up when sees him approaching from the corner of his eye, a blur of dark clothes and purposeful strides.

He briefly thinks of the suit in the car and the gauntlet watch he has on his right wrist, its weight a mute comfort. He feels stupid for even contemplating it, cause it’s not like the Soldier is here to kill him. He’s hanging with the heroes now. Living with them and all.

(He doesn’t. But then again he’s never been a hero.)

The urge to laugh a bitter laugh is strong, but Tony manages to contain it. He bets he already looks mad enough, sitting on the floor of a cemetery at the break of dawn.

He is tired. His bones feel hollow and his chest numb. Maybe that’s what finally drove him here.

Weariness.

This conversation has been a long time coming and perhaps they both dragged it out for longer than they should have.

There’s no point to rage, resignation taking its place.

He doesn’t turn even when the Soldier stops only a few steps away from him. From the grave of the people he murdered.

Tony’s brain gingerly supplies the footage of that fateful night, his mother’s anxious, broken voice calling for Howard on a loop in his ears.

He wonders if the Soldier hears that too sometimes. If it keeps him awake at night. He wonders how many such screams he must have heard in his lifetime as the Grim Reaper.

None of them says anything for what feels like hours.

Tony can see the Soldier’s -Barnes, his name is Barnes- shoulders tighten every once in awhile. His breath hitches as if he’s about to speak, but no words ever come out.

Ignoring him in the hope that he’ll disappear like a figment of his imagination doesn’t seem to be working, and so Tony dares to look at him.

It feels like he never really did that. He looked perhaps, but he never really saw.

He certainly didn’t the time they almost killed each other. All those memories are tinted in red, and he doesn’t remember much of that trip to Siberia beside the agony tearing at his chest, the cold taking residence inside his bones and the mute sound of Steve’s boots when he left him behind.

He didn’t really pay too much attention to him when they were all fighting for their lives against Thanos either, too busy trying not to die. They crossed paths a handful of times after that, but it’s not like he was really looking.

He’s tall, as tall as Steve, but he’s hiding his hands inside the pockets of a black hoodie, shoulders hunched down. Tony can’t really say if it’s to make an effort to appear smaller, less intimidating or to conserve body heat since it’s fucking freezing and the man is not even wearing a jacket.

It’s December for God’s sake.

His hair is longer than he’s ever seen it, kept in a messy bun on top of his head, strands falling in front of his eyes, dark stubble dusting his face and dark circles under his eyes that look like bruises.

Tony has pictures of him from before. Pictures of the Howling Commandos, Howard’s mementos. Moments of laughter stolen among the cruelty of war. There’s one in particular that used to be his favorite back when he was young and stupid. Rogers is laughing at something that maybe Barnes or maybe the person behind the camera must have said. Barnes is smiling, a small genuine smile that reaches his eyes and lights up his whole face.

Tony always thought they both looked so damn handsome then. Unreachable.

There’s not much of that man left in the man in front of him now. One sits on top on the other like double exposure, two images overlapping, no neat edges.

He doesn’t think Barnes smiled in a very long time.

He looks tired. Like perhaps he hasn’t slept in a century. Maybe he hasn’t.

Tony can almost relate.

Barnes meets his stare nearly unblinking. Tony is surprised when he’s not the first one to look away.

After that, Barnes takes two more steps and sits right there, a few feet away from him, in one graceful moment.

Tony stills, unsure. Barnes has never attempted to interact with him before. They always skirted around each other the few times they’ve been in the same room. They never even acknowledged the other’s presence. And for how often he’s felt him lingering just around the corner of his mind, the idea of actually talking to the man has always felt alien, distant. As if it belonged to a different man. One who would know what to do.

He never prepared for it, something for which he feels very stupid now, considering how inevitable this moment has always been.

He becomes suddenly very aware of his hands, of his breaths. Of how uncomfortable is the ground under him.

It’s a long time before any one of them speaks.

“I lied,” Barnes says eventually, his voice both raspy and soft, as if he hasn’t used it in a while.

Tony closes his eyes.

“I lied,” Barnes repeats. “Before. When you asked-” he takes a deep breath, releases it slowly as if to steady himself. As if this is hard for him too. “You asked me if I remember them. I said I remember all of them. I don’t. I lied.”

Tony turns his head to face him.

He’s as unmoving as the statues around them, his profile a beautiful thing of soft lines and long lashes.

He’s looking in front of him, but Tony is almost certain he’s not really seeing the headstones, not really seeing anything.

He has a faraway look in his eyes like he’s not really here at all. Tony wonders where he is. He narrows his eyes, pissed at the wayward thought. He doesn’t care.

They’re both silent.

Some time later Barnes turns his head towards him, and it’s like he focuses again on where he is, what he’s doing, who he’s talking to.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

Tony stays quiet. He puts one hand on the ground, picks up some gravel, a few small rocks. He rolls them in his palm. He sighs. “Okay,” he says, because he doesn’t know what else to say.

He has the most delirious thought that breathing is the easier thing in the world until you’re aware you’re doing it. Then somehow it becomes impossible, the muscles not responding properly, as if they’ve forgotten how to do it on their own.

Words of forgiveness are stuck on his tongue and he’s not brave enough to say them.

(He’s not brave at all.)

Intellectually he knows, he knows it’s not Barnes’ fault.

Nothing that ever happened to him is his fault. Nothing he ever did was his fault. He’s as much a victim of Hydra as all the people he killed.

He doesn’t even need to ask or guess what they did to him, what he was forced to endure, how he was transformed into a mindless weapon. He’s seen the videos. He’s spent one too many nights throwing up hugging the toilet after watching them. He knows.

He knew even before that, really. He knew once the blood in his veins had stopped boiling, cooled by the cold of Siberia. Once the rage lifted its veil from his eyes.

Anger is a terrible fuel, really. It burns too fast and it leaves you barren and it doesn’t really take you anywhere.

And yet. And yet, he is still the executioner. His is still the punch that hit his father’s face until his bones caved in. His is still the hand that took the air away from his mother’s lungs.

He’s the truth that washed away a lifetime of rancor based on lies.

If he forgives Barnes, he has to forgive Howard. And if he forgives Howard, he has to learn how to forgive himself and he doesn’t really know how to do that.

He doesn’t think he can.

(How could he ever forgive himself?)

But Barnes seems content enough, like he doesn’t really expect Tony to say anything at all. Like he only wanted to get those words off his chest, as if they sat there for too long.

“I didn’t know you were going to be here,” Barnes says, when it’s clear that Tony is not going to fill the silence, and then he takes one hand off his pocket and goes as if to run it through his hair only to stop halfway there. It’s his left hand. New and shiny and made of vibranium. Barnes stares at it for a second before putting it back into his pocket.

He clears his throat.

“I didn’t mean to intrude. I know this is a private moment. Especially today . God, I-” he looks at Tony. “I am. Sorry. I’m sorry. For this too,” he says, though he makes no move to leave.

He takes both hands off his pockets then, and he shoves his fingers through his hair, almost yanking it out.

The act is so human, it takes Tony by surprise. His words, his gestures, are the first things that make him look like a real person. Tony doesn’t know why, but it makes him mad.

It’s so much easier to hate him when he thinks of him as something else.

“I like it here. It’s quiet,” Barnes says some time later, and Tony realizes that the more he talks the more he can hear Brooklyn in his accent.

A few indelicate comments about that statement cross Tony’s mind in rapid succession. Sarcasm has always been his first language.

“I haven’t been here since their funeral,” he blurts instead and he’s so bewildered he hastily shuts his mouth as if afraid some other shameful confession will escape.

But Barnes nods almost solemnly, as if what he just heard makes perfect sense.

“I used to have a sister. Before. Her name was Rebecca. I read about her,” Barnes says, what must be minutes later. “I don’t remember her. Not really. Sometimes I think I can almost-” he does a little motion with his flesh hand, his head turned sideways, eyes squinting. “I remember… singing. I think she used to sing. She had a beautiful voice.”

Tony is staring when Barnes turns towards him.

“She died. Some time in the 80s. I haven’t gone to see her yet.” He looks at his hands. “I can’t.”

Tony doesn’t reply.

Of all the ways he thought this conversation would go, he never thought it would be this.

Of all the people who would get it, he never thought it would be him. He hates that it’s him.

“And yet, you’re here,” he says, eyebrow raised, perversely hoping to hurt him.

He feels like a bastard for it, but he can’t help himself.

“Yet, I’m here,” Barnes agrees.

“Why?” Tony asks and there’s no concealing the sudden fury in his voice.

“Why I’m here?”

“What are you doing here? Why today of all days? Why them? Why… her? God, why her ?” Tony says. It’s not what he meant to say, but the words slip out so fast it’s like he’s been waiting his whole life to know. He has. “What do you want from me? What do you expect me to say?”

Tony shakes his head before putting it in his hands. He sighs. It seems like that’s all he’s been doing since he got here. “If it’s forgiveness you want, I can’t give it to you.” He turns towards Barnes. “I can’t .“

Barnes looks at him, and Tony is almost afraid of what he might see. He feels like all his nerves are raw, uncovered. As if a gust of wind might undo him. The day started out as an emotional roller coaster and he can’t wait to get off of it and throw up.

“I know,” Barnes says, and he sounds sincere, earnest. “I know you can’t. That’s not why I said it. I just… I needed to say it. I needed you to know it.”

Tony says nothing.

“I come here sometimes.”

Tony’s head whips around so fast he’s sure he strained something.

“It’s peaceful,” Barnes says again. “Not sure Howard ever did peaceful, to be honest. He used to be so… loud.” A soft chuckle. “But I didn’t know him all that well. He was much closer to Steve, I think, than he was to me. I don’t know. I don’t really remember.”

He seems to somber up, the half smile on his lips turning into a grimace.

“He made a working version of the serum. Like Steve’s. Well, more like mine, I guess. Hydra wanted it and they wanted him dead. That’s why. She…” He looks Tony in the eyes, draws in a deep breath. “She was just collateral.”

Tony closes his eyes, his hands fists so tight his knuckles are white. “Collateral,” he says, his tone as dead as he’s feeling.

His mother. His beautiful mother, with her kind smile and her smart eyes.

“Yes.”

Tony exhales. He can’t do this. He thought he could, but he can’t. He can’t have this conversation. Not here, not today. God, not today. Perhaps not ever.

He stands up, dusts off his slacks, starts to leave.

“Stark,” Barnes calls, and Tony wants nothing more than to reach his car and get inside his suit, inside the only place he ever felt safe, and fly high, so high the city, this place, this pain will all be too far away.

(Let go, let it all go.)

He wants to scream. He wants to wreck havoc. He wants to cry.

He needs to leave.

He doesn’t. He stops, but he doesn’t turn. He can’t look at Barnes. He can’t see the regret and the guilt he’s sure he’ll be able to read on his face.

“I know you hate me,” Barnes says. “You have every right to. Hell, I hate myself.” A self-deprecating chuckle. “I know it’s not worth anything but… I am sorry.“

Tony closes his eyes again. He thinks about his mom saying goodbye that day. He thinks of all the things he never told her.

He thinks of the 611 million dollars he spent to try and get over it.

He thinks of Obadiah showing up in the middle of the night. Of his face when he told him they were gone. Of the four years he spent on a drinking binge. He thinks of Rhodey, plummeting towards the ground, too fast for him to stop it. He thinks of Steve and his arc reactor crunching under his shield.

He thinks of his whole world falling apart.

“I know,” Tony says.

And then he leaves.

[ratherhavetheblues]

INGMAR BERGMAN’S  ‘THE SERPENT’S EGG’ “You’ve been thinking much too much, lately…”

© 2019 by James Clark

The films of Ingmar Bergman are all of a piece. They endeavor, from many angles, to make sense of the powers that be. This concern is particularly pressing in regard to the work today, namely, The Serpent’s Egg (1977). On the basis of many vicissitudes of Bergman’s history at that production, a whole industry arose, of delighting in what seemed to have been a weakening of confidence—on the very flimsy basis of punitively catching Bergman straying from his vigorous roots. Were the wags to have troubled themselves to comprehend those roots (well disclosed), they would have dropped that childish game and got down to business.

At the risk of belaboring the obvious, we must turn to recognize our guide’s commitment to taking on a field of very complex physicality. At the outset of his career—in the film, Sawdust and Tinsel (1953), with the figure of Alma and her brief but impressive ecstatic balance; and in the film, The Seventh Seal (1957), with Jof and Marie, and their child hopefully one day excelling in acrobatics and juggling—we have an invitation to a party of unending carnal delivery.

If you think that tax problems; turning away from a homeland to resettle in Germany; and linking with a Hollywood bagman (Dino De Laurentiis [in fact, at that time, only recently based in the USA]; and with involvement in La Strada, Nights of Cabira, and Blue Velvet] could destabilize the resolve of Bergman’s interests, you don’t know what this priority entails. Moreover, there was cinematographer, Sven Nykvist, still in place and game for risking new visuals with unusually big bucks.)

 Relocating to Munich, he would have been strongly reminded of his frequent (though unspoken as such) engagement with fascism, that simplistic and often murderous keening for absolute, homogeneous gratifications. To date, his most probing construct of the phenomenon of such arrested, facile obsession resided in his film, The Passion of Anna (1969). There, in a remote, rural corner of the already remote Sweden, a woman, namely Anna, manages to spearhead a one-person massacre on the pretext that her supposed entitlement to having things entirely her pedantic and dim way has gone awry. Though very clever, her scheme could not have reached its successes without the complicity of a muddled artisan/ farmer, namely, Andreas. With the windfall from Los Angeles, Bergman would seize the moment to revisit the serpent that was Anna. But this time Anna would be a jackboot mob, while a Saint Anna Clinic would oversee the early phase of a tinkering of wanton, sadistic  “experimentation” with human subjects. Another muddled artist, namely, Abel (and you know, sort of, where that’s going), teams up with his widowed sister-in-law; and urban decadence replaces the hot-house sophistication of Anna’s hosts, Elis and Eva, in the country. It is the Eva-moment here, namely, Manuela, who, along with Abel, make The Serpent’s Egg a thrilling study of large-scale cowardice and small-scale love.

Although there will be here the usual dazzling theatrical-dramatic display in order to convey the corridors of problematics—including a number of failing oracles— this film (quick to exploit the financial heft) becomes more a filmic tone-poem than dramaturgy. Therefore, I want to start out (the vehicle’s venue being chilly Berlin, in 1923) with the panoply of woolen apparel. One of Anna’s cheap coups was slashing up a flock of disinterested—thereby superior to her—sheep. And that bloodbath becomes a visceral presence as to savoring a unique progress amidst protracted distemper. In mythology, Abel was a shepherd. In cinematography, Abel, a bit of a fashion-plate with his two-toned dancing shoes (seemingly ready to star on Broadway or in Hollywood), sports a cute woolen fedora which, were you to concentrate solely on it, might make one believe that he is quite alive. (To complete the effect, while disregarding his face, he wears a dark tan woolen jacket over a light tan woolen shirt. His woolen scarf is black. His woolen pants correspond to the rest of the ensemble to complete an impression of careful selection and taste.) Just before we first meet him, there is the film’s opening scene of a throng of Berliners moving toward us in slow-motion—also in woolens, with some of the women’s cloche hats resembling sheep heads—and resembling a push to market. The murky, black and white cinematography there (with the film actually in color) elicits a venerable state of affairs; and beyond that, there is the perpetual gloom upon Abel’s visage, and his veering body language. He looks up Manuela (a risqué dancer at a cabaret; but more than that), with news that his brother—once being a member with the other two in a circus act, and such a pain in the ass she had to dump him—had shot the so-called, “Max,” through his throat depositing his brains all over the back of his bed. The show had to go on after her departure; but a career-ending accident to the Caine left the boys in a crisis—softy Abel losing his nerve to start afresh upon major creation. Abel might be a write-off. But, bright as a button, Manuela, has found a gig that works for her. Though the patrons would not know about it—and perhaps even would prefer something more predictable—she (true to the mystery of her trapeze practice) has migrated to that shock and awe known as German Expressionist dance (Neuer Tanz), where body action gets uncanny. That night, bedecked in curly green sheep hair, she splays her legs and, pounding out some Germanic chant, becomes a possessed puppet or doll, a seductive siren, or a creature crying out during a slaughter. Abel, the former risk-taker and maven of alternate sublime, scowls and, as he no doubt found very early at his family mansion, adopts a hard line toward the great unwashed. Max (the elevated) and Abel (the sweet) had, no doubt, an early spree of rebellion (always mindful of a generous safety net, but going on to dispense with it from out of their pitiful Bohemian pride).

   Getting to the bottom of this crisis of mood will have been assisted by two other figures—his dare-devil, former boss, from a past at that mixed fun-time; and the Chief of Police, drawing from the “survivor” particulars about the actions of two English speakers, lacking German (and one, Manuela, European of unknown background) in the crash of post-World War I Germany. He tells the cop and us, “I was born in Philadelphia [the liberty town]. My folks come from Riga, in Latvia. The three of us came to Berlin” [after Max’s accident]. Back, close to the stage where Manuela is doing pretty well, someone addresses the guy expensively dressed, not doing well at all, “Did we smoke our first cigarette together? Amalfi, 26 years ago. Our cottages were next door to each other. Rebecca, right?” Abel rudely rushes away. But his Eurotrash, overstuffed appetites don’t get lost.

Going back to the film’s beginning can better establish the pitch of that (spent) force. Coming home at dark, staggering from a chronic drunkenness, he almost relishes the horribleness of his shabby existence. “A pack of cigarettes costs 400 billion Marks, and almost everybody has lost faith in both the future and the present…” Overheated, melodramatic gestures like that—extending to the work’s title—saturate the dimensions of the double protagonists. Entering what the brothers have been able to afford (and perhaps the mainspring of the suicide by the only employable sibling), Abel pauses at the foyer where a large room accommodates a dinner/ prayer meeting. At the open doorway, there is a panel of geometric, mutedly colored décor, rather closely resembling the stained-glass windows of Andreas, whose fecklessness is no match for a filthy brute like Anna. Abel is arrested by the warm and gentle union, its hymns and the piety of the assembly. He breaks out in a rare smile. Tears stream down his cheeks. Recall the sudden and short-lived passion of Andreas on noting the uncanniness of the sun while he does repairs on his roof. Consider the difference. Notice the maudlin state of our protagonist here. Also notice that, on encountering the suicide, Abel rushes back and forth in his lostness, the same Samuel Beckett-rattled back and forth at the end of The Passion of Anna, where the killer drives away and the not tough-enough artist resorts to signs of absurdity.

   On following Manuela’s exit from the stage that first night, we become even more vividly aware of her (perhaps fleeting) sensuous priorities. Her departure is given super-closeup, in such a way that areas of her body and her costume define her by region rather than individual. So sanguine is she with her innovation, she seems incapable of fathoming the uniqueness of the register, the pitch of intensity and rigors which could very well spell a tiny range of interaction. A person like Abel, now reduced to parasitical opportunism, would very clearly regard her as a precious dreamer—a precious dreamer with a cash-flow. A person like Manuela, who was fortunate in being in high favor by her landlady/ oracle (who was also an aficionado of radical design [Jugendstil, “Youth-Style”]), might have been shown invaluable wisdom by the friend, were the ancient not fearful of the subject conflict—secretly witnessing Abel’s stealing the other protagonist’s savings and doing nothing about it but telling him, later, “I’m very attached to Manuela. If you forgive me my saying so, I’m as fond of her as if she were my daughter. She’s so kind, naïve [here giving him a hard look]…It’s that there’s all the terrible things going around. I think your sister-in-law is heading for trouble. The thing about Manuela is she doesn’t defend herself. Nothing must happen to her…” Such a gambit being itself a tonal terrain of deadly retreat.

   Wearing her woolen cloche on the tram ride home from the night, she finds Abel crumpled up in the doorway to her flat. Holding him up, she unwittingly brings him to the money; but treasures of the specialty of the house emanate along with her own modest effects. Such incisiveness, however, must wait till next morning; and, even then, he starts by blathering away about the family next to them, at Amalfi, where the master of the house, a Supreme Court Justice, would cut open a farm animal to see the heart still beating. As Manuela puts together a breakfast, we notice on the austere but carefully incisive wallpaper, two lithographic circus posters—one, depicting a man and a woman, upside-down, clinging by their feet to a trapeze; and the other showing a woman bare-back rider. No one refers to them for a moment; but you know she would have had long, penetrating times in their presence—not only about the vignettes but the uptakes of the wider tones. Even though he forces upon her a wad of low-value currency, explaining, “You should take the money before I spend it on booze,” she imagines that they could dazzle once again as a high-precision circus act. Perhaps she banks upon her charisma to overcome any obstacle. And, therein, a mood of tailspin burns brightly. The shrunken heart, responds with, “I don’t know. What good is it without Max?.. It’s a nightmare…” She embraces him, in a bid to lift his spirits. “We’re going to do it,” she enthuses. “You think too much… We can do a new number, just you and me. We could make magic. I know a wonderful magician. We could take over his show!” (The initiatives being far from coherent. But here we occupy a play of mood, which impacts in its own ways.) In reply, there’s the one-note, “I don’t know. Since this business with Max…” (And he cries.) Despite the discouragement coming her way, she tries the coquetry, “You’ll be my big brother. We’re going to stick together now…” That his repetitive dirge—“I wake up from a nightmare…”—becomes ludicrous, only confirms that a whole other world buoys her. As she iterates, “Everything is alright! We have everything we need,” it is that “which we need” which possibly turns things thing around for her, leaving the pessimist far behind. Can her upbeat heart hang on? He tells for her his seeing Nazi goons getting away with murder the night before. And she tiptoes around her second job as a hooker for the wealthy. She moves along with, “You’ve been thinking much too much, lately…You’re awfully tired…” (Unspoken and probably confusedly, would be, “You’ve been thinking like and old man!”) “I’m going to look after you, you know… And in a few days everything will be much better. You’ll see…” As she goes to her bemusing job (which he tries to treat as the end of the world), she’s in furs.

   The smashing of Manuela’s inadequate roots is both dismaying and uplifting. Abel is obliged to return to the police station to settle details; and thereby the money he has just stolen is confiscated by a matter of routine. At the tail end of his bizarre and revealing brush with justice, Manuela appears there (as hopefully finding a pedestrian clue to what was in fact a fear of life itself, but in hopes that Abel might know what happened to her money). She’s seated at a table, and the brother-in-law walks past her without looking her way. This, by way of a visit to Abel being held for information about Max and a slew of other corpses. He silently brazens his involvement, and adds, “Luckily, I’m in charge of Max’s money…” As the interview proceeds, she loses her concentration, and Abel faults her for lagging. She asks, “Please be nice to me…”

On the day the landlady demands the rat out, leading to Manuela’s angry rupture of a wise friend, our protagonist rallies a bit in visiting a church. But we are now approaching such a meltdown of cogent vision and tone—acceptance of Abel a form of insanity—that the narrative commences to sport auras of (largely, American film) clichés—becoming, in themselves, not only a warning but a fissure leading to depths. (Bergman seizing the singularity for all its worth.) Although he easily stalks her to the site, he totally misses the action. First a flock of candles, with Abel back in the gloom. Overkill, where three would do the trick. She addresses the eccentric American priest; but he’s, at this point, distracted. Bing Crosby would never have slipped that way. She soldiers on: “My father was a magician. My mother was a circus rider. I’ve been in circuses all my life [unlike the upstarts]… I need to speak to somebody, do you understand?… Oh, this guilt is too much for me! And I feel it’s my fault that Max committed suicide… Now I have to take care of Max’s brother. And it’s even worse! Why he’s just like Max. He never says what he’s thinking. He just charges ahead with his feelings and he looks so frightened. And I tried to tell him that we’ll help each other… That’s only words to him. And everything I say is useless. The only real thing is fear! And I’m sick. I don’t know what’s wrong…” The priest asks, “Would you like me to pray for you?”/ “Think that will help?” she asks. “I don’t know,” the expert admits. They kneel together and soon she wonders, “Is it a special prayer?”/ “Yes,” he finds the cogency to declare. (A vehicle, that is, which she’s been delighted by many times in the past; only to let it slip away.) He adds, “We live so far away from God. So far away that God doesn’t hear us when we call out… So we must help each other give each other the forgiveness a remote God denies it. I tell you, you are forgiven for your husband’s death. You’re no longer to blame. [The priest having read between the lines.] I beg your forgiveness for my apathy and my indifference. Do you forgive me?”/ “Yes,” she rather confusedly replies. “I forgive you.” This elicits the clang sound repeatedly sounding at the beginning of the film, sounding to the roots. “That’s all we can do,” he closes. (Leaving the question, “Is that really all we can do?” Could it be that the powers-that-be require our dance/ acrobatic initiative to really rock? Could it be that asking is the wrong gambit. Active partnering would entail graces enough.)

   Manuela’s pristine partnering becoming rapidly collapsing, she finds a workhouse connected with Saint Anna’s Clinic (“Please say it’s nice…”), and Abel let’s her know it’s beneath his dignity. On to the cabaret which, that night, is visited by a Nazi unit (one of the highlights being the owner’s beaten to a pulp, somewhat like, much later, the beating from Cliff to an enemy, in Tarantino’s Once upon a Time in Hollywood. Intense action often drawing upon a volume of sensibility missing the mark.) But the most telling moment, from our perspective, is the spectacle (seen from a bird’s eye view) of our protagonist in her avant-garde costume consumed by a terrified throng. (The collapse of mood being our investigative task.) She goes to work in the clinic’s laundry, and she becomes ill from pneumonia. She tells Abel, now working nearby in a vast archive (apt for someone locked away in the past), “I don’t think I can stand it here.” In an echo of her best self, she smiles and says, “It could have been worse.” That night, he beats her up; and melodramatic complaint takes over. “I just say, if you won’t believe, you can go! I’ve done everything to keep us together. I just can’t go on any more…” She hammers on the table. All the savoir faire having abandoned her. Abel cuts out and walks past a group butchering a horse that was once a going concern. The horse’s beautiful head was seen intact, to bring to bear the powers of a creature the vivacity of which far surpasses domestic exigencies. The one who couldn’t stay returns to Manuela’s corpse. He shakes her brutally, hoping to bring her back to life. He had picked her to the bones. (Those faulting Bergman’s cosmic vehicle in preference to Bob Fosse’s domestic and political musical, namely, Cabaret [1972], have been barking up the wrong tree.)

During his stroll to escape Manuela’s last ditch feeling of affection, he activates a study of the difference between Sportin’ Life and lively sport. After stuffing Marks into a barkeeper’s mouth and going on to smash with his bottle the window of a lovingly maintained woolen’s shop, he uses his plush dancing shoes to hoofer-style disappear to an alleyway replete with a young hooker. Once again, as with the raid, the scene is taken from a considerable distance, and at a rather stagey height. His opening, “Go away,” has about it many Broadway tinctures. (The alley is clearly a sound stage.) “Come with me! It’s warm. You can have it any way you want…” “Go to hell,” he studiously emotes. She chuckles, and her delivery seems from Iowa. “Where do you think you are—at Times Square?” she sweetly fusses. A muted honky-tonk drifts their way; and he goes her way. (The sentimental film, Going my Way (1944), with its unorthodox priest, is all over the vignette of Manuela and the American clergyman. Classics on the move. Distress in the mood. The millions to make this film/ tone poem were not wasted, as ridiculous trolls would have it.)

   Disabled Abel and the night worker enter a brothel bristling with poor breeding. The prevailing trick soon reveals itself to be humiliation of a crippled, impotent and noisily opinionated black. Though a show-biz tragedy is ready to make you squirm, those of us, remembering Bergman, recall the film, Sawdust and Tinsel (1953), and its routed ringmaster becoming a figure of public and private defeat. With so much slippage in the air, this episode puts us in need of finding a way that works. Manuela’s mother was a circus rider, perhaps making waves in the midst of that corporate collapse. A lady clown, Alma, dazzled for a few moments much of the army, before subsiding to tending to an old bear, whom the beaten boss shot to death, in a cowardly attempt not to look weak. But with the specifics of the brothel, we enter upon a measure of consistently oblivious frenzy for the sake of the enjoyment of empty advantage. The new friends inhabit the world of George Gershwin’s opera, Porgy and Bess (1935). Cowardly Abel toys (like the opera’s villain,  “Crown”) with a crippled and fiercely loquacious, Porgy, who bids, to neither sexual nor social effect, to rescue, Bess. “You’re tryin’ to kill me! You’re tryin’ to fuck me! I can’t fuck! Worst bitch in the whole damn world! She’s got fangs, I saw them!” The object of this fury laughs. “That big mouth bitch! I’m not a queer. That’s a goddamn lie!” (A clown show, drifting over to the beaten ringmaster; and the beaten has-been!) Abel would also double here as cynical, “Sportin’ Life,” always the vicious oracle. Abel bets him to come. More humiliation. More of Saint Anna and her security of delivery.

Our denouement entails further rigidity against the prospects of that cogency we’re tracking becoming widespread. There are two instances of Abel’s being the beneficiary of oldsters’ letting their sunny hopes prevail over what is a rather obvious phenomenon of failure to thrive. He crosses paths with the impresario whom he and Max and Manuela starred for. The elder is supple and intense; Abel might as well be headed for palliative care. He disregards the question, “How are Max and Manuela?” In spite of this, the gambler insists, “The circus needs you!” Invited to lunch at a posh restaurant, Abel consumes much alcohol in slight time. He also, from out of a life-long distemper, plunks his sheep skin hat over the head of a nude sculpture. His host tells him, “Nowadays I can get any dance star I want. They all know I pay in dollars…” Disregarding the rudeness and alcoholism, he switches to the day’s newspaper and regards the actions there as more entertainment. He thrills to, “… the massacre of Christians by the Jews… the Bolsheviks coming to Germany and stumbling over the bodies of your women and children…” The showman asks, “Why don’t you say something?” In reply he produces a pedantic doctrine which Anna, the security maven, could have written. “I don’t care about political crap. The Jews are as stupid as everybody. If a Jew gets into trouble it’s his own fault. He gets into trouble because he acts stupid. I’m not gonna get stupid, so I’m not gonna get into trouble.” Tone deaf through the whole exercise.

   The second senior, who could have anticipated aberrant performance in Abel, is the Chief of Police, who misreads peevishness for commitment. The Chief has an idea that Max was only one of a large number of victims to a mass assailant, not quite as slick as Anna. The investigation, involving the sibling, begins where Max maxed-out and a hurdy-gurdy man with a little monkey gives the street some shine. On to the morgue, where the person of interest touches upon more than a limited errancy. A series of blood-spattered shrouds confront them; and each station has a link to Anna. Max’s suicide may be light years away from Johan’s, but comparisons can divulge important truths. Abel recognizes  the first woman to be shown as having been engaged to his brother. At another perspective, there was Anna forcibly tearing her (understandably fed-up) husband away from a woman he preferred to her. (Cause of death, drowning.) Another incident gives Abel the sense of recalling his father. Repeating the outrage of Anna’s leaving Johan (a father-figure to Andreas) to seem to the world to have butchered a flock of sheep, which brought upon the innocent man such cruelty that he committed suicide, the other father would be another kill of hers. The Chief adds, “Someone stuck a hypodermic needle into this man’s heart. It probably took several hours…” Then there is an aged woman whom Abel has seen but can’t fully detail. “I think she delivered papers. I used to meet her at Frau Lanci’s boarding house. Once she helped me up the stairs when I was drunk, too drunk to make it on my own. Her name is Maria Stahn. She left a very strange letter. ‘The husband was half out of the windshield.’ He worked at the cabaret, in the entrance.” The fallible investigator adds, “We are not certain how he was killed. He seems to have been run over by a truck, but something tells us he’d been assaulted or tortured.” In the land of the prototype of mad safety, there was the treachery of Hour of the Wolf (1968), pertaining to the strange, warning letter; and, then also, Anna, and her note (written by the husband) to Andreas; and a husband killed by her sneakingly catapulting him through their car windshield.

Suckered by the non-acrobat’s bathos, the old cop opens up with, “All over Germany, millions are terrified… but I’d be delighted to see you swing on your trapeze with your peers. That way you fight your fear.” He provides a police escort to a train to Basel, where the circus works at being fearless. But he slips away from the goodwill and disappears forever.

Before he’s mercifully gone, he visits, by way of his archival links, the brain-trust behind that recent plague of violent deaths. There he can measure his own puny pedantry against a far more virulent rationality (another Anna). What could be more appropriate than an Alfred Hitchcock “exciting twist” to send the patrons home feeling that rational goodwill must always prevail. The carriage-trade chum from Amalfi pops up in a lab coat, and delivers a rationale for studies in human endurance (along the way, giving scope for a family trait of sadism). (Abel spends most of the experience covering his eyes with his hands.) With the Chief on his tail, the so-called “heavy” bites his  cyanide capsule, while the law shoots away the door. “We are ahead of our time,” the researcher/ melodramatic oracle had assured Abel. “In a few years, science will ask for my documents, to continue our experiment on a gigantic scale. What you have seen are the first steps of a necessary and logical development… The old society, based on extremely romantic ideas of man’s goodness, was all very complicated… The new society will be based on man’s potential and limitations. We exterminate what’s inferior.” (Mood becoming bilious. Melodrama becoming empty.)

   Hitch, always leaving the customers with a witticism, has the Chief—that genius of human nature—brag, as to a recent abortive putsch by Hitler, “He underestimated the strength of the German democracy.”

Hovering over the mad professor is his surname, “Vergerus”—the surname of Anna and the surname of a proto-fascist doctor, in the Bergman film, The Magician (1958). They’ll never go away, because cowardice will never go away. Our film today anticipates slight but meaningful progress.

[noelsilvas]

MEET NOEL ADRIAN SILVA !

(IN)CORRECT QUOTE

“ i’m way too sleep deprived to deal with your negativity right now ” - jake peralta or noel silve u tell me

BASIC

NAME: noel adrian silva NICKNAMES: nada AGE: 25 BIRTHDAY: december 23 SPECIES: he’s like 90% acrylic paint at this point GENDER: cismale PRONOUNS: he/him

FAMILY

MOTHER: biological , unknown FATHER: biological , unknown PARENTS:  celeste & malachi “mal” silva who love him more than they love themselves FAMILY:  v much chosen SIBLINGS: younger sister, 20-21 unnamed JUST IN CASE but super into music and v much a pain in his ass, actually came up in foster care together ; nicholas “nicky” silva , 5 , celeste and mal’s only biological son , kind of a miracle and the love of noel’s LIFE

PHYSIAL ATTRIBUTES

FACE CLAIM: tommy martinez RACE/ETHNICITY: venezuelan NATIONALITY: american HEIGHT: 6′2 WEIGHT: idk whatever a healthy bmi is BUILD: was once an athlete, hasn’t lifted a weight in 2 years HAIR: curly and in desperate need of a cut FACIAL HAIR: stubble, at the moment, will likely grow it out as winter comes  HAIR COLOR: dark dark dark brown EYE COLOR: light brown SKIN COLOR: also light brown DOMINANT HAND: right ANOMALIES: freckles mostly on his shoulders and chest SCENT: patchouli and vanilla ACCENT: nada PHYSICAL DISABILITIES: nada LEARNING DISABILITIES: nada, just really bad at math ALLERGIES: peanut butter :( DISORDERS: nada FASHION: stripes! mismatched socks, cuffed jeans, knit sweaters, band merch, black denim, owns one (1) pair of overalls, beanies in the fall NERVOUS TICS: rubs his bottom lip in thought a lot QUIRKS: wears a broken watch, socks never match, almost always has paint on his fingertips, owns 38274 notebooks full of handwritten lyrics and has 3298427 untitled unsorted voicenotes of melodies he’s made up in his lil brain

LIFESTYLE

HOME ADDRESS: east side RESIDES: east side apartment BORN: west side of victoria RAISED: west side of victoria VEHICLE: 2015 toyota SOCCER MOM SUV PHONE: iphone x LAPTOP/COMPUTER: macbook air, massive desktop in his room PETS: orange tabby w 3 white paws and 1.5 ears named JIM 

HIGH SCHOOL EDUCATION: graduated COLLEGE EDUCATION: graduated but ... not quickly and not happily lol ... will be Going Back once he figures himself out MAJOR: business  MINOR: music theory CAREER: currently works at a tattoo place on the west side EXPERIENCE: had odd jobs growing up, sold some artwork every now and then OTHER: dabbling w the thought of going back to school to be a hs music teacher

POLITICAL AFFILIATION: independent RELIGION: read a lot about wicca bc he thinks it’s ‘dope’ but doesn’t practice anything BELIEFS: WHOLLY believes in art for arts sake , ‘time is a manmade concept, an illusion’ DRUGS: eh, maybe once or twice SMOKES: gets high every sunday but cigarettes are GROSS  ALCOHOL: occasionally DIET: literal black hole will consume anything

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: heteroromantic SEXUAL ORIENTATION: heterosexual MARTIAL STATUS: *sweats* CHILDREN: absolutely not AVAILABILITY: loves love LOOKING FOR: a muse

LANGUAGES: english, spanish

PHOBIAS: heights HOBBIES: plays like 10 instruments including french horn, writing, painting, sketching, smoking, taking jim for walks TRAITS: + charismatic, kind, ardent, nurturing ; - kinda dumb sometimes, flaky, no sense of self SOCIAL MEDIA: instagram, tinder, snapchat, twitter, myspace still active

FAVOURITE

LOCATION: in front of a blank canvas SPORTS TEAM: ....... nah GAME: a bitch probably loves cards against humanity and actively plays any video game that isn’t grand theft auto MUSIC: indie pop, independent rappers, would DIE for j. cole SHOWS: community, bob’s burgers, great british bake off MOVIES: dazed and confused, remember the titans, everybody wants some FOOD: will literally eat anything but particularly likes his mom’s oatmeal cookies :\ BEVERAGE: chocolate milk :\ COLOR: forest green

CHARACTER

MORAL ALIGNMENT: chaotic neutral ENNEAGRAM: four, the individualist ZODIAC: capricorn HOGWARTS HOUSE: hufflepuff TV TROPES: jake peralta, nick miller, SCOTT! MCCALL!!!! SONG: fuck, i’m lonely — lauv 

IDEOLOGIES: it costs $0 to be a decent fucking human being, brad

INFO

grew up in foster care which really prevented him from having any sense of permanence. he bounced around a lot but never outside of victoria. his childhood was spent constantly sharing a room and not really knowing who he was or where he came from or if he’d ever ... know lol. was literally left on a doorstep on christmas eve, hence the name noel

was always a messy kid, always getting into something. never really any REAL trouble but he was a handful and no one seemed to want to adopt the bouncing kid who drew on walls and wouldn’t stop singing the fucking arthur theme song. he was fine with it, didn’t mind the company, didn’t really know anything else though

otherwise was fairly,... normal as a kid. was v average in school but excelled in creative arts, spent a lot of time in an after school program that allowed him to learn music and further his art skills

this is where he met celeste and mal, as they sort of ran this little non-profit after school program and boy oh boy did they love noel

they married young, very much in love, and they’d been trying for a while for a child but... unfortunately had too many problems conceiving. the only issue with adoption was they really just ... loved this noel but weren’t sure if they were ready to take a full on pre-teen into their home, being in their early 20s themselves

it took about three years ,... agonizing but ... worth it .. to be fully ready to adopt noel (and unnamed sister) and when he was 14 he moved to the east side and officially became a silva. they weren’t super wealthy, but they had more than enough and gave him everything he could’ve asked for. they’ve always been... nurturing and encouraging and despite the fact that noel doesn’t really know who he is at his core, he knows that he got patience and kindness from his parents

and they are ... his parents ... and he has nO desire to find his biological parents. like literally zero. he can figure himself on his own and as far as he’s concerned celeste and mal are mom and dad

anyway ... dude’s an artsy soul through and through. his first love was music but he’s... not the spotlight type, not a front man, literally retches at the thought of being on stage bc it lowkey frightens him so mostly he just writes music, plays it for the sake of relaxation

his second love is art. sketching, painting, most specifically: street art. he’s careful with it, though, considering he’d never want to put his parents through the STRESS of having a delinquent son

feels a lot of pressure to be something great because he’s ... just.... idk he has this fucking weird complex where he KNOWS he knows his parents love him but he kinda feels a need to prove that choosing him was The Right Choice

anyway he’s currently working at a tattoo shop, living his best life, considering going back to school and dreading it

it’s just really important that you know

that his socks?

they never match

thank you

[cafephan]

dan and phil play the sims 4 #39: a summary

danandphilgamesChildren impression of the iconic woman from the simpsons dan has no care for children and i relate "... not that you're children" dan says whilst phil is trying to speak dig yourself into a hole in your own time stop interrupting him you curly haired lumberjack wannabe i sound mocking but he actually looks bomb i love it they both do "don't talk about the words. the words just come, they mean nothing... like our lives" also just like the rebrand apparently briefing on the toddler stage the lack of skills is going to make me cringe phil watched the video back just to call dan out, what a guy they feign surprise that we're so observant the parp debate "... and other things i'm not particularly comfortable with you saying" "he's just dead in the bed" // "he's fine" phil recalls being in daycare and crushing trucks in sand with his friend owen.... okay boy can't wait for the abundance of original characters called owen in fics now dan just remembers a sandpit what kind of fancy ass daycares did you two go to i didn't have any of that shit i just remember all the girls except for me used to fight over the doll pram whilst i sat alone in the corner of the room attempting to read and being sad that i was there both their daycares were inside and they stank because 'everyone peed' .... again what kind of daycare did you two go to "even though we were three hundred miles and a couple of years apart... we had the same experience" // "essentially that sand came from the same place" i'm so done with these two and it's not even three minutes in "fill the bath with fruit loops" the toddler food glitch is so fucking annoying and seeing it in let's plays only annoys me more phil thinks the final bedtime story will be about a dragon "party miami dad with abs" "hey dan it's your ripped jeans, you just need to cut them off as shorts" // "oh my god, yes, and when i have abs i will wear a top like that" please stop talking over each other we're not even four minutes in yet this is going to be painful "that's kind of dragon, come on, give that to me" the latter of this sentence immediately triggered the 'it's not the first time he's said those words' sensor in my brain phil wants to change the miami dad outfit whereas dan literally screeched his argument to keep it phil feels pain in his own stomach watching a simulation on a screen do ab crunches the excitement over transformation of the day is cute what a cute thirty year old man you are "that reminds me, you should do transformation of the day, come on, i've been waiting" very contradictory but sure okay phil "time to sacrifice one of our children" the youtube comments are going to have a field day with that one aren't they "party dil's whacking out..." the draw phil naked music :(((( dan the materialistic man resurfaces the first singing interlude of the video "is it dab or usain bolt, scientists can't tell" "happy famalamies" "how does one cake" me on a regular basis honestly they both agree that blue confetti cake sounds 'birthday-ish' the artistic prodigy aspiration and the cheerful trait were chosen "dab - a ray of sunshine running through everyone's lives" "i'm like who is this thing in the house" phil lester english university degree holder lame science jokes from dan there supportive bf phil is back with a vengeance though don't you worry the game spawned him with bunny slippers nice "he's growing up before our eyes, dan" fanfic writers have fun "i'm gonna punch. and i'm gonna punch you, phil. because you're the only one here" // *phil leans away* "don't punch ME!" "amphibians need representation" cue the 'de-toddling' decor section "dinosaurs are still valid" phil was scared of space print bedding he had as a kid apparently it included the molester moon so i mean that's a thing he said and here's the creepy speaking in sync thing again. add it to the compilation videos "easy beans" a creativity table for children gave phil tingles the debate over whether or not to give him a tablet is really proving who will be the easygoing parent and who will be the disciplinarian (the majority of the fics were right) "you-you're gonna not give someone at school access to youtube? how can they make it through life without minecraft youtubers?" he was speaking from personal experience minus those last three words i see u howell phil wants him to draw a vehicle so dan chooses shapes domestics are on the horizon "yes this is danandphilcrafts, who's gonna be sacrificed to satan?" phil take that reference back before i shove it where the sun doesn't shine time to age up evan quick sidenote have you seen how many dabxevan fics there are bc wow there are a ton, not that i've read any but they're out there "see i went to cheese and you went to trapeziums... what does that mean, psychologically?" that dan needs to get his well-educated stick out of his ass and realise a block of cheese when he sees it "all this cake is making me so hungry, dan.." this whole cake talk is so domestic what the fuck is happening you just moved how are you still providing domesticity they're going to get deliveroo cake i'm surprised we didn't get a tweet about that crazy night apparently eliza is a milf according to dan even though phil says he isn't allowed to say it (make of that what you will, demons) daddy pancakes they're literally providing more weird fic prompts pls stop "tumblr's gonna go nuts. they have matching trackies" so we now know what tags dan stalks on tumblr red apparently reflects evan the science set is reminding phil of fallout yes i relate what a quality game this video took so long to summarise what the actual fuck but okay it's over it's just the buildup to the outro now "don't explode the universe with a chemistry set" wise words from phil there Daniel Howell - i guess these puns have to be daniel themed now AmazingCake