#the hardest part was actually figuring out how I wanted to render this

[susielesbianism]

I love it when girls are in love!!!!

(Reblog, don’t repost)

[pyjamaart]

A looming presence... (A piece of fan art for Episode 11 of the Christmas Comeback Crisis)

Read more for an essay on all the memes and references ;)

So here it is. Finally. Only one month too late: This piece of CCC fan art I've worked on since the episode came out.

Sorry for the delay, but I just started at my new job this week and it's been a little stressful, so I didn't have much time to work on this. But now it's finally here!!! I gotta say, the hardest part by far was the background, lol. I didn't mean for it to escalate that much. At the end I was honestly running out of memes to draw.

I bet we can all agree that episode 11 of the Christmas Comeback Crisis was so worth the wait, right???? My god. Peak entertainment. I still can't believe I'm getting all this awesome lore and music for free, feels kinda criminal.

I'm so invested in this story, it's unreal. I can't wait to see how it will end. I can already tell it's gonna be pretty emotional. (And not to alarm anyone, but I have a slight feeling that the Voice is not gonna make it out of this story arc alive. I mean, after everything he's done, it's safe to say that he kinda deserves it. Of course I really don't want him to die, cause that would mean…….. Woodman would also have to die??? Otherwise the Voice will just keep coming back again and again because Woodman is keeping his memory alive…….. Oh man wait a moment….. I don't even want to think about that. Forget I said anything about this.)

Anyway, let's talk about this piece of art for a moment.

In the foreground, we have our brave protagonists. I really really like how Nozomi turned out, so I decided to make her my new icon from now on. Don't get me wrong, I love my old icon, but it's kinda zoomed out and you can't really make out any details when it's really small. So Nozomi it is. Meta Knights sword was shockingly difficult to draw, especially because I had to figure out how to draw it when he's holding it at an angle like that. Otherwise, drawing him was actually one of the easiest things about this whole thing. His design is really just two circles with some arms and armor. Figuring out how the circle tool in Gimp works has never felt this good. (Kinda crazy I can just draw him like this now, considering how obsessed with him I was when I was about 12-13 years old. Back then you had to download official renders of your favorite characters onto your computer, then print them out and hang them on your walls all around your room. Yeah I've always been like this.) Drawing Santa was really fun too, just his right hand was a little difficult. But that's just because I still can't draw hands in general. Maybe I should practice drawing hands more. (Naaaaaah I'm just kidding, I'll never do that.) Now that I'm looking at him again, he's also longingly staring at President Haltmann in the background. Doomed yaoi fr.

Speaking of the background, let's talk about that next. There's obviously the title-giving "looming presence" the Voice. I had his hands completely in the background at first, but I thought it looked cooler when they were hanging threateningly around Santa's shoulders. (You may ask yourself, 'man these hands look kinda alright for my usual hand drawing standards', and that is because I traced over pictures of my own hands. I love "cheating" at art.) I also gave him his stupid little bow tie and the colored buttons on his suit sleeves. Not only is that kinda my trademark for drawing him at this point, it's also supposed to show, that under all the threats and the evil villain persona, he's just kind of a loser. A real (male equivalent of a) girlfailure. That's why I made sure that half of the things shown in the background are there to make fun of him a little. I love the Voice dearly, but that's just what felt right.

And now let's get to the actual main course of this essay. I probably spent half the time working on this on the freaking background. I'm just gonna start in the top left corner and then go down each column and explain what each of these mean or what they reference. (Since there are some quite obscure ones in there.)

Let's start with the two ponies in the very top left. They're actually ponysonas of Nozomi Tojo (left) and Takane Shijou (right). Nozomi is an earth pony and has a tarot card as her cutie mark, specifically the ace of cups. Takane on the other hand is a unicorn and has some musical notes as her cutie mark, which you can't really see. I don't know enough about the Idolmaster to think of something more meaningful for her, sorry. ;)

Under that are Susie Haltmann and her father, President Haltmann. They were (after Woodman) the first characters I wanted to draw into the background. Susie has this black bar covering her face, since she was never really there to begin with. The whole story line with her father wanting to bring her back was actually so freaking sad. And when the Voice killed him in episode 11 and that image of Susie flashed on screen as the last thing he saw before he died….. Oof……… That's also why I drew that cursor looming next to her "window" about to click on the closing button. Haltmann himself is also the only character in the background to actually leave his little window, wanting to reach his daughter. He's also glaring at the Voice for causing him all of this grief and anger in the first place with his false promises.

Then there's…. ahem, "Hot robots in your area". With drawings of a random unnamed robot and Mettaton from Undertale. Which the Voice has apparently bookmarked. This is just a head canon, but I like to think he has a thing for robots, lol. ;)

Oh and on the left next to that on the very first column is Simpleflips' logo. Shoutouts to Simpleflips indeed.

Onto the next column. At the very top is Haruka Amami (also from the Idolmaster), who played a pretty huge role in the CCC, especially in the latest episode. That moment at the very end where she saved Grand Dad from certain death was just fantastic. Absolutely goated scene. She's kinda pressing her face against the window she's trapped in. I hope you can even see that from far away, haha.

Under that is one of the more obscure references. It's from a King for Another Day video, specifically one titled "The Hobart Hootenanny - SiIvaGunner: King for Another Day". It's a slideshow made of beautiful Hobart pictures. One that struck me personally the most was a little family picture of Hobart and the rapper Eminem, who was also a contestant in the KfAD tournament, looking lovingly over their son sitting in a cradle. Eminem is seen saying "Our son is beutiful". A truly touching photograph indeed. In that same slideshow is also another scene of Hobart together with the Voice, but we'll talk about that one later.

The next one is a reference to the CCC side story "I wanna thank me" and shows a pie chart with the election results that were discussed in that episode. Under the pie chart itself is a little box containing all the different parties and showing their respective percentages. On the left is a poster for the "Poké Poké Literature Party", showing Monika's head with the words "Just vote Monika" at the top of the poster. The words (and Misha.) are scribbled on the bottom, lest we forget that she's not running this party alone. This side story was first featured in the Christmas Comeback Crisis Watchalong in 2020, which was actually the first time I watched the CCC in its entirety. It all went downhill from there. ;)

Then there's the Voice's… thing? Object? Weird apparatus where no one really knows what it does or what its purpose is? Every time we see the Voice sitting in his office, this thing is sitting on his desk right next to him. There's been loads of jokes about its purpose. They've all been made before. I'm not going to repeat them. Only the Voice himself truly knows what this thing does. Probably. Could just be a decorative piece of art.

Then we have something veeeery self indulgent on the next column. It's Aquaman from Megaman 8 (With a not so subtle skull right next to him). You should all know by now that I'm the founding father of the Aquawood ship. And I also have the head canon that Woodman and the Voice are very divorced. Interpret into this whatever you want.

Next to Aquaman is the internets' favorite panel from the web comic Tails Gets Trolled. I fucking love that comic. If you haven't read it in its entirety, I highly recommend doing it. (Though be warned that it contains some pretty heavy topics, many many slurs and a plethora of gore.) Okay, maybe I don't recommend reading it. (Just read it with all of that in mind.)

Under that is a personal favorite joke of mine. It's supposed to be Spotify, with a playlist open that I created some time ago. I called it "Die Pizza Playlist" (Remember that die in German is just "the") which I always listen to when I'm baking my own pizza. Highlights include "Pizza" by Antilopen Gang, "Pizza Heroes" by Lemon Demon (You can actually see the album art for Spirit Phone on the left of the playlist.), "Pizza Pizza Pizza" from the Ratatouille musical and so on and so on. The first song in the playlist is obviously "We like pizza" by the Pizza kids, which is even playing in the image. On the side are two more music artists, at the bottom is the image for the Veggie Tales soundtrack, which also featured a song called "Pizza Angel". And over that is Mitski. I just feel like the Voice would listen to her music. Do not question me on this.

The audience laughs at the funny 7.

On the Voice's left shoulder sits a single green bean. It's flashing you a cheeky grin and a peace sign. While I didn't intend for this to happen, I accidentally referenced my own Woodman birthday gallery art from two years ago, where the bean also sits atop the Voice's shoulder. I know that next to "Yankin'", the bean is one of the most hated memes on SiIva, but I think he's just a silly little guy! :D

Let's head on over to the next column. Seems like the Voice has an incoming call from one of his guards, but he's ignoring it as he has more important things to do, like hovering intimidatingly over Santa Claus.

Next to that window on the right are the Voice's messages. I almost wrote "messanges". That would have been embarrassing, thank god I caught that in time. This is also (yet again) a little self indulgent, since the Voice apparently has the last message he sent Woodman pinned to the very top of his messenger app. His big triangular head is blocking most of it, but since I'm the artist, I can tell you exactly what it says: "Please call me back", which was sent on February 1st 2023, the day "The Disappearance of Woodman" was released. Yeah, I'm still very upset, how could you tell? :( Under that is a message to his trusty pizza guy asking for a pizza with extra cheese.

Next we have two of my favorite memes on the SiIvagunner channel (My absolute favorite being "Funny budots", since I never wrote that down anywhere.), one being Frisk Undertale becoming uncanny and the other one being the goat. I don't really know how to describe the goat, but apparently it was crafted by the same artist who made the stoned fox that's also very popular online?? I may just be stupid, but I didn't know about that until I looked up a reference for the goat. Since it often appears alongside Undertale and Deltarune, many have made the assumption that this is what Asriel would look like in real life. That's why Flowey is there next to it with an equal sign. Whoever drew up that calculation wasn't really sure of their work, which is why they drew a question mark right next to it. Between Frisk and the goat is a little Soul, also from Undertale/Deltarune.

Onto the next column, where I'm dropping very subtle hints that a specific character in this image might like pizza. Or might even be a little obsessed with it. On the left is a list with the contact details of three well known pizza chains, on the very top is Sonic the Hedgehog who just recently became a brand ambassador for Totino's and on the bottom right of this section is a flyer for some kind of pizza sale.

The next window contains my favorite joke of any rip on the entire SiIvaGunner Youtube Channel. "Peepoona 5. Let us shart the pants." Just typing this out is making me die of laughter yet again. (The rip in question is "Our Beginning - Persona 5".) But as you all know, I am very into toilet humor. That's why Aquaman is one of my favorite robot masters. And why I'm such a big fan of Youtube Poop. And why I watch Minion fart gun religiously. But enough of that, you get what I'm trying to say. I love funny poop jokes. That's why this is here.

Oh man. This next one is why I wanted to write this very detailed essay in the first place. A reference so obscure, even I can't find its origin anymore. And believe me, I tried. Thankfully, I took a screenshot of the original comment thread this was based on. A user called "The New Guy" commented on a SiIvaGunner rip, something along the lines about how much they enjoyed this specific rip. At the time, the comment had 920 likes, so I'm guessing it must have been a pretty popular video. (The comment should also be about 4 years old now?) Anyway, under that comment, someone asks them what their profile picture was from. They simply answered "wagon", since that was exactly what their profile picture showed. Someone on the SiIvaGunner team must have found this exchange so funny that they commented "wagon" as well. And that's the origin of this joke. If anyone knows which rip this is from pleeeeaaaase tell me. I need to know.

I don't think I need to explain who the next guy is. Just the love of my life. I specifically drew Woodman in his getup from the Nuclear Winter Festival, since that was the last time he appeared on the channel. He's looking kinda concerned in the general direction of the viewer, for obvious reasons. And right under him is his trademarked >:] emoji.

And last but certainly not least, the final column! Now I finally get to talk about this other scene from the Hobart Hootenanny. It shows Hobart and the Voice having a romantic stroll at a beautiful beach, while the sun is slowly setting in the background, making the water shimmer with its breathtaking colors. Okay, the last thing didn't really happen, since it's a shitty MS Paint drawing, but I like to imagine it did. Maybe I should draw a remake of this image one day. Now I'd like to quote the video in question: "A man and Hobart were walking together on the beach. He looked back and saw that in his times of sadness and need, there was only one set of footprints. He asked Hobart why he would leave him in his time of most need. Hobart simply turned to the man and said, VVVVVRRRRR SRRRRR RRRRGGGHHHH--" (Thank you SiIva Wiki for the transcription.) Now I don't think I need to explain why I drew Hobart in a bikini top and fishnets. The question answers itself.

The next image is actually quite easy to explain. It's mm5charge and smol Maki. In another universe, Chargeman and Maki might have been integral to the SiIvaGunner lore. This specific image is just stolen from my piece of fan art called "Megaman 5 Brainrot (featuring Acidman)", which I posted in 2022. I still head canon that Megaman and Love Live take place in the same universe. Just because I think it's funny. And because I want to see funny robot masters interact with the girlies from Love Live. How do I explain this? It's like…. balancing out the world? The robot masters are almost all male (with a few exceptions) and the characters shown in Love Live are all female. How would Thanos say? "Perfectly balanced, as all things should be." Don't question my cool head canons, okay?

After that we have a poster featuring the Jazz Cats! I really really love the little animations that showed their backstory when KfAD2 first came out. I don't know if it's okay for me to say this, but I also really really enjoy the song "But Not You" written (in universe) by Doge and Naxx. The text is veeeeeeery questionable, but man, does it sound good regardless… And shoutouts to wolfman1405 for the heavenly vocals.

On the right of that is a missing poster for Wade L.D.. Nothing much to explain here I guess.

Left of that is the Voices shopping list, which lists flour, oil, yeast… Wait a minute…. All of these are ingredients for pizza dough! Guys, I'm beginning to think that this guy might like pizza.

On the very bottom of this column is Mario 7 Grand Dad himself, who has his hostile gaze directed at the Voice. I would be pissed off too if someone kept me locked in a glass tube for 7 years.

The last little window just shows the Vineshroom with the words "fecal funny" written under it.

And with that, it is done. The entire background thoroughly explained. (I may have gone a little overboard this time.)

It's been a while since I posted new art, huh? In the meantime, a lot has happened. As I said before, I started a new job, got a tattoo of Woodman on my leg (best idea I've ever had btw) and I also started watching MLP, which explains the Love Live / Idolmaster ponysonas, lol.

And that's all I wanted to say. I hope that the next piece of art isn't that far off. Jenny out. (I think this might have been the longest essay I've ever written here. I'm so sorry. By which I mean, I'm not sorry at all. I'm not forcing anyone to read this.)

[atomarium]

oh my GOD the grinder is so cool, actually the coolest mod ive EVER seen for rainworld yet, its quality and aesthetic and EVERYTHING is so so so cool. holy shit. the music absolutely rocks, the color scheme is haunting, the sound effects gave me nightmares, i love every bit of this region.

how long did it take to make? were there any particular bits that gave you a lot of trouble, either with coding or with rendering etc?

genuinely incredible work, i cant believe how high quality this region is, its just so cool.

I'm so glad you asked I wanted to share this a lot.

The mod took me about two-two and a half months to make. I must note tho I worked my ass of. Working every day 5-7 hours when I had no work and the entire day 16 hours on the weekends. Wouldn't recommend.

The rainwold modding community was pretty damn solid and the resources and tools even more so (thanks mer). Making animated holograms was difficult (thanks mer) took me a day to figure out how to.

The hardest part was the creativity.

I wanted to put more music in, but it remained unused. Out of 7 tracks I myself composed only one got in. And out of 2 Ren made only 1.

I definitely could have added more, I could have made so much more cooler rooms that are more unique. There is an entire subregion scrapped because I couldn't get it the way I like. The "Corrosion". My original idea was an RGB region

Red the crucible

Blue the power rail

Green the Corrosion

Ultimately it was to boring and didn't add a lot so I scrapped it.

There are definitely more hight quality regions. Quality as in how smooth the play and how well they function. If you read the region wiki you will find in trivia that it's held together by hopes and prayers.

The pistons could be better, but I'm not messing with the collision code.

A lot of playtesters on my server had trouble with that.

The rooms could be better. But I deemed them all to be good enough.

There could have been, just like more stuff. Many people want more.

I should defenetly post the unused music

[alagaesia-headcanons]

I have a proper update for Clear Horizons!

(For my new followers, here's an explanation of this fic!)

I've finally finished drafting the section that was giving me the most trouble!!! I'm not entirely out of the woods yet, but it's a significant and gratifying mark of progress. The part I'm working on is after Murtagh and Orrin first meet, but before a scene I've planned where their relationship takes a turn and reaches a new understanding. So in that span they have a lot of chemistry and care for each other but they're also still hesitant and guarded. It's a very tricky dynamic to write. It still needs more depth, I haven't gotten to that emotional development scene yet, but I'm now finished with the first week Murtagh spends in Aberon with Orrin.

My main breakthrough with the frustrations I was having with that was to cut two of the scenes I already wrote and move them to a later point in the story. Then I reconsidered what I wanted the first week to cover. The writing progress went especially slow, even by my standards, and the section ended much longer than I expected it too. But I think both were worthwhile. This section is crucial for laying a lot of the foundation everything else will build upon. The prolonged time I spent with each piece gave me the room to untangle the needs of the story and the detail throughout numerous consecutive scenes gives clarity to the major cornerstones. (I pray I'll still feel that way when I go back to edit it later lol)

I optimistically think the pace will pick back up again when I carry on with the rest of act 2. This should be one of the only continuous spans of time that's fully rendered out with such intensive and thorough detail. I think just two other points in the story might get a similar treatment. I'm approaching the rest with a more selective focus that helps move the story along.

I have a plan for how I should proceed now, which has numerous parts. First and foremost with concerns to Clear Horizons, I'm going to take the opportunity to pause writing the actual fic and shift back to note taking, with the goal of hammering out Thorn's character arc. Unlike my last desperate bout of note taking, I've been prepared to tackle this from the outset. In this whole process, Thorn has been by far the hardest part for me, for a myriad reasons. It's very important to me to give him a character arc with meaningful significance to the story, and initially I had no idea how to accomplish that, but I realized that I had to start without it if I wanted to start at all. So I drafted all of act 1 aware that I still needed to figure out my intentions for Thorn and I would have to add in more writing to integrate that.

I can tell this is the right time to do that. I'm glad I didn't let it stop me from jumping in; it feels more approachable now then it did then. I still anticipate that it'll be very tricky, but now I have some ideas to guide me and I believe I can do this. I also hope it will fill out some of the other gaps in the plans I do have. My last note taking stint helped a lot with the other main character arcs. Orrin's specifically is the strongest right now, I think it's in a really good pace. Murtagh's is far improved, though it feels like it still has some pieces missing. As I wrestle with Thorn, I'm going to pay close attention to how that can contribute to Murtagh's arc because they naturally should weigh on each other quite a lot. I hope figuring out my intentions with Thorn will provide much of the connective tissue I'm missing right now.

Before continuing with the main writing, I'd also like to edit the rest of act 1 that I haven't gotten to yet. It's a pretty arduous process, but I know it wouldn't be smart to put it off much longer. It's very valuable and I should at least edit up to the last section of act 1. It might be more effective to wait on that one because I think it will be overhauled the most after Thorn is properly added to the equation.

There are some other things I want to add in act 1 too. While making those notes, I recognized key aspects of both Murtagh and Orrin that deserve more exploration. I plan to take the first two sections, one about each of them, and divide them both in half so there's four sections, then I can add those details throughout them. I think it will also improve the pacing. That's currently not my priority, so I don't know if I'll do that before returning to writing progress, but it's in the plans.

On a different track, I want to take a small break before getting back to that grind. For a significant length of time now, Clear Horizons has held my attention largely uninterrupted. It's eclipses my other creative impulses. I don't feel like that's inherently bad, I often set aside my other interests for a while to pursue inspiration for a certain thing. But given how long I think Clear Horizons will take, even from this point, I don't want to do that the whole time. It's already been a long time since I've drawn anything, and longer still since I've worked with clay. I have a stretch of time off around Christmas and I think I'm going to force myself to not work on writing during that and enjoy other things. Since I have quite limited free time in my day to day, part of me gets frustrated feeling like having a lot of time and not using it to work on this is a waste. I need to remind myself that a project like this is not a sprint, it's a marathon, and taking breaks will benefit me in the end.

(There's a very high chance I'll make some Eragon related art anyway lol. And also Hubert. Maybe I'll show you guys Hubert.)

I also hope the mental break will push me to answer the asks people have sent me too! I'm sorry it's taken so long, I promise I won't forget! Clear Horizons honestly has been the biggest distraction from that. That being said, since it occupies so much of my mind, I always adore taking about it. Of course I still welcome all kinds of asks, but especially anything about Murtagh, Orrin, them together, or my fic specifically- and I'll also probably answer any of those right away because I seriously can't resist lmao (This isn't a headcanon blog anymore but this ship is the sole exception, I have so many feelings)

I really hope you guys will love this when it's finally complete. Part of me is nervous, but I'm doing my best to trust that the act of putting so much devotion into it will shine through on the other side ❤️

[fourseasonsfigs]

Breaking Dawn

You're invited to a party with the world's cutest creature of the night!

The inspiration for this fig is of course Gong Jun's delightful vampire-themed photoshoot from November 28, 2023:

And of course, because how could we resist, the video:

His slow blink is so beautiful they had to show it twice.

I'm zooming in and cropping the second picture so you can see a close up of the crown.

Alright, on to the fig!

And what a fig it is. He is fabulous. He has both the most adorable face and he's gorgeously detailed. A jewel in my collection indeed! I was a little worried about him arriving safely because he's so ornate, but there was no problem at all.

If you zoom in you can see the same style of script on this invite as from the one Gong Jun is holding in the photoshoot. This invitation says, You're invited to my party.

The fig maker rendered his suit in this beautiful glossy paint - it looks even better in real life. The little stars almost seem to sparkle.

Look at how beautiful that crown is. I am delighted by it!

This is actually a pretty good shot of the quasi-sparkly effect from the star design in the glossy paint. The contrast of the textures is really nice for this fig.

Ok, maybe this is this the best shot yet of the true glossiness of the paint! The light changed a little while photographing, so it's now pouring in through my upstairs window. This is much closer to how it looks in real life.

The quill is very delicate. You might wonder how I know that. Well, the same way I seem to learn a lot of things - the hard way. In picking up this figure to take back to my display shelf, I placed my thumb right on the quill and it snapped right off. I almost had a heart attack!

Luckily, it was a fairly straightforward, if extremely fiddly fix. The hardest part was just making sure such a tiny piece went back on straight and in the correct way, and then staying very very still with the glue and tweezers for long enough to make sure the glue bond took. But eventually it I got it, and it looks as good as new.

I really like the choice by the fig maker not to make his eyes too bright red - this is subtle and perfect.

Back around to the front! I wanted to get a pic of our little vampire prince at night with a dark background for you. Unfortunately, my phone didn't seem to want to focus well in the low light, but that's ok, it gives him a slightly dreamy appearance. His crown looks gorgeous.

Back to the harsh light of day for the bottoms-up and top-down pics! This is the best view yet of the tiny script on his invitation.

As you can see, this cape is shorter than his outfit, so it's not one of those that will help stabilize the fig. I didn't even waste time with this fig trying to get him to stand for pictures - I immediately glued him on a base. I wasn't going to take any chances with him toppling over and breaking that beautiful crown.

Speaking of the crown, here you go. The silver paint there around the front star really does look like pearls in real life. If you scroll back up to the night time pic you can see how it normally looks either night or day.

I love this fig! I know I say each fig is my favorite, but he's definitely on the top of the list.

That's the cutest little vampire lair I've ever seen in my life!

The back of the fig card with the name, Breaking Dawn. As you can see, I did not come up with this name - I personally had him down a little more generically on my spreadsheet as "Vampire Jun", but turns out that's not quite accurate.

As a bonus, the fig maker threw in some cute little transparent cards, in the style of Gong Jun's Instagram page. I love them, they're so cute! The top one, from his runway walk on Paris Fashion Week, is my favorite.

Material: Resin

Fig Count: (+1) 525

Scene Count: 38

Rating: We'll RSVP to this party for sure!

[link to the Master Post Index]

[pandoras-princess]

Next Best Thing (Tommy Shelby x fem!reader, John Shelby x fem!reader) 18+

*gif not mine//credit to owner

A/N: Hello my lovely peopless! 🌸 I have had the worst writer’s block and honestly it felt like this part was going to go on forever. But we’re here and we’re over it 🤗 I’m actually quite proud of how this one turned out despite everything so I shall keep it short and sweet but I will say please please read part one before you read this if you haven’t already, this part won’t make sense otherwise but that’s it for the nagging I swear 😚 sooo without further adieu I give you part two 😁😁 Happy Reading Peoples! 🥳🥳 as ever I appreciate every like, reblog and follow, feedback is always welcome 😌

Summary: It’s been half a year and you’ve settled quite nicely into your job at the Garrison, as well as all the perks that come with it. Your relationship with Tommy takes an unexpected turn, igniting a fire within John he hadn’t known was simmering...

Pairing: (OOC) Tommy Shelby x fem!reader, John Shelby x fem!reader

Warnings: Swearing, explicit mentions of sex, smoking

PART ONE PART THREE PART FOUR

━◦ ♡ ◦━◦ ♡ ◦━◦━◦ ♡ ◦━◦ ♡ ◦━

It’s been 6 months since your first shift at the Garrison, and running the bar isn’t the only thing you've settled into.

After spending the night together in his office, you and Tommy came to a mutually beneficial arrangement. You provide him with some much needed stress release, in return he provides you with the love and adoration you so desperately crave, even if only for the brief moments spent in your bed.

As the intimate meetings became more and more frequent, there was still no doubt in your mind that you were little more than a functional lay to the man.

Truthfully, you were anything but functional because with every encounter Tom could feel his heart falling for you.

At first, it was how you'd light a cigarette for him right after sex, plucking the stick from your lips to tuck it between his before you lit your own; it was the way your wild curls would encompass your face like a halo at even the smallest tilt of your head; it was the way you could handle any rowdy punter at the bar with a few choice words and a look that could put even the hardest man in his place. And now? Now, it was absolutely everything about you. Tom found his head clouded with thoughts of you constantly, the only relief taken from being in your presence.

What started out as a bit of harmless fun, had now become a nightly occurence.

Tonight being no exception, you skillfully roll over him, careful not to place any unwanted weight on delicate body parts. Tom pulls on his cigarette, inhaling the harsh smoke as he admires the after-sex glow radiating off your naked form. The only marrs on your skin were the hickeys he made in an eager bid to claim you as his own.

You set about gathering your clothes, unaware of the adoration swimming in the blue irises behind.

“What're you doing?”

“I’m getting ready to leave” you chime, now all too accustomed to the usual routine of sex and a quick smoke before walking home or sneaking Tom out.

Returning to the bed in hopes of retrieving your underwear, Tommy’s large hand wraps around your thigh holding you in place, and any thoughts of the discarded fabric are dashed.

“Stay.”

It was not a question but a statement, the silent pleading in his eyes a far too familiar feeling of your own.

“Are you sure? Because I distinctly remember you sayi-”

“I know what I said, that's not what I want anymore” he interrupts, perfectly aware of the words about to be repeated back to him.

Straddling his waist, his hands come to rest on your hips, thumbs drawing invisible circles on the soft skin beneath as your hands trail mindlessly along his toned chest, goosebumps appearing in their wake.  

“What do you want then?” The question comes out breathily, and your heart pounds against your ribcage at such an intensity you were sure it was audible.

“I wan’t you, Y/N.”

There it was. The words you’d been waiting to hear for what felt like an eternity.

You ignore the niggling voice in the back of your mind; the voice reminding you that this decleration of- of- whatever it is, was coming from the mouth of the wrong Shelby brother.

“Is that so, Mr Shelby?”

Tommy is cast back to the very first time you’d given yourself to him - bent over his desk and shamelessly moaning his name as he pounded you with such force he worried the aged wood might just give out from under you - and he remembers just why he’d had this change of heart in the first place.

You were perfect. Plain and simple.

Of course you had your quirks, everyone did. But try as he might he couldn’t find a single one that put him off. The more time spent together the more he was convinced God had crafted you entirely for his sake.

“Yes Y/N that is so.” Tommy’s fingers connect with your waist and your angelic giggles fill the air, the smile tracing his lips deepening.

Flipping over so that his body is snug between your legs, he continues his relentless tickle attack, relishing the feel of your body squirming underneath him as you desperately try to get away.

“To-tommy sto-stop tickling me!”

Your dainty hands barely manage to prise one hand from your waist before the other reconnects, rendering your muscles useless as you collapse into laughter.

“O-okay you win! I’m yo-yours, all yours!”

“Ah the magic words.”

Opening your eyes, you’re met with Tommy’s beautiful face beaming down at you, having obviously accomplished his mission. Draping your slender arms around his neck, you pull him into a kiss and his hands roam your body, tracing along each and every curve before settling for burying in your curls.

For the first time in six months, you and Tommy made love. Well, the first and second time, to be exact.

Hours later and Tommy is peeling his body off of yours, lungs begging for oxygen as the fragments of your mind recollect themselves - the ecstasy of your orgasms positively mind blowing.

“Tommy?”

“Mm?”

“Do you mind if we, um, maybe wait before telling everyone. I just don’t fancy them sticking their oar in, m’ really quite content just us” you muse, shifting into place beside him. Your touch dances along his collarbones, exploring every groove and crevice on its travels to his jawline.

Eyes closed, a lop-sided grin gracing those oh so plump lips. Silky brown waves marvellously tousled from hours of your fingers raking through them.

The man truly was a work of art.

Tommy hums softly in response, one lid opening to peer down at you before capturing your hand in his, lightly pecking each of your fingers along the way.

“Anything for you, Princess.”

With the ghost of his soft lips lingering, your focus shifts to the rhythmic beating of his heart, the rise and fall of his chest, the ever so slight twitch of his fingers. And so, wrapped securely in the arms of tender loving care, you drift off to sleep.

The next morning your small figure is weaving throughout the back streets of Small Heath, now an expert on the roads less traveled by Peaky Blinders and Co.

With blood pounding in your ear drums and your heart thuddering in your chest, you sneak through the creaky door making a beeline for the stairs.

“Where’ve you been?”

You reluctantly enter the kitchen, finding Polly at the breakfast table with a cup of tea to her left, an ashtray to her right and a heap of papers inbetween.

“Out.”

“Out where?”

“No where.”

“That hickey on your neck says otherwise” she smirks, finally raising her head to look at you.

Your hand pointlessly rushes to cover the purple bruise darkening by the minute on your jugular. “Shit!”

“So how is Tommy?”

“I’m sorry?”

“I said how is Tommy?” Polly repeats the question, panic creeping up your throat like bile.

“You mean... you know?”

“You didn’t really think I wouldn’t notice my own nephew sneaking in and out of this house every night. Give me some credit” she quips. “Don’t worry your little secret is safe with me.”

The parilysing fear immediately dissolves and you plunk yourself down at the table, a dreamy sigh leaving your mouth as you lay your head to rest in your palms.

“Oh Pol, it’s wonderful! He’s so- so-”

“Please, spare me the details.”

“-so perfect!”

“Y/N, he’s Tommy Shelby - perfect isn’t a word within that man’s description.”

“Well it is in mine” you mumble.

“Anyway since you’re here you can help me. We’re having a gathering tonight and I want everyone here so I need you to go and tell them. In the lounge, 6pm sharp.”

“Fine” you huff, rising from the table.

“Oh and Y/N, make sure you cover that thing up before you see John, we don’t need any more murders around here.”

Red hot flames lick at your cheeks and Polly’s lips stretch into a smirk once again, chuckling to herself as she returns to the paperwork before her.

By 6 o’clock all members of the Shelby clan are slowly trickling into the lounge. Tommy and yourself are the first to arrive and he immediately chooses the right corner seat, guiding your body into the empty space beside him.

“Alright Pol” Tom greets his aunt not bothering to make eye contact as he notices a stray curl fall into your eyes, gently tucking it back in it’s rightful place before leaving a quick kiss on your temple.

Polly’s eyes twinkle with amusement as she hands you both a whiskey.

“You’ll want to be a bit more discreet than that when the others turn up.”

“Yes thank you Pol” Tom replies sarcastically as you direct your attention to ridding your jumper of non-existent fluff.

“Alright Polly.”

Your head snaps to the source of the gruff voice, butterflies fluttering against the confines of your ribcage as you lock eyes with John.

“Ye alright love” he plants a kiss on the top of your head before collapsing into the free corner of the sofa.

John was a man of few words, those that didn’t know him might even say simple. But when it came to you, the unspoken language of Jonathon Shelby was one of the few you could speak, thus giving rise to the overly affectionate nature of your relationship.

If this was a few years ago - before Esme, before Tommy, before that tart in the back alley, when everything was right with the world - you’d be tucked up next to John, curled into his side with a strong arm wrapped firmly around your waist. His fingers would absentmindedly trail along your skin, a private joke or snarky comment whispered into your ear every now and then. And when he laughed, oh god when he laughed, each muscle would flex around you drawing you in closer, forcing every fibre of your being to fight the urge to kiss him.

But this was not a few years ago and things had changed, the harsh truth slapping you in the face like a wet fish as you catch sight of Esme trawling into the lounge; each butterfly erupting into a tiny globe of fire as she settles herself between you and John.

How beautifully ironic you thought, shifting yourself closer to Tommy.

Eventually Ada and Arthur arrive and the night rolls on. The whiskey burns through your veins, blending with your blood on its way straight to your head. With a fair amount of Dutch courage under your belt your body was craving the intimacy it was used to on a night like this. So taking your chances you snuggle into Tommy, allowing yourself to relax when you feel his arm instinctively snaking around you.

The action - which could easily be passed off as a caring moment between two friends - hadn’t gone unnoticed, and every muscle under John’s control seized up at the sight.

More stories poured out, along with many more drinks - you’d half a mind to suspect Polly was purposely fueling you with alcohol - and the more brazen you become, your legs now laying over Tommy’s with his left hand resting comfortably on your thighs.

You gently tap on the waistband of his suit trousers, and hope that Tommy understands your silent request. The movement was much too slight to draw any attention and he brings his left hand to scratch an itch that wasn’t there, before casually placing it over yours, giving it a gentle squeeze when he’s sure nobody has noticed.

He forgot, however, that Ada was positioned with a clear viewpoint of the loving act, sitting smugly on the arm next to him as she put two and two together. She thought the pair of you had been awfully happy lately, much too happy for it to be coincidental.

As everyone focused their attention on Polly and her latest crazy tale, John’s jaw clenched and unclenched for the hundredth time, the muscle aching under the constant tension. He sat on the other side of the sofa, soundlessly raging as he thought over the countless nights you’d been draped over him like that, whispering and giggling, eyes glistening with mischief as he shared another secret joke with you. Now here you were, draped over his brother, whispering and giggling as your eyes glistened with what he hoped was the large amount of whiskey you’d ingested, and not the same mischief you once shared with him.

Esme attempted to replicate your position, and she was met with John’s hand roughly pushing her aside. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take. He wasn’t even sure why he couldn’t take it - it’s not as if you’d ever be stupid enough to fall for his brother’s plan.

“Tommy stop!” you giggle, brushing his hand from your curls as he pretends to mess them up.

That was enough. “C’mon Es we’re going.”

Your laughter dies down as you look up at John, his blue orbs cold and hard as they stare back at you.

For once, you couldn’t place the unvoiced emotion set on his face. For once, you couldn’t read the man you once considered your best friend.

[iguessilovebakugou]

In Search of Silver Linings, We Discovered Gold ||  Bakugou x Fem!Reader (x Shinsou) ||  Happier pt 3 ||  Series

I really feel like Sleeping At Last’s “Two” resonates with Shinsou in this one.  But also for the Reader towards Bakugou just like...in general.  Also, I would suggest Gang of Youth’s “Achilles, Come Down” as well. And Lauren Aquilina’s “Fools”. 

One day I’m going to make a playlist for this fucking series - and then you bitches will be sorry.  

I’m sorry it took so long to get this part out.  I feel like nothing I would write would live up to what I did 2 years ago now.  So I really hope that people like this one just as much as the others. 

Part One!  Part Two!

Word Count:  7.7K TW:  Smooching, Death Mention

“Hey, you okay?”

It should be so easy to explain to them what you were feeling.  They where there with you.  They went through the same thing you had, right?  You were right there with Ochaco, sat right by her side and watched her tell Mr. Aizawa...you should be able to just...

“Yeah,”  You offered Asui a bright smile.  “Just...tired.  These make up classes are just...they’re really killer, you know?”

The dorm had been quiet by the time the raid team had made their way home from their extra classes. Everyone had already gone to bed, the common area devoid of life by the time you had settled on the couches. And you were happy for it.  Ever since...well, it had been a bit harder to be around everyone.  It was hard to come to terms with the fact that after everything that had happened, happened.  And you were supposed to just...move on from it.  Keep going forward.  No time to process.

You pulled out your phone to check your messages.  You had hoped Shinsou would have at least texted you - but you had been left on read.  You tried not to be upset about it and instead, pretended to go to another app and check your messages there.  You even got comfortable and put an arm behind your head - yep, perfectly relaxed and not at all wanting to break down on the inside.  

Tsu’s big bright eyes stared down at you.  You wondered if she felt the same - if Kirishima, Izuku or Ochaco felt the same.  You wondered if sometimes, during class, they just lifted their heads, looked around at your classmates and felt...so out of place.  The only way you could describe it was like stumbling in the middle of a skit being performed in the middle of a park, and no one seemed to quite realize you weren’t actually an extra.

But you didn’t want to run the risk of looking at her.  If she looked at you, she might realize that you hadn’t come to terms with what happened - with Nighteye, Lemillion, with that poor girl, Eri.  And that wouldn’t do.  That might lead into her asking what was wrong.  And what were you supposed to do then?  Answer her honestly?  Come to terms with your feelings like a rational, level headed adult?

You?  Nah. Never.

“Yeah, you’re right.”  Once you were certain her back was towards you, you risked a glance in her direction.  

Your body ached, your eyes were sore, and your mind felt blank but busy at the same time.  You weren’t sure where to begin with everything, where to start with trying to catch up.  But this had become your norm, and as sad as it was, it felt like your body was accommodating to the drama that had become commonplace in your life.  You watched as she met Ochaco at the base of the steps leading up to the rooms.  She seemed surprised when you didn’t move to join them, turning to give you a concerned glance and a lip pout - for extra measure.  

You smiled, lifting up your phone and giving it a little wave.  “I think I’m just going to hang out down here before heading to bed.”

“Oh,”  She muttered softly.  “Okay, if you’re sure?”

You knew she wasn’t buying the act - whatever it was - in the slightest.  You knew Nighteye’s death hit her hard.  A lot harder than you.  As it should have - you had tried to use your quirk to defend her and Nighteye, only to be overpowered and rendered unconscious when it mattered most so you weren’t technically cognizant when she had made her getaway.  But it must have been terrible, holding a man in your arms as he died.   And yet here you are moping about it.  What gives you the right?

“Yeah, I’m sure.”  Another smile, this time a little wider.  “Got some videos to watch, don’t want to run the risk of waking anyone up.”

You turned, ending the conversation there.  You stared at your phone, sitting on the home screen and not bothering to look back once you heard them make the ascent up the stairs to their respective rooms.  It had been getting harder and harder to sleep these past few days and you couldn’t spend another restless night staring at the same four walls anymore.  Watching the same videos, rereading the same texts, you would go insane.  With an exasperated sigh, you tossed your phone to the side.  Hands found your face, fingers rubbing your eyes while reclining back, letting out a slow, low groan.

The lights in the common room were dim, just enough to find your way in case you stumbled down here in the middle of the night.  It was a small comfort, you figured to yourself, to have this moment alone.  To sit in the quiet and listen to the sounds of your friends around you, of the dorm settling snuggly down for another night’s rest.  And there you were, sitting by yourself in the common room.  Trying to decide if you were still mourning for a man you spoke to maybe a handful of times before you watched him get impaled on a spike or if you were ready to move on from it all.  Your head fell back limply against the edge of the couch, staring up at the ceiling as you tried to push any semblance of thought from your mind.  You just needed this one minute, one second for your entire world to just...stop running away from you.

If I could just get to him in time, maybe I could, I could help.  I could save him and be a hero and...

God, how dramatic could you get.  At least you hadn’t held the man in your arms as he lay dying.

With a sigh, you sat yourself back up and went back to your messages, pulling up the chat with Shinsou.  You hoped he was free.  Maybe even free enough to talk.  The empty feeling finding home in your chest was becoming too much.  You could use him, right now.  Maybe you could convince him to leave and come over.  You could watch a movie and just talk until you passed out.

Like friends did.

And if he was there, maybe it would so much easier to stay asleep. 

Hey.  We just got home.  Hope you’re...

Nope, delete.  Didn’t sound right.  

Hey!  You free right now?  I can’t sleep so

Nope, too eager.  

Shinsou, you loser get your ass over here

Nothing was coming out the way you wanted it to.  Nothing had ever sounded right.  You had so many things you wanted to say and yet never seemed to have the energy for it anymore.  Is this depression?  Do you have depression?  Do people who have depression know they have depression without being diagnosed with depression?  

You bit your lip, chewed on it until it grew sore and red and angry.  You needed your friend.  Your best friend.  Your only friend.  You missed hanging out with him, missed being able to text him weird shit and get a selfie of him looking bored at the camera just cause he knew it would make you laugh.  Cause you knew the weird shit you sent him made him laugh.  You wanted to see his face, to hear his voice.  You wanted it to go back before the dorms, back before whatever extra curricular thing he was doing.  But it wasn’t like he was doing this on purpose!  He was busy and you were just being fucking dramatic and needlessly stupid you didn’t even see Nighteye die but Deku did and he is holding himself together so much better and you would be okay if...if...

Why were you fucking crying now???????

Shinsou - I really miss you and I don’t want to be alone right now but I don’t know what to do I just wish you were here

“Hey.”

Given the recent events in your life, his gruff voice shattering the quiet of your isolation should have been expected.  Nevertheless, it still sent your heart skyrocketing into your throat.  You thought everyone had gone to bed and you could be a miserable wretch on your own time.  You jumped, sending your phone clattering to the ground and sliding under the coffee table.  The giant...granite...coffee table.  “Ah, shit, shit...”  You fell to your knees, trying to make a grab for it.  “Damn it, damn it, damn it.”

“I thought I would find you down here.”

Shinsou had hardly heard from you since the night you got back from the raid.  He had seen the news that something had happened.  When you didn’t answer his morning text, he just hoped you were just being your normal self.  When you didn’t show up at lunch, he feared the worst.  He paced his room, hardly ate, did nothing but refresh his news feed to see if your name flashed by as a causality.  He figured no news was good news but waiting to hear from you was the hardest thing he ever had to do.  And the fact you hadn’t told him you were going in the first place and had to find out about it by overhearing one of your classmates mention it?

Ample payback it seemed.  Secrets had become your duo’s new norm - and he hated it. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“We were told not to say anything to anyone.  I’m sorry, Shinsou.”

Your voice had sounded so off, so different in what little words you spoke.  Silence had never been so poignant until he experienced it from you.  As he laid in bed and stared at the phone on his pillow, his heart broke with each toss and turn he could hear from you.  He sat quietly, for that whole 2 hours as you tried to make sense of what you had just been through that day.  But you never said more than a few words and, even so, those were just a mask to hide the rest of the truth you wanted to keep hidden.  He listened, patiently, as you tried to place it all in order so you could begin to move past it.  

He hoped he had helped - in what little way he could.  In what minute way you had allowed him.  You were closing off and he so desperately wanted to cry out for you.  But he stayed quiet.  

And he felt entirely useless. 

He didn’t know exactly what happened; only what little information he had heard from Mr. Aizawa and even that had been bits and pieces.  Confidential, he said.  Bullshit, Shinsou thought.  If he was going to try to begin to figure out a solution to...whatever it was that plagued you, to lift your spirits, he needed to know exactly what happened.  But, when Shinsou had asked if you had been involved, if you were alright...?

“You’re friends with her, right?  She didn’t really seem to want to talk about it when I asked her after the fact.  But I figure that’s just because I’m her teacher.  Maybe you should be the one to check in on her instead.  She might actually open up to you.”

Open up to him.  

And that was the problem wasn’t it?  Something that always seemed to stand right between the two of you, pushing you in separate directions - opening up to each other.  It was a thought that occurred to him as he watched you spin your spoon around in your soup, but refused to eat.  The two of you had no problems talking, especially you.  You talked a lot, and he...didn’t.  You suited him fine.  More than fine.  

But what is talking if you’re not saying anything?  What was the point of being friends if you couldn’t even rely on each other to keep a secret, to lean on each other when everything seemed so fucking terrible.  Had he done you a disservice, hiding things from you?  Had he given you the impression that you couldn’t come to him for something so small as a crush on...ah, for something really small?  Had you transitioned from “don’t want to bother him with something silly” to “I can’t talk to him anymore period”?

Shinsou had always been the more straightforward one.  Where you seemed to be an endless supply of needless conversation and seemed to always dance around subjects, Shinsou was the one who could give it to you as plainly as possible.  And you knew that.  You knew him better than anyone, could understand him better than anyone.  

So when he didn’t give it to you as honestly, as plainly as he could have, it would stand to reason that you would be sent tumbling.

Shinsou - I really miss you and I don’t want to be alone right now but I don’t know what to do I just wish you were here

The text had come as a surprise.  Shinsou had been trying to sleep, but it was a rare commodity those days.  His mind swirled with thoughts of you.  Of how much he missed just you.  Your laugh, your stupid jokes.  Everything was starting to feel so hollow when he heard that soft ding from across the room.  To say he scrambled towards his desk where the phone lay charging was an understatement.  

I really miss you.

You were screaming for him and he hadn’t heard it.  You were sinking further and further and yet here he was, wondering and waiting for some sort of sign on what to do.  How he could fix it - but later.  He’s not strong enough now.  He’s not ready.  After he’s done with Aizawa.  After he’s a hero.  After after after.  Always cautious, always testing the waters.  

I just wish you were here.

You never waited, never paused, never hesitated.  When Bakugou was kidnapped, you rushed home and came up with a plan of action.  When you wanted to talk to him, you marched from your dorms, almost got into a fist fight, just to talk.  You were reckless in all the best ways.  In all the ways that made him want to scream, to touch you, to praise you, to love...to love you.

“I would be able to sleep if you answered your phone once in a while.”

He gripped his phone and hated that he had to draw one hand up to wipe his eyes.  Hated that his chest ached and hated that you even had to ask him.

“I wish you would have answered me.”

No more.  You would never have to ask him again.

He couldn’t pull his shoes on fast enough.  Before Shinsou could stop, rethink if this was a good idea, he was outside and making his way towards your dorm.  If he couldn’t help you now, when you needed it the most, when you were asking for him to pull you out from the waters...

His heart didn’t have the right to ache for you as much as it did. 

The two of you had done this so many times, Bakugou was surprised that you weren’t in the kitchen when he finally got down stairs.  The moment he got to the ground floor and saw you hunched over on the couch, his body froze.  

He had been hoping to have a bit more time to think of what he wanted to say.

“Is it just me, or has she not been the same since coming back from the raid?”

“No, I noticed it too.”

“Should we ask her about it?”

The frog grew quiet for a moment.  Bakugou had to strain to hear her response from down the hall.  “I think she’ll open up when she’s ready.”  She said softly.  “If we try to push the issue before then, it might just make matters worse.”

“Yeah,”  Uraraka responded, “I guess you’re right.  Still...I’m just worried.”

Worried.  For you.  

He didn’t want to think about why he was down in the commons, so late at night.  He didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that seeing your shaking shoulders, hearing the fast gasps you were making, ripped his very state of being apart.  He watched you, eyes narrowed.

He didn’t like it.  He didn’t like that you were in this state at all.

“Hey.”

He expected you to jump - it was a good thing that you did.  He would drag you out of whatever rut you were in, kicking and screaming if he had to.  

You got to your knees, cursing under your breath and scrambling for whatever you had been holding.  Probably your phone.  Bakugou stepped around the couch, shoving his hands in his pockets.  “Figured I would find you down here.”

You didn’t pay him any attention.  In fact, as you tried to reach under the coffee table, you kept your head turned - enough to where he couldn’t see your face.  You kept cursing, kept trying to reach desperately.  He watched you for a moment, feeling the frustration rise up inside of him.  You were ignoring him.  Like he wasn’t even there.  Like he wasn’t standing in front of you.

“Hey!”

“SHHH!”  You snapped to attention, pressing a finger to your lips.  He tried not to stare for too long.  “Do you want to wake the whole dorm!?”

“You should be in bed.”

Your stare lingered on him, for just a moment.  He refused to break eye contact first, refused to back down from the daggers you were sending his way.  You let out a huff, going back to searching for whatever it was that you had dropped.  “Couldn’t sleep.”

Bullshit.  He could tell.  It was a fact that he didn’t like to pay much attention to: tiny mannerisms that caught onto his attention like a hook.  You generally were so bright, hardly ever short.  Low energy, but not tired?  Sure.

He waited another minute.  “The others just got home.”

The slight pause.  Heh - you were like a book.  So easy to read.  “Oh.”  You said so matter-of-factly.  In another beat, you were back to searching, still focusing your gaze on the far side of the wall.  “Yeah, I guess.”

“So unless you got sent back early, I doubt you’ve even had a chance to try and sleep.”

Your fingers clenched, your fist shaking against the granite top.  Your body pulled up and away, resting in a rigid position.  But you were still refusing to look at him; in fact, to ensure that he wouldn’t be able to see anything,  you put your face in your hand.  Still, you didn’t say a word, didn’t argue with him.  So he continued:  “I’m just saying, if you’re going to lie, at least keep track who you tell what.”

You didn’t respond.  And he wished it didn’t make him as angry as it did.  He wished that he had been able to stop the rage that bubbled in his stomach.  But he couldn’t.  He didn’t want you to hide anything from him.  He wanted you to feel comfortable telling him when something was hurting you.  After he laid it all bare for you a few weeks ago, you couldn’t be bothered to at least confide in him what the hell was going on in your tiny little world?

“...tch.”  Bakugou fingers slid under the edge of the coffee table.  “Grab the other side.”

You paused, turning to stare at him.  His eyes met yours and he saw so clearly how blood shot they were, your cheeks blotchy and burning.  You sniffled once, pushing a strand of hair back into place.  “Uh...wha?”

“Do you want your crap or not!?”

“Oh, yeah, uh...”  You pushed yourself up.  His eyes followed you as you stationed yourself on the other side like instructed.  “On three.  One-”

He didn’t bother waiting.  Up he lifted and you scrambled to meet him half way.

Just a little to the side - and the bright screen of your phone illuminated the living room.  It was closest to him, causing him to flinch just slightly when the glow blinded him.  He moved to grab it for you -

Before Bakugou could realize what was happening, your fingers brushed against his.  You both paused, your digits flinching away from him every so slightly.  He didn’t know if he should continue making the grab for it or if he should pull away.  He didn’t want to.  Your skin was so soft and warm and...

He could feel your eyes on him and almost was able keep his gaze away.  Almost able to hold off temptation.  But you were like that, weren’t you?  The light had dimmed, casting a soft glow over your features.  He wanted to look anywhere else - anywhere but at you.  But your eyes held his, demanded that he hold your attention.  He hated the soft sound that escaped him.  Hated the way his heart hammered in his chest as you stared at each other, fingers still touching ever so slightly.  

He shouldn’t feel this way about you.  But he did.

Bakugou pulled back with a grunt.  He could feel your eyes follow him as he stood back up and stepped away, away from you.  Why did you do this to him?  Why did you manage to make him the worst of himself?  Lord Explosion Murder - reduced to a sniveling little puppy, eager to please because a girl he kind of thinks is pretty sometimes makes him feel like he’s going to throw up.  

His fingers shook.  He shoved them back in his pockets to hide the evidence.

You plucked the phone off the ground and immediately hit the lock screen to turn the light off.  You were once against standing alone in the dark, though he could see you plainly.  Neither of you said a word.  He wished he could say something, not scream it but just say it.  His mind strained to find something meaningful to say to you, something catching or just enough to keep you distracted from your thoughts.  But you had the knack for words - he didn’t.  All he could do was leer at you, waiting for you to start conversation.  You always had something to say.  

You silently slipped your phone in the pocket of your skirt.  

There was something different about you.  A wall that was keeping you from him.  Maybe the girls’ concern for you had weight behind it.  You still didn’t look at him, eyes downcast.

He had hoped, that night in the kitchen, that things might have been different.  That maybe...someday...

“You got your damn phone.  Now go to bed.”  He turned on his heels and made his way back towards the stairs.  He was done.  He helped you out enough.  

Sometimes you were too much.  Messed with his head and pulled his mind in so many different directions, he forgot which way was up because right there with you was where he wanted to be. 

“Why do you want to be a hero?”

Your voice cut through the silence of the dorm like a knife.  He hadn’t expected you to speak up now, though it fit you.  Question, make him stay; just when he decided to leave.  And of course, because you asked him to stay - he would.

“What kind of stupid question is that?”

“Humor me.”

He regretted coming down here to talk to you.  He should have just stayed in the comfort of his room.  “Why?”

“Humor.  Me.”  

His eyes narrowed.  Even if you wrapped yourself around him, brought him to his knees and groveling in your steps, no one spoke to him like that.  He spun around, snarl behind gritted teeth.  Who the fuck did you think you were talking to?

Then he paused.

You were watching him and the hollow expression on your face shoved the rage back down into his stomach.  With just a glance, you quelled that fury.  Another noise, another shock. Then your eyes softened and your shoulders slumped.  You remembered where you were, who you were talking to...no...no, you had never been afraid to talk to him like that.  Never afraid to meet his attitude head to head.  So what was different now?  “Please,” You added on, quietly.

What the hell happened to you?

Why did he want to be a hero?  

“To be number one.”

“Is that it?”

I don’t know anymore.  He didn’t like this line of questioning.  Bakugou was a smart kid - he could tell this conversation wasn’t going to be like the last one the two of you had.  No tea, no gentle touches.  The wounds were infected now and he felt shame burrow deep.  You had something you wanted to say, but something else was keeping it trapped, holding you back from being honest with him.  “What are you getting at?”

You fell quiet, letting his eyes take you in.  With a sigh, you turned and sat back down on the couch.  Your body folded in on itself, your hands grasping your arms, shaking fingertips digging into the fabric of the white dress shirt you were wearing.  “Nothing.”  You said finally.  “Just...thinking.  About things.”

You thought a lot about a lot of things.  Perhaps a little too much for too long.  You were receding back into your thoughts, pulling away from him again.  While he didn’t enjoy the feelings that being around you brought, losing you to your own headspace wasn’t something he would do tonight.  Or...any night.  His feet carried him back to the couch.  With a groan he sat down beside you.  “Well, then say it out loud.”

You let out a laugh that sounded too much like a sneer.  “Yeah.  Okay.”

It took everything in him to not reach out and grab you.  “I’m being serious.”

“I know.”

He just wanted to fucking help you.  “So tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

Like you had helped him.  “Whatever the hell that’s going on.”

A moment passed before you pulled your eyes back to his.  Finally, you were back in the present - back in that room with him.  Suddenly, you were aware that he had stationed himself beside you, so close your arms were a breath away from each other.  And there was a moment of panic in your eyes.  

You smirked, “Oh, are you playing therapist now?”

“Shut up!”  He bellowed.  “And tell me what the hell is going on before I change my mind!”

Your laugh was bitter, but it was something.  You used your hands to push your hair back out of your eyes, “...okay.”  You started...then fell quiet again.  He could hear you swallow the regret, the shame, the fear.  He watched as you struggled to put to words everything spinning around you.  “I don’t think I belong here.  At all.”

There were a million things Bakugou would have thought you could have said.  That...wasn’t one of them.  He had never thought of you not here.  What would that look like?

“I look at everyone here: Kirishima and Uraraka and Tsu and Deku...and I just can’t seem to find a place to put myself.  Among the rest of our class.”  His brows furrowed as you spoke.  He watched as your expression shifted with each word - angry and bitter and lost and upset.  “Like, you all are able to keep your heads held high, keep looking forward and never seem to let things drag you down.  I...I just don’t think I can do that.  So...”  You shrugged, swallowing harshly.  “Maybe I don’t deserve to be here if I can’t handle it...not like everyone else can.”

This wasn’t about the raid - that was just a catalyst.  It obviously struck a chord with you.  

“That’s stupid.”  

Another laugh.  This one tear filled but honest; and so, so bittersweet.  “Yeah.  Yeah, you’re absolutely right.  It’s pretty pathetic, huh?”

“No, you idiot.  It’s stupid because you’re wrong.”

You stared at him, mouth agape.  Then, in a second, your eyes narrowed, your lips thinned and your expression darkened.  He couldn’t help but feel the pride bubble in his chest:  You had realized you weren’t going to avoid this.  Not with him.  Not when he could help you.  He closed his eyes, figured it best to keep you out of his sight until he finished.  

“Look, you moron.  If you want to be angry or sad about whatever the hell happened back there, fine.  Do it.  But what good is wallowing in your own self pity if you’re not going to do anything about it?!”

Your voice shook as you spoke.  “Okay fine - then what should I do, Bakugou?”

His eyes snapped open, lips parted in surprise at the question.  There was an edge to your expression, daring him to answer.  Daring him to suggest something.  Blow it up?  Yell at it?  Fight it until it gives up?  But where would you start?  It wasn’t a real person - you couldn’t threaten it to back down.  Eyes scoured the floor for a response, searched desperately to find something - a strand of advice - to give you.  But he had nothing.  

“Yeah,”  You moved, pushing yourself off the couch.  You snatched your bag with such force it almost swung around and hit him in the face.  “That’s what I thought.  You don’t have an answer either.”

Shit.  Shit. He watched you as you skirted past his legs, intent on burying everything again.  If he let this go - let you go - you might actually do it.  You might actually leave UA - leave everyone in Class 1-A, leave your dream, leave...him. 

“It’s fine.”  You added, making your way towards the stairs.  “I’ll be fine.”

But he knew that was a lie.  Everything about this situation was a lie.  You wouldn’t be fine if he let you go upstairs, left you along with those thoughts of inadequacy, and if you kept falling lower and lower...?

“Hey.”  

You paused in front of the elevator...then pressed the button, it’s soft white glow sending panic down Bakugou’s spine.  The only thing he could see of you in the dark was the back of your head, the way your chin dipped just so lightly to your chest.  You weren’t going to respond if he didn’t do something.  He didn’t want this conversation to end - not like this.  What would All Might say?  What would Kirishima say?  What would Deku say?

What would you say?

“You never told me:  Why did you agree to go on that raid?”

There was a moment of pause before you turned and glanced over your shoulder at him.  There was a confused expression on your face, your eyes scanning him to try and figure out just what he was playing at.  “I told you why I wanted to be a hero.”  It was a challenge.  Stay and face this.  “Now tell me why you went on that stupid raid.”

“Don’t get too worked up about this.”  Mr. Aizawa - no, Eraserhead - had said.  “The Big Three are one thing:  They’re strong enough to hold their own out there with the Pros.”  He called you all out by name.  Asui, Uraraka, Kirishima and you.  “You didn’t volunteer for this and you’re not obligated to participate.  It’s your call.”

It had been your call.  Your decision.  The Pros wouldn’t have shoved you into a situation you weren’t ready for.  The four of you had known that it was not necessary for you to go above and beyond what you had already done.  It was going to be dangerous, and you needed to not only be physically capable, but mentally as well.  

You should have waited, weighed the odds, thought about it for a moment longer.  

Your call.  Your choice:  Save a little girl who was in danger or back down.  Be a Hero or refuse to answer the call.

Well...the choice was simple than wasn’t it?

You hadn’t been capable.  You screwed up.  Once again jumping deeper into a situation than you should have.  You weren’t like your friends.  

You weren’t like them at all.

“Mr. Ai- I mean, Eraserhead!  After everything we just heard, I can’t imagine not helping out, sir!”

Someone who could raise their head and keep it held high.  Who could look danger in the eye and refuse to back down.

“Yeah, if you’re going to let us be apart of this, I’d like to pitch in however I can!”

Who saw someone and danger and threw themselves into the line of fire.  Who reached out a hand and kept holding on, long past the last scrap of energy was gone. 

"If I can use my power to help that girl even a little bit, then count me in Eraserhead!”

They were heroes.  You weren’t like them.

You stood up, nodding earnestly.  Your look was stern, your eyes hard as you looked at Eraserhead.  You were equals - at least in this moment.  “Yeah,  heroes save people - so I’ll do my best to make sure that girl is safe!”

You could feel Bakugou’s eyes pick you apart and put you back together.  Looking at him made you sick, made you want to crawl into yourself and rot.  But...with a soft sigh, your eyes casted up, trying to keep the tears from falling again.  You had thought you had done all your crying.  God, his face in the dark was a slight comfort.  His eyes practically glowed in the low light of the common room.  His dark t-shirt hung around his shoulders, his hair was a wild mess, sticking up in every direction.  And he just watched you.  No malice, no rage, just...waiting.  

Waiting for your answer.  

Why did you agree to join the raid?

To save that little girl.  Because that’s what heroes do. 

But...

“After my fight with Deku, you sat with me.  You didn’t have to do that either. So why?”

Arms gripping your hoodie, squeezing you for dear life.  His whole body trembled under your touch.  Tears as he begged for forgiveness that you couldn’t give him.  But you wanted to - because it would mean his pain would be put at ease.  If you couldn’t give him what he needed, what he longed for, you would at least be there for a moment longer than the tears would fall.  You just needed him to know he wasn’t alone.  You needed Katsuki Bakugou to know you were there for him, no matter what.

“And with the League attack?  You weren’t with Kirishima and them.  You went off on your own, to try and save me.  Why?”

They wouldn’t see how hard he worked.  How much he wanted to be a hero.  And if they hurt him, if he refused and the villains hurt him?  If they took that away from him…?  All of his hopes and dreams?

No.  No, you weren’t going to let that happen.  

You had to bite you lip to keep it from shaking.  Bakugou was listing off all your fuck ups as if they mattered.  As if they were helping his case.  As if they were something you should be proud of.  You considered telling him, making him aware that even in those moments, you still failed:  you got knocked out during the raid, during the fight with the villains, and that you hadn’t done much besides give him a hug in the kitchen.  You weren’t doing much.

Deep breath, look away.  His face was too much.  It was too honest, trying to grab at you and hold you still.  He could almost convince you that you did something besides hinder those who had a better chance of being a Hero.

“You do half the shit you do because you’re a good person.  You want to help people.”  Movement caused you to glance his way.  He turned to sit back down on the couch.  “As stupid as it is, I guess it’s pretty admirable.”

‘Pretty admirable’?  He - Katsuki Bakugou - thought it was admirable.  You opened your mouth, but after a long moment of silence found you had nothing to say, so you closed it again.  You hated that even without speaking, you were losing this fight.  “So does everyone else.”  You replied weakly.  It didn’t make you special.  It didn’t make you any different.

“That so?”

“Yeah.”

“Than wouldn’t that mean you belong here with all the other losers looking to be a Hero to protect people?”

Ding!

Behind you, the elevator opened.  

A soft gasp escaped your chest.  So...that’s what he was doing.  Leave it up to him to talk you around into a circle before shoving your argument back into your face...no, he hadn’t been nearly as harsh as you had expected.  He was speaking so softly to you, being as gentle as he knew how - which granted, wasn’t much, but appreciated none the less.  One shouldn’t look a gift explosion in the mouth.  

You looked at the elevator over your shoulder, stared at it’s open doors.  

You let them shut.

For the first time since that raid, you smiled.  Really, honestly smiled.  You set your bag down against the wall.  The walk back to the couch was the lightest you had felt in a long while.  You sat down next to him, resting your hands on your knees and one by one, you tapped your fingers against your skin.  With a deep breath, you felt your shoulders relaxed.  You weren’t surprised he was able to help.  “I guess...technically...using that logic...you’re not wrong.”

Bakugou scoffed, closing his eyes and tossing his head back.  “Of course I’m not wrong.”

You chuckled, shaking your head.  “How could I have ever thought to argue with you? Truly a futile effort to begin with.”

His smirk was quick, a slight twitch in the corner of his mouth before he grunted and looked away.  The prickly exterior he generally used to conceal himself was growing back into place and you couldn’t help but laugh.  You had been so wrapped up in your own bullshit that you almost forgot how much he made your heart skip.  As you looked over his profile, you realized that you were entirely thankful for Bakugou and not just in that moment.  You had been so stuck in your pit, sinking lower and lower that you didn’t think you’d ever get out of it.

But like everything, he broke the glass ceiling and shot through.  Only this time, he snatched you up and pulled your head to the surface.  Even if for a moment, you could breathe because he was holding your head above the water.  

You leaned over and bumped his shoulder with yours, nudging him warmly.  He ruined expectations again by waiting a moment before doing it back to you.  

He was so warm, his skin amazingly soft.  It lit your chest aflame and your cheeks grew pink - but you didn’t move.  The two of you leaned against each other but said nothing about it.  How did you find yourself here?  You had been close to him before but this was different in a way that didn’t seem to make any sort of sense.  And...you kind of like that it didn’t.  Because it didn’t have to.  You realized that sometimes, when it was just the two of you, as few as those “sometimes” may have been, you simply wanted it to just...be.  

You shouldn’t want to be so close to him, not now.  Would it be in poor taste?  Would he think less of you if he knew?  Did he know?  Did he feel the same way?  You were certain that if he looked over at you, looked into your eyes he would...at least see something.  You weren’t sure exactly what it was, but it was enough to cause your knees to knock and your chest to ache.  And you wondered if he would see how much your fingers longed to reach out and touch his body, draw him close and...  

But that didn’t matter.  Not now. 

You looked down at your hands.  If you...wanted to try...wanted to see if...this was something you could have, you would have to take the first leap.  Bakugou wasn’t going to do it.  He wasn’t going to be the one who dove head first.  But was now the perfect time?  Would there ever be a perfect time?  After having him strip your defenses, tear you down, build you back up - should you wait?

You spared another look, hoping that you might find confidence in his being.  

Your eyes met.  He was looking at you too.

No.  No, you weren’t waiting.  Katsuki Bakugou wasn’t someone you waited for.  If you were going to do this, see if he felt the same way you felt - all the crazy heart skips and lingering glances when the other wasn’t looking - you had to do this now.  

Gathering all your courage, you moved your hand and offered it to him.  His eyes tore away from your face then down at your open palm.  The universe held it’s breath, watched eagerly...as he slid his fingers between yours.  His calloused digits scratched at your skin lightly, his palms were a little clammy and...

Bakugou held you firm, grasping you tightly.  Desperate and scared and you remembered everything that lead you to this moment.

“That Bakugou kid likes you.”

Wild hair haloed in the setting sun peeking above the tops of overgrown trees.  Everyone around you disappears when his arms wrap around you.  He holds your hands, guiding the knife as he helps you chop.

“Out of all those losers, I was glad you were there.”

It felt like something was dragging you to him, tugging your body towards his.  He wasn’t stopping you, he wasn’t yelling or screaming or pushing you away.  He just watched, eyes narrowed and darkened under his hair.  Was he waiting to see what you would do?  Was he too scared to move on his own?  You reached out, gliding your fingers over his sandy blonde locks and brushing them out of the way so you could see his face.  Fingertips drifted down and over his cheek, trying to offer the same warmth he filled you with.  

Defiantly, a daring look in his eye, he pressed his cheek into your hand.  If you’re going to do this, then mean it.  Everything about him made you want to scream, drove you mad.  He always fought - and you saw now, that this whole time...he was fighting for you.  Fighting to let you know.  Had you been so entirely blind all this time?  

You wanted to say something, to let him know that you saw.  But words were wrong, thin, pointless and empty.  Nothing you could say would ever be enough to let him know how you felt.  So you would give all of you and hope that it was enough for him.

Without waiting another moment, you pressed your lips to his.  It was a deep and heavy action, one that he met with passion only he could muster.  You closed your eyes and lost yourself into his taste, the heat of his lips, his very presence.  It was a rush, one that sent you spinning - derailed all train of thought.  All that mattered was him.  All that lived in this universe was you and him.

His arm snaked around your waist, pulling you up and over him and you were happy to follow.  You didn’t dare break away, to lose the contact that you obviously both had been longing for.  Your fingers found their way into his hair, twisting and tangling.  Never once did he pull away - quite the opposite.  He met you, every press of your lips, every motion of want and desire, laid bare in front of both of you.  And as you felt his finger graze over the skin on your back, dipping under your dress shirt to set the nerves there on fire, you realized both of you were utter fools.

It’s an awful thing: knowing you’re not enough.  Wanting something so badly, but no matter how much you long for it, it still slips through your grasp.  Of knowing that nothing you could have done would have changed the outcome.

He should have stayed in his dorm.  He should have never looked at his phone.  He should have never told you about Bakugou.  

He should have never let you get so close.  

It was by chance he glanced at the window looking into the common room, hand poised in front of the door.  At first, he wasn’t exactly sure what he was looking at - two shadowed masses, one on top of the other.  But then, he saw your face.  His heart wrenched when you pulled away from Bakugou.  A scream locked in his throat the way you smiled at him, soft and loving.  He hated the look in your eyes as you ran your thumb over his lips, as he slid his fingers into your hair to pull you back for more. 

Something Shinsou couldn’t have.  Someone he wasn’t enough for.

He didn’t linger on the steps for too long.  He feared you would see him and then - then you would have to talk.  He wasn’t sure he would be able to handle that, not with Bakugou behind you.  

The walk back to the dorm was a long one and he was surprised he made it into his room without incident.  It was late enough though, most of his classmates were asleep and the rest had retired to their rooms.  No one knew he was gone.  His mind was utterly blank until the locked clicked shut.

He didn’t realize he had punched the wall until his hand pulled back, sliced open.  Blood pooled and ran down his arm.  But it wasn’t enough.  It didn’t stop him from replaying that scene in his head over and over again.  The way you two were looking at each other, the soft touches, gentle smiles...

He slumped to the floor and let out one pitiful sob.  

What was he supposed to do now?

Author’s Note:  I honestly watched Cats the 2019 musical and then wrote Shinsou’s part because I’ve been having a pretty good week honestly so I wasn’t in the headspace for honest disappointment.  

I just needed something to remind me that happiness is fleeting and something terrible and awful will usually come and destroy what you know and love most in this world.  Drag your joy through the mud until the only thing left is a shell of what once was.

...who let’s Hooper direct shit?

Anyway.  I do think I’m going to lead into a part 4 for this one.  I don’t know.  I’ll let you guys decide if you want something more lol since I’m interested in continuing it.  Especially given the newer chapters. 

Also eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey, kissing scene.  First real one on this blog anyway and not a kiss mentioned in passing.  And look, it only took me a year or so to do it. :)  I’m a fantastic mod of this blog who gives people what they want and doesn’t focus on stupid shit in the slightest why are you guys here you should have left me on the street corner where I was standing

Tag List!  If you want to be added, let me know!

@snaspants​ | @purplebellybell | @sxlenced-xf-lxvers​ | 

[rjhpandapaws]

Heyyo Panda!! I have another ask for you, but only if I’m not being a pain in the ask.

I’m picking the prompt “Lost” for allen60.

Pls tell me about their camping trip from hell, which was actually a blessing in disguise. (They get together miles from civilisation, through a series of hilarious arguments about who misread the map)

//You are never a pain send as many as you like!! //I am going to go with Canonverse because that just seems like it would be the most fun.

“You can just admit we’re lost Six, no one is going to judge you.” Allen said after he waited five minutes for Sixty to either look up from the map or come off of red, “You’re allowed to make mistakes.” They’d originally pulled into the rest stop parking lot because Allen thought he had missed an exit somewhere and wanted to check the map. When he drove on the interstate lone enough everything started to look the same and he was liable to miss his turn off, which was exactly why he started taking trips like this with company. So he could have a navigator. Most of the time he would take Gavin or someone from his unit, but when he brought it up he learned Sixty had never been on a camping trip. So he chose to take him instead. As he watched Sixty pour over the map as his LED cycled to show he had at least heard Allen he understood a few of the placed he had gone wrong. Sixty had never been outside of Detroit, he could look up land marks almost instantly, but that didn’t mean he would recognize them. After being shot in the head, and then brought back he processed things a little slower than most androids. Allen was relatively certain he was witnessing one of those loops. “Hey, Six.” He tried again, “Sixty.”

“What?” He finally responded, his tone was sharp as he looked up at Allen with evident frustration, “I am trying to figure out where we are. I can’t triangulate with your constant talking.” “Six, there isn’t any cell service out here.” Allen explained, “That’s kind of the point of the trip.” There was a long beat of silence. It was eventually punctuated by the crinkling of paper and Allen was handed back a neatly folded map, “Well then Captain, congratulation’s we’re lost.” If it were anyone else Allen would have laughed, “I’ll head inside and ask for directions. Do you want to come with me? They might have something you can sample.” “Sure.” He replied and they both got out. The thing about getting directions from locals was that they tended to use landmarks that “everyone” knows. Which renders them all but useless if you’re from out of the area, but it was still endearing to see Sixty try his best to find them. Even if watching him down dish-soap like it was soda was an unsettling part to the image.

Sixty’s face when they finally made it to a camp ground was worth all of it. This wasn’t the planned one of course, they’d taken a few too many wrong turns for that, but it would work. It was far away from the rest of the world and they would both have a chance to just be. Sixty’s face was plastered to the window, his radio active green dish-soap was in the cup holder long forgotten as he took in the scenery. They didn’t run in to their next problem until they got to their plot. In all of Allen’s planning, or lack there of in this case, he hadn’t accounted for small town ideals on androids. On either side of them were camping trailers adorned with Anti-Android stickers and flags. He didn’t want Sixty to be surrounded by this for the next three days, it had been part of what Allen was trying to get him away from. “Interesting neighbors.” Was all Sixty had to say about it, “We should probably get the tent set up before it gets dark. You don’t have night vision.” “Six, we can find another place, you don’t have to do this.” Allen said carefully. “It’s not every day that I get to ruin two people’s weekends.” He looked back at Allen with a smile, “If anything happens we have the authority to deal with it, relax okay? Besides I don’t exactly want to risk getting lost again.” That was a fair point. They weren’t from here, and Allen didn’t want to spend the first night of their weekend car camping, “Alright, but if they start anything, come to me okay.” “Sure.” He said in a way that let Allen know, that was the opposite of what was going to happen.

Setting up a tent was always a nightmare, not as much as taking down, but it did make the list of things Allen hated the most about camping; and that was before Sixty managed to get tangled up in the tent fabric. All of the things to be said in compliment of prototype androids considered, the one thing Allen wished they came with was common sense. “Okay stop laughing and help me please Allen.” Sixty said when it became clear that Allen was in fact not on his way over, “I did everything according to the pictures and now I am stuck and there is no tent.” “You did them out of order Six.” He replied when he caught his breath, “And I really don’t know what else went wrong to get you stuck like that.” “I don’t care what went wrong, just get me out.” He snapped. One untangled android and a couple of hours later, the tent was finally set up. It was dim enough now that Sixty’s LED was a little more noticeable. Allen was on edge, but Sixty at least seemed content to sit and watch the fire, and Allen had learned to keep the lighter fluid away from him. If he wasn’t trying to start a forest fire he was drinking it. Which all things considered, was something Allen should have seen coming. “I can see your stress levels rising Captain.” Sixty looked up from the fire, and seeing the flame dancing in his eyes was a little unsettling if he was honest, “They won’t try anything tonight, they are only observing. So relax and come join me by the fire.”

“Call me Allen while we’re out here Six.” He replied as he made his way over, “We’re off hours, I’m not your captain.” “Alright then Allen,” He grinned at the way Sixty said his name with all the enthusiasm of a child that had been told they were allowed to swear, “You were the one who said vacations were about relaxing, so sit down and relax.” Allen took the open chair beside Sixty and made a show of sitting down, “Happy?” “Sure, so what do we do now?” He asked, “We’ve started a fire, and I’m not allowed to stick anything in it, so what else do people do when they camp. Other than sleep outside.” “First of all, you aren’t allowed to put anything in the fire because you will find a way to burn the entire campground down.” Allen sighed, “Usually people will tell horror stories or make smores, but you can’t eat so...” “So tell me a horror story.” He replied. “I don’t know any good ones.” He said with a shrug. Sixty groaned, “So we’re just supposed to sit and stare at the fire until it goes out?” As if on cue there was a distant roll of thunder and it began pouring rain. Allen cursed under his breath and made for the tent and Sixty followed after him. They made it inside before Allen got soaked to the bone and zipped it up behind them, they could figure out something to do once the rain let up.

Except the storm didn’t actually let up at all. At one point it even hailed. Allen wanted to kick himself for not checking the weather before they left, but he had figured Sixty would know despite this being his first camping trip. In a way though, being holed up in a tent with Sixty wasn’t all that bad. At the very least it was warmer then being out in the elements. The hardest part was avoiding spilling his guts to Sixty. There wasn’t much else they could do other than talk because Sixty counted the card every time they tried to play a game. It wasn’t his fault, probability calculation was one of the few things he couldn’t turn off because it was tied directly to how he operated. So they talked, a lot. Allen about his childhood and why he enjoyed camping so much, and Sixty on what it was like to be an android. The more he learned about Sixty the harder it became to keep these things to himself. He started to use endearments for Sixty, and he didn’t catch himself. It wasn’t until the last day when they were packing up despite the rain that either one of them acknowledged it, and at that it wasn’t Allen who brought it up. It was Sixty. “Did you mean it?” He asked abruptly. “Which ‘it’ exactly?” It was poor way to deflect but Allen was nervous. “All of it any of it.” He replied, “Am I really someone you don’t mind being trapped in the woods with.” Allen closed the trunk of his car and leaned against it. He was soaked through, but he didn’t mind, the heater in his car worked fine. He didn’t reply until Sixty looked at him. It was the moment of truth, “I meant every word of all of it, and given the chance you are the only person I would make a habit of getting stranded in the woods with.” The kiss that came after seemed natural, it was a long time coming Allen supposed and as he drove back with one hand in Sixty’s he decided they could probably make a tradition out of getting lost together.

(Prompt from this list)

@asset35-maya

[refinedbuffoonery]

Only Human

Post 5x05. Angst. Riley POV. It’s sad. 

*****

Only human. That’s what Jack was. 

As a kid, Riley thought he was invincible. Nothing bad could ever happen to him. And if it did, he could always find a way out. Like when Riley busted him for picking flowers from her yard to give to her mom on their first date, or when he charmed his way out of yet another speeding ticket. 

As an adult, Riley thought he was invincible. He and Mac pulled off crazy stunts Riley could barely wrap her head around, and they always came out alright. Whatever gods or forces of the universe were looking down on Jack Dalton clearly liked him and wanted him to stick around. 

It took the sight of a flag-covered casket for Riley to realize Jack Dalton was only human. 

The one man she thought would never truly leave her was gone. For good this time. 

And there was nothing she could do about it. 

Until there was. Until Mac received that postcard—that last piece of Jack—and suddenly they were flying to Croatia to crack his final clue. Until they were the ones hunting a not-actually-dead Kovac. Until they were the ones stuck in a trap laid by the same woman who murdered Jack. 

Riley would’ve snapped that blonde bitch’s neck if Mac hadn’t stopped her. 

Rotting in a cell for the rest of eternity was too good a fate for the person who cut Jack’s life short. 

Normally, Riley would’ve felt smart for catching a whole taped confession like that, but this time she just felt cold. Empty. No amount of justice would even begin to heal the Jack-shaped wound in her heart. 

The flight home seemed like it would never end. Riley didn’t even feel the burn of the whiskey Russ handed her as she knocked it back like a shot. If she had the energy to get up, she would’ve drank the rest of the bottle. 

Even Mac sitting beside her didn’t bring Riley any comfort. She wanted to scream at the universe until her voice was hoarse, cursing it for ripping the closest thing she ever had to a dad from her grasp. It seemed like just yesterday they made amends and he was her dad again. 

But it wasn’t. 

That was more than five years ago, and the few years Riley had with him were the best of her life. Even though half the time they spent together usually involved trying not to get killed. 

Riley couldn’t help but think that if she had been there, had been part of that task force, hunting Kovac with Jack, she would’ve connected the dots Jack missed and realized the rescue op was a trap. She could’ve kept him alive. 

Because as a team—Jack, Mac, and herself—they were invincible. But alone, they were only human. 

Since that first drive with Mac, Riley drove the GTO every day. She drove it to work, to the grocery store, to the gym. She even drove it just for the sake of driving it, wasting gas with no destination in mind. On those days, she usually found herself ordering a brisket sandwich at Jack’s favorite Texas barbeque restaurant. Most of the time, she was so numb her body revolted at the idea of food, but Riley forced herself to eat the damn sandwich anyway, since she had to enjoy it for both of them now. 

Driving Jack’s car was the closest thing to feeling like he was with her again. 

She even stole one of Jack’s Metallica t-shirts from Mac to sleep in, but the GTO was where Riley felt his presence best. 

Presence. Like all that was left of her invincible dad was a ghost, following her around quoting Bruce Willis movies and harassing her about leaving fingerprints on his car. 

Soldiers died all the time. So did agents. That was part of the job. But Riley never thought her agents would die. Not really. Not when they avoided death so well. And if they were to die, they’d all go at the same time, doing something incredibly stupid. If you go kaboom, I go kaboom. That was Jack’s promise. The whole team’s promise. 

“We were supposed to go kaboom together,” Riley whispered to herself, parking the GTO in Mac’s driveway. She blinked back the tears threatening to escape. 

Her eyes caught the old basketball hoop. Mac and Jack used to spend hours playing HORSE right in this very spot. Jack usually won. 

Mac had invited her over for dinner, but Riley couldn’t yet bring herself to go inside. A week had passed since Jack’s funeral, but since then, that first step into Mac’s house made Riley feel like she was permanently stuck at the wake, pressed against the wall and choking on tears as fate carved a gaping hole in her chest. Mac’s house—one of her favorite places in the whole world—was heavy with sorrow and guilt. 

No matter how many times Mac repeated that they shouldn’t feel guilty, the what-ifs still stuck around like shackles around Riley’s wrists and ankles. She knew Mac felt the same way, even though he hid it for her sake. 

Riley barely mustered the courage to go inside. 

She made it two steps in when her gaze locked on Mac, standing in the kitchen, a folded American flag in his hands. 

Riley thought of Jack's promise again. If you go kaboom, I go kaboom. And suddenly she was furious. Furious at Jack for walking into a trap alone. Furious at him for dying. Furious at the government—the same government she served—that sent a flag home in place of a man. Her hands shook. 

Every minute she wasn't crying, Riley was angry. She tried to direct it, use it to make sure that woman never saw the light of day again. Riley refused to even call the woman by her name. She murdered Jack. She shot Bozer. She used her power as an Interpol agent to run a terrorist organization. That bitch deserved every ounce of hatred Riley spewed at her. 

But sometimes Riley was just angry at everything, and she sat somewhere quiet and stewed so she didn't take it out on someone who didn't deserve it. Riley still owed Desi an apology after nearly ripping her friend’s head off when she tried to check up on Riley a few days ago. 

Mac finally looked up, his expression raw and broken. It pushed Riley over the edge. Her keys fell out of her hand, and Riley’s breathing stuttered. The all too familiar lump in her throat returned, rendering her unable to speak, and the tears she’d been holding back finally spilled over, twin hot streams running down her cheeks. 

Mac left the flag on the kitchen counter and strode to her, not stopping until his arms wrapped tightly around her. “I didn’t know what to do when I saw it either,” he murmured, clutching her to his chest like their lives depended on it. 

Riley sobbed. She’d cried so much in the last week she didn’t think her body could produce any more tears, but they just kept coming. She weakly returned Mac's hug. 

"The hole in my heart just keeps bleeding," Riley gasped. "And I don't know how to make it stop." 

"I don't know either," Mac said in a rare moment of honesty. He'd been keeping up a strong front for her sake, she knew. Because if they both let go, there wouldn't be anything stopping them from drinking themselves into oblivion and hurling spite at the world. 

A world that didn't deserve Jack Dalton. 

Riley didn't let herself think about the fact that Jack died for nothing. Well, not completely nothing, since his death led them to the clues he'd left behind just in case. Jack's death led to Kovac being put away for good. But that would never change the fact that Jack died alone, in a trap. 

Mac grunted softly. The sound pulled Riley out of her head enough to realize she'd dug her nails into Mac's back, hard enough to leave marks. 

"Sorry," she whispered, barely loud enough to hear. 

Mac whispered back. "It's alright, Riles." 

Riles. That was Jack's nickname for her, long before it was anyone else's. Mac had picked it up after a year or so, and even Desi sometimes called her that, but above all, it belonged to Jack. 

Her knees started to tremble, and Riley let Mac hold her up. Besides her mom, Mac was the only one she felt safe breaking down around. She didn't know why. She was just as close to Bozer as she was to Mac. Maybe it was because talking to Bozer still felt like sympathy and not just someone to be sad with. 

"How's your mom?" Mac asked softly. 

A new wave of tears, silent ones this time, rolled down Riley's cheeks. She’d spent the previous night with her mom. Riley finally told her about Jack, after receiving clearance to tell her mom everything. 

It was the hardest thing she'd ever done. 

"We cried a lot." Riley sniffed. "I didn't know telling her would be so hard." 

She knew it would suck, but finding the courage to squeak out "Jack's dead" was almost more than she could manage. 

"I could've gone with you," Mac offered. 

Riley appreciated the gesture. "Thanks, but I needed to do it on my own." She wasn’t even sure which way was up anymore, but she was sure of this. 

They stood there for a little while longer before Mac asked, “Are you hungry?” 

“No.” Riley’s stomach turned inside out at the thought of food. 

Mac’s hands got brave, roaming her body and feeling how thin she was after a week of barely eating. She could hardly manage one meal a day, much less three. Riley tensed at the intimacy of the gesture. His tone was firm. “We’re having tacos. You have to eat at least one.” 

“Okay.” She knew it was pointless to argue. Mac would force-feed her if he had to. 

Without thinking, she asked, "Can I sleep here tonight?" Realizing what she said, Riley quickly backtracked. "Or if you and Desi want your space I understand, and—" 

Mac cut her off. "No. You can always stay here, for as long as you want." After a moment, he added, voice strained, "I want you to stay." 

“Thank you,” she said weakly. Riley felt Mac’s strong façade starting to crack. She knew he couldn’t keep it up much longer, that he couldn’t hold her up forever. 

Maybe then they could just lean on each other. 

Jack may have left Riley and Mac behind, but at least he didn’t leave them alone. They had each other, and while they would never be able to fill the Jack-shaped hole in their lives, maybe each other would be enough to keep going. 

Because as it turns out, none of them were invincible, and Riley had to figure out how to staunch the wound before she bled out on the floor.

[exn0bisstudios]

As a preface: no need to answer if you don’t feel comfortable with it,I know people sometimes don’t like these questions so no pressure if you’re one of them! Who likes kids, who would like to be a parent (if their partner also wanted that of course!), and who is good with kids? Thank you!

Well, firstly, thank you for your concern! I'm okay with these topics so long as it's not about me personally, so don't worry! That said, though, I'll put this under a cut since the topic might be uncomfortable for some people.

CW for: talk involving conception, infertility, pregnancy, miscarriage

Edited 5/16 - Changes to include more inclusive language. My apologies! 

Since we're talking about the ROs and kids, let us talk about MC too for a sec.

It should be noted that it is typically challenging for a Seer to bear children/impregnate someone. The corruption that comes with their Void powers usually renders them infertile, or at least close to. However, it's not unheard of for a Seer to have children. Still, it usually results in a difficult pregnancy and can be dangerous to both the carrier and the child. Additionally, any child born from a Seer (either parent) would be Dream-touched.

That said, as we know, MC is a very special Seer. Canonically, their powers have not rendered them infertile, though their kid would still end up Dream-touched. However, I will be leaving it up to players to decide if their MC can or can't have biological kids for other reasons. And, obviously, adoption is also very much an option!

Now on to the ROs!

Mira

Mira likes kids well enough, and they're usually very good with them. They struggle a bit with dealing with noble children. Still, Mira's kind and empathetic nature tend to have children warming up to them regardless. They used to help take care of the young recruits back at the Order, both daily routine stuff and some training.

They would absolutely love to have a family one day, but it's something they kinda push to the back of their mind and try not to think about. Their lifestyle doesn't lend itself to the stability and safety necessary for raising children, considering they could be killed in action any day. They think it would be grossly irresponsible to have a family, then end up dead somewhere and leave them hanging. Mira was an orphan themself, and they know firsthand how hard life is for kids on their own. They have no desire to contribute to that lifestyle or put their own potential child through that.

If there ever came a time where they could lay down their weapons for good, though, then yes. They'd want to start a family in whatever way they could. Though not opposed to having biological children, both masc & fem Mira would prefer to adopt. Again, being an orphan themself, they would choose to take in a child. Mira would ideally like 2-3 kids so they can have a big family to grow old with, and they'd be a very supportive and doting parent. They'd probably struggle with discipline.

Nova

Children confuse the absolute shit out of Nova, and the way mortals procreate admittedly terrifies them. Nightmares are not born in the same sense that mortals are; they just kinda pop into existence fully formed. When Nova first learned about mortal procreation, they had a minor mental breakdown. The idea of another, smaller living thing growing inside someone strikes them as distinctly horrific. They've done their best to accept the idea at this point in their life, but mainly they cope with it by ignoring its existence. They see a pregnant person and basically go, 'suddenly I have no eyes.' Babies and children continue to confuse them despite their best efforts, and they have no idea how to interact with them. You put a child around Nova, and you're liable to hear them genuinely asking the kid why they are so small and dumb.

Nova's mortal body is also infertile by design. They chose this shortly after they realized they actually enjoyed sex and would do it again. They don't know if it would be possible for them to become pregnant/impregnate someone, considering they're not actually mortal. Still, they didn't want to risk it.

The only time Nova would consider starting a family is if it was something their partner(s) really, really wanted. They'd sit down and have an honest talk about how it's something that they know nothing about, that the process scares them, and that they are absolutely going to need help learning how to handle it all. But, if their partner is willing to accept all that, Nova would be willing to try. Though again, they don't know if they can procreate with a mortal, so they'd probably recommend going for a surrogate or adoption. Eventually, Nova'd grow into a good parent, very supportive, and surprisingly level-headed.

Stella

They don't have too much of an opinion on children, which shows in how they don't really know how to interact with them. Stella feels super awkward around kids, and they're more likely to tell them to shoo. Their own childhood has tainted their views, and being around children brings up things they'd rather not think about. Honestly, the fastest way to make Stella disappear is to put a child nearby.

Deep down, though, they like the idea of starting a family. It would take a lot of encouragement to get them to admit that. It'd take even more to help them process long-ignored family-related trauma and unlearn a whole lot of unhealthy habits. With the proper support from their partner(s), though, they'd really like to give things a try. Fem Stella wouldn't mind carrying a child. Still, both fem & masc Stella generally don't care if their kid is biological or adopted.

Stella would make for a very nervous parent, and they'd be absolutely terrible at discipline. They'd probably helicopter and be overprotective and would have to be reminded by their partner(s) that things will be okay.

Désiré

So a bit of history: Dez is one of the only two ROs who already has child-rearing experience. His best friend and second-in-command, Alix, was born and raised in the brothel with him. While he grew up to be an errand boy and bodyguard, she became one of the courtesans. He took up smuggling and worked his ass off to get them out of there, but unfortunately, Alix became pregnant before they could escape. Alix's son, Dimitri, was born in the cabin of the first ship Dez ever owned.

Alix eventually married Catarina, the crew's healer, who has acted as Dimitri's other mother. Thus, while Dez is 'officially' Dimitri's uncle, he has always been his only father-figure. Dimitri is 14 by the time of the game and is still a very active part of Désiré's life. You'll actually get a chance to meet him in-game since he's got a place on Dez's crew (he's the cabin boy)!

Now that history is managed, it's safe to say that Désiré would love to start a family one day. It doesn't matter to him how, though going the biological route, let it be known he's excellent at tending to pregnancy needs. He's a wonderful parent, generally gentle while supportive and encouraging, and is comfortable being stern when it's called for.

Vittore Simone

Sadly I can't get into the specifics of Vittore Simone's thoughts on kids and family without it becoming a spoiler. However, I can say that he vowed when he was young that he'd never have kids and has never thought of it since. Going forward, it would never be something that crossed his mind unless brought up by his partner and would be something he'd defensively refuse at first. Later, he'd come back with apologies and to have a more open conversation on the matter to express his reservations and fears.

Suffice to say that the idea of being a father absolutely terrifies him, and he has always taken great pains to avoid it ever happening. Even just the thought is enough to send him into panic attacks. His partner will need to be patient with him and accept that this is something he may genuinely never be able to do for the sake of his own health and any future child's. It would take a lot of time, reassurance, work, healing, support, and understanding before Vittore Simone ever agreed to give parenthood a shot. It will not be an easy road for him or his partner. It would likely be a road that never truly ends, and he'd need to be sure that they can both accept that without damaging their own relationship. He would try, though. He would do his damnedest. And, thankfully, there will never be any doubt that he genuinely does love his kid.

As a father, initially, he would constantly be terrified he was hurting his kid somehow. He would struggle with being overly permissive & overprotective at the same time. He's liable to have a panic attack any time the kid cries for the first several years. His partner will have to help him get through 'I'm a terrible father, this was a mistake' breakdowns periodically. Slowly, though, he'll build some confidence and be more comfortable interacting and expressing himself with his kid. He'll always be supportive, and he'll work his hardest to be sure his family knows he loves them unconditionally. His partner will have to accept the role of disciplinarian, though. That's never going to be something he'll be able to do on his own (but of course, he'll be there to support them in those conversations. He doesn't want to make them the 'bad guy' by any means).

Andrai

The other RO with child-rearing experience! Andrai has 15 younger siblings (yes, you heard me correctly) and absolutely adores them all. They're all grown now, but he loved taking care of them when they were little, and he still dotes on them whenever he can, in his own way. In general, he loves kids. He just thinks they're adorable. And, despite appearances, he's excellent with them. Kids love this man, they flock to him, and he has no problem with that. It confuses most onlookers.

The idea of starting his own family turns him to absolute mush. And, he'd love to, so so much. Adoption, biological, and surrogacy are okay with him. It would be up to his partner to limit exactly how many kids they have since Andrai would just say he wants them all. He makes an excellent dad, albeit quiet, and is unwaveringly supportive. He's comfortable with discipline and is the type to encourage self-assessing behavior. He's excellent at giving advice and genuinely just likes spending time with his kids and being involved in their lives.

He's probably not the one you would peg as the 'domestic bliss' type, but he absolutely is.

Vzridmi

She's very comfortable with kids since communal rearing is very common in ork communities, and she'd love to have a family one day. Some kids unused to orks might find her a bit intimidating just because of her size, but in general, children think she's fun to be around. She doesn't necessarily think about it too much, though, at this point in her life. It's not something she sees as being on the table for quite some time - she has research and exploration to be doing, after all.

Whenever she was ready to settle down for a family, she'd be comfortable with carrying a child herself, surrogacy, or adopting. She would really like to have at least one biological child if possible, though. She would make for an entertaining mother, excited about her child's life and ever-supportive of their interests and pursuits. She's comfortable with all the aspects of child-rearing. Still, She would definitely need her partner's advice if they ever discovered their kid was dealing with bullying. She'd need to be reminded by her partner not to be overprotective - she's not above threatening others with her war-hammer if they upset her baby.

[wield-the-mighty-pen]

The Crows and their love languages

I Don’t know if this has already been done, but this is my interpretation of the love languages of the Crows, feel free to disagree but this is what I felt best fit the characters based on what I’ve read/seen.

Nina

Without a question as both a giver and a receiver, Nina’s love language is physical contact. Though she is seen displaying every other love language, it is through touch that Nina appears to benefit the most. She is offended and subsequently worried about her relationship with Matthias when he avoids touching her and still hadn’t kissed her. Through Inej’s POV, we see a lot of hugs and touches given by Nina. She even uses touch as a heartrender. For her job at the White Rose she is required to touch people to improve their mood and change their appearance. But to focus on the first one, she literally uses touch to make people happy. It makes the most sense to associate Nina with physical contact, which also might be the reason that she and Kaz don’t get along.

Matthias

I found Matthias to actually be the hardest to figure out, he doesn’t really display any specific patterns when it comes to displaying affection. I would say that it is physical contact but he seems to avoid a lot of physical contact with Nina to stay in accordance with the Fjerdan tradition. I guess the love language I see the most with Matthias as both a giver and receiver is acts of service. When he recalls his mother, he remembers aiding her when she was pregnant, he offers on several occasions to do things for Nina, he considers Jarl Brum, a man he was in service as a soldier to, as a father figure. As a receiver, his reaction to Inej’s sacrifice on the first boat indicates that he values acts of service. Additionally, he begins to like Nina (in flashbacks) after she had helped save his life and worked to keep him alive. There are other examples of acts of service being his love language, but I think this suffices.

Wylan

 100% he is in need of some words of affirmation. Though we don’t really see his interactions with the other crows as much since he doesn’t have his own perspective in SOC, in Crooked Kingdom and in the times we see Wylan in Six of Crows, his usage of words of affirmation is evident. As a receiver, he is seen to want approval desperately from his father, to take offense easily at teasing from the other crows, he seems to tie a lot to words. As a giver, his preference for words of affirmation is even more abundant in example. He is always seen giving pep talks to Jesper and is mystified when Kaz refuses to admit the importance of Inej, he becomes angry at the lack of acknowledgement of her merit, of her significance to Kaz. Wylan appears to gather strength from words of affirmation, in fact, after he shares his inability to read with Kaz, it is Kaz’s response that gives him the strength to share with others and even embrace his disability. As a child who so rarely got words of encouragement and affirmation, it makes sense that he places such importance on this particular love language.

Jesper 

Jesper is an interesting case, he, like Nina, likes to utilize all of the love languages. However there are two that he really hones in on. As a giver he is seen to use physical touch and occasionally words of affirmation, as a receiver he requires words of affirmation. Focusing on Jesper as a receiver, the beginning of SOC establishes words of affirmation as his primary love language. He is hurt when Kaz doesn’t acknowledge his trust in Jesper and is seen multiple times throughout the book with hurt feelings when he is excluded from the secrets Kaz shares with Inej, he wants the affirmation of his close relationship with Kaz through the sharing of secrets. As a giver, Jesper uses two different languages. In regards to physical contact, he is shown using this love language a lot with others, there are a plethora of examples within both books, it is shown that he relies on this mode a lot. However, he also employs words of affirmation, the best example of which I can think of is when he lies to Inej about Kaz visiting her to spare her feelings. Though the effort didn’t work, Jesper’s nature is exposed here for being one of comforting words regardless of their accuracy. The other example I think of is from the beginning of Six of Crows, where Kaz remarks that Jesper would pacify the dregs and make Kaz’s victory belong to them all and would boost them up. He is evidently known for his use in this love language, and therefore is still relatively evenly between the two methods of affection.

Inej

Inej uses two different love languages, one as a giver and one as a receiver. As a giver, Inej employs words of affirmation. This can be seen through her various pep-talks given out to the other crows, in her kind words to her hurting friends, and in her exchanges with Kaz. She is good at encouragement and her words are shown to have an impact, specifically seen with exchanges she has with Jesper and Kaz (they both think about and mull over her words in their inner monologues). It is through words she connects with others, however she has relationships and important connections that more often than not do not supply her with words of affirmation back. This leads into her receiver love language, this being quality time. This is not the most intuitive love language for Inej, but through analyzing her character it is plain to see that it is this love language that she responds to the most. The way that Inej recalls her family and her father is through her fond memories of them, is through the good times she spent with them. She does not simply remember her family through traits or through objects or even through words but through scenes, and through the memories that contain the words she remembers. Additionally, when injured on the Ferolind, she requests that Nina stay and spend time with her, she values her presence. With Kaz this love language is a little harder to scope out, after all their relationship also contains acts of service, gift giving, and little bursts of words of affirmation, but Inej seems to appreciate and respond the most to the quality time she spends with Kaz. She is hurt when she learns that he didn’t visit while she was unconscious, there are countless examples of wordless communication as they spend time together, Kaz even points out that he “is here” with Inej, he is present and there to help her, something that she subsequently responds to. In a way, Inej’s relationship with Kaz is unique from her other relationship in that it requires every love language (even physical contact) but quality time is in many ways a significant one.

Kaz

Now that I’ve gone on a tangent for Inej, we finally reach our most complex character when it comes to love languages (I’m sorry please prepare for another tangent). To be clear, Kaz’s love languages are not difficult to decipher from the vantage point of a reader but the way he expresses himself to other characters is in a complex manner that was formed from his upbringing and past trauma. As a giver it is plain and obvious that Kaz is a gift giver, he is constantly seen practicing this love language. He gifts Jesper his guns back after he loses them in Crooked Kingdom, He gifts Wylan his family fortune back. He even yearns to gift his dead brother his avengeance in the form of taking down Pekka Rollins. Of course, this love language can be viewed the most in his interactions with Inej. He notoriously gifts her a ship “The Wraith”, he gifts her her parents, he even gifts her freedom by buying her contract from Per Haskell, each gift allowing her the future she so desires. Although these gifts pain him, although he wants her to stay with him, he still gives and provides her with these tools, because he loves her, because he wants to express to her how much she means to him. Kaz is not a character who outwardly expresses his feelings very often, but through his gift giving it is shown that he does appreciate those around him, that he does care about others. As a receiver however, Kaz appears to appreciate the love language of Acts of Service the most. Though this analysis is about the books I did want to touch upon a scene in the TV show. The scene in question is when Inej kills the inferni. Inej commits her first kill in order to help Kaz and the look he gives her pretty much sums up his feelings on the matter.

 In the books he says in his narration how him making Jesper his only second, shows that he trusts him. He gradually warms up to both Matthias and Wylan as they progress in the mission and continue to aid him. He trusts Nina enough to be a part of the six going to the Ice Court, after using her services as a heart render multiple times. Now, it is possible that he only brought her along because of her powers and her connections to Matthias, but knowing Kaz he could make do without a heartrender and her addition only made things more complicated with Matthias at the beginning. Kaz agrees to free Inej after her words “I can help you”, he responds to that, it is with those words, with that offer to assist that their relationship begins. Inej is portrayed doing acts of service for Kaz nearly every night since her buyout, and Kaz has responded in kind making her his right hand woman. In summation, the way to earn Kaz’s respect, trust, and admiration is through acts of service.

[haikyuu-sickies]

if your request are open could i request Iwaizumi being sick and oikawa taking care of him? Maybe he had a fever and Oikawa is worried he could get hurt or something i dunno it’s really up to you!!

ship : iwaoi. | iwaizumi x oikawa |

genre : fluff.

warning : none.

—

It was a known fact that both Oikawa and Iwaizumi had the tendency to brush off sickness. Especially Oikawa. Even so, Oikawa had gotten used to Iwaizumi’s tendencies, so as soon as he saw the way the other swayed on his feet, he knew exactly what was going on. He also knew that direct confrontation would do nothing, so he just tried his best to make the other feel better. Wrapping his arm around his shoulder to help him stabilise himself, handing him water bottles when he saw him coughing, etc.

The hardest part was to come. That being when practice rolled around, Oikawa would have to figure out how to help the other during volleyball practice. Iwaizumi looked horrible. Well, still incredibly handsome to Oikawa - but the way sweat trickled down his clammy skin, the way shivers wracked his frame and made him helplessly double over. Not to mention the way he swayed on his feet, as though his legs would give out at any second. It made Oikawa beyond worried.

That’s when Oikawa decided that he’d have to confront Iwaizumi, wether the other liked it or not. He was captain, and he needed to ensure the safety of all of his teammates. Regardless of their stubbornness. Though, he was sure this would prove to be a challenge. Considering how vulgar Iwaizumi could be. He still loved him, nevertheless.

“Iwa chan, you’re sick.”

“Oi, Shittykawa, you could’ve just told me my form is off.”

“I’m serious, Iwa chan. Sit down, please.”

“If we’re not going to talk about something productive, then I’m leaving.”

“Hajime.”

And that’s when everyone froze. Oikawa never called Iwaizumi by his first name. And God, it was scary when he did. It wouldn’t have been if he called him ‘Iwa chan’, it was as if time itself has stopped. Nobody made a single movement. This wasn’t the first time they had been afraid of Oikawa when he was mad at them for something, but he always called Iwaizumi Iwa chan. This was probably the first time they’d all heard Oikawa call Iwaizumi by his first name. It sent chills down their spines.

“I’m not telling you, I’m ordering you, as your captain, to sit down. If not, I’m talking to coach.”

Iwaizumi let out a grumble, walking over to the nearby bench, and sitting down. As if in an instant, Oikawa’s demeanour changed to his usual one. Clapping his hands together, his usual charming smile gracing his lips. The others remained stunned. Even Kunimi couldn’t contain his shock, despite his usual, calm expression. Now, the others definitely wouldn’t be pushing Oikawa’s buttons as much. They did not want to get on his actual bad side, rather than his usual, whiney one.

“Now, back to practice everyone! Kindaichi, I’ll set for you.”

He spoke, bubbly, yet sly as always. Practice was a bit different without Iwaizumi’s snarky comments, but the rest got accustomed to it a few hours in. Eventually, practice ended. Oikawa changed out of his clothes, grabbed his bag, and walked over to the bench which Iwaizumi was sitting on. Iwaizumi had gotten dressed quicker then him, so he was, naturally, waiting on Oikawa. Though, it was obvious he wasn’t happy about being taken out of practice.

“Come on, Iwa chan! You’re coming over.”

“When did I ask you to come over?”

Oikawa frowned upon hearing his boyfriend’s raspy, and seemingly weak voice. He let out a sigh, gently taking Iwaizumi’s hand in his own, and dragging him out of the gym, beginning to walk towards his house. He could hear Iwaizumi make noises of disapproval, which in turn, got a giggle out of him.

“Tch, flattykawa, I’m not going to your house!”

“Yes, you are, Iwa chan! You have a fever, you’re sick, and I need to take care of you. My parents are overseas, so you don’t need to worry about that.”

“But I-“

“Shh, baby. Just let me take care of you.”

“... Fine.”

—

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[shewhowillnotbenamed1]

@ravenfan1242​ You said short and it started short and well, it just became this the way only an open prompt can... I hope it’s remotely decent!!!

----

Raven leaned against the table and under her light weight, Jason could swear the solid structure shifted. From the moment she arrived, brandishing an eco-friendly tote, she was weighted down. Even after relinquishing the heavy bag, she still seemed to sag into it.

"I'm worried, Jason."

"Raven, don't be," he offered quickly. "I mean, look around you, it's fine."

"No, it's not fine." A heavy sigh exited her body. "There's something else I'm forgetting... I just feel like I should do something... Something more."

"That's pretty clear." He pointed at the huge bag of groceries on the kitchen counter. It was all organic and more than enough fodder to sustain two down and out Jason Todds for a month. Completely and utterly unnecessary. But, if you spent enough time brushing the tuxedo-covered and satin gloved elbows of the Gotham elite, you grew familiar with the concept of overcompensation. "I don't know why you're worried. I have everything I need here - and some. Oh and good morning - by the way."

Her blue-violet eyes narrowed and then ran their lap around the space for about the eighth time. "Natural light... That's the problem." She wrung her hands together. "There's no natural light... But, I should have figured that bulbs alone weren't enough."

"You think I need exposure to sunlight? That's certainly rich." Jason's chin jutted in her direction. "It really means so much coming from you." The half-demon's pallor was pretty standout in the tight black v-neck, more than usual, which was saying something. It was like someone had flipped a switch to change the settings to negative, then pointed it solely on her, leaving the colors of her skin and sweater equally inverted.

"You're vitamin D deficient - probably... Definitely. Or you will be..." Once more, she fussed about the beige corded string tote. She held up the carton of milk and then a container of yogurt, examining percentages, as if expecting these offerings to remedy the problem in the short term.

Jason half considered telling her she'd do well to down a glass or a spoonful herself, but he held his tongue. This was clearly about alleviating what she could, so as not to focus on the real problem.

"Underground to underground bunker...?" Jason stretched his arms behind his head leaning back onto the small couch in the hideout. "I can't help but consider this a vast improvement." The space was so very much like a studio. So it was practically palatial compared to his previous digs in the cemetery. He barely stifled a scoff as he contemplated yet another bitter realty. B couldn't be bothered to spring for a bloody crypt. It was probably confirmation of where he ranked. What did it matter? There was a revolving door of Robins anyway.

"So, I suppose... it can't be helped," she said somberly.

"Exactly. If you've been deep down enough, natural light becomes a cursory concern." It was meant to be an offhand remark, as he was sure she knew what lay underneath the earth's surface better than most. But Jason watched as the daughter of Trigon actually flinched. She was quivering slightly with her small shoulders starting to shake. Some part of this had to be beyond her, it was the only way for someone so powerful to seem so fragile.

Raven was the only one who could say with certainty that Jason Todd's coffin in Gotham Cemetery was empty.

The hardest part was supposed to be over, but neither of them really knew what was going to happen now.

Would he have good days and bad days? Or just all bad? What were the long-term after effects?

He could try to be proactive and take some preemptive actions. Perhaps he could borrow a leaflet from the shelf of one Raven Roth and start meditating to pinion the chaotic churn burgeoning inside him.

Steady the mind... You are neither a puppet nor a proponent of mania, or the voices inside...

He had a couple of chants he was mulling over. Raven knew the value of a good chant.

She also knew what it was like to have multiple forces pressing themselves upon her at any given time. Sometimes literally.

But the occasional moment in front of the crimson and gold strewn sky of dawn, brought her solace.

She'd told him that once, so he could believe it.

Maybe if he too could feel the sunlight, smell dewy grass, or hear the chirping of birds, it would make him feel less apart from the world. Or maybe he would just feel more strange and inhuman, like he was something indecent that didn't belong. And all the organic groceries and housewares in the world wouldn't be enough to rehabilitate the reanimated corpse of Jason Todd. Though Raven sure seemed willing to try.

Wait.

Did she really?

He sat up straight and craned his neck, not believing it. Among the health food items, Jason saw a flash of bright packaging. An orange tin of biscuits. He also spied a familiar looking paper carton. Well, well. Cigarettes.

Circumstances aside, wasn't Raven a do-gooder supreme, even among her fellow Titans? She didn't strike him as one to approve of cigarettes. They kill and all that. Though now she probably figured what was the harm? And he had to painfully agree.

In a state of delirium, he vaguely recalled mentioning something about a smoke. But how on earth did Raven find his favorite English biscuits? His weakness for Hobnobs was something he figured only Alfred knew about.

How did she always know?

Perhaps Raven had seen a small package on his place setting while visiting the manor and filed it away somewhere. In, but never out, she was Fort Knox. And like a fortress, one rarely ever knew what lay within her walls.

Hmm. A cigarette, black coffee and a biscuit for breakfast. Yes, the familiarity of it sounded comforting. Made the place feel downright homey. And suddenly Jason wanted her closer to him, to hold her, at the most. At the least, reach for her hand to squeeze it, if not to reassure her that she had done more than she could ever know.

"It's nice - the blanket... Wool, right?" He patted the soft blue throw resting over the back of the couch, another furnishing, courtesy of Raven. She pursed her lips, probably thinking he was being facetious again. "But, really. I appreciate this - and the food. Didn't I make that clear?"

"No, you didn't." She thumped the back of the couch, now hovering above Jason. "But, of course that would mean that nothing has changed."

"So..." A smirk spread onto his face, as he replayed the last fifteen minutes of their conversation. "That Vitamin D..." Raven blinked slowly, then rapidly, her expression no longer blank. "Being that you're a bit of a recluse, I always guessed that it's pretty difficult to come by... Is that by choice, or -"

"Raven?"

But the half-demon's body stood frozen like a statue. It was always so sudden and swift when it happened. Jason watched helplessly as the emotions arisen from her depths started to vanish themselves. The bloom of red left her face almost as quickly as it had come.

"Raven?"

It was utterly useless to even try. She was somewhere else now. On another plane - a private one - somewhere beyond this secret room to another. Raven was speaking with people he couldn't see and having conversations he couldn't hear. The severe line of her mouth softened and then curved over, as she bit her lip to stifle a tiny smile.

Well that was just great.

Currently, she was holding back a laugh at a joke that wasn't his. So, not people, a person. The only person it could be. And that man's timing was nothing if not spot on.

He stood up abruptly and -

Wait, was it even abrupt if no one noticed?

Who was to say?

But Jason wasn't going to sit around and wait for her to thaw. He figured he'd at least just pick up where she left off. He shot one more glance at Raven before he opened the empty fridge and filed in milk, eggs, and cheese. Huh. She'd gotten mild cheddar, not sharp.

Did anything at all get by her?

Of course, the fall of footsteps meant she was cooked. Defrosted, no longer in suspended animation. She glanced back and forth, calling out when she didn't see him.

"Jason... Jason?"

"Polo. It's not the manor. There's only one door and it's for the bathroom." That was harsher than he meant it to be. He stopped and sighed. "It was him, wasn't it?"

This was Raven, she didn't often lie, not even to spare feelings. "Yes. He... uh..." She paused for a while. Longer than was necessary. Five whole minutes went by. Was she conversing with him again? "Sorry... That was him. Dick hadn't seen me this morning and he seemed worried."

What did he somehow forget what Raven looked like?

Not likely.

Besides, didn't a mind meld render the need for that redundant? Or did theirs not work that way?

"Twice in twenty minutes, that's got to be serious."

"Well... Yes." She shrunk inwardly, holding herself tightly, amethyst orbs darted to the very corner of her eyes. It was the kind of shape someone twisted themselves into when prefacing a breach of something uncomfortable. "He wanted to make sure I was coming."

"Coming? To what - Birdy Book club?" Jason picked up another package. More cheese? Shredded and sliced in addition to the wedge. And Gods, was there crumbled in there too? He was perfectly capable of slicing or shredding or crumbling his own cheese. After all, he was well-versed in knife handling and had plenty of interesting shapes to carve things into.

Or had Raven removed all the sharp objects and replaced them with throw pillows?

"I told you." He shrugged. "You forgot? It's today." Then Raven's voice went low and quiet, as if she were about to speak about something improper. "It's the opening of the..." She swallowed. "Memorial today..."

The memorial.

His memorial.

Of course, he forgot, he hadn't wanted to think about it.

A can of tomatoes slid from his shaking palm and started to roll past his feet. The ghostly burn of verdant followed the steady path of the cylinder, until it bumped into the couch's leg, unable to go on unaided.

"Yeah..." he said after a while. When Raven didn't move, he nodded. "You should go..." He attempted what he believed to be an encouraging smile. Raven winced and Jason wished she wouldn't. He almost preferred pity. "You definitely have to go to that, don't you?"

"Well, yes I have to go. As a Titan and a friend of the family. I have to go and show my face." The half-demon avoided his gaze.

In spite everything that was thrown at her, Raven did the right thing. Why was it that he always seemed to say and do the wrong thing? He could feel a pull towards it now. Amplified. Not lulling like white noise. Loudly, it was rising, roaring in his ears. Burning, red noise.

All he could think about was why? Why this? Why today? And was he seriously unpacking groceries, when he should be in a grave?

What the hell was he doing?

When he shut the fridge, Raven was standing next to it, with her eyes glazed over, nodding at that which he couldn't see.

And she was talking to him again. In the middle of their conversation.

Perfect.

Raven was on it. She was taking care of everything. And everyone. This was best for everyone right now.

But that certainly didn't mean he had to be happy about it.

Raven would climb out of here once this was over. She could go out there and stand in the bright light - with him and their friends and family. Jason was stuck in a damned bunker and what did he get? A tin of biscuits and a pack of cigarettes. Concrete walls. Stale air. No sun. In his former life, Jason had never fully appreciated the sun or the air. He glared at the spotless, dustless, windowless room.

Was she really going to go off and fake it for the world?

And was he going to stay here underground, like he was dead - or as good as?

"Go, I'm all set here," Jason tried flatly. "You can go and put on a dress. Stand there at Dick's shoulder...let him hold your hand."

He had tried his hardest not to think about what his memorial would be like. And now, he couldn't help but picture it.

The specter of Jason Todd would hang silently above those in attendance. But since he wasn't dead, perhaps the only shadows would be cast by this latest slab of stone. Would it be a statue or a sculpture or an engraved tablet? He hoped this one would at least have a better inscription than the one in the cemetery.

Something like:

Jason Todd.

Never fully at rest in life or in death.

The war wages on.

Eternal.

A little noise ripped the image from him. Raven was staring at him with her eyes widened and shocked. She hadn't ever looked at him like that. Not even when she saw him covered in graveyard soil, suit torn to shreds, body broken. The empath faltered and took a clumsy step backward.

"Are you scared of me, Raven?" He felt worse than terrible. "Where is all that talk about not giving up and not letting go?"

"Gods. There's no doubt you're the same Jason. Still the same arrogant -" She clenched a fist. Was she contemplating shoving him? No. Ironically enough, he was too breakable.

"-ass with a selective filter, you mean?" Jason laughed, though the humorless sound of it was probably cruel. "That's crass of you, Raven. Don't they teach you not to speak ill of the dead in other dimensions? Better practice up on that custom before you step out of the town car."

"Stop it." She reached for him, grabbing the sleeve of his shirt. It was just a hair too big. Because there was a side effect that they could count on: atrophy. Notably, it was one of his least favorite. "It's not me you're mad at. But it is your day. So you can yell, or throw things, and...you can cry if you want to." Her eyes were brimming over with tears enough for the both of them.

He swallowed, wondering if it was too much, if she was taking on too much.

"Crying already?" Jason tried to smirk if not fall back into usual patterns, but he was finding it exceedingly difficult. He had never seen her cry, not even when she was brushing the dirt from his face. "Don't waste it all here. I know they're for me, but... I think you'll need to save some of those, for later."

"Yeah, I do." And then she laughed bitterly. Miserably.

She wiped her face on her sweater sleeve right as Jason felt a sharp impulse to brush them away for her. He ground his teeth. "You'll give 'em a good show - for me?"

"I won't have to, Jason." There was no need to glance at her to know the mask of Raven that everyone knew was back in place.

"Because... it won't be a show."

[my-writings-and-musings]

hi, i discovered your blog recently and I really love what you've made so far! 😊💕 can I request a headcanon/short story (whatever you want) for rodimus and a human s/o and how he reacts to them becoming extremely emotional or anxious? maybe they can't stop crying and hes trying so hard to comfort them? thank you and keep up the great work!

Aww thanks, I'm just getting started! I went with a fic, and kept the source of the reader's anxiety vague so you can fill it in with whatever you'd like!

It had been one of the hardest things he'd ever done, waiting until the actual end of his shift before speeding off to see you. Knowing he'd be able to enjoy every moment the two of you had together without worrying about Magnus hunting him down for "dereliction of duty" made it all worth it. You made it all worth it.

Cruising through the hallways at a quick but relaxed speed, he made great time getting back to your shared room, enough that he allowed himself a little spin or two to express his good mood. Anybot that saw him knew immediately who he was off to see. Who but you could make him so infectiously happy? The tire marks he leaves in his wake though, drawing a map along the floor, are admittedly a bit much.

He'd planned on entering your shared room with a grand gesture or a silly quote of some kind, but a sound from behind the door stops him in his tracks, and he freezes completely to listen in and make sure nothing is wrong.

When he hears what he knows is distress all bets are off. While he restrains himself from breaking the door, his entrance is rushed to the point of frenzy, and your name flies off his lips repeatedly over the course of just a few moments. You startle in your little nest on the berth, where you've seated yourself in the dark completely unaware of the world, and the sight of you unharmed both relieves and worries him further. There's tears on your face and a tremble in your body, and even if he doesn't know why he's driven to act.

His twenty foot frame is on the berth in a single bound, kneeling beside you as the shock of his arrival wears off and your tears start anew, spurred on by the anxiety that had been gnawing at you without pause.

"What's wrong? Are you hurt? Y/N, did someone hurt you?" He promptly asks, hands hovering just over you as he debates how to help. You've often been struck by bouts of intense emotion or anxiety in the past, occasionally brought on by a crewmate saying something insensitive or a series of misfortunes in your day or just spontaneous mental health crashes, but his skills at rendering aid are still... rough. Instinct demands he act, but you often need something less action oriented to feel better. In moments like these that can make him unhelpfully panicked.

You want help, especially from him, but the tangle of hurt forcing out your tears is not conducive to speech. Curling into a ball and sobbing is all you can make your body do.

Somehow you being so tiny only makes him panic harder in these situations, as if your small form could break from the sheer pressure of stress you're under if he doesn't fix it. Knowing that's not how it works doesn't help him calm down in the slightest. Seeing you hurting makes his own spark ache in equal measure, and if he didn't think it'd only make things worse he'd scoop you up and cradle your shaking form to show he was there to support you. As it was, he still only had his voice. "C-can I get you something? What do you need? Do you want me to stay, or...?"

Even if you had answers you couldn't give them. Rodimus may only want to help, but the pressure of trying to speak makes you shut down that much more, and your shaking sobs increase in intensity until you're hiccuping for breath. All your strength allows you to reach out blindly and rest your hand on the first part of him you find, which happens to be his wrist, still trembling over you. Clinging tightly, you try to just... express how overwhelmed you are through touch alone.

Not the most astute bot, he's still able to guess that the strength of your grip means he shouldn't leave, which at least answers one of his questions. Feeling your tiny hand does gives him a much needed dose of clarity though. Taking a deep vent, and still feeling as clueless as can be, he tries another approach.

"Hey, if you need... if you just want us to sit and be quiet for a sec, that's okay." He says with a lowered voice, stroking the digits on his free hand over your shoulder. When you at least look up at him, he figures he's making progress, so he keeps up with the approach no matter how uncertain he feels. "I'm here, okay Y/N? You take as much time as you need, and I'll be right here."

The coil of hurt in you untangles a little at those words. Though you'll need time still, you know he's here now, and that gives you the strength to thank him with the briefest of smiles before cuddling up to his much larger form. He returns the smile and let's you curl up as closely as you need, relieved to be getting the hang of helping. You're worth every moment of climbing the learning curve, and as he gently holds you close, he knows he wouldn't change a thing. You make everything worth it.

[youtriggeredmytrapcard]

“Kaiba,” he voices, dropping a hand down to his hip as he takes a step to the side, turning towards the latter, “there is something I want to tell you.” He appears rather calm for what he plans to say next. A smile over pristine facial features, a sense of certainty expands from within. “Make whatever out of this if you will. I have great admiration for you. And it goes way beyond dueling. Despite our rival status, you always raise me up when I’d fallen. You breathe confidence in me when I need it the most. Even in the most despairing and hopeless of times. There’s something about you that helps me find myself. My worth, my strength. I realize there are no limits to anything. Everything is possible. And that’s why I need you… I want you by my side. I know I wouldn’t be the same without you…” There’s a moment of pause and he hums, his smile never fading. “Remember it.”

In my inbox, write a confession your muse want to tell my muse. The catch, my muse will forget what your muse said unless they say in the end “Remember it.” // @ofthepuzzle

Yugi had a talent for saying things that make Kaiba want to yell and scream, just as much as he had a knack for rendering him speechless. He stared, trying to decipher the meaning behind these words, why they were being said, what wasn't being spoken-- Which wasn't the smartest thing to do when the words at face-value were more than enough to process.

The fact is, this is kind of what he'd wanted to hear.

There was a part of Kaiba that ached to mean something. A part that could never be content with fading into the background, shying away from the spotlight, giving something important to the world that everyone would look at and say, 'That's amazing, and Seto Kaiba did it.' He never saw that part of himself as weak, it only pushed him forward, striving to greater and greater heights, seeking perfection and the infinite progress that was expected of him by so many. Only recently... He wasn't sure when it started, but only recently had that desire gave way to a sickening weakness that he tried to stomp out: That he wanted to mean something, to Yugi.

What sort of rival could only win against his opponent by threatening to throw himself off a roof, after all? Not that Kaiba regretted that really, given the circumstances, but the fact stood. Kaiba was just yet another person that Yugi defeated on the regular, and while he made Yugi work for the victory, all that mattered was the outcome. It ate at him, for so many reasons. For his own pride, of course-- he needed to be the best at this game he cared so much about. He craved victory, like all humans did. And he craved to mean something. To keep giving Yugi reason to accept his challenges, and to fight at his hardest. Deep down, he knew Yugi didn't have any reason to. It's why he concocted things like Battle City, to force it.

And here Yugi was, telling him, in no uncertain terms, that it was already true. He didn't have to fight for it.

It was strange, to hear Yugi describe him, so polar opposite from what Kaiba had always assumed he looked like through Yugi's eyes.

He's just staring. Say something, you idiot.

Kaiba bowed his head, closing his eyes, trying to regain enough composure to make words come. "... You flatter me." Even saying that much made Kaiba feel his pulse in his throat. Why is it all so hard!? He's no good at speeches, when there's no anger behind it. "Do you even understand what you're saying? You're... ridiculous."

The insult was so half-hearted that it barely was one. In fact it sounded more endearing. "... There's something I never told you directly," Kaiba spoke, opening his eyes again. He didn't know how to express such sentiments as powerfully as Yugi did, so he fell back on the only way he did know, to connect with others. "Exodia. I spent countless hours trying to figure out how you did it-- how you defeated me with Exodia. For awhile there, I had myself convinced it was one of the worst things that ever happened to me." He glanced up, looking past Yugi at the wall, loosely folding his arms. "... But that's old news. The fact is, I wouldn't have it any other way. I don't know where I'd be now, if the outcome of that duel was any different. Battle City never would've happened, I'm sure of that. Probably more, there's no use dwelling on it." The Duel Disks might never've been created, actually. Not in the same way, or with the same motivations behind it.

"Don't get the wrong idea," Kaiba's eye-contact returned, tipping his chin up slightly. "I don't enjoy losing to you. And I will be the one to defeat you. What I'm trying to say is... that I don't regret meeting you." I don't want to imagine a version of my life where you don't exist.

[tickletastic]

Everything’s Growing In Our Garden

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Ship: Thiam

Summary: Theo learns what it's like to finally have a family, and Jenna, David, and Liam are more than happy to help him along the way.

Living with the Dunbar-Geyers was… different for Theo, to say the absolute least.

Before the dread doctors, he was always coming second to his sister. He was sick, and asthmatic, and terrible at sports. Tara was the star of her middle school’s soccer team, and in the off-seasons she juggled piano lessons and debate team. Theo had things of his own: he did dance when his asthma wasn’t acting up, and he could write circles around the other kids thanks to his reading addiction, but it was never enough for his parents. They wanted trophies and medals to show off, and cute pictures in uniforms, and Theo could just never give them that. He didn’t really understand it as a kid. He thought that most kids were vying for the attention of their parents and Tara was just an exception. He wanted to feel special too.

When the dread doctors enticed him to join them, they had made him feel special. They said that he was so unique for being chosen by them, and once he gave them what they needed he could have everything he ever wanted.

The doctors never fulfilled their promises. Instead, Theo was threatened on a daily basis, and prodded with needles and x-rays until he was blue in the face.

Theo never did feel special. At least, not until he started living with Liam and his parents.

Liam was constantly around, bubbly and jumpy as always, making sure Theo was comfortable. Liam spent two days trying to figure out the perfect plan to convince Theo to move in when he found out that Theo was homeless. In the end, he took the easy way out and stole Theo’s truck. He refused to return the keys until Theo promised he would take the Dunbar-Geyers’ guest bedroom.

Liam’s parents welcomed him with open arms. They both did everything they could to make sure that Theo would be comfortable after Liam described the older boy’s flighty nature to them. It wasn’t hard for either of them, they both took a liking to the boy instantly, and Jenna found it easier than Liam had described to read Theo’s emotions. Mothering a teenage boy will do that to you.

Dr. Geyer loved talking biology with Theo. He even offered Theo an internship at the hospital before the Geyers had found out that Theo needed to graduate high school. The second the doctor came home, he would often talk with Theo while helping Jenna with what was left of dinner. The two of them got along very well, and Dr. Geyer found it refreshing discussing medicine with someone who wasn’t a colleague.

Jenna and Theo had many, many things in common: they both loved to read, they both loved to cook, and they both loved to annoy Liam to wit’s end. Jenna was actually one of Theo’s favourite contemporary authors before the two had even met, and he would be embarrassed to admit to the fanboy moment he had when they first met. Jenna had written a popular fantasy children’s series under her maiden name, Tate, before transitioning into adult fiction under her current name. Liam hadn’t even known that Theo was a fan of his mom until Theo met her. Jenna barely had time to introduce herself before Theo was turning bright red and gushing: “I have read Noire Kingdom seven times!” Jenna laughed, and Liam swore that he would never let Theo live it down. Liam quickly learned not to mention it when his mom and his new housemate had started to gang up on him with the teasing.

It was really strange to Theo to be treated like he was part of the family. It was weird to have two parent-figures that had grown to love him. Theo didn’t really know what he imagined parents to be like. He couldn’t remember much of his own, and fake parents never quite fit the bill.

Dr. Geyer was understanding and pensive. He would check in on Liam and Theo when the security bell would alert his phone of their homecoming, and he would bring home sweets from the bakery near the hospital once a week. When Theo first arrived he had believed it was already a tradition: Dr. Geyer would bring home an assortment of treats every week; tarts for Liam, muffins for Jenna, cookies for himself, and an assortment of others. One week, Dr. Geyer’s usual box of goodies changed from an assortment to just four. The tarts, muffins, and cookies remained the same, but instead of the usual variety of extra sweets, there were sprinkled donuts. Dr. Geyer never mentioned it, so Theo never did figure out how the doctor had realized they were his favourite. It wasn’t until months after that Liam let it slip that the sweets hadn’t been tradition before Theo’s arrival, but his dad had instead decided to create new traditions to include Theo.

Dr. Geyer showed his affections through small, silent acts of kindness, and even that was a bit overwhelming for Theo.

Jenna? Well.. some of her maternal habits were kind of strange, Liam was completely willing to admit it. He had filled Theo in on a few of them:

- Simply for her own peace of mind, Jenna would try to make Liam smile at least once a day - Jenna called Liam by his first name only when she was angry, otherwise, it would always be some variation or nickname, and last but not least; - Jenna packs Liam’s lunch, always slipping a little note into it

Theo didn’t really see what the point was in Liam telling him all of this, after all, Theo was definitely not planning on passing judgement on the woman who had given him a home.

Theo didn’t understand until he had been helping Jenna cook dinner one day.

“Baby face, could you pass me the flour?”

Theo hadn’t heard Liam, or even smelled Liam enter the house, so he turned to the entrance of the kitchen, his brow furrowed. When he turned around, the entrance was empty, the house only occupied by Theo and Jenna, as expected.

Theo’s brow furrowed, and he looked over at Jenna, who was humming peacefully as she mixed the dough in front of her. She looked up at Theo when she realized he had yet to pass her the ingredient.

“Theo, sweetheart: the flour?”

Even Theo’s crazy ability to hide his emotions couldn’t help the furious blush that made its way over his face. He nodded frantically before turning around and handing Jenna the bag of flour.

“Are you okay, honey? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Theo nods frantically again, “yup, perfectly fine, Mrs. Geyer.”

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Jenna?” She tuts before continuing dinner.

Some of the nicknames do get absurd, but others are so cute and fond that they force a blush to rise over Theo’s cheeks no matter how many times he’s called them.

Theo finally understands why Liam felt the need to fill him in on all of the strange maternal habits that Jenna has developed when Theo opens his backpack one morning, finding a brown paper bag in it. He eyes it strangely, but it doesn’t smell suspicious... In fact, it smells delicious.

Three periods later, Theo sits down for lunch with Liam and the puppy pack, taking out the bag and placing it on the cafeteria table in front of him, eyeing it with suspicion. He’s so deep in wonder that he doesn’t even notice when Liam stops his conversation with Alec mid-sentence, eyeing Theo with the same suspicious look that Theo is giving the bag.

“Dude, it’s just the lunch my mom packed for you, I promise she didn’t lace it with wolfsbane or anything.”

Theo scowls, looking down in an attempt to hide his embarrassment. When he finally does open the bag, the effort to hide is rendered completely worthless as he reads out the note written on a heart-shaped sticky note stuck to the container of his sandwich.

The rest of the table certainly notices, and Corey, the little shit that he is, grabs for the note, tearing it straight from the container.

“Have an amazing day at school, sweet boy. I know you’ll do perfect on your biology midterm. Xoxo Jenna.”

Theo grabs for it, but of course, that doesn’t stop Corey from reading it out to everyone else present at the table. His face is bright red, and Liam jokingly leans in to pinch his cheek. Theo glares before hastily grabbing the brown paper bag, getting up and tossing his backpack over his shoulder as he grumbles under his breath.

The moment that Liam realizes that he has forgotten to fill Theo in on everything comes a moment too late, but Liam ends up being grateful in the end.

Jenna has a habit of touching her family on whatever body part happens to be closest to her. Liam thinks that she doesn’t even know that she’s doing it, it has just always been a calming ritual for her. Usually, it would be a normal body part, she would scratch Liam’s scalp while asking him about his day at school, or she would rub David’s shoulder while asking him to pick up groceries. Today, David was on a shift at the hospital and, while Jenna was actively working on her next novel, she was home for the time being. It was after school on a weekday, so she figured she could spare the night away from her office to feed her favourite boys.

When the two teens had arrived home, they had greeted Jenna in the kitchen before heading to the living room. Liam had gravitated to the floor directly in front of the TV, playing video games on his PS4, and Theo had gravitated to the couch behind the younger teen. Liam was sitting with his back against the couch, and Theo was curled up on the couch, trying his hardest to keep his eyes open despite his long day at school.

Jenna rounded the couch from the kitchen, standing next to Liam in front of the couch. She started to absentmindedly scratch Liam’s head, and he leaned into the touch, practically purring. She stopped when she realized that Theo’s eyes were closed, and she cleared her throat. Theo’s eyes squinting back open.

“Hey, kiddo, long day at school? You should head up and take a nap before dinner,” Jenna started, smiling softly at the boy that she now considered her second son. “What do you want for di-”

Jenna was interrupted by a frantic giggle from Theo, as he quickly rushed to cover his face with his hands. Liam hadn’t been paying much attention, but he starts to when the sweet sound of Theo’s laughter floats through the air.

While she had been preparing to ask Theo what he wanted for dinner, her hand had wandered down to his socked foot, pulling at his toes without even realizing.

Jenna repeats the action and smiles fondly when Theo tries to curl up, calling out through giggles, “Jenna!”

She stops when the boy tries to scramble off the couch, moving her hand to his shoulder in a calming effort to ensure that he stays comfortable. She can’t help but coo, the flush on Theo’s cheeks worsening in response. “That’s adorable.”

Liam was confused as to what had happened, his back to Theo, until Jenna had rounded the couch and leaned over to whisper in Theo’s ear, “don’t worry, Liam’s ticklish too.”

Now both Liam and Theo were blushing, Liam because his mother had revealed his secret, and Theo because Jenna’s words could confirm Liam’s suspicions of his own sensitivity. When she pulls away, she ruffles Theo’s hair. “What do you want for dinner, honey?”

Theo stammered for a moment, his brain a cloud of embarrassment and anticipation, “could we have pasta?”

“Of course, babydoll.” Jenna walks back into the kitchen, Liam sure that she would make bowtie pasta since it seemed to be Theo’s favourite, even though Liam preferred rigatoni.

As much as Theo would like to test out Liam’s ticklishness, his tired brain doesn’t even think of it until Liam is pinning him to the couch, his game abandoned completely as Brett and Alec’s voices sound out through his headset.

Theo had a nervous smile on his face, his tiredness still unceasing. Liam was grinning like he had just discovered Atlantis. “You’re ticklish? Mom’s right, that is adorable.”

Theo couldn’t prevent the blush that grew to line his cheeks. He shook his head, his voice breathy in anticipation, “I mean, not r-really?”

“‘Not really’ as in you’re not ticklish?” Liam pinched Theo’s ribs, the older boy writhing beneath him, “or ‘not really’ as in you’re not adorable? ‘Cus they both seem to be true according to my information.”

Theo had gripped Liam’s wrists and was attempting to push them further away without trying to push Liam off altogether, failing horribly. Liam had always been stronger, though the chimera was usually faster, not only on his feet but with his mind as well.

Theo groaned, a look in his eyes that Liam couldn’t quite place, a look that would’ve signaled that Theo was frustrated had he been with anybody else but Liam. “If you’re going to insist on doing this, can we just get it over with? I’m exhausted Li.”

“Sorry babe, I’m about to make it worse.”

Theo didn’t even have the time to respond to the abnormal nickname before he was trying his very best to stay silent. As good as he had always been at handling interrogation methods, the dread doctors never did teach him how to handle this. He was trying to make his brain think quicker, but his thoughts were starting to fog up. He tried to decide between masking his chemosignals and masking his heartbeat, but his heart had quickly betrayed him in its pace.

He had always found it so easy to mask his heartbeat and chemosignals, it had always come so easy to him, but trying to hold in his laughter while hiding his chemosignals felt like he was running a marathon. He thought that he was doing a pretty good job until he saw the wicked smile on Liam’s face.

He wondered what kind of chemosignals he was sending out, because the only thing that he felt was panic. Liam’s fingers poked over his toned tummy, wiggling and twitching against Theo’s skin. He couldn’t let his laughter escape him, he needed to have at least one thing under control, but he was quickly losing it beneath the younger boy.

Theo almost bucked Liam off entirely when his fingers moved to his ribs, absolute terror running through his mind. He didn’t even realize he was shaking his head until Liam’s own beautiful laugh cut through the air.

“No, Theo? No what? What is it that you don’t want me to do?”

Theo frantically reached around, managing to grab both of Liam’s wrists and pushing them away ever so slightly, forcing Liam to stop. Liam just looked amused, a hint of glee in his eyes and a soft, pleased smile on his lips with his head quirked to the side.

Theo wanted to grimace, but instead he couldn’t stop a smile from spreading across his own face, breathy giggles escaping as he tried to reason. “Liam. Li. Just leave me alone. If you keep touching me then I swear I’ll make you regret it. I will break your nose in more ways than you could even count. I will-”

Liam stretched his fingers and wiggled, the corner of his lips further quirking when Theo let out a soft giggle when Liam’s fingers barely even brushed Theo’s skin. Liam’s fingers were just barely close enough for Liam to do anything but brush Theo with the very tips of his nails, yet there were enough to get the chimera on edge. “I swehehear I will- Holy shihit Liam don’t!”

Jenna was swift with her scorn, a quick call of ‘Theodore Karl Raeken’, reminding Theo to watch his language. In a swift movement Liam had gathered both of Theo’s wrists into one of his hands and pinned them above his head. It was enough to catch Theo off guard, giving Liam time to surprise him with his newly planned attack.

Theo’s eyes crinkled at the corners, and he started to giggle despite himself. Liam was also hit with a wall of scent as Theo unknowingly lost control of his chemosignals. Liam felt something warm simmer in his chest, and he let it bloom until he found himself momentarily releasing Theo’s wrist and reaching for his phone. He opened his phone to his desired application and tasered Theo, snapping a quick photo as the chimera squeaked, his nose scrunching up in a way that made Liam’s heart skip. When the distinct snapping resounded from Liam’s phone, he was hit by the distinct scent of embarrassment from Theo.

“Delete it!”

“I really don’t think you’re in a position to be making any demands, T.”

Liam’s fingers resumed their scritchy scratching over Theo’s ribs: stuttered, carefree giggles softly flowing from the older boy.

Theo’s laughter adopted a panicked tone the higher that Liam’s fingers rose. A spot between two of his top ribs had him snorting softly, words completely dying in his throat. When Liam’s hands slipped under Theo’s arms, his eyes, which had been just barely open, shot wide, giving Liam a look similar to his own infamous puppy-dog eyes.

“Fuck, Liam stahap!” Theo’s laughter had risen an octave, and Liam was satisfied that he had been able to force the older boy to lose control. Liam hadn’t realized until now how satisfying it would be to see Theo as anything other than completely calm and collected.

Theo had gone limp for a moment when Liam had been tickling his ribs, but now his fight was back in full force. Theo had managed to pull his wrists down from Liam’s hold and was now desperately flailing his arms in defense as Liam poked and tickled wherever he could reach.

“Aww, someone’s a giggly mess.” red hot embarrassment scented through the open air once again as the colour of Theo’s cheeks began to rival that of tomatoes.

Theo had his head thrown back, his eyes shut as he blindly tried to defend himself. Could Deucalion train him on this? Liam took a moment to quickly film a video on snapchat, making a mental note to send it to Mason as proof that Theo, the big, bad chimera of death, does in fact giggle, and he looks pretty fucking cute while he’s doing it.

Liam had admittedly gotten a little carried away with tickling Theo silly, not even detecting another heartbeat near him until there was nimble, knowing fingers poking him in the tummy from behind.

“H-hey!” Liam fell backwards onto his back on the couch, bringing his knees up in an attempt to curl up while his mother hovered over him, rapidly poking him in one of his most sensitive areas.

“I think it’s time that you let Theo get his nap, don’t you think?” Jenna threw a wink Theo’s way that he just barely caught as he curled in on himself, still giggling softly.

Liam nodded frantically as a cacophony of sounds spilled from his lips: snorts, squeals, and cackles. To Theo, he resembled a turtle stuck on its back, desperately trying to flip over, as Liam flailed his arms in an attempt to protect himself. “Okahahay, mom! I’ll leave Theo alone!”

“That’s more like it!” Jenna exclaimed, blowing a raspberry to Liam’s neck before backing away. “Dinner will be ready soon boys, hope you’re hungry.”

Jenna walked back into the kitchen while Liam recovered, scratching and swatting at himself as if he could still feel his mother’s fingers. When he finally sat up, a small smile breached his face. Theo was curled up in a ball, facing the inside of the couch, fast asleep.

His breathing was slow, and his expression was soft and worry-free. Liam could once again feel the familiar flutter in his chest as he reached for the throw blanket folded on the arm of the couch, softly placing it over Theo as the boy softly snored.

A year ago, Theo barely felt safe sleeping in Beacon Hills at all, but now, Liam was glad that he finally had a place to call home, and that he finally had people he could call family.