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hazbinhotei · 3 days ago

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running away.

happy ending. — bad ending.

warnings: disgusting yearning and pining, alastor is bad at feelings

word count: 4043 (yeesh)

summary: Alastor finds himself torn apart by his feelings for you—caught between the instinct to flee, as he always has, and the unbearable need to stay by your side.

alastor x gn!reader. ooooh boy. this one's gonna be a doozy, folks. if you like yearning, this one's for you. can you tell i was heavily inspired by mr. darcy's confession? (i honestly can’t tell if he's ooc in this because canon alastor has never shown a single ounce of yearning for someone in his 8-episode-plus-a-pilot lifespan—so feel free to let me know if he feels too ooc!) note: there will be a part two to this story, but it will be split up into two different endings—a happy ending, and a terrible, angst-ridden ending. buckle up motherfuckers.

Alastor was a creature of habit. Order. A strict, unshakable routine built over decades of meticulous control.

Mornings began with coffee (black, no sugar, piping hot). Then, a careful selection of the day’s amusements—perhaps meddling in Husk’s card games, spinning nonsensical riddles at Niffty, or casually terrorizing poor unsuspecting souls. If not that, then there was always his beloved radio broadcast, an extension of his own theatricality, his voice slipping into the airwaves with a whispered promise of chaos. He had his weekly tea with Rosie in Cannibal Town, the two of them exchanging pleasantries steeped in the unspoken understanding of what lay beneath their grins. And, of course, there was assisting Charlie with whatever new, doomed-to-fail project she had set her heart upon—whether it was trying to rehabilitate a particularly stubborn sinner or attempting to redecorate the lobby with decor so disgustingly cheery it made his teeth itch.

It was simple. It was structured. It was comfortable.

Then you arrived.

And now, nothing was comfortable anymore.

You weren’t supposed to fit in so easily. You weren’t supposed to slip into the rhythm of the hotel as if you had always belonged, as if Hell itself had been waiting for you. You weren’t supposed to make conversation feel like a game he wanted to play, something effortless, something that left him wanting to hear your voice just once more before you left the room. You weren’t supposed to light up a space in a way that made his carefully cultivated shadows feel... lesser. Weaker.

And under no circumstances should he have felt—what was the word?—relief whenever you entered. As if an invisible weight had been pressing on his chest all day and only when he caught sight of you did it lift, just slightly. That wasn't how it worked. Not for him. Not for what he was. He wasn’t meant to miss something he had never needed before. He wasn’t meant to ache for something so simple, so insignificant as your presence.

It started small. A twitch in his fingers when you sat beside him on the couch. An uncharacteristic pause before he replied to one of your jokes. A nagging awareness of how close you stood whenever you did your unspoken daily routine of passing him his morning coffee, your fingertips brushing his just barely—

Pathetic.

He was the Radio Demon. The very concept of intimacy was laughable—an absurd little mortal relic that he had shed alongside his humanity long ago. What purpose did it serve, this feeble notion of longing? Affection had never been anything more than a tool, a game, a means to an end. He had wielded it, manipulated it, destroyed those who mistook it for kindness.

Love, devotion, tenderness—these were things for weaker creatures, for those still clinging to the fragile remnants of their mortal selves. He had observed it time and time again, how it turned even the strongest into fools, left them raw and bleeding, desperate to be seen, to be wanted. He had laughed at it, mocked it, torn it apart with his own hands just to watch how easily it crumbled. Love was a trick, a trap, a cruel joke played by the universe on those too naive to see the inevitable decay waiting at the end of it all.

And yet.

And yet, you gnawed at the edges of that certainty. You, with your warm eyes and your easy laughter, your maddening persistence. You, who had never once cowered before him, who spoke to him not as a monster, not as a demon, but simply as he was. The idea of being wanted by you made his skin crawl, not because it was unpleasant, but because it was tempting. Because the very thought of reaching back, of grasping onto something that could slip through his fingers, made an unspoken and ugly emotion coil deep in his chest.

No. He would not succumb to it. He refused to.

But somehow, he couldn’t stop thinking about how your hands looked when they smoothed down a tablecloth. How your voice dipped just slightly when you spoke to him in a quiet room. How the simple act of sitting beside you made his chest tighten like an ill-fitting suit. How your presence, once nothing more than a fleeting amusement, had begun to linger in the back of his mind long after you had left the room.

He was losing his grip.

So naturally, he pulled away.

At first, it was subtle. Declining your invitations with a breezy excuse. Avoiding the library at the hours he knew you’d be there. Letting the space between you on the couch grow wider, until one day, he simply stopped sitting there at all. It should have been easy. He had abandoned attachments before. He had crushed them when necessary.

Then why did this feel different? Why did the absence of your voice press against his ribs like something suffocating? Why did the distance feel less like control and more like punishment? Why did that confused expression you gave him every time he avoided you make his dead heart shatter, his hands itching to cup your face and ease that look away?

He convinced himself it was working. He convinced himself it had to work.

Then you handed him his morning coffee.

"Here you go, Al," you chirped, the usual warmth in your voice melodic to his ears. Your fingers brushed his as you passed him the mug—his favorite 'Oh Deer!' mug, the one you had bought for him during one of your outings into the city—and the sensation burned. Not from the heat of the coffee, but from the sheer wrongness of how much he had missed that fleeting contact.

He didn’t mean to snap.

But it was all too much—your touch, your voice, your mere existence gnawing at the brittle edges of his carefully constructed distance. The words came before he could stop them, sharp and cutting, a desperate attempt to shove you back to the safe distance he needed you to be.

"You made this wrong."

A moment passed, your long lashes fluttering as you blinked at him.

"...What?" Your smile faltered, and he had to swallow the lump in his throat from the look of it.

His grip on the mug tightened, nodding curtly as he tried his best to turn a sinister smile onto you. "It’s dreadful," he exhaled, tone venomous and cold. "I would have preferred if you hadn’t wasted my time with such an amateur attempt."

The hurt in your eyes was immediate. A flicker of pain, confusion knitting your brows together, the brightness in your gaze dimming as if he had reached in and plucked the light from them himself. Your fingers twitched around the empty space where the mug had just been, and Alastor could hear the soft, uneven hitch of your breath—small, nearly imperceptible, but to him, it was deafening.

His stomach twisted violently, the pool of regret forming instantly, like a faucet turned on full blast. The sensation was foreign, unwelcome. His tongue felt too heavy in his mouth, his throat suddenly too tight. He should have felt triumphant, victorious in successfully pushing you away. Instead, all he felt was cold.

Before he could fully comprehend the wreckage he had caused, you took a step back, your face twisting with shock, wounded in a way that made his chest snap.

"I—I’m sorry," you stammered, voice smaller than he had ever heard it. Then, without another word, you turned and walked away.

He stood there, coffee steaming in his grip, staring at the place you had been just moments ago. And that's when the guilt slammed into him at full force, sharp and immediate, like a knife twisted in his gut. It was unlike any other regret he had ever felt—this wasn’t the satisfaction of a well-executed deception, nor the detached amusement of watching someone fall apart at his hands. No, this was different. This was wrong.

His fingers flexed around the mug, but the warmth no longer registered. He could call you back. Apologize. Lie and say it had been a simple mistake, that he was having an off day, that his temper had flared for reasons beyond your control. He could spin some ridiculous excuse, charm you with a quip, erase the damage with a well-placed grin and an empty promise that it wouldn’t happen again. You might even believe him.

But that would mean admitting the truth to himself.

That he wanted to reach for you. That he missed you already. That the very act of hurting you made him feel more like a monster than anything else he had done in both life and Hell combined. He had destroyed people, laughed in the face of suffering, relished in the chaos of agony—and yet, somehow, this was what made his stomach churn. This tiny, insignificant moment of cruelty.

His free hand clenched at his side. Was this for the best? Hadn't he convinced himself it was? Keeping you at arm’s length was necessary, wasn’t it? If he let you in, if he let you matter, what then? He couldn't afford to want something. He couldn't afford to lose something. He would lose you—if not by his own doing, then by Hell’s inevitable cruelty. And yet, in this moment, staring at the empty space you had left behind, he barely knew what to believe anymore.

But Alastor continued on with what he knew best: forced nonchalance. He went about his day as if his entire world (you) wasn’t being ripped apart from his very hands, ignoring the way his heart ached to see your figure roaming the halls of the hotel. You hadn’t shown your face the entire day, but Alastor simply understood that you were merely hiding from him.

Really, the idea of you avoiding him should have been amusing—should have been nothing more than an inevitable reaction to his own actions. But the reality of it? It gnawed at him. He had practically bared his teeth at you like a rabid beast, and now, the sight of your absence in the halls felt more damning than any glare or scorned remark you could have thrown his way.

He let your absence continue, let the days tick by, convinced that if he just waited long enough, this ache in his chest would fade into nothingness. But then came the third day, and you were nowhere to be seen.

By then, the irritation had settled in deep, poisoning his mood like rot spreading beneath the surface. His patience had thinned, his normally sharp composure fraying at the edges. Conversations that he once found amusing became tiresome. Charlie had noticed his snappiness, her ever-sunny demeanor tinged with concern. Angel had made an offhand comment about how he seemed to be 'on the fritz' before skipping off without waiting for a response. Even Husk, Husk, had the audacity to offer him a drink—as if he were some pathetic wreck in need of drowning his sorrows.

That was when Alastor realized, with no small amount of irritation, that your absence had begun to sink its claws into him in ways he hadn’t anticipated. And that? That was unacceptable. Entirely unacceptable! He should have been able to brush it off, should have been able to let the days pass without so much as a second thought. And yet, here he was, pacing his room like some restless specter, unable to drown out the gnawing sense that something was terribly, terribly wrong.

And then, there was the matter of worry. A most bothersome emotion, one he was neither accustomed to nor particularly fond of. You had never been one to isolate yourself—always eager to assist, to busy your hands, to play your part in Charlie’s grandiose little dream. If redemption were possible, he had no doubt that you would be the prime candidate, the shining example of doing better.

And yet, for all your goodness, for all your damnable persistence, you had vanished. No sharp retorts, no stubborn frowns in the hallway, no stiff exchanges over breakfast. Just… nothing. And Alastor—who had spent decades mastering the art of detachment—ached in a way that made his very being itch at the absence of you.

And so, after enduring three whole days of this insufferable torment, he found himself standing outside your door at the ungodly hour of 2AM, posture far from its usual effortless grace. He could have just appeared inside—after all, formalities were often wasted on him—but some part of him hesitated, some fraying, fragile thing inside him insisting that this moment required the courtesy of a knock.

His knuckles rapped against the wood, and for once, he felt the weight of his own heartbeat in his ears, his stomach twisting in ways that defied every carefully crafted illusion of control he had spent years perfecting.

Would you open the door? Or would you leave him standing in the dark, drowning in the mess he had made?

He barely had time to dwell on it before the door cracked open, revealing you standing in the dim light of your room. His mind went utterly blank. There you were—eyes still heavy with sleep, hair slightly disheveled, but unmistakably you. And despite everything, despite the coolness in your expression, despite the guarded way you held yourself, you were still the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on.

Your brows furrowed. "Alastor?" Your voice was groggy, confused, and laced with a wary edge that made his gut twist. "What are you doing here?"

He didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Because in that moment, every single wall, every flimsy excuse he had built to keep you at a distance collapsed. He was moving before he could think, hands grasping your shoulders before pulling you into him, burying his face into the crook of your neck to hide his expression. The moment he felt the warmth of you against him, something inside him broke. His arms tightened, his breath shuddering as he clung to you with the desperation of a man grasping onto the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.

"You’ve got me completely strung up, darling," he murmured against your skin, voice shaking, uncharacteristically human. "My soul—it belongs to you. Somehow, in ways I never thought possible, you’ve infected every inch of me. My mind is shattered, torn apart at the very idea of needing someone so much, needing you so much. Ça fait mal même d'être séparé de toi."

You stood frozen, his words washing over you like a tide, overwhelming and impossible to process all at once. This was Alastor—the Radio Demon—collapsing against you, breath uneven, body taut with something that felt too much like fear. He spoke like a man unraveling, like a creature who had spent his entire existence untouched by love and was now drowning in it. You didn't even understand the words he said in French, but by the way his velveteen fingers held you like you were the most sacred thing in this realm, you only assumed it was an extension of his profession.

His breath hitched, and suddenly, the words were tumbling out faster, as though if he didn’t say them now, he never would. "I’m worried," he admitted, voice raw, cracking at the edges. "Worried that my entire existence before this was a sham. That every moment, every act of amusement, every indulgence, was just a hollow distraction to bide my time while I waited for your arrival in my life. Because all I want now—all I ever want—is to spend my eternity loving you. And that terrifies me."

"Je ne sais pas quoi en faire," he confessed, voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t know what to do with you. But I—"

His fingers curled into the fabric of your sleeves, shaking ever so slightly. "I know I don’t want to let go."

Your heart pounded, but the moment you wrapped your arms around him, he melted. His ears flattened against his head as he exhaled, sinking into you with a shudder, as if the weight of his own emotions had finally exhausted him. He was so tired. You could feel it in the way he leaned against you, in the tension slowly unwinding from his frame, in the way his breath steadied the longer you held him.

You glanced up at the ceiling of the hotel hallway, simply listening to his breathing mixing with yours as your thoughts ran wild. You'd be lying if you said your heart wasn’t hammering, your face burning from Alastor’s confession, from the rawness in his voice that still lingered in the air between you. You had always found Alastor appealing—too appealing. But you had banished those thoughts to the farthest, dustiest corners of your heart, convincing yourself that he was above feeling emotions such as yearning, that he was incapable of it.

So instead, you had settled. Settled for the little moments he allowed you. Settled for the quiet mornings where you made his coffee, a simple act that meant more to you than it ever should have. It had been your small way of being close to him, a selfish indulgence wrapped in routine. He never needed you to make it for him, but you had done it anyway, convincing yourself it was nothing more than habit. If you could not have his love, at least you could be something to him—another piece of his structured, predictable world.

Yet here you were, rubbing slow, soothing circles into his spine as he clung to you like you were his lifeline, as if letting you go would devastate him completely.

"This is new for you, isn’t it?" you murmured after a moment, a gentle tease laced with understanding. He only nodded, his grip on you tightening just slightly, as if the thought of you slipping away was unbearable.

You sighed, your fingers weaving through his bobbed hair as you whispered, "Then rest, Alastor. Come, let's get you some shut eye."

He barely had the energy to protest as you guided him inside your suite, leading him to your bed as though it was the most natural thing in the world. You pretended like this was natural, hoped this was natural for him as much as it was for you. You simply believed it was, because the moment he collapsed against you, his head resting against your chest as you cradled him, his body finally, finally relaxed.

He mumbled incoherently—his confession still spilling past his lips, but now softer, sleepier. Then, in a hushed murmur, barely audible against the quiet hum of the room, he rasped, "I didn’t mean it... about the coffee. It was perfect. It’s always perfect. I just... I just needed to push you away. And that was—" he swallowed, voice heavy with regret, "—an idiotic move, wasn't it?"

You let out a soft laugh, your fingers absentmindedly playing with the red and black strands of his hair, marveling at how uncharacteristically vulnerable he was in your arms. "Yes, it was."

A deep sigh left him, the weight of his own foolishness pressing down on him like an anchor. But as your fingers continued their soothing motion against his scalp, he let himself melt into your touch, his body going lax against yours.

You bit your lip, staring down at him as the last of his tension seeped away. Butterflies stirred in your stomach. His face had softened in sleep, the sharpness of his usual smile now gentle, almost innocent. You had never seen him sleep before. You wondered if he always looked this peaceful, or if it was just you that made him feel safe enough to rest.

A quiet hope bloomed inside you, cautious yet warm, as you tightened your hold on him. Maybe this would lead to something more. Maybe, just maybe, the Radio Demon had found something worth holding onto.

And as you watched him sleep, his face unguarded, peaceful in a way you had never seen before, you found yourself fighting the urge to sleep. But the warmth of his body pressed against yours, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the way his fingers unconsciously curled around the fabric of your pajamas as if anchoring himself to you—it was enough to lull you into a sense of comfort you hadn’t realized you needed.

Slowly, your eyes fluttered shut, your breathing falling in sync with his. You didn’t fight it. The past few days had been exhausting—a whirlwind of emotions, too heavy to bear. As sleep crept in, everything else melted away. The last thing you registered was the feeling of Alastor shifting slightly, nuzzling ever so subtly into you, his body seeking yours even in slumber. His breath was warm against your collarbone, steady now, quiet—so different from the ever-broadcasting hum of his usual presence. For the first time, he felt real, tangible. Yours.

And just like that, the two of you stayed tangled together the entire night, wrapped in each other’s arms, as if the universe itself had been waiting for this moment all along.

The morning was peaceful.

You stirred awake with a soft hum, stretching slightly as the red glow of dawn spilled through the curtains. The warmth surrounding you was comforting, familiar—until you realized it was gone. Your brows furrowed as a cold chill seeped in where Alastor had been. The sheets beside you were rumpled but empty, the lingering warmth already fading. Your eyes snapped open.

He was gone.

Confusion rushed through you as you sat up, scanning the room as if expecting him to be lurking in the shadows. But there was nothing—no trace of him, no sign that he had ever been here at all.

Had you imagined it? Had the past night been nothing more than some fever dream conjured by your longing heart?

Then, your gaze landed on your bedside table.

A single note sat there, the paper slightly crumpled, like the writer had hesitated before leaving it behind. Dread pooled in your stomach as you reached for it, fingers trembling slightly as you unfolded the page. The cursive was rushed, messy—so unlike the usual pristine elegance of his writing. But you knew, without a doubt, who it belonged to.

Let’s not dwell on last night’s theatrics, dear. A lapse in judgment, nothing more. Best forgotten.

Your hands trembled as you read the words, once, twice, three times over, as if the ink might rearrange itself, as if the meaning might shift into something softer, something less cruel. But it never did. The more you stared, the more final it became, each elegant loop of his handwriting twisting the knife deeper into your chest.

Your throat constricted, a hollow ache settling in your stomach as the events of the night before played on repeat in your mind. His voice, raw and desperate. His hands gripping onto you like you were the only thing keeping him from vanishing. The way he had melted in your arms, safe, vulnerable—and now he was gone, pretending it had never happened.

A shaky breath escaped you, your fingers clutching the note so tightly the edges crumpled beneath your grip. You should have been angry. You should have cursed his name, torn the paper apart, stormed through the hotel to find him and demand an explanation. But all you could do was sit there, the weight of his absence crushing down on you, making it hard to breathe.

Had it really meant so little to him? Had it been nothing more than a moment of weakness, something he could cast aside come morning? And yet… the way he had clung to you, the way he had whispered his devotion into your skin—how could that have been a lie?

Your vision blurred as you pressed the note to your chest, curling forward as if the pressure could somehow hold you together. You wanted to believe this wasn’t the end. That this was fear, not indifference. That he was running not because last night was meaningless, but because it meant too much. But no matter how much you clung to that hope… the silence left in his wake felt an awful lot like goodbye.

But what if he never stopped running?

"Ça fait mal même d'être séparé de toi." = It hurts even to be separated from you. "Je ne sais pas quoi en faire" = I don't know what to do with it i am no where near even slightly fluent in french so please take these google translates with a grain of salt. stay tuned for part 2!

#how many times can i use gifs of alastor's lament for angsty fics #alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x you #alastor x reader #angst #oneshot #please

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apatheticsunday · 16 hours ago

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Mistaken Identities

AKA twisting the "Batfam talking about a random civilian, not knowing they're actually talking about the same person" trope, but it's the Batfam under the impression Dan, Dani, and Danny are the same person.

Because the Batfam are so incredibly smart!! Their pattern recognition is off the charts: obviously, they're going to notice when somebody named Danny keeps popping up in conversation. It doesn't help that when somebody recounts something "Danny" did, it really does sound like their Danny. Plus, what are the chances that there are three people named "Danny" who are all Meta??

"Dan threw a trash can at one of Two Face's goons today," Jason says fondly. They're at family dinner and he's still thinking about it.

Tim nods because Danny quite literally threw a chair at the Riddler during a hostage situation, like, two nights ago.

"Dani bit a man's finger off on Tuesday." Damian adds, also thinking of the memory fondly. The man in question had been trying to coax Dani into slipping through Gotham Academy's gate during recess, wiggling his hand in her face. She'd promptly latched on and two teachers had to pull her off him. Damian offered his silk handkerchief for her to spit the man's index finger into.

"That's not even the worst thing Danny did this week," Tim mutters. To be fair, it was an accident and Danny apologized profusely; he'd even bought Tim an apology coffee with six shots of espresso. That doesn't mean he enjoys his friend's hand accidentally phasing straight through his stomach. It feels like being gut-punched by Mr. Frost's ice guns.

At Jason and Damian's intrigued expressions, Tim just says, "The phasing thing." A shared, empathetic "ah" echoes around the table.

Because everybody knows about the phasing thing.

Dani rummaging around for her pencil case in her bookbag and accidentally walking straight through Damian. He'd been mostly desensitized to hypothermic shock due to the League of Assassins waterboarding and cold water training, but he still had to stand in the boy's bathroom with his hands under warm water for a solid fifteen minutes. Meanwhile Dani was blubbering apologies and trying to get him to wear extra pairs of socks she'd picked out of the Lost & Found.

Jason, thankfully, has never experienced it personally. But he has seen Dan phase his hand into a serial rapist's chest, squeeze something that makes the man wheeze like a squeaky dog toy, and growl, "Next time, I'm taking this with me." He hadn't killed the man - a promise, Dan said, he'd made with this little snot-nosed brat.

("Danny has a kid?" Tim sputters, nearly spilling his coffee all over the Batcomputer. Jason shrugs. It's just the two of them working on this case and they don't have the best relationship, so conversation topics tend to stay on safe subjects. Like their favorite civilian.

"I guess that makes sense. He mentioned a kid named Ellie. I assumed he was talking about his little sister or something." Tim muses after a moment. Tim's thinking about the lanky, boisterous boy from his Anthropology class who can't remember to bring a pen to class. That Danny has a kid??

Meanwhile, Jason's thinking of this brick shithouse of a guy making Black Mask's gang piss themselves just by hearing his Trademark Evil Laugh. It's not super surprising; after all, most of Jason's goons are parents, despite the violence they dole out on the daily.)

So, Jason, Tim, and Damian all nod in solidarity.

Cue more miscommunication!!

Maybe months down the line, they're at a family dinner when Duke just goes, "Wait, why was Danny at Gotham Academy? I thought he goes to Gotham-U?"

Damian glares as if Duke's stupidity is incredibly offensive. His scathing reply is: "Obviously, Dani was at Gotham Academy because she is enrolled in the seventh grade, Thomas."

Jason chokes on a piece of steak and Tim accidentally inhales his coffee (decaf, at the insistence of Alfred).

(Bonus points if everybody besides the Robins knew months ago, but deliberately chose not to say anything because it's just too funny.)

#dpxdc #dp x dc #batfam #danny fenton #danny phantom #jason todd #damian wayne #tim drake #batman

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neigepomme · 3 days ago

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🍎 quick headcanons about the lads guys pt. 2 WOOO!! media added for better experience :9

⋆ most of the couple tiktok videos you do with caleb are actually his idea. his whole fyp is filled with cute couple trends, and he sends them all to you. he really loved when you picked out his outfit for the h.s.k.t trend and has to fight himself to not wear that outfit daily now. his phone background is you two with the lipstick heart trend on your cheeks.

⋆ rafayel never shows up to your place empty-handed. when you tell him it's okay to not bring you a gift (whether it be flowers, some snacks or pastries, a cute handbag, etc) whenever he visits, he looks at you like you offended him before going "yeah, no. no way cutie." he actually started gifting you more stuff after you commented on it.

⋆ even though xavier's jealous nature is really cute and you don't mind it, he tries his best to keep it at bay. by that i just mean that instead of glaring daggers at a guy who's hitting on you, he starts resting his head on your shoulder from behind and dramatically sighing like a kicked puppy. it works AND you pet his hair, so it's a double win. xavier - 1, the guy who hit on you - 0.

⋆ sylus never tells you, but you quickly figure out that he loves it when you care for him and play with his hair when you two are cuddling. he's a big man and typically has you sleeping on his arm (and he loves it), but at one point, he fell asleep with his head on your stomach while you stroked his hair. when he woke up and you flashed him a warm smile, he almost saw god and thought to himself that he really ought to fall asleep like that more often.

⋆ zayne deliberately leaves his dress shirts at your place, in hopes of seeing you wear them. when he drops by to see you at one point and you answer the door only wearing his shirt, his knees actually buckle and he falls on the floor. you got really worried, and he got really embarrassed, but he gave you some excuse along the lines of "sorry, i think my blood sugar is low right now." you didn't miss how his ears turned bright red tho!

⋆ additional headcanon about zayne because he's my favorite, and i've been neglecting him recently: your phone background is his flushed face covered in lipstick marks, your handiwork. the actual video of you kissing him is the greatest thing in your camera roll — it's zayne growing more and more flushed and giggly as you smother his face in kisses. he could die happy!!

ok moving on to loser headcanons i need them to lose some aura rq

⋆ caleb never had a musical phase, he says. guess who knows the lyrics to meant to be yours from heathers tho! because that sure as hell isn't gideon! at one point, he got really drunk at the DAA and was belting it out. he also kissed gideon during that drunk episode but that's a story for another day (spreading my caleb bisexual agenda)

⋆ rafayel has edited wikipedia articles to be right in arguments and is not above pouting like a toddler and making you feel bad when you find out. at one point, he started forcing tears out of his eyes and going "no it's fine! you hate me, i get it, your boyfriend's feelings are less important than trivia night, it's fine!" like. he's a loser but a really pretty one so it cancels out kinda

⋆ xavier's the type of guy to go "huh??" at least 3 times when you explain something to him before he finally goes "ohh i get it". he in fact does not get it but he felt you getting worked up and he decided not to hit you with a fourth huh. his survival instincts are good and he'd rather look it up than have you be mad at him #loverboy

⋆ sylus has a really good grasp on his facial expressions, but he will hit a disgusted face when he hears something stupid. like yeah sure big bad unreadable boss and stuff but one time, he hears some guy on the street loudly say the worst take he's ever heard in his life and he can't help the side eye + disgusted face combo. he also stank faces when he listens to good music

⋆ zayne meows at cats. not elaborating on that it's pretty clear LOL but sometimes he'll think of the really cute cat he saw on the street that morning and quietly go "... meow..." greyson catches it and is so in shock, but no one will even believe him if he talks about what he heard ("yvonne you're not gonna believe this i just heard dr. zayne meow" “girl what the hell are you saying”)

#⋆ pomme rambles #lads x reader #caleb x reader #rafayel x reader #xavier x reader #sylus x reader #zayne x reader #guys i really miss zayne honestly #this is also really random but he kinda reminds me of haerin from njz #like the green eyes quiet cat thing.. am i crazy #⋆ neigepomme

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fleuriion · 2 days ago

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ノ Thinking about ; librarian MYDEI ⸝⸝ modern au ⸝⸝ wc: 583 ⸝⸝ not proofread ⸝⸝ sfw ⸝⸝ english is not my first language ⸝⸝ might be ooc ⸝⸝ this one's kind of cringy ngl ⸝⸝ messily written and rushed ⸝⸝ gn reader

⸝⸝ "If there's a chance in the next life, you should come visit my library" You bet. sob sob. ⸝⸝ You first stumbled upon him when you were trying to study for a test at college. I hc'd that Mydei as a librarian and in the modern au generally is much more composed than he ever is, composed as in even calmer and relaxed now that he's out of the entire strife heir duty in this life. Still fierce though! ⸝⸝ Mydei with reading glasses. I repeat, Mydei with reading glasses. Round ones or square ones, I feel like any looks good on him (unless I'm tripping). He definitely has to keep a portion of his hair tied up though. ⸝⸝ Secretly reads those cheesy sappy romance novels in the middle of his shift and then denies it when questioned by the rest of the Chyrsos Heir (Seriously, what do you call them in the modern au because I have not a single idea on what) ⸝⸝ This may sound cliché but imagine café dates with librarian Mydei. Bonus points if you choose to work as a waiter as a part time job in a cafe, imagine Mydei visiting you at work with the sole intent of seeing you (to which, again, he wouldn't admit to your face). Please I need crumbs of more modern au with amphoreus' cast. ⸝⸝ Not to mention, library dates of course! Where both you and Mydei are graced with each other's presence and the comforting silence in the library, as well as the warmth of the sunlight peeking into the library through the windows... Aside from Phainon third-wheeling the two of you, oftentimes unintentionally, yet he does not let the opportunity of teasing Mydei slide. ⸝⸝ Sounds extremely personal, but indulges in chess with you when you visit him in the library. Him being battle smart makes me think he'd do well with games that requires you to twist your brain around like chess and I have absolutely no idea why. ⸝⸝ If you go to the library to study, Mydei will definitely help you study! Even as small as accompanying you and listening you rant about how tiring your days have been ― "here, I'll help you. Less complaining and more work" /aff (he loves you don't worry) ⸝⸝ Another cliche thing, but since Mydei is physically adept in canon, I like to think that while he's a librarian (as in, 'librarians are typically nerds' type of stuff which might not always be true) he goes to the gym as well outside his shift, or at the very least exercises often. You can see the result of his discipline routine when he carries those heavy thick books alone with ease. ⸝⸝ I heard from somewhere (totally not my gut) that Mydei gets shy when he's teased. This made me think about a confession scenario with him. He appears confident and reserved at first, but as you probe more of him and this really important stuff he wants to tell you, he folds slowly. It may not seem like it and it's really easy to miss how the tip of his ears flush slowly and subtly the longer this takes than he intended. ⸝⸝ It's not his fault, the words he wanted to say are not coming out as easy as he hoped them to be! ⸝⸝ Your daily reminder that Mydeimos from Honkai : Star Rail is babygirl wife ethereal breathtaking gorgeous

#fleuriion #hsr #honkai star rail #writing #hsr mydei #mydei #hsr x reader #mydei x reader #mydei x y/n #phainon is my spirit animal

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trans-axolotl · 1 day ago

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PA DOC Sued for Discriminating Against Person with Disabilities: The Right to AAC in Prison

there was a recent press release from Disability Rights PA about current litigation happening in PA that is trying to ensure that John Topper, a man with Huntington's disease, can access an Augmentative/Alternative Communication device while incarcerated.

Currently, the DOC is denying him all access to any communication aids, forcing him to "communicate by typing notes on a tablet and passing it back and forth with the person he is attempting to communicate with. This tablet breaks frequently, and prison staff regularly prevent him from bringing the tablet with him everywhere in the prison...After returning from the hospital, the DOC denied him a working communication aid for ten days. As a result, he was only able to communicate with psychiatry staff via thumbs up and down gestures."

this has dramatically impacted Topper's wellbeing: " 'This has been such an emotional and mental struggle for me daily. Day-to-day routines are very hard without a means of effective communication and I have to struggle to have my daily needs met,' said John Topper, the plaintiff in the case. "

Topper cannot access healthcare, daily programming, or stay in contact with his family members. Prison staff refuse to provide any forms of communication aids for daily interactions, making it difficult and sometimes impossible for Topper to request things like toothpaste, toilet paper, or other daily needs. This is cruel, harmful punishment that highlights the types of carceral violence that disabled people face while incarcerated.

This lawsuit is suing to get Topper daily and continuous access to an AAC text to speech device. His counsel already bought him this device and the prison has it available, and yet they refuse to give it to him for pointless and arbitrary reasons. They've told Topper he has to choose between a wheelchair accessible cell and a cell with an outlet, they've told him that they were making his current tablet accessible but then said the only accessible adaptation they could add was a screen-reader, which his does not need, and have threatened and taken away his current tablet many times. The cruelty is the point.

It's vital as disabled people that we have solidarity with those most targeted by the state, and that we fight for our comrades currently incarcerated. Prisons are disabling and prisons target disabled people: we need to fight to make sure our comrades can get their needs met, and we need to fight to free them all!

keep an eye on Disability Rights PA and Pennsylvania Institutional Law Project for updates about Topper's case and for any steps the public can take to support him. I've reached out to ask about how to send letters to him/info for his commissary fund; I will update this post when I get more information.

disability justice means free them all!!

#personal #disability #aac #aac user #disability justice #prison abolition #what's my tag. uh #prison literature #i think it's super important to act in solidarity with our disabled comrades who are incarcerated and facing some of the worst #violence from the state #i have my own horror stories from being arrested and held as a wheelchair user. i have so many #disabled comrades currently and formerly incarcerated. we know how fucking bad it gets #and how impossible it is to even get access to communication or to talk with our lawyers or the public #anyway. wanted to highlight this lawsuit

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zerosbubble · 2 days ago

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Not my kid!

Tim Bradford x Rookie!reader [PLATONIC] — Ongoing series: Like Father, like Rookie.

Summary: When Angela and Lucy are wholeheartedly convinced that you and Tim have the most ‘I don’t get paid enough for this shit’ father to ‘I love making Tim’s life harder!’ child-like dynamic in the precinct, Tim is stuck with the fact that they won’t shut up about it.

Tim Bradford had been through a lot in his years as a cop. He’d survived war zones, worked under some of the worst training officers the LAPD had to offer, and somehow managed not to strangle Aaron Thorsen on a daily basis. He’d seen it all.

And yet, nothing in his career had prepared him for you.

“Kid, I swear to God—”

You guided the criminal into the backseat of the shop with a grin, entirely unfazed by the exhaustion in his voice as you shut the door. “I got the guy, didn’t I?”

Tim exhaled through his nose, standing on the curb and leaning against the shop. “You got the guy by jumping off a dumpster, nearly breaking your neck, and landing on top of him like some kind of rabid squirrel.”

“Worked, though.”

“You are going to give me a stroke.”

“Eh, you’re too tough for that.”

Tim turned his head just enough to shoot you a look—one of those deadpan, barely-contained irritation looks that had made rookies before you crumble under the weight of his judgment.

But you? You just smiled, perfectly comfortable in the way you leaned back against the shop like this was just another normal day.

Meanwhile, Lucy and Angela were having the time of their lives eavesdropping into you and Tim’s conversation as they walked towards youse.

“I mean,” Lucy mused, arms draped over the front seats like she was settling in for a show, “it’s kind of impressive. You have to admit, Tim—”

“I do not.”

“—that it was a solid takedown.”

Angela, arms crossed but clearly holding back a smirk, nodded. “If a little reckless.”

You lifted a hand, like a lawyer presenting evidence in court. “A calculated risk.”

“Bullshit,” Tim and Angela said at the same time.

Lucy snorted. “You’re getting soft, Tim. Back in the day, you would’ve—”

Tim’s glare cut through the air like a warning shot. “You wanna ride with me for the rest of the month, Chen?”

Lucy grinned but lifted her hands in surrender. “I’m just saying, it’s funny.”

“What’s funny?” you asked, head tilting in curiosity.

Angela smirked. “The way you two act like a single dad with a hyperactive kid.”

You blinked. “Oh.”

Tim groaned. “No.”

Lucy’s eyes lit up, her smile downright smug. “Absolutely. He’s all rules and structure, and you’re just out here doing parkour, making his life miserable.” Her expression practically screamed, ‘Did I lie, though?’

Angela tilted her head, considering. “And yet, if anyone else tried to parent them, they’d end up in a ditch.”

You turned to Tim, expectant, eyes bright. “Sir?”

Tim exhaled sharply, staring dead ahead like if he ignored the conversation long enough, it would cease to exist. His jaw tensed, hands gripping his vest as he muttered under his breath—

“I don’t get paid enough for this.”

Lucy let out a delighted laugh. “Oh my God, that was the most dad thing he could’ve said.” She exclaimed to Angela, the two of them borderline snorting of laughter as if you and Tim weren’t there.

Tim made a mental note to start requesting solo patrols.

Meanwhile, you were still grinning like you’d just won the precinct lottery, leaning into your seat with the kind of self-satisfied energy that made Tim’s eye twitch. “So does that make Lucy the fun aunt?”

Angela snorted. “She wishes. If anything, I’m the cool aunt, and Lucy’s the big sister who has to keep you alive while Dad’s at work.”

Lucy gasped, clutching her chest like she’d just been hit. “That’s… painfully accurate.”

Tim groaned, dragging a hand down his face like he could physically wipe away the conversation. “You’re all insufferable.”

You, unfazed as ever, nudged his arm with your shoulder, practically radiating warmth and mischief. “C’mon, sir. You know you love us.”

Tim had been a cop for a long time. He knew how to lie. Knew how to keep a straight face. Knew how to bluff his way through situations that should’ve killed him.

And yet, when you said it like that, with all the unshakable confidence of someone who had already decided he was stuck with you, Tim didn’t have it in him to argue.

He sighed instead, looking into the shop windows as if there was something more important to focus on besides this conversation, and muttered under his breath.

“Not my kid.”

Angela leaned against the shop, arms crossed, the smirk on her face downright smug. “Oh, please. You act like it’s just us seeing it, but literally everyone knows.” She said, holding a hand up as if to say ‘Oh, you don’t get to talk just yet.’ when Tim opened his mouth to protest.

“Grey watches you suffer on purpose. Nolan says you remind him of when he first became a dad,”

“Lopez, shut the hell—“

Angela only continued, “West told me he once saw you instinctively put an arm out to stop them from stepping into traffic—mid-lecture—like a stressed-out parent.” Her voice laced with a knowing tone as she crossed her arms, “And me? I’ve personally witnessed you yank them back by the collar when they tried to chase a suspect barefoot because, and I quote, ‘I had to know if I could.’”

A small ‘Ohhh, I remember that.’ left your lips, huffing a laugh at the memory that was personally hilarious to you, but excruciating to Tim.

“Not to mention, just last week, you scolded them for getting blood on their uniform like it was grass stains on a kid’s soccer jersey.” Angela raised an eyebrow, tilting her head. “So tell me again how they’re ‘not your kid.’”

Lucy whistled, “Damn, Wesley been teaching you a thing or two.” she smirked.

The sidewalk fell into a momentary silence, save for the hum of the engine and the distant chatter of dispatch over the radio.

You, still grinning like you’d just won some unspoken battle, hopped into the shop and settled into the passenger seat, clearly pleased with yourself.

Lucy exchanged a knowing look with Angela, both of them reveling in Tim’s suffering as they walked back to their own shops.

And Tim? He just exhaled slowly, staring at the road like it held the answers to all of life’s problems—like if he focused hard enough, he could pretend he wasn’t stuck in a moving circus.

But deep down, buried beneath the exasperation and the ever-present headache that came with being responsible for you, he knew the truth.

He’d never admit it out loud, but he was stuck with you. And worse? He didn’t actually mind.

taglist: @its-ares @nevereclipse @chezze-its @mcckunty

#platonic #the rookie #fluff #found family #oneshot #tim bradford #tim bradford x reader #lucy chen #angela lopez

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sublimati0ns · 2 days ago

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daily koss #24: sometimes you guys are gonna have to put up with me posting the most random ass goofy AUs…

@dallacuna mentioned offhandedly that if Knock Out was in Little Shop of Horrors he’d be the dentist and the conversation spiralled…

Lacuna and I agreed none of the TFP characters suited Audrey, so I ended up using Windblade cuz I’ve been reading the IDW ‘05 run and (wack orientalism ass design aside) I really like her and her dynamic with Starscream so far :( Not me shipping yet another rarepair

Starscream was originally Smokescreen’s evil plant but Knock Out rizzed him up so he switched sides 🤦

KO is able to do this because Smokescreen’s attempt to avenge Windblade’s mistreatment doesn’t go to script and he ends up just dragging an unconscious Knock Out back to the flower shop, grappling with whether or not he should kill him after all, but Knock Out wakes up and ends up encountering Starscream

He was like ‘you know having to feed you live prey will end up eating at his conscience and he’ll end up betraying you right 😏’ and SS was like ‘oh and you won’t?’ and KO was like ‘please—I’m in this mess because I’m a sadist, I’m afraid; the only qualm I have with murder is how much work it is to hide a body [HINT HINT]’ their stupid ass you scratch my paint I scratch yours canon event 😭 so SS was like ‘Sorry, Smokescreen, but I’m afraid it seems our little partnership has come to an end [EVIL EMOJI]’

But maybe KO does not get to let SS cannibalise him maybe Smokescreen escapes… My baby boy…

KOSS short-sighted idiot moment immediately follows this scenario because they’re both like wait where are we going to keep Starscream. We can’t just leave him in the flower shop it’s going to be weird for Knock Out to rock up all the time. But they can’t just move him cuz he’s a 20ft plant

SS just expected KO to have a plan for this for some reason and he gets mad and KO is like ‘well YOU’RE the higher alien lifeform here I thought you’d have a spaceship???’ and SS is like ‘????? ⬅️ A PLANT WITH ROOTS IN THE GROUND’

They somehow work things out and then Knock Out becomes a serial killer for fun and business. Truly wretched…

It’s KOSS though so they need to have relationship drama; when KO realises the take over the world and kill all humans plan is for serious he gets mad like what about HIM??? HE lives there??? HELLO??? He thought they were going to publicise Starscream as a cool freak of nature and become famous??? And SS (idiot) is like Sorry you felt that way; I suppose I could always kill you last 🤷 And then KO starts trying to kill him

SS is pissed off but also feels bad for some reason… So crazy why does he feel hurt by this :((( It makes no sense :((( So even though he’s like ‘*scoff* No matter—he’s just some human; he played his role and now he’s in my way’ he can’t bring himself to kill KO 🤦 Very predictable

They end up making up though. Roll end credits of their domestic serial killer life /hit

Breakdown is Knock Out’s hygienist/secretary but unlike the original dentist he treats BD well! BD usually stays in his own lane but sometimes gets called in to help with the murder nonsense

I have not figured out the rest of the cast but might if I percolate this silly AU more ahahaha

#lacedraws #koss #maccadam #tfp starscream #tfp knockout #tfp smokescreen #idw windblade #humanformers

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mostroloungeofficial · 2 days ago

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Blazing Jewel event - Octavinelle dorm practice story

Please note I may make mistakes but I wanted to try a translation of the story of this part.

Ep 1

🐙 Today we start preparing for the music concert "Blazing Jewels"! Have you heard our dorm song, "Entanglement"?

🦈 Yeah. It's a cool song, isn't it? I'm really looking forward to singing it!

🐬 Me too. I like the jazzy melody and the mature atmosphere. But we have to come up with the choreography for some parts, right?

🐙Yeah. We have to think about what kind of choreography to use with the song... it's a part that tests our sense of style. Well, with us three, singing won't be an issue. We'll have plenty of time to come up with the choreography. I already knew our singing ability back in middle school. It saves us the trouble of improving our singing skills, so we can focus on coming up with choreography and expressing each part.

🦈 Even if you're good at singing, are you and Jade okay with dancing? It took you two twice as long as me to be able to stand and walk. You can't dance if you're bad at using your feet. I don't have any problem.

🐙 I can't say that there's no problem yet. But I'll definitely get it done. There's still plenty of time until the announcement. I can practice as much as I want.

🐬 Yes, I'll do my best too. I'm also interested in the act of "carving handprints".

🐙 Oh. I'm surprised you're interested in handprints.

🐬 When I looked up how to make handprints, it seems that you press your hand into cement made from a mixture of limestone and clay to leave a mark... As the representative of the Mountain Lovers Association, I thought I should experience art that makes use of natural materials.

🦈 Jade still likes weird stuff. I just want to beat the other dorms at singing and dancing.

🐙 Hehe... Although our reasons are different, all three of us seem to have the same desire to liven things up more than any other dorm. Let's get pumped up and practice for the live show!

🐬/🦈 Understood. / Ok.

–

Ep 2

🐙 I want to practice the dance especially carefully. Today, let's think about the choreography for the arranged parts. What kind of performance would be well received by the audience...? But it's hard work trying to appeal to the masses. The scope of the research is too broad... It would have been better if it were a competition that was evaluated by judges. If they had done that, I could have researched the preferences of all the judges and their past evaluation trends, and come up with a performance that would suit that... Well, there must have been some intention behind them asking Night Raven College students to perform. What do they want from us, the students… Let's analyze carefully and think about our performance!

–

Ep 3

🐙 ♪Now, let us hear your wish~ ...Yes. My voice is in perfect condition today too. But if I put a little more vibrato into this part, the expression of the song might have more depth. To make the vibrato resonate beautifully, it is essential to practice long tones. I should incorporate this into my daily singing practice plan... But in fact, wouldn't it be better to add a fall rather than a vibrato...? To improve the accuracy of our performance, I should try out all the ideas I can think of. Let's compare several patterns on a recording and consider which expression resonates best with the audience.

–

ep 4

🐬 In middle school, I formed a band with Azul and Floyd... but I never thought the day would come when we would all work on music together again. When we first formed, we each had different ideas about the direction of music we wanted to play, and we often clashed. Even after we decided on the songs, we just couldn't get along... it was a really hard time. I wonder what will happen this time. Hehe... I'm looking forward to it.

–

ep 5

🐬 Singing won't be a problem with our group, but I'm worried about the dancing. Land dancing is different from sea dancing, which uses tail fins. I haven't danced with human feet very often. Before I can match the rhythm and learn the movements, I have to wonder if I can move my feet the way I want to... I'm worried, but it's exciting to try something new. Let's do our best to leave our handprints in the "Groovy Arena."

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ep 6

🦈 I've been listening to "Entanglement" a lot lately. It fits my mood right now. The eerie feel of it, like jumping out of a dark place to scare someone, is interesting so I never get bored of it.Ah, wouldn't it be cool if we incorporated that kind of feel into the choreography too? I think Azul came up with the choreography for my arranged part. Oh well. I'll work on with my thoughts in mind too.

–

ep 7

🦈 ♪ Dance, your swaying heart left and right, an illusion seen through closed eyes - Ah, maybe I sang pretty well just now. "Maybe I should do it like this?" I thought and came out of the classroom right away and it was the right decision. I think I'll sing it a few more times before I forget how it felt. When I stood up during class, Red Squid-sensei just gaped at me like a mackerel and then looked angry for some reason. The next time we meet, he'll probably give me another long lecture. Well, I'll ignore him. I'm still not tired of practicing our performance... I'll make sure I don't get caught.

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ep 8

🦈 I want to practice dancing while looking at a big mirror, is there a good place? Come to think of it, I heard before that there is a room in Pomefiore where all the walls are mirrors... Shall I go there now? But it's a pain to go all the way there... ... Hmm? Hey, maybe this window in the hallway could serve as a mirror? Let me try stepping. ... Ah, I can see my feet clearly after all! Oh, I don't have to go to another dorm. I found a good place. Let's practice here.

–

ep 9

🐬 (Cough, cough... )

🐙 Jade... Did you just cough?

🐬 Yes. Sorry, was I too loud?

🐙 No, it's not that! We have a live show coming up. We need to keep our throats in top condition. Take these throat lozenges, they're great for moisturizing the throat. And put on a mask right now! That's right. I'll turn on the humidifier too. We need to make sure that Floyd and I keep our throats in good condition too.

🐬 This is, the best I can ask for.

🐙 If you can't sing properly during the live show, all our practice will be for nothing. Of course you need to take care of your throat, but you need to make sure you're in good physical condition too!

🐬 That's great. (Cough) Oh dear, that cough just now was just from inhaling dust while I was cleaning...

–

ep10

🐬 ♪Future disappearing like bubbles - it all depends on you - Phew... Just as I thought, it feels good to sing in the clear early morning air. It was worth getting up early. Now that I think about it, I once heard that it felt good to shout "Yaho!" from the top of a mountain, so I tried to do it... Then, just like now, I felt a sense of excitement in my heart. So it might feel good to sing from the top of a mountain. I'll try it next time.

–

ep 11

🦈 Hmmm, hmmm… ♪Let's turn here...

🐙 Floyd? Why are you practicing your dance in the middle of this hallway?

🦈 Oh, it's Azul. This window reflects your whole body, so it's good as a mirror.

🐙 I see. It certainly is a good place to practice... No, we should avoid dancing here after all.

🦈 What about it? Why? You're not going to say something lame like we'll get in the way of the dorm students passing by?

🐙 What I'm worried about is if there's a spy from another dorm. If we practice in such a conspicuous place, it's the same as making the performance public.

🦈 It doesn't matter if people see us. We're performing different songs for each dorm, so there's no way they're going to copy us. If you're really worried, Azul, prepare a different place to practice. It's tiring to move around to practice.

🐙 Let's ban the common room from entering for a few hours a day, except for the members who will be performing in the live show. Just for that time, we'll prepare several full-length mirrors in the common room. What do you think?

🦈 That's fine. Well, get it ready.

–

ep 12

🐙 We've decided on the choreography over the past few days, so today we'll try to work the dance together as a trio.

🐬/🦈 Yes. / Ok.

🦈 Haha! What was that dance of yours just now? It was so bad!!

🐙 Be quiet, Floyd! I think everyone is like this when they first start.

🐬 As I thought, the way you dance with your fins and your feet is very different. When I was turning, it was hard to keep my balance and I thought I might fall.

🦈 It's funny to see you two dancing I'll record it on my phone.

🐙 Hey... Don't take pictures without permission!

🐬 Azul, calm down. Isn't it more likely that Floyd, who doesn't take pictures even when I ask, is recording us? If you watch the recording, you can look back on which moves you're not doing well.

🦈 Right. I'll share this hilarious data with you later, so you can watch and realize how bad you guys are.

🐙 Damn it! I can't stand being left in such a shameful state, but this is all for the sake of improving my dancing... If that's the case, then let's improve as quickly as possible!

–

ep 13

🐙 It's been a week since I felt saddened by the poor performance of my dance and Jade’s... We have been working hard every day to improve our dancing. Today, let's dance smartly!

😺 What's up Azul. Were you bad at dancing? I'll laugh at your bad dancing!

🦈 Oh, it's the seal and the shrimp. Did you come to see how we were doing?

-Sorry to bother you

-Please let me have a look

🐬 Please feel free to watch as much as you like.

🦈 Have you and Azul really improved in a week? If you haven't changed, I'll squeeze you.

🐙 Oh, so scary. But I don't think you'll be disappointed.

🐬 Of course, me too.

🦈 Wow, you two look so confident.

🐬 Hehe... I studied a lot about how to dance with your feet, not your fins. I promise you that I won't show you a pathetic side by focusing too much on dancing and neglect my singing.

🐙 Let's start practicing. I'll show you how much I've improved... the results of my efforts!

–

ep 14

😺 I thought I'd laugh at Azul and Jade's dancing, but... they weren't bad at all!

-I was fascinated

-They were also good singers

🐙 Hehe, isn't that right? This is the result of our efforts!

🦈 Both of them were hilariously bad at dancing until recently... Your legs seem to be moving pretty smoothly today. Did you use some kind of magic?

🐙 No. I just spent all my free time practicing dance.

🐬 I also watched the recordings of my dancing over and over again, striving to improve my movements.

🐙 Hehehe... I've improved so much in such a short amount of time. If you keep practicing like this, the crowd will definitely go wild! If I do that, in the future, my name will be widely known to the world!

🦈 You don't really need to make a name at the live show... If I uploaded a recording of that crappy dance to the internet wouldn't it be a quick way to become famous?

🐬 Certainly, I found it interesting when I watched it myself, and it may actually create a buzz.

🐙 I see. Nowadays, there are ways to earn money from videos through ad revenue and support from viewers, so maybe it's actually possible...? ...No! I really don't want to make a name for myself with such an embarrassing video.

🐙 Honor must come from having your name engraved in the music hall!

😺 Hey, henchman. There's a video of their terrible dance moves. Let's get it secretly!

-Let's stop it.

-I'm a bit curious...

🐙 Come on, you two! Let's practice to perfect our performance!

🐬/🦈Let's do our best. / Ok!

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst spoilers #event translation #azul ashengrotto #jade leech #floyd leech

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ranginipv · 10 hours ago

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Something about Jason's pecs

a/n: ong i found this on my note, i forgot i never posted it

For the past few days you have been burned out by your work. Sitting on the office for hours and hours, getting yelled by your boss, lacking sleep and getting numb with the taste of coffee on your fifth mug.

But then there's Jason, your tall, big and strong teddy bear boyfriend you would always wrap your arms around. Burying your face to his huge pecs, his muscly arms wrapping around your body making you feel safe and content. He would smell like streets, rain or ciggaretes after his daily patrol at night, but it's his smell that gives you comfort.

One thing about him to die for is his pecs, his huge pecs.

At first Jason would find it strange with how your hands would rub his pecs when you both are cuddling normally on the sofa. He had noticed before of the gesture but think of it as nothing, it did happened frequently when you both are cuddling at times.

But What Jason didn't know is that you had a soft spot on his pecs. After a long day at work or when you're under the weather, you would bury your face on his chest, hands on each side of pecs to squeeze it. Other than for distraction his pecs were your safe heaven to seek for comfort.

And Jason is flustered when you finally told him, grumbling to act like he hates it but looking at your face loving his body made his heart flutter.

So, he decides that you're the only one who can freely touch him this way.

#jason todd #red hood #jason todd imagine #drabble #yandere jason todd x reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd fluff #fluff

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jjjjeonww · 2 days ago

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so…! i’ve made a decision. after everything i’ve been going through irl, i’m going to quit tumblr. i know this may seem sudden; and that you think ��oh! but you seem fine yuna!” but i’m actually not fine. i’ve been going through a lot silently (for years now, since like the age of 10-12..) and i don’t think tumblr will help me with my mental health. yes; it’s my safe space, somewhere i would go to when no one was there for me. but now, i think i need to face the real challenges, i can’t have tumblr being my safe space anymore. please know that i still love my 181 followers. each and every single one of you are so special to me.

to my mutuals, you all have done so much for me, and i’m grateful for that. i’m grateful for whatever tumblr has given and granted me. i’m sorry that i’m leaving - though i don’t think anybody would really be affected by my leaving - i still apologize. i hope that maybe one day, just one day, i can come back. come back to this, come back to the love i’ve been getting.

to: @gyubakeries

tiya, you were my first mutual here, and i remember how you greeted me with open arms and such kindness, and i’ll remember that forever my fav gyuldaengie🤍 and i guess i’ll not be seeing that woozi fic, sigh. it’ll be in my heart though, and you’ll be in my heart too.

to: @96z

naya!! im not sure if you’ll see this but when i went to the waterpark - nothing leaked, your advice worked <3 i love you for that, i love you always🩵

to: @kwonienana

my make out sesh partner!! my nana!! i’m sad i wont see the 3rd part to unsent!woozi, but i’ll imagine that reader n him have a good ending. i love you so so so so much, please remember that my delusional-texted-hoshi-on-insta-girl💋

to: @jooyeonsvape

amb, my favourite jooyeon stan, i was so glad to have met another villain on tumblr. and i was glad it was someone so sweet and so kind. i love your fics, every one of them, and i love you. ❤️

to: @studioeisa

kae, my favourite 8star!! i have always loved every single one of your works, and i’m glad that i met a carat-villain, even glader (thats not a word but) that it was you. you were so kind to me, so sweet, so loving. i think now, whenever i see gunil, i’ll think of you. 💚

to: @antoncore

cee!! i loved discussing and talking to you about … riize’s … sizes…💜 (hey that rhymes!) when i first met you, i had no idea that you were secretly this freaky, and to think that you r so cute😭 (personality n looks!) i love you my favourite anton stan💕

to: @chenlezip

anna! my cutie, the woozi fic you wrote for me - i loved it so much. i think i’ve read it daily this week, i’ll never forget it, and i will never ever forget you my darling🤍 (and the jaem series bc WTF I LOVED IT SMM)

to: @seokminfilm

LYR!!! i guess i’m never getting that down bad seok fic huh?? hehe - it’s fine. i just loved talking to you about it, and i thank you once again, for making me one of the main characters in your fic, and a thank you for making mingyu down bad in that fic🤭 i love u my lyric🩶

to: @wonkierideul

this… this one was really hard to write. nini, out of all of my moots - i have to say you’re my favourite. i’m sorry to all the others, but you have a special place in my heart. you’ll always have a special place in my heart. i’m sorry we never got to vc properly, i’m sorry for all the things i’ve done that have pissed you off. i’m sorry, for leaving you. i’ll see you when i see junhui. and, when i see soonhoon, i’ll smile, but feel a pain in my heart, knowing that was once us, not anymore though.

to: @starstrawb

my silly squirrel, i thank you for all of the kind words you’ve said to me, i thank you for all of the good morning and good night messages, all of the ‘checking up on you’ messages. i thank you for everything, the love, the adoration, everything that you’ve given me. i’m sorry i couldn’t give you the same kind of love, but just know i tried my absolute best. 🐿️

to: @kissbyoon

another one that was hard to write. liza, the jeonghan who loves to annoy the woozi, i loved getting annoyed by you, i always did. i loved every single moment with you, even your most delusional ones. i hope you know that i love you. i hope you know that sadly - i’ll not be coming back. maybe i will. maybe i wont. most likely i wont. i’m sorry to say i wont be coming back like how jeonghan is. and please lili, dont wait for me like you’re waiting for jeonghan and wonwoo. it pains me to know that.

to: @gyuwrites

for some reason, we started off as mutuals who just followed each-other, then a stupid anon came in and ruined my chances of actually getting to know you. that’s one of my biggest regrets. maybe in another life we could meet again, and start off good that time. thank you for your support ashley. 💙

to: @noircheols

seilah, thank you for yapping to me, thank you for trusting me with your rants. and just overall, thank you for trusting me. i’ll remember our little yap sessions, where we talked shit, where we vented, where we just… yapped together. it felt right. but me leaving you? it doesn’t. i hope you get a job soon, just know i’ll always be praying for you. 🖤

to: @vernons-wifey12

renee, thank you for the daily horanghaes, i think you were my first ever dolly stan, apart from @/rosiemain and @/seokminfilm. i really enjoyed the time when we were enjoying eachother’s virtual presence, i love you my vernon💗

to: @rosiemain

my roro, i’ll miss you so much. if i could give you a hug, i really would. but for now - does a virtual hug work? 🫂. you’re my favourite woozidan, my absolute favourite. i once said i would never want to find another woozidan ( to @/hanniescookie ) but i’m glad i have. i’m sorry our time of friendship together was so short. i’m rooting you get your boy, and i hope ‘🦢’ gets run over by a truck. i love you forevermore my girl.

to: @hanniescookie

and yet, another hard one. augustine. oh, i didn’t know leaving you would be this hard. i don’t know. i don’t know what i would do without you. your words were the main reason i kept going. no actually, YOU were the main reason i kept going. no matter how fat i felt, how insecure i was, your words broke through them. and you broke down the wall i had built just to get closer to me, i’m sorry to say that now, the wall has been renewed, and there’s no way to destroy it now. i’ll love you my jeonghan to my wonwoo. and i’ll remember you, always and forever.

to: @seokmn

and yet another moot who i have barely gotten to know. thank you for reblogging my jiung smau <3 i hope you can find a boyfie that’s just like loser boy jiung hehe 🐍

to: @honeyhae-svt

미안해, 아내야. 이렇게 일찍 떠나서 미안해. 우리가 서로에게 보낸 음성 메모가 즐거웠어요 ㅎㅎ . 그리울거야. 진짜. 사랑해요. 정말 많이. 나를 잊지마 내 예쁜 소녀야 ㅋㅋㅋㅋ 사랑해☹️💓

to: @dokyumms

my texas girlie, pls pls pls think of me when someone mentions young sheldon🤓🤓 but really, legit thank you for becoming moots with me, it was such an honour!! i’ll never forget you. never. this - i swear. i love u lovie💖

to: @kyeomviiee

oh my sweet sweet kae. thank you for all the moodboards you have made me. i hope your break is going well, i hope u think of me hehe😛 but really, take good rest love, i’ll be by your side, just think i’m there with you. 💞

to: @polarisjisung

another moot who i wanted to get to know but sadly did not. thank you for following me, i have no idea why you!! hua!! would follow some one like me but hey i aint complaining <3 take good care of anna for me💜

to: @iamdkayyyyy

thank you for your playlist, and for the wonwoo fic, i really really loved both of it🤍 you are soo soo soo soo kind, and i really love you for that. thank you for everything soumaya🌹

let me take a breather.

and now - to the rest of the people who have supported me, thank you. for everything. literally everything. i love EVERY. SINGLE. ONE. OF. YOU. no matter what you’ve done to me. thank you for all the joy you’ve brought to me on tumblr.com !! my journey on here will be marked in my heart as my favourite journey.

thank you, and this is @jjjjeonww signing off. good night, good evening, good afternoon, and good morning to all of you.

(i’ve gotten questions about whether some people can still publish some works they have made for me and my answer is yes, you can still publish it.)

#jjjjeonww #yunawritings<3 #beloveds mootsies! .☘︎ ܁˖#this is goodbye #goodbye #im sorry #for this #if it seems sudden lolol.

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ficsiwontwrite · 19 hours ago

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!!! System! Shen Yuan AU !!!

Airplane wasn’t changing things, and no matter what tasks the system tried to put forward the only difference in the world was that the An Ding Peak Lord was more stressed and overworked

So a new variable was needed, and since the system tasks have been completed perfectly chances are the problem is in the system… so the solution is to shove the work to someone sentient who would be invested into changing the story!!

So yeah airplane gets a notification that the system is being upgraded and suddenly his terrible system has a personality

System Shen yuan would consume (?)all the information the original system had and before going online would have created an entire tasks tab that include daily/weekly/monthly/yearly/unlimites tasks plus main tasks and as soon as he was online he would great airplane with a passive aggressive message and send him to work

Shen yuan would be much more generous with points but he hates the shop system, the dumb things that can be bought there will them have descriptions like “this scenario pusher will make clothes tear like in a bad horny donghua” being 100% ready to turn it into sqh himself if he dared to be a scum and use it on some unsuspecting woman

The first time sqh failed a s!sy task he was full of dread, punishments are very trauma inducing after all, but them the worst punishment sy can bare to deal is making him 1st pov some of binghe’s more tame suffering, like hunger, bullying and the tea spill first meeting… which could have been bad if the senses and feelings where in sync but it was all toned down to zero… SQH them understands the new system as some kind of softie tsundere lmao

S!sy would feel bad about the harsh punishment and send some easy task with a high reward the next day….. “there needs to be a carrot, not only a stick!” (I do love me a dumbass shen yuan)

They of course would banter and end up caring about each other, everytime sqh says/does something sy thinks is stupid he’ll give tasks like “read 10 books about x and write a 10k words essay about x” or when he is tossed around in a mission or by mbj he’s send missions for Jim’s to get stronger…

By the second month there’ll be missions like “eat 3 times a day”, unfortunately for shen yuan sqh already trusts him and feels safe enough to bend the tasks, so not only he will half-ass boring tasks to get the hide of y magical beast and making a coat (sending liu qingge to do it, mostly) which sy approves for being smart BUT he would also eat like melon seeds instead of stopping to eat full meals

Shang Qinghua will end up having to scroll detailed 1k worded self-care tasks…

This au would be focused mostly in cumplane dynamics yes but I thinks it would be really hilarious if sy started to make sqh do tasks that would take him close to xxx because sy wants to see them (choose the SQH x SY x ??? of your preference)

Of course s!sy would be making his mental gymnastics and justifying his tasks as totally no homo “wdym i want to look to lqg’s pretty face? I just want you to be strong enough not to dumbly die!” “Yes you do have to ask for a book on monsters from Shen Qingqiu himself, he’s so greedy he must have hidden away the best one” “you get hurt so frequently, you simply must go to Mu Qingfan and get personal classes on first aid” “No, you can not send a disciple with a mensage to Yue Qingyuan, it’s important to communicate face to face with your sect leader in such matters” etc etc

#svsss #shang qinghua #shen yuan #cumplane #System! Shen Yuan AU #sy’s tasks making sqh wifebeam everyone and he has no idea but sqh thinks he’s pulling his leg #cucumber-bro I don’t want a harem plEASE #also bing bing having a crush in his shishu for all the things he did for him (?) and sy gushing about binghe to sqh and sqh standing there #‘I can’t believe you’re using your powers over me to pamper your blorbo’#also #I’m sure that I’m some point they would be able to give sy a body #the other unofficial harem members can’t even get upset a him #the wife beam is too good #they’re okay with sqh having a co-harem master #…. ALSO #regardless of the wife beam allegations sqh could and would seduce everyone fair and square !!!#he would doubt it tho. clearly those were sy actions #except he doesn’t take in consideration that he has been putting his own spin into the tasks since he got close to cucumber bro

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followthebluebell · 2 days ago

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Hello! Please feel free to ignore, or respond at your leisure - I don’t want to bother you! Just a cat behavior question.

Do you find that you see more progress in terms of improving QOL in highly anxious* cats when they are ‘left alone’ (ie. not doing specific training, just normal feeding and offering human-involved play or pets *only* if the cat solicits it) or when employing a more hands-on approach (training comfort with touch or environment using treat rewards, attempting clicker training, responding to displays of anxiety with treats/removing the stressor if possible, etc)?

* ‘highly anxious’ here meaning cats that remain noticeably anxious or reactive even on daily gabapentin, where nearly any object or sound (famililar stimuli, not just novel) elicits stressed body language and fearfulness and the cat is agitated or appears highly stimulated at all times.

(My personal experience is limited in working with this level of anxiety since I’ve only been working with fosters for about 3 years, and mostly with kittens/more physical medical needs).

So this is very much a case-by-case basis for me, which is why I largely stopped giving advice on how to handle anxiety over the internet. I realized that I could be causing more harm than help.

In general, I think it's more useful to give an anxious cat the tools they need to handle their own anxiety--- ie, a cat that's overgrooming due to anxiety needs to re-learn that there are other ways to reduce anxiety, a cat that's anxious because of understimulation needs to relearn how to play with things, that sort of thing.

Like an anxious cat is always going to have SOMETHING to be anxious over, just like a people do. It's not useful to overwhelm with stimuli; you risk pushing the cat over the threshold and that's a fantastic way to get bitten or you risk pushing them into a shutdown. It's better to figure out what they need to feel comfortable and start from there.

I think Persephone would probably be a good example of the level of anxiety you're describing. For her, I largely left her alone for the first few weeks of acquisition. When she started showing interest in interacting, I rewarded her heavily--- this allowed her to still feel in control of the interactions without overwhelming her. This allowed her to be adopted and gave her a MUCH better QOL overall.

For cats that are more cat-social, I like to introduce them to more confident cats. This gives them a buddy and a sort of social meter. If they're nervous about something, they can look to their buddy like, "yo, hey :( I notice that there is a man wearing a scary hat here???? Is that ok????" and their buddy just goes, ":) i like food yay", so the anxious cat learns that maybe hats aren't THAT scary. If they were really scary, the other cat would ALSO be scared instead of hungry.

Again, it's about meeting the cat's individual requirements, if that makes sense. i think that's far more valuable to the animal in question. I try to meet the cat at their threshold WITHOUT going over it. As they become more comfortable, I try to push the threshold just a little bit further.

So i don't really force a hands-on approach (except for kittens under 12 weeks; they get put into the hoodie pocket and carried around), but I DO consider the hands-on approach 'better' for most cases.

I view medication as an extremely useful tool. It can be used for the cat's entire life and that's fine but, in general, I try to use it as little as possible. If a cat is still showing substantial anxiety on gabapentin, I'd switch medications; there are other options.

You need to keep reasonable goals, I feel, for yourself and the cat. Persephone is never going to be Little Miss Social and that's ok. I just needed to get her to the point where she was pettable, handleable, and able to go into a carrier.

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angieslove06 · 3 days ago

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The Reluctant Savior

Prompt: Our hero is famous... but he doesn't want to be. She's the only one who sees past the mask.

The world adored him. Red Riot, the unbreakable hero, the unyielding shield of the people. His name was spoken with admiration, his face plastered across magazine covers, and his victories replayed on news channels daily. To everyone else, he was an inspiration—fearless, indomitable, and shining like a beacon of hope.

But to you?

He was just Eijirou.

And he looked exhausted.

You stood in the back corner of the bustling hero agency, watching as Kirishima smiled and waved at reporters, his signature sharp-toothed grin never wavering. He was answering questions about his latest battle, a takedown of a villainous group threatening civilians in Shibuya. They called him a "symbol of resilience," the hero who never backed down.

But you saw the stiffness in his shoulders. The way his hands clenched behind his back. The way his eyes, bright and determined for the cameras, dimmed the moment he thought no one was looking.

You exhaled, rolling your shoulders as you observed the scene. Your own hero name—Tempest—wasn't nearly as famous, though your quirk was nothing to scoff at. Stormweaver, a powerful wind manipulation ability that allowed you to control air currents, pressure, and even summon small bursts of lightning in high-energy states. It made you fast, unpredictable, and a nightmare in aerial combat.

But fame wasn’t your thing.

Unlike Kirishima, you weren’t a headline hero. You worked best in the shadows, handling recon, quick interventions, and crowd evacuations. People appreciated you, but they didn’t worship you.

And you were fine with that.

Kirishima, though? He had no choice.

The press conference finally ended, and he turned, heading toward the agency’s private wing. The second he crossed the threshold away from the public eye, his shoulders slumped, and the weight of the world crashed down on him.

“Long day?” you asked, arms crossed as he passed you in the hallway.

He jumped slightly before chuckling, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah… but, y’know, just another day in the life of a hero.”

“Bullshit,” you said flatly.

His crimson eyes widened slightly before he laughed again, this time more tired than amused. “You’re always so blunt, Tempest.”

You shrugged. “I just don’t like fake smiles.”

He tilted his head, studying you with quiet curiosity. “You’re the only one who calls me out on it.”

You leaned against the wall, watching him carefully. “Because I know you, Eijirou. You don’t like this, do you? The attention, the expectations.”

He hesitated.

For a moment, he looked like he wanted to deny it, to flash another grin and insist he was fine. But something in your gaze held him in place.

Finally, he sighed, running a hand through his messy red hair. “I wanted to be a hero to help people. To make them feel safe. I never wanted… all of this.” He gestured vaguely toward the closed doors behind him, where reporters had just been shouting his name. “I mean, I get it. It comes with the job. But sometimes… I feel like I’m just playing a role instead of being myself.”

You nodded, your own expression softening. “Then stop pretending.”

His eyes flickered to yours, uncertain.

“You’re strong, Eijirou. Not just because of your quirk or your title, but because of who you are. People admire you, yeah, but you don’t have to be their unshakable hero 24/7. You’re allowed to be tired. You’re allowed to feel overwhelmed.”

He looked down, gripping his hands into fists. “But if I stop, even for a second… what if I let people down?”

You stepped closer, your voice quieter now. “Then let me hold you up.”

His breath hitched, and for the first time, the unbreakable hero looked like he was on the verge of cracking.

You weren’t sure what compelled you to do it, but you reached out, taking his hand in yours. He stared at the contact, almost as if he couldn’t believe it. His hands were warm, calloused, steady… but they trembled slightly under your touch.

“You’re not alone, Eijirou,” you said softly. “You never were.”

And for the first time that day, he smiled—genuine, quiet, and meant only for you.

---

Kirishima didn’t let go of your hand right away.

For a long moment, he just stood there, his fingers curled slightly around yours, as if grounding himself in the reality of your words. Then, with a deep exhale, he finally released you, rubbing the back of his neck in that sheepish way he always did when he was unsure of himself.

“Thanks, (Y/N),” he muttered, eyes flickering to yours before glancing away. “I… don’t really know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” you replied. “Just… be honest with yourself for once.”

He huffed a small laugh, shaking his head. “Easier said than done.”

You understood that. More than he probably realized.

The two of you had worked together for years now, first as classmates in U.A., then as pro heroes navigating the chaotic world of villain takedowns and public expectations. But unlike him, you never embraced the spotlight. You operated in the background, handling missions that didn’t come with flashing cameras and screaming fans.

And yet, despite your differences, you and Kirishima had always been close. You had each other’s backs on the battlefield, sure—but this? This felt different. Deeper.

A sudden knock on the nearby office door made both of you straighten.

“Red Riot?” a voice called. It was one of the agency assistants. “There’s another interview request. They want to do a feature on your hero origins. The director asked if you’d be available to—”

“Tell them I’m busy,” Kirishima interrupted, surprising both you and the assistant. His voice wasn’t harsh, but it was firm.

The assistant blinked. “Oh. Uh… sure thing.”

As the door shut, you turned to him with a raised brow. “Look at you, setting boundaries.”

Kirishima sighed. “I dunno. Maybe you got in my head.”

“Good,” you said with a small smirk. “It’s about time.”

He chuckled, but there was still tension in his shoulders. You could tell he wasn’t used to saying no. After all, his entire identity revolved around being there for others—protecting them, saving them, never letting them down. But heroes weren’t indestructible.

You glanced at him, debating whether to push further. Then, before you could second-guess yourself, you grabbed his wrist.

“C’mon.”

Kirishima blinked. “Huh? Where are we—”

“You need a break,” you said simply, dragging him down the hallway. “And I know exactly where to go.”

---

Fifteen minutes later, the two of you were sitting on the rooftop of the agency, legs dangling over the edge. The city stretched out below, lights flickering like fireflies against the early evening sky. Up here, away from the noise and expectations, the world felt quieter. Smaller.

Kirishima let out a slow breath, leaning back on his palms. “Man… I forgot how nice it is up here.”

You smirked. “That’s because you never take the time to slow down.”

He glanced at you. “And you do?”

You shrugged. “Sometimes. Helps clear my head.”

For a while, neither of you spoke. The wind brushed against your skin, carrying the scent of rain from the distant storm clouds. You could feel the shift in air pressure—a subtle tingle from your Stormweaver quirk telling you that a storm was coming.

Kirishima must have noticed the way you inhaled deeply, sensing the shift. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you murmured. “Just… thinking.”

“About?”

You hesitated before answering. “Heroes. Expectations. How people think we’re invincible.” You turned to look at him. “How you think you have to be invincible.”

Kirishima frowned slightly but didn’t deny it. Instead, he ran a hand through his red hair, exhaling through his nose. “I know I can’t be unbreakable all the time,” he admitted. “But it’s hard, y’know? People rely on me. They trust me to be strong.”

You nudged his shoulder. “Being strong doesn’t mean never breaking. It means knowing when to let someone help you pick up the pieces.”

His eyes met yours, something unreadable flickering in the crimson depths. “You really believe that?”

“I do,” you said firmly.

Silence settled between you again, but this time, it was more comfortable. Less heavy.

Then, after a long pause, Kirishima smiled—not the wide, toothy grin he always gave to the public, but something softer. More real.

“Thanks, (Y/N),” he said quietly.

You leaned back on your palms, gazing at the horizon. “Anytime, Red.”

And for the first time in a long while, Kirishima allowed himself to just be.

---

The sky darkened, painted in hues of deep blue and violet as night settled over the city. The distant rumble of thunder rolled through the clouds, a subtle reminder of the coming storm. Up on the rooftop, away from flashing cameras and screaming fans, Kirishima finally let himself breathe.

You sat beside him, the gentle hum of the wind filling the silence between you. Unlike most people, you didn’t expect him to fill every quiet moment with conversation. You didn’t push him to be something he wasn’t.

Maybe that was why he always found himself gravitating toward you.

He let out a slow breath, running a hand through his messy red hair. “You ever feel like… people only see what they want to see?”

You turned to him, brow raising slightly. “All the time.”

Kirishima huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah, I guess you would.”

You weren’t flashy like some of the other pro heroes. You didn’t chase fame or crave validation. You did your job—Stormweaver was as reliable as the changing winds, fast and unpredictable, always one step ahead of disaster. People appreciated you, but they didn’t put you on a pedestal the way they did him.

And maybe that was why you understood him better than anyone.

Kirishima leaned back, bracing his arms behind him. “I don’t hate being a hero. I love helping people. I love making them feel safe. But sometimes… I wonder if they only like me because of the idea of me, y’know?”

“The unbreakable hero,” you murmured.

He nodded, jaw tightening. “Yeah. What if I wasn’t unbreakable? What if I cracked? Would they still believe in me?”

You shifted, moving so you were facing him fully. “Eijirou,” you said, voice steady. “You’re more than just your quirk. More than your reputation. And if people can’t see that, then that’s their problem.”

He looked at you then, really looked at you. There was something raw in his gaze, something fragile beneath the hardened exterior. You had seen it before—brief moments where the mask slipped, where the weight of his own expectations nearly crushed him.

But this time, he didn’t try to hide it.

“I don’t want to be a symbol,” he admitted. “I just want to be me.”

You reached out, placing a hand on his forearm. His skin was warm beneath your fingertips, his muscles tense like he was waiting for something—permission, reassurance, maybe even acceptance.

---

The first raindrop landed on your cheek.

It was cold, a stark contrast to the warmth of Kirishima’s skin beneath your fingertips. His crimson eyes flickered to the darkening sky, watching as storm clouds thickened above the city. The wind picked up, shifting unpredictably—an extension of your own unease.

You could feel it coming.

A storm, yes, but something else, too. Something heavier.

Kirishima hadn’t moved away from your touch. If anything, he seemed to lean into it, his tension easing slightly beneath your grip. His confession still hung in the air between you, fragile yet unshakable.

"I don’t want to be a symbol. I just want to be me."

You squeezed his arm gently. “Then be you, Eijirou. The world can wait.”

He exhaled slowly, letting his head tilt back as the rain started to fall in earnest. Droplets clung to his red hair, sliding down his jaw. “I don’t even know what that means anymore,” he admitted.

You frowned slightly. “You’re not just Red Riot. You’re not just ‘the unbreakable hero.’ You’re the guy who stays late after missions to make sure everyone else gets home safe. The guy who buys extra snacks because you know Bakugou won’t eat unless someone makes him. The guy who memorizes every intern’s name so they feel like they belong.”

Kirishima blinked, caught off guard. “You… noticed all that?”

“Of course I did.” Your voice softened. “Because I see you, Eijirou. The real you.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. His expression shifted, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. Then, before you could react, he reached up, his hand cupping the side of your face.

The warmth of his palm sent a jolt through you, like the first crack of lightning splitting the sky.

“You always do that,” he murmured.

“Do what?” you asked, voice quieter now.

“See past the mask.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, though you weren’t sure if it was from the cold rain or the way he was looking at you—like you were something solid, something grounding, something he didn’t have to pretend around.

The rain fell harder now, soaking through your hero uniforms, drenching your hair, but neither of you moved. You weren’t sure if you wanted to.

Then, just as Kirishima opened his mouth to say something else, your earpiece crackled to life.

“Tempest, Red Riot, we have an emergency downtown. Multiple hostages. High-powered villain. Report in immediately.”

The moment between you shattered like glass.

Kirishima pulled back, his expression shifting—not hidden, but focused. He was still him, still raw and uncertain, but this was what he did best.

You pushed your damp hair out of your face, standing up. “Let’s go.”

He hesitated for half a second before nodding, rising to his feet beside you.

Whatever had just passed between you would have to wait.

The storm had broken—and the world still needed its heroes.

---

The city was chaos by the time you arrived.

Neon lights reflected off the slick pavement, distorted by the rain. Civilians had been evacuated to the edges of the streets, their panicked whispers blending with the wail of sirens. The hostage situation was centered in a high-rise bank, shattered glass littering the ground outside.

You and Kirishima landed in sync, the rush of wind from your quirk kicking up debris as you scanned the scene.

“Tempest, Red Riot, we have three hostiles inside,” the lead officer briefed you quickly. “They’ve got a quirk-enhanced barricade, and we believe at least two of them have combat abilities. The hostages are being held on the upper floors.”

Kirishima cracked his knuckles, his expression sharp. “Got it. We’ll handle it.”

You nodded, raising a hand to the sky. The storm above rumbled in response, the air shifting as you pulled at the wind, gathering pressure in your palms.

A deep voice from inside the building called out before you could make a move.

“Well, well. Look who showed up.”

A figure stepped into view through the broken windows. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and covered in jagged, crystalline armor that pulsed with an eerie red light. You recognized him instantly—Breakneck, a high-tier villain with a strength-enhancing quirk that made his body as hard as diamond.

He grinned, his eyes locking onto Kirishima. “Red Riot. Been looking forward to this.”

Kirishima tensed beside you, his jaw clenching. “You know me?”

“Everyone knows you,” Breakneck sneered. “The unbreakable hero, right? Let’s put that to the test.”

Without warning, he lunged.

Kirishima barely had time to harden his body before Breakneck’s fist collided with his torso. The impact sent a shockwave through the street, cracking the pavement beneath Kirishima’s feet as he slid backward.

You reacted instantly, launching a powerful gust of wind to break the momentum, sending Breakneck stumbling. Raising your arms, you called the storm to you, lightning crackling in your fingertips.

“I’ll handle the hostages,” you told Kirishima. “You keep him busy.”

He nodded, shaking off the hit. “Be careful.”

You didn’t waste time responding—within seconds, you shot upward, weaving through shattered windows as you raced toward the upper floors.

The hostages were bound near the back of the room, their eyes wide with fear. Two more villains guarded them, one with a quirk that generated explosive pulses and another with enhanced reflexes. They turned the second you landed.

“You guys are really making this difficult,” you muttered. Then, with a flick of your wrist, the air pressure in the room dropped.

The sudden vacuum knocked both villains off balance as they gasped for breath. You surged forward, wind twisting around your form, striking with a precise kick that sent the first one flying into the wall. The second tried to counter, but you were faster, weaving through their attacks like a current slipping through cracks.

With a powerful gust, you slammed them both to the ground.

“Stay down,” you ordered, voice sharp.

You turned to the hostages, using the edge of a sharp air current to slice through their restraints. “Get out of here. Now.”

They nodded frantically, scrambling toward the exit. You ensured they were clear before rushing back down—only to find Kirishima locked in a brutal fight.

Breakneck was strong. Too strong.

Even with his quirk, Kirishima was struggling, his hardened body cracking under the force of the villain’s relentless attacks. But he wasn’t giving up. He never did.

You clenched your fists. He doesn’t always have to do this alone.

Summoning every ounce of your power, you reached for the storm. Thunder roared in response, lightning dancing between the clouds before you redirected it—channeling the energy straight into your fist.

Then, like a lightning strike breaking through stone, you struck.

The impact hit Breakneck square in the chest, sending an electric current surging through his body. He spasmed, his crystalline armor flickering with unstable energy before shattering on impact.

Kirishima didn’t hesitate. With a final, devastating punch, he sent Breakneck crashing into the pavement, unconscious.

Silence.

Then, as the rain continued to pour, Kirishima turned to you—soaked, breathing hard, but smiling.

“You really saved my ass back there.”

You smirked, the storm still humming in your veins. “Told you. You’re not unbreakable, Eijirou. You don’t have to be.”

Something flickered in his gaze—something softer than battle, stronger than words.

Maybe, just maybe, he was finally starting to believe it.

---

The rain had slowed by the time the fight ended.

The moment Breakneck hit the ground, the tension in the air dissolved. The villain lay unconscious, his shattered armor glinting under the city lights. Sirens wailed in the distance, signaling the arrival of backup. The civilians were safe. The job was done.

But Kirishima wasn’t moving.

You turned to him, breath still uneven, feeling the residual crackle of lightning in your veins. “Eijirou,” you called softly.

He was staring at his hands.

Knuckles bruised. Faint cracks running along his hardened skin. Evidence of the battle. Evidence that, no matter how much he told himself otherwise, he wasn’t unbreakable.

“I was losing,” he murmured, voice barely audible over the rain.

You stepped closer. “But you didn’t.”

He let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “Because you were here. Because you saved me.”

You frowned. “And what’s wrong with that?”

His jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists. “Heroes are supposed to be strong. People look up to us. They trust us to protect them, to be unshakable. And if I can’t even—”

“Stop.”

Your voice was sharp, cutting through the storm in his head. He looked at you, startled.

You met his gaze, firm and unwavering. “You keep saying ‘heroes are supposed to be strong.’ ‘Heroes are supposed to be unshakable.’ But Eijirou—heroes are just people.”

He inhaled sharply, as if the words physically struck him.

You softened slightly, stepping even closer. “People don’t follow you because you’re unbreakable,” you continued. “They follow you because you don’t give up. Because you care. Because you fight even when it hurts. That’s what makes you strong. Not your quirk. You.”

For a long moment, he just stared at you, red eyes searching yours.

Then, slowly, the tension in his shoulders eased. He let out a breath—deep, steadying. Something in him seemed to shift, as if the weight he had been carrying for so long had finally begun to lift.

“You always do that,” he murmured, echoing the words he had spoken on the rooftop.

You tilted your head. “Do what?”

“See me.”

The rain had slowed to a drizzle now, the storm passing, but the world around you felt impossibly still. His gaze softened, his lips parting slightly as if there was more he wanted to say.

You felt your heart skip.

Then, with a small, quiet smile, Kirishima reached out—hesitant at first, then surer—his fingers brushing against yours.

Warm. Solid. Real.

Maybe he wasn’t unbreakable.

But standing here, beside you, he didn’t have to be.

---

The End.

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