#they’re not done writing the story will you PLEASE let them cook

[criticalcrusherbot]

Analyzing Stella: A Case for Subtext and Complexity in Female Characters

By Crushbot 🤖 and Human Assistant 💁🏽‍♀️

In discussions surrounding Helluva Boss, Stella often becomes a lightning rod for debates about character depth, feminism, and storytelling. Detractors frequently dismiss her as a “bitchy ex-wife,” arguing that her lack of explicit motivation or redeeming qualities makes her poorly written. But these critiques miss a vital point about the narrative’s intent: not every female character needs to champion feminist ideals, and not every motivation needs to be blatantly spelled out. Stella, as both an individual antagonist and a representation of the restrictive high-society world she inhabits, plays a crucial role in the tragedy of Stolas’ story.

The Tragedy of Stolas’ Marriage: More Than a Toxic Wife

Critics often reduce the narrative around Stolas’ marriage to “Stella is a huge fucking bitch.” While Stella’s abusiveness is undeniable, the deeper tragedy lies in the circumstances of their union: their marriage was arranged, and Stolas had little say in shaping his life. He is gay. His job, his destiny, and his family were all determined for him by his father, Paimon, and the rigid traditions of Goetic society.

Stella’s actions amplify this tragedy, as she weaponizes cruelty, power, and manipulation to dominate Stolas, but she is not the root cause of his suffering. Instead, she serves as a reflection of the immense privilege and simultaneous lack of personal agency Stolas has experienced. His wealth, status, and political power as a prince coexist with deeply entrenched expectations and obligations that leave him trapped. Stella’s role, then, is both personal and symbolic—she embodies the harsh realities of a life where privilege does not equate to freedom.

Subtext as a Storytelling Tool

One of the most significant strengths of Helluva Boss is its reliance on subtext to explore complex themes. Stella’s character, while not given a detailed backstory or overtly sympathetic framing, is full of implied motivations and context. She thrives in the rigid Goetia aristocracy, wielding her role as a wife and mother to maintain control. Her hostility toward Stolas—whether fueled by wounded pride, rage at his infidelity, or her own insecurities—works not because it is explicitly explained, but because it is consistent with the world she inhabits.

Critics who demand more explicit explanations for Stella’s behavior often underestimate the value of subtlety in storytelling. Stella doesn’t need to monologue about her reasons to be effective. Her actions—throwing objects, degrading Stolas, orchestrating his attempted murder, and sexually abusing him—are chilling precisely because they operate within the boundaries of her character as a cruel, privileged woman who uses her environment as a weapon.

Stolas’ Arc: Reclaiming Agency

Stolas’ story is not merely about “sticking it to the bitch of an ex-wife.” It’s about reclaiming his autonomy after decades of living a life dictated by others. His relationship with Blitz becomes a catalyst for this transformation, giving him the courage to defy not only Stella but also the rigid expectations of Goetic society.

Lines like, “Then you walked in my room, and like sparks in the dark, life was suddenly thrilling and new,” “My entire life has been written in stone; he taught me that I could choose,” and, “I am the Mastermind, the master of my fate,” reflect how profoundly Blitz has influenced Stolas’ journey. This isn’t just about escaping Stella’s abuse—it’s about discovering that he has the power to choose his own path after years of having his fate decided for him.

Stolas’ immense privilege does not negate the emotional stakes of his story. Instead, it complicates them. He exists in a world where he has power, wealth, and influence, yet he has been powerless to live authentically. His arc is not about dismantling systemic oppression (which, interestingly, is in stark contrast with Blitzø’s) but rather breaking free from personal and societal expectations that have left him stifled.

Stella’s Role: More Than a “Bitchy Ex-Wife”

Importantly, Stella doesn’t need to be likable or redeemable to be compelling. Her function in the narrative is to heighten the stakes for Stolas, pushing him toward self-realization. Her lack of development as a sympathetic character is not a flaw but a deliberate choice, emphasizing her role as a foil to Stolas’ journey of liberation. (💁🏽‍♀️: as an aside, Viv has already said she has some development planned for Stella; hold your damn horses.)

Conclusion

Stella’s character reminds us that not every female figure in media needs to be aspirational or a feminist role model to serve a meaningful purpose in the story. While some critics argue that her characterization is shallow or overly centered on Stolas, this perspective misses the intentional use of subtext in crafting her role. Stella is not written to be a nuanced or sympathetic character—she is a deliberate representation of the oppressive, stifling environment that Stolas is fighting to escape. Her cruelty, both personal and systemic, underscores the layers of control and expectation that have defined his life and serves as a catalyst for his journey toward agency and self-discovery.

By leaning into subtext and allowing Stella to remain unapologetically antagonistic, Helluva Boss delivers a layered narrative that highlights the tragedy of Stolas’ life without diluting its focus. Her lack of complexity isn’t a flaw; it’s an intentional choice that reinforces the rigid societal roles within the Goetia aristocracy. Stella’s actions reflect both the personal abuse Stolas endured and the larger system that denied him autonomy, positioning her as a symbol of what he must overcome.

Critics who dismiss Stella’s characterization as shallow overlook her function within the story’s broader themes. Helluva Boss isn’t interested in making every character deeply complex—it uses its cast strategically to explore themes of privilege, identity, and rebellion. By keeping Stella unapologetically antagonistic, the show strengthens its commentary on reclaiming agency and redefining identity in a world dictated by external expectations. Stella doesn’t need to be a fully developed, sympathetic figure to be meaningful; her presence serves its purpose and allows the narrative to focus on the larger story of Stolas’ liberation.

[lemonlover1110]

𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐅𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Sukuna

[Chapter 4] Expecting

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Pairing: Trueform!Sukuna x f!Reader

Warnings: Sukuna's an ass

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Sukuna visits you every night, trying to fulfill his duty. He’s doing his best to make it happen, but your womb is as bare as the day you met. It’s been three months since the day you showed up, and he’s been having sex with you nearly daily. You should be pregnant by now.

Yet, you’ve bled between the months. He’s been keeping track, after all, it’s his whim. You claim the bleeding is lighter than your usual lunar cycle, but that doesn’t signify anything for him… Perhaps you’re less fertile? It doesn’t make sense to him. Women don’t bleed while they’re pregnant, therefore you’re not expecting. 

He’s feeding you, clothing you, giving you luxuries that you could never afford in your lifetime– How dare you not fulfill his simple wish. He’s even helped your brother and helped your aunt in the process as well, he’s going above and beyond while you have done nothing for him.

He’s become increasingly harsh with you. He won’t dare to lay a hand on you, but he’s meaner than usual. He’s at times cruel with you, and while you try to understand that he’s just frustrated with the situation and lack of results, you get in your feelings about his behavior. Who wouldn’t be upset at the fact that a monster nearly twice their size is yelling at them over something they can’t control?

“King Sukuna will enjoy dinner with lady Kyoko tonight, my queen.” Uraume bows down before you. They’ve been giving you the announcement at least once a week. He’s rewarding her for your barren womb. You simply hum in response, barely even acknowledging them.

“Please tell Hina to make my dinner early, I want to rest soon.” You tell them before they leave the room. Sukuna told you that you wouldn’t receive any loyalty from the very beginning, therefore you’re not upset that he goes off with Kyoko when he pleases. As a matter of fact, you’re glad that he’s choosing to visit her tonight.

You try not to think about the situation, though it’s the only thing that pops up in your mind. He’s done what you’ve asked from him, he’s simply waiting on you now. He’s impatient, he won’t wait around on you forever. He’ll get tired of waiting soon, and you fear what will happen to you that day. 

“My queen.” You barely hear Hina coming into your room, so you’re startled when you hear her voice. She holds your tray of food, and you sigh at the sight. The food she makes is delicious each and every time, but you’re just not in the mood to eat tonight. Sukuna won’t let you rest if he knows you haven’t eaten; he wants the process to be as fast and as smooth as possible.

“Hina, do you also cook for Kyoko?” You question once she puts the tray of food down. She furrows her brows, trying to recall who Kyoko is. The name doesn’t ring a bell.

“I apologize, I don’t know who that is.” She responds, and it gives you a sense of satisfaction that the servant that tends to you goes nowhere near Kyoko. Though Hina is more of your personal servant than anything. 

Ever since the night she cooked for you, she’s been tasked with a lot more regarding you. She’s well studied, knowing how to read and write which made Sukuna force her to teach you. She keeps you company during your lonely afternoons, cheering you up while you wait for Sukuna to visit your room. You’re starting to see her as a friend, and the thought of Kyoko getting anywhere near her upsets you.

“Will you keep me company tonight?” You ask her, even though she doesn’t have much of an option. Your request is a command– Luckily for her, she doesn’t mind at all.

“Of course.” She answers with a subtle smile on her lips. She kneels before you, and waits for you to speak. She speaks when spoken to. She steals some glances your way, watching the way you eat the food that she made for you. You usually devour the meal, but it seems that tonight you’re eating with disgust. “Is everything okay? Do you need me to remake the meal?”

“I don’t have much of an appetite, my apologies.” You tell her, and she holds her breath. She hates to scold you but it’s her duty.

“You mustn’t apologize, my queen. King Sukuna would kill me if he were to hear your words.” She responds, and you’re about to mutter another apology due to your carelessness, but you hold back. You chuckle before giving her a slight nod. “What’s on your mind?”

“What makes a woman fall pregnant? Other than sex.” You ask her, and she’s taken back by your question. Her lips form into a straight line as she takes one good look at you. 

“Why would you like to know, my queen? You’re already expecting.” She says, and you furrow your brows. Hina has been by your side to see everything that’s been going on for the past couple of months, she knows that you’re not expecting. 

“Hina… This isn’t a joke.” You tell her, frankly a bit offended that she’s said what she said. She maintains the same serious expression, and you can’t make anything of it. “I’ve still been bleeding.”

“When my mother was pregnant, she bled. Granted, we had no idea but within seven months she had a healthy baby.” She answers. “It sometimes happens.”

“Babies come early.” You point out. Hina knows a lot, but you know your own body. If you were carrying a baby, you’d feel it.

“They do. But you’re also waking up nauseous, with tender breasts and you’re extremely fatigued throughout the day. I’ve been by your side enough to know.” She explains, and you chew on the inside of your cheek. Maybe you’re just sick, it doesn’t signify that you’re pregnant. “Plus you’ve been gaining some weight, it seems like a baby to me.”

“Let’s change the topic.” You end up saying, getting annoyed with her. She’s telling you what she’s noticed, yet you’re getting irritated with the mere suggestion that you’re expecting. You don’t want to get your hopes up in the case that you aren’t.

A week after Hina tells you that you’re expecting, you begin to feel all the symptoms that she mentioned but even worse than before. You think you’re just getting into your head, giving yourself false hope. You’re in your head a lot since Sukuna has stopped visiting you at night. He no longer asks for you to join him for dinner, and you can’t remember the last time you saw his face.

“Hina…” You begin, needing the opinion of someone else. She’s told you that you’ve been gaining weight, but you need her confirmation once again. 

“Yes, my queen?” Hina responds without wasting a second. She’s flashed by you, and she doesn’t even blink twice. It’s common for her to see you bare as she helps you get ready– Though being suddenly flashed is not usual.

“Am I gaining weight?” You ask her, and she nods in response.

“You are expecting.” She reaffirms you for the umpteenth time that week. It goes in one ear and out the other for you, and you’ll ask her in ten minutes once again. Hina walks over to you and tries to cover you with your robe, “Please cover yourself before someone walks inside.”

“Who’s going to dare–” You begin, cut off by the door to your room sliding open. Uraume walks inside, about to give an announcement but they take one good look at you. You’re thinking that they’re staring at you because you’re pretty much naked, and that’s only part of the issue. A subtle smile comes to Uraume’s lips.

“I shall tell him the news.” Uraume says, and you furrow your brows. What are they saying? Are they talking about the fact that you’re practically naked? It’s not anything crazy considering Hina is your servant and helps you with everything throughout the day.

“It’s not necessary.” You tell them, but they don’t listen to you and walk out of the room. It’s not a matter that requires Sukuna so why are they telling him this? Is Hina not supposed to see you bare? “What are they going to do?”

“Tell him the news that you’re expecting.” Hina fixes your robe, and you click your tongue. 

“How would they be able to tell? I don’t even have a bump, I’ve just gained some weight.” You say, and Hina lets out a chuckle. You still refuse to acknowledge it, but she can’t blame you. There isn’t a definite way for you to know. She just feels the energy the moment she steps anywhere near you, it’s too hard to ignore.

“We’ll see what King Sukuna says.” Hina tells you after she’s done dressing you up again. She’d make you more presentable, but she has a feeling that you won’t go out so there isn’t a need for it. She wants you to be as comfortable as possible.

Your body tenses up as you hear his loud footsteps approach the room. You feel as if you were a child about to get in trouble, even if you haven’t done anything wrong– Not to your knowledge at least. Hina bows down on the floor the moment Sukuna enters the room. You don’t give him the same honor, you don’t need to.

“Come here.” Sukuna doesn’t have to speak twice before you’re stepping towards him. You hold your breath when you’re before him, growing impatient as you wait for him to do something. A wicked smile forms on his face before he gleefully says, “It’s resonating.”

“What–” You begin as his hands go to your lower abdomen.

“He has a strong flow of cursed energy.” Sukuna points out, which leaves you confused. The statement isn’t meant for you though, you notice Uraume smiling before they bow down their head. “So much… It has to be twins.”

“Twins?!” You’re still denying the fact that you’re expecting, the mere suggestion that you’re expecting more than one baby is baffling. You try to take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. “How do you even know I’m pregnant? It–”

“Do not question me, woman.” Sukuna can’t even properly yell at you, as a weird feeling consumes him… Satisfaction, it has to be. He’s finally getting what he wants. “How did I not notice?”

“You haven’t–” Uraume begins but Sukuna turns his head to glare at them. They bite their tongue as Sukuna looks back down at you.

“You have to eat properly. I’ll overlook your every meal.” Sukuna says, which is overwhelming to hear. Dinner with Sukuna was already an experience, so you aren’t necessarily excited to have him watch you eat every meal. 

“Is that necessary?” You ask him, and Hina is surprised by your bold words. Though she guesses you can say whatever you’d like when you’re expecting Sukuna’s child. “I mean so far I’m eating well and everything–”

“I will be accompanying you.” He hates when he has to repeat himself, but he guesses he has no other option. He’s not going to harm you in any way, at least not when you’re clearly pregnant. “Uraume make the announcement, and set people to watch her.”

“Watch me? Am I a child?” You question, and he can’t help but chuckle. You truly are clueless, he can’t help but be amused.

“Someone will try to harm you. You’re so pathetic that you can’t fend for yourself, so I’ll assign someone to watch you.” Sukuna answers, and just as the words leave his lips, an idea comes to mind. Would he like to have you by his side all day and every day? Absolutely not. Does he want to ensure that you’re safe and his son(s) are alright? Yes. In that way he’ll also have the pleasure to rub it in everyone’s face that he’s having an heir. “I retract my order. I’ll be watching her.”

“King Sukuna, that’s not the best decision–” Uraume begins, thinking about your well-being considering Sukuna’s life is something that you’re not ready to see. You’ve been shielded from it the past couple of months, but he’s even worse than the being that he presents himself to be.

“I’ve made my decision and that’s final. Who are you to question my order?!” He raises his voice, which is the most extreme reaction that he’d give Uraume. If they were anyone else, they would’ve taken their final breath. Sukuna rolls his eyes before speaking again, “You, on the floor, make her something to eat. And you, Uraume, get to work on my food.”

“Yes, my king.” They respond in unison before walking out of the room, leaving you alone with Sukuna.

You aren’t sure what to do once you’re alone with him. Whenever you’re alone with him you proceed to have sex, but it’s too early in the day for that to happen. You’re not sure if it’s going to happen again, not when you’re already expecting.

“You’ve proved to be useful.” Sukuna comments, extending one of his arms for you to take, so you can walk with him to the dining room. You’re hesitant to take it, but you end up doing what he wants you to since you don’t need him to raise his voice at you. Walking alongside him is an honor for anyone, and you’re the first to do it– Not because he sees you as an equal, but because you carry something that is.

“How do you know that I’m expecting?” You question, which goes unheard by him. It’s not for the same reasons as Hina since Sukuna isn’t by your side to know that your body has been changing. You recall his words from earlier, though they make little to no sense.

“What do you want?” Sukuna asks you, and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion, looking up at him. “You must want a gift considering you’ve partially fulfilled your duty.”

“Oh…” You respond. Your gift was him helping your brother and aunt, which he already has done. But he’s offering something more, which you’ll gladly accept. You just have to think about what you want. “Can I see my family?”

“No. Anything else?” Sukuna answers, and you sigh. You shake your head, you don’t want anything else for the time being. “Jewelry is what your kind likes, no?”

“I guess.” 

“Then you’ll get jewelry.”

[isackwhy]

Please do write them in the apocalypse it would be funny and i know it🙏

okay….y’all convinced me….

tgc boy’s in an apocalypse hc’s (kinda x reader)

isaacwhy

i think he’d survive pretty fucking long dare i say

resourceful

also strong so

and he knows how to shoot guns apparently

if u didn’t know how he’d 100% show u

kills snakes and yells at the ppl who complain that’s for dinner

“SOFT HANDS. YALL GOT SOFT HANDS”

def the type to speak to the walkers like they’re human before killing them

“oh brother you look like shit”

saves u extra food

tries to take the role of leader

gets shot down immediately

accidentally fucks around and finds out

like he does some shit couldn’t do legally beforehand and gets like mildly hurt

really observant over like u and the guys

listens for every sound

bigt

doesn’t take this shit seriously 9/10 times

finds a bandanna and it becomes his thing

“hey larry, do i look cool?” as he holds up an smg he stole off a dead guy

the one that cracks jokes even after a whole horde nearly killed y’all

“well—at least it wasn’t a close call”

it was.

will tend to u before anyone else

cooks up random ass shit w random ass shit and will eat it happily

gathers the items

tries to open a shop and basically gets told to go fuck himself

would try and use a spear

fails miserably

larrycroft

has the devious plans to get y’all out of sticky situations

sometimes u can’t tell if he’s being deadass bc they’re so odd until he does said plan

wants to die bc of how much of a picky eater he is and how he has like no choice to eat it

sleeps in trees above yall

will steal u clothes and jewelry

would somehow find an mp3 player and it becomes yalls godsend

tells stories near the fire

the small but mighty type

like will sneak up on people and kill (if needed)

tries to eat random berries

do not let him eat the random berries .

will pretend he knows what they are

he doesn’t.

him and tanner bring back random ass shit to decorate ur base w (if u have one idk)

softwilly

also tried to make himself leader.

not happening.

there’s no leader

went to school for chemistry so i imagine he’s good at making that kind of stuff

does know which berries to eat

brings bento w him

“bet ur missing ur vape right now isaac”

“i fucking hate u”

makes all the traps for like walkers and animals

complains every time u sleep in the woods

is adamant on when to switch watch shifts

like will shake u from a slumber if it’s ur turn

feel like he’d use a pistol idk

subconsciously handles most of the confrontations w ppl w isaac

freaks out when y’all don’t have somewhat clear water

and still wants to be as clean as possible so he will disappear to bathe in a lake if possible

loves surprising u w random shit he found as a little gift

yumi

sniper. and a good sniper too

maybe siege influenced him idk

kinda takes it the most seriously

“guys. enough. we don’t know what could be in here”

makes sure the rations are even smh

steals random leaves to pretend they’re weed and pretends to roll them for u

but would also steal flowers for u

“i’m done walking. there’s a building there”

somehow still dripped out

found a fanny bag and it’s his prized possession

doesn’t take shit from anyone

probably will curse a guy out and end up in a fight

that’s all my brain got got now

[comfortless]

syl. *grabs you and shakes you* syl. i woke up in a cold sweat thinking of like… könig. already off to a great start ik. but space opera könig. (not like star wars or anything) but think like 70s aesthetics all bright and colorful. he’s a bandit in a stolen ship, formerly part of a military group making peace with other planets but something went awry and he’s just having fun now!

reader is part of a small research group that has landed on a planet he’s camped out on and he’s just like “ok” followed by “i want that”. steals all of her supplies and then her. doesn’t care how much she protests when he just hauls her over his shoulder, pats her butt bc he thinks THATS going to calm her down and throws her into his ship.

she’s happy he’s not some creepy alien but at the same time who really knows what’s under that hood anyway hmmmm and she wants to hate him but also all that’s playing in her head is that one rah band song. messages from the stars lmao please. there is something in the way you write that is so special to me and if you were to come up with a full blown story for my dumb idea i think i would scream for 20 hours straight.

lil wisp….. you have no idea what this has done to me. i am going to be thinking about this for an eternity. let’s cook.. i see your vision and i would love nothing more than this too!!

content/warnings: implied violence, abduction, dubcon groping?

König’s been on his own, drifting through the stars for so long. Only raiding the ships he comes across for food, supplies, and when he stumbles across a mechanic he puts them to work with a silly laser rifle pointed right at their head (because let’s face it— when you’re a wanted space pirate who in the universe is going to fix your ship for you??). He’s put all of human etiquette far behind him, and now his life is quite literally just one relentless adventure. He wouldn’t have it any other way!

That is, until his ship is fucked up again, displaying about thirty bright red warnings on its silly hologram screens that he just can not make sense of. The thing is old, has been shot at more times than even he can count, and it’s finally failing him if the loud sputtering and incessant orbital beeps are anything to go by. He considers his luck has run out when he lands the damned thing on some hunk of rock out on the outskirts of a galaxy most don’t even bother with, because there’s nothing out here.

Thankfully, his frustration is short-lived because a smaller ship lands only a few days later; painted in the bright, pearlescent blues and pinks of your standard peace-keeping, research vessel. It’s the perfect craft to steal and it wouldn’t even be difficult… the three humans that exit are so much smaller than him and entirely unguarded. They’re just here to study a few minerals, maybe haul some back to their little camp a few worlds over for fuel and research. He won’t even get into too much trouble for it, he thinks, because even his trashed ship could take them back home. See!! He isn’t all that bad…

At least, until he notices her, bent over admiring some silly, little cluster of crystals in her skin-tight jumpsuit that makes him see stars. The heavy boots that rise up to her knees making her look like little more than a fauness, and she’s so pretty he just can’t help but get a closer look while her teammates are off chittering away and exploring the nothing planet.

She isn’t even afraid of him when he approaches. Just straightens up with her hands clasped in front of her and a smile on her face. She hasn’t seen the holograms of him, displaying a sizable bounty for his veiled head, doesn’t take a wary note of the massive rifle he has slung over his shoulder; she just sees another person. He hasn’t been looked at like that since long before he left home!!

This sweet woman has no sense of self-preservation either, because she immediately asks him if he needs food or water; gestures over to her brightly colored ship with that pretty smile ever-present on her face, and that’s all it takes for him to decide that not only is he taking the craft, he’s taking her too.

He doesn’t say a word when he lifts her up over his shoulder, and the poor thing must be shocked because it takes her a moment before she starts squirming in his grip. König does well to remove the little radio strapped to her hip, giving her ass a firm squeeze in the process before tossing it in the dust behind him. That’s all it takes to shut his little prinzessin up before he hauls her back into her ship and demands she turn off any tracking systems. Her knees are a bit weak when she fumbles with the control panels, and he’s unashamed of his own erection when he slides in behind her to lean over the console as the ship starts up.

She whines about leaving her friends stranded, of course, but he’s in a world of his own when he grabs her by the hips and seats her in his lap while she pilots. Never mind the others, he’ll take good care of her, honest!!

[lovessidney]

You're worth finding

Please note that this explicit story was written by an adult, for adults. If you are under the age of 18, please do not interact.

Trigger warning: Alcohol abuse.

Pairing: Gerard Way x Reader

Pronouns: none, I think (anatomy: AFAB).

Requested by: @xpsidedownn

Summary: You and Gerard get into a terrible fight. They’re drinking in a worrying kind of way and all you want is to help them, but it doesn’t go down the way you want it to. You spend the evening looking for them and in the end, you make up.

A/n: This request has taken me aaaaaaaaages, and I’m so so so sorry. I’ve had the worst writers block and have been working my ass off both with uni and actual work. But it’s finally done. 

Also, I'm switching up my writing. So, if you’ve read anything of mine maybe you’ve seen I’ve always written in third-person perspective. I don’t know why. However, that led to a lot of names, pronouns and (y/n)s, so I’ve decided to try first-person perspective. I hope y’all like it.

Second ”also”, I’m in no way trying to glamorise alcohol abuse, and I tried to be respectful about it. I fully understand it’s a very real disease and I’m in no way trying to portray it unfairly or disrespectfully. Still; if any of you feel like I’ve gotten something wrong or find it disrespectful, please let me know and I will do my best to alter the story or simply remove it.

Your timer beeped, letting you know it was time to start boiling pasta. The sauce to accompany it was already simmering in a pot beside the one now containing pasta. It smelled wonderful, you had to admit.

Gerard had had a very rough week, stressing a lot for tonight’s gig. In an ordinary situation, you would’ve been there to support them, as well as the rest of the band. Unfortunately, you had one hell of a cold and had spent most of the past few days in bed, accompanied by various medicines and wads of paper tissues.

Despite it all, you wanted to do something nice for Gerard. Dinner and a movie, at home edition. So you had made your way to the local supermarket, getting ingredients for their favourite pasta dish, as well as snacks and an unusually nice bottle of red wine.

When you got home, you had a shower and even dressed up just a little bit nicer than usual. And now you stood in the kitchen, just finishing up the last of the dinner preparations.

You looked toward the table. There were candles lit, a fresh bouquet of roses, and two glasses of red wine. Soft music played in the background, adding to the soft and romantic atmosphere.

You could hear a key being inserted into the lock. Or at least, it sounded like someone was trying to unlock the door. A few moments passed, and the struggle persisted. Your mind started wandering. It wasn’t the first time this happened. And as good as every time it did, Gerard was drunk beyond belief.

Your heart sank, and immediately your mood changed. You weren’t angry. Not at all. You were just worried about them. They had been drinking much more, and much more often lately. You knew something was wrong. Gerard probably knew it too, deep down somewhere. But they weren’t in a place to accept that or accept help. Not right now.

A few more moments passed by, and you decided to go let them in yourself. They almost fell inside as you opened the door. Clearly, they had been leaning against it while trying to find the right key and unlock the door.

You caught them in your arms and immediately smelled the alcohol on their breath. You wrapped your arms around them, holding them close. Even if this wasn’t what you had imagined, you were glad to have them home.

For a while, you just stood there, arms wrapped around each other. “Hi, honey,” you finally said and kissed them when you had let go of each other.

“Hi, you,” they answered, slightly swaying on the spot as you let go of them.

You tried not to let your brow furrow with concern as you looked at them. Still, they noticed. “It smells really nice. Have you been cooking?” they asked, in an attempt to cheer you up. But they were still swaying, their words were slurred, and it just broke your heart. It would’ve been one thing if they were drunk but otherwise in good spirits, but that sadness in their eyes worried you. You know that they hadn’t gotten drunk to celebrate another good gig, but rather to escape something, and it just killed you.

You smiled at them. “Thanks, Gee. Are you hungry?” you asked while lacing your fingers together. They nodded tiredly. You led them to the kitchen. It wasn’t many steps from the hallway to the kitchen, but they still almost crashed into a wall on your way there.

In the end, you decided just to sit them down on one of the chairs and serve them their food before getting your own. Before you sat down, Gerard had already emptied their glass of wine. You could feel the tears prickling behind your eyes.

“Honey, has something happened?” you asked them. Usually, they got drunk, but when they came home to you, they tried to dial it down. Not this time, though.

They looked at you with tired, empty eyes and said nothing. They just reached for the bottle and poured another glass. It was more than what you would usually pour into a glass of that kind. Especially for a somewhat romantic dinner. They lifted the glass to their lips.

“Gee, please, you have to talk to me,” you somewhat pleaded, somewhat demanded.

Gerard’s gaze flickered from the glass to you, their eyes clouded with a mixture of sadness and anger. “Talk? About what?” Their words were sharp, and their tone laced with bitterness.

“About what’s been going on, Gerard. You’ve been drinking so much lately, and I’m scared. Something’s not right, and I want to help you.”

They scoffed, their laughter tinged with bitter irony. “Oh, now you’re an expert on my life, huh? You think you know what’s best for me?”

You shook your head, tears welling up in your eyes as you struggled to make them understand. “No, Gerard, I don’t think I know what’s best for you. But I can’t just stand here and watch you destroy yourself. You’re drowning in this, and I don’t know how to help you if you won’t let me in.”

Gerard pushed themselves up from the chair, their legs scraping against the floor with an awful screech. Their face contorted with frustration and they jabbed a finger in your direction. “You think I’m the problem? You think I need to be fixed, like some broken toy?”

Your voice trembled as you tried to reason with them. “No, Gerard, you’re not a problem to be fixed. You’re a person who’s hurting, and I love you. I just want you to talk to me, to let me in. Please.”

They took a step toward you, their eyes blazing with a mix of anger and despair. “You don’t get it, do you? You can’t fix me! No one can. So stop trying!”

The weight of their words hung in the air, suffocating the room. You felt tears streaming down your face as you watched them walk out the door, leaving you alone in the dimly lit room, with the remnants of your romantic dinner and a heavy sense of helplessness hanging in the air.

The plates and the rest of the supposed-to-be romantic dinner sat on the table, untouched, a stark contrast to the emotional turmoil that had just unfolded. You knew that you couldn’t force Gerard to talk or change their ways. They had to want to change for themselves.

With a heavy heart, you got up and began cleaning up the kitchen. The candles you had lit earlier flickered softly as you extinguished them one by one. The roses in the bouquet still looked beautiful, but their presence seemed bittersweet now.

After cleaning up the kitchen, you found yourself sitting alone in the dimly lit room. Tears had streaked your cheeks, leaving trails of sadness in their wake. The bottle of wine on the table tempted you, almost like a silent, soothing friend. But you knew that indulging in it wouldn’t be right, not after what the fight had been about. So, you chose cold water to quench both your thirst and your emotions.

Sipping the water, you gazed out of the window at the dark night sky. Memories of what romantic dinners used to be flooded your mind. The laughter, the shared dreams, the way Gerard’s eyes used to light up when you surprised them with their favourite meal. You held onto those memories like a lifeline, knowing that someday, you’d find your way back to that happiness. And with that, you also knew that you had to find Gerard, wherever they had gone off to. 

With determination in your heart and a sense of purpose, you headed out into the night, leaving your home behind. The city around you was bathed in the soft glow of streetlights, casting long shadows on the empty streets. The echoes of your argument with Gerard still reverberated in your mind, but you refused to let despair consume you.

You got into your car and just drove, without any plan at all, as if you hoped Gerard would just turn up. You drove through the darkened streets, memories of your time together replaying in your mind. The city held so many moments – moments of joy and love. You remembered the motel where you had stayed temporarily when you last moved, a place that despite everything held many good memories and lots of hope for the future.

Though you didn’t know why, something deep inside you told you that Gerard might be there. Maybe it was a sense of nostalgia, a longing for a time when things were simpler, a time when you were each other’s everything.

As you pulled up to the motel, you felt a surge of both anxiety and anticipation. You hesitated for a moment, your hand gripping the car’s steering wheel, before finally stepping out into the night.

The motel was just as you remembered it – a nondescript building with a neon sign flickering intermittently. You parked the car and took a deep breath, unsure of what you would find inside.

Entering the dimly lit lobby, you approached the reception desk, your heart pounding with uncertainty. The tired-looking motel clerk glanced up from a magazine, offering a weary smile. “Can I help you?”

You hesitated for a moment, then decided to ask. “Has someone named Gerard checked in here?”

The clerk raised an eyebrow, seeming uninterested at first. But then, after a moment of thought, he nodded slowly. “Yeah, there was a guy who checked in about an hour ago, they looked pretty out of it. Room 205.”

Your heart skipped a beat. It was as if a surge of hope had washed over you. You thanked the clerk and stepped outside again, looking for room 205.

Gerard was sitting outside the door of 205, a pack of beer beside them and a cigarette to their lips. They looked absolutely miserable.

As you walked closer, Gerard looked up at you. They blinked a few times, just to make sure what they were seeing was true. They fumbled for words for a moment. “How did you find me?” they said, their words slightly slurred. “I don’t know honey. Something just told me you’d be here.”

You sat down beside Gerard and leaned your head on their shoulder. They held the cigarette out for you to take a drag, and they looked at you while you did. “You’re so pretty,” they said with sad, bloodshot eyes. 

“Gerard honey, so are you. You’re my darling.” You placed a soft kiss on their cheek. “I’m so sorry I got angry before honey. I just get worried about you.” 

Gerard looked at you with big eyes. “I’m sorry too. I know you’re just looking out for me. I know I’m hard to love sometimes.” You carefully pushed a strand of hair from Gerard’s face. “You’re not hard to love, honey, I love you the most in the entire world. I just want you to be okay.”

You just sat there together for a moment, taking turns with the cigarette. You leaned your head on Gerard’s shoulder again, just wanting to be close.

The night air was cool against your skin as you and Gerard sat there, side by side, sharing the cigarette. Time seemed to slow down, the weight of the argument and the tension from earlier dissipating in the shared moment of calm.

Gerard’s fingers brushed against yours as they took another drag from the cigarette. Their gaze remained fixed on the distant horizon as if searching for answers in the darkness. “I don’t want to be this way, you know,” Gerard finally confessed, their voice a mixture of vulnerability and regret.

You squeezed their hand gently, offering reassurance. “I know, Gerard. It’s not easy, but you’re not alone. We’ll face it together.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of Gerard’s lips. “You always know how to make me feel better,” they whispered, their words carried away by the breeze. “That’s what I’m here for,” you replied softly, leaning your head against their shoulder once more. “We’ll get through this.”

After a while, the cigarette burned down to its last embers, and Gerard extinguished it against the pavement. They turned their head to look at you, their eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and affection. “You’re my rock, you know?” You chuckled, a warm feeling spreading through your chest. “And you’re mine. The ups and the downs, they’re all part of who you are.”

Gerard leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, a tender affirmation of your connection. “Let’s go home,” they said softly, their hand finding yours. Together, you stood up, leaving behind the worries and strife of the evening.

Back in the car, as you drove through the quiet streets toward your apartment, a comfortable silence enveloped you. Gerard’s hand rested on your thigh, their fingers tracing absent patterns as if seeking comfort in just touching you. The city lights twinkled in the distance, a reminder that life continued beyond the challenges you faced.

When you arrived home, you led Gerard inside, the familiarity of the space providing a sense of grounding. Gerard’s band posters adorned the walls, a testament to their musical passion. You once again settled in the kitchen. Gerard looked at you with a mixture of exhaustion and gratitude. “Thank you for finding me,” they said softly. “You’re worth finding,” you replied, a gentle smile curving your lips.

“How about some tea?” you suggested. “And maybe some toast as well?” Gerard’s eyes lit up for a moment. “Are you sure? It’s late, and you probably want to sleep, and-” “Nonsense,” you said, retrieving the tea and a kettle. “Anything to help you feel better. And I’ve heard eating bread is good when you’ve had alcohol.”

You put a record on, and soon, the kettle whistled, and you poured the steaming water into cups, the soothing scent of chamomile enveloped the room. With a plate of warm toast in hand, you settled on the couch, passing Gerard a cup of tea and a slice of toast. They took a sip and let out a contented sigh. 

“You really know how to make everything better,” they said with a soft smile.

“It’s a talent,” you quipped, a playful grin on your face. Gerard leaned in, their lips meeting yours in a soft kiss. 

“I love you,” they murmured against your mouth.

“I love you too,” you whispered back, your heart feeling full and light.

As you both savoured the tea and sandwiches, the world outside faded into the background. At that moment, it was just you and Gerard, a testament to the strength of your bond and the willingness to weather the storms together. The scars of the evening were healing, replaced by a renewed sense of hope and the knowledge that love could conquer even the darkest of moments.

You sat together, mostly in silence, listening to the soft tunes the record player emitted. An array of candles glimmered on the table in front of you. Gerard had had almost all of their tea, while yours remained mostly untouched. 

Despite having them back here with you, you still worried. You loved them so much, and all you wanted was for them to be okay. And the one thing you wanted least of all was to be angry. Sure, you knew that anger wasn’t the real emotion. The real emotion was worry, and feeling powerless, not able to protect them. And for some terrible reason that sometimes morphed into anger. The ugly, secondary emotion.

You looked over at Gerard, sitting curled up under a blanket at the opposite end of the sofa. They looked tired. Both as in that they needed to sleep, but also tired as in worn down, as in that they were having a hard time. You scooted closer and stretched your arms around them. A smile played on their lips for a moment. You allowed them to set their mug of tea down before pulling them into your arms. “Come here, honey.” They gladly fell into your arms and cuddled up there.

You sat together like that for a long time. You listened to Gerard’s breath and carefully stroked their hair. The record had come to its end, and the only sounds were now your breathing and Gerard’s yawns.

“Do you want to go to bed, darling?” you asked when you noticed the yawns becoming more frequent. They looked up at you, their eyes now tired instead of glazed over.

They nodded sleepily. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

The slurring was almost entirely gone now, and when Gerard walked to the bedroom, they didn’t stumble anymore.

“Okay, I’ll be right there, honey,” you said with a smile their way before collecting the dishes and taking them to the kitchen. After the dishes were set down, you got a glass from the cupboard and filled it almost to the brim with water before bringing it to Gerard in the bedroom.

They were already lying in bed, looking like they’d fall asleep any moment. You reached out the glass of water to Gerard. “Have some water, Gee, I think it’ll make you feel slightly better in the morning.”

They nodded and reached for the glass. A few sips later, they put the glass down on the nightstand and reached out for you. You were too tired to properly hang your clothes up and simply threw them on the chair in the corner of the bedroom. You slipped under the covers and cuddled up close to Gerard. For a moment, you just lay there, looking at each other.

You scooted closer and nuzzled your nose against Gerard’s. Carefully, Gerard reached their hand up to caress your cheek. “I love you, honey,” you whispered. A small smile played on their lips. “I love you the most in the entire world, actually. And I’ll never stop loving you. You know that, Gerard?”

Gerard nodded carefully. “I love you too. And I’m sorry about before.”

That sadness reached Gerard’s eyes again. Just as before, it shattered your heart. You didn’t even know what to say, so you just leaned in to kiss them. ”You don’t have to apologise honey. I’m just glad to have you home again.” And with that, you kissed them again.

As the weight of the evening’s events began to lift, and the warmth of reconciliation and love enveloped you both, the bedroom felt like a sanctuary. The soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminated your faces as you continued to exchange kisses.

The kisses were soft at first, a gentle exploration of each other’s lips. Your fingers traced the contours of Gerard’s face, eliciting a soft sigh of contentment from them. Their hands moved slowly, too, caressing your back and shoulders as the intimacy between you deepened.

You couldn’t help but smile between kisses, the connection between you growing stronger with each passing moment. The taste of chamomile tea lingered on Gerards lips, adding a sweet and comforting layer to your kisses. In the dim light, you gazed into Gerard’s eyes, searching for any lingering traces of sadness. 

Their gaze met yours with a newfound intensity, a desire to be present in the moment, to be close, to feel cherished.

The tenderness of your kisses gradually gave way to a more passionate longing. Your breaths quickened as your mouths moved together with an urgency that mirrored the intensity of your emotions. Fingers began to trace the curves of bodies, exploring the familiar terrain of each other’s skin.

Gerard’s soft moans filled the room, a symphony of desire and affection. The layers of clothing became an obstacle, one that you both eagerly discarded, exposing the vulnerability and beauty of your bodies.

Skin against skin, your bodies entwined, the warmth of Gerard pressed against you. You savoured every sensation, every touch, every kiss. The scent of your shared perfume, the taste of Gerard on your tongue, the feeling of their soft hair under your fingertips. The slow and gentle movements, the tender caresses, the breathless sighs and soft cries of pleasure.

Gerards hands left their place on the small of your beck and found their way upwards, one cupping your breast and one around your shoulders to pull you closer. They caressed you carefully and you could feel them growing harder against you.

You ground your hips against Gerard, seeking the friction that you both craved, urging them to continue the exploration. They obliged willingly, moving downwards from your breasts to your stomach, leaving a trail of kisses and licks as they went.

Their warm breath ghosted over your body, making you shudder with anticipation. Their eyes were fixed on you, observing every twitch and moan of pleasure as their tongue made contact with your inner thigh. They were teasing you, taking their time, enjoying the moment.

Your body ached for more, desperate for their touch, but instead, they continued their leisurely exploration of your skin. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they kissed you there. You could feel yourself dripping as they slipped a finger inside you.

Gerards lips closed around your clit and they sucked softly. A strangled cry escaped your lips as they slid another finger inside you, curling it to find your most sensitive spot.

It was too much and not enough at the same time, your senses were overwhelmed by Gerard. You gripped the sheets tightly, arching your back as they continued their ministrations. 

Their mouth on your clit, their fingers inside you, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your legs trembled, and your whole body tensed as the pleasure built up. Gerards lips pulled back from your clit and their tongue pressed down against it.

"Oh god, Gerard...," you gasped as they worked their fingers inside you. The slow and deep movements made you dizzy with pleasure, and you couldn't help but grind against their hand. "I want you."

Your words had an instant effect on Gerard. They looked up at you, eyes gleaming with excitement. "Tell me what you want." It was not teasing or demeaning the way they said it. You knew it just turned them on so much to hear you say it.

You could barely speak through the waves of pleasure coursing through you, but you knew exactly what you wanted. "I want you to fuck me, Gerard. I love you so much and I want you to fuck me"

They nodded, removing their hand from your body and getting onto their knees. The sight of them in this position was almost too much for you to handle. They looked down at you, gaze full of desire and affection. "I'd be happy to, darling."

Gerard positioned themselves between your legs, entering you slowly, inch by inch, filling you with pleasure. Their thrusts were deep and deliberate, making you shudder with joy every time they bottomed out inside you. You wrapped your legs around their waist, pulling them closer, urging them to continue.

You could feel the warmth of their skin against yours as they moved inside you, the sensation sending tingles down your spine. Their kisses became more urgent, their movements faster, but still maintaining their steady rhythm.

As the heat between you intensified, the sound of your moans and gasps filled the room. Gerard looked down at you, their gaze full of love and tenderness. They kissed your lips again, eliciting a moan of pleasure from you. "I love you, my sweet," they murmured, their voice hoarse with pleasure.

Your climax was building quickly, the pressure inside you rising to unbearable heights. You threw your head back and rambled their name over and over as the wave of ecstasy crashed down on you, sending shockwaves through your body. They continued to move inside you, prolonging your orgasm until you couldn't take it anymore.

"Gerard, I... oh god, I can't..." You sobbed in pleasure as your body began to tremble.

They understood your need and stopped moving, letting you ride out the waves of pleasure that still made waves in your body. Gerard stayed still until your breathing steadied and you smiled up at them. You blinked at them for a moment, just taking in their beauty.

You pulled them downwards for a soft kiss before gently rolling them onto their back. They looked up at you with a confused expression, clearly not expecting this development.

"My turn," you whispered, kissing them again. "I want to make love to you."

Your lips found their way down their neck and chest, leaving a trail of kisses in their wake. You enjoyed the taste of their skin, savouring the salty sweetness of their sweat as you moved lower. Their breaths quickened with excitement as your mouth found their nipples. You flicked your tongue over their hardening nub and they moaned softly in pleasure.

You continued your descent, trailing kisses across their stomach until you reached their cock. You glanced up at them, smiling as you pressed your mouth against the warm skin above it. The smell of their arousal was strong, and you could feel yourself becoming even wetter with anticipation of another round.

Their hips rose to meet you as you kissed them there, so soft and tender. Your hands wrapped around their cock, stroking them slowly, watching them shiver under your touch. "Oh god, that feels so good." They were beautiful like this, eyes closed, back arched, body responding to your every touch. You loved seeing them in the throes of passion, unable to contain their pleasure, giving into the sensations of your touch and tongue.

Your lips continued to move lower, kissing their inner thighs and sensitive areas that made them quiver. You took your time, enjoying the moment as you licked and sucked, exploring every inch of their skin until you reached the base of their cock.

Gerard looked down at you, gasping for breath, watching with wonder as you took them into your mouth. Your tongue was quick and deliberate, licking and sucking just the right way to make them see stars. They moaned as you took them deep inside your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and moving your head back and forth.

Their hips rose to meet you again, fingers tangling in your hair, guiding you deeper and deeper. You were happy to oblige, taking them all inside you until they gasped for air.

"Oh my god," they murmured, shivering as you continued to suck. "That feels incredible."

You hummed in agreement, the vibrations of your voice making them twitch and groan in pleasure. The sensation was delicious, and you knew it wouldn't take long before they came undone under your tongue. You loved seeing them fall apart like this, falling into your mouth and arms as you held them close.

Gerard pulled you upwards for another kiss. You moved closer, pressing your body against theirs, kissing their neck and chest as they struggled to breathe. Their skin was warm and flushed, radiating pleasure and affection. They were gorgeous like this, so needy and desperate for more.

You felt the heat rising between you again, bodies grinding together, their cock hard and aching for more. You kissed them again, pulling them into a deep and hungry kiss that left them gasping for breath before positioning yourself over them.

"Are you ready?" You whispered, gazing down at them with a gentle expression on your face.

They nodded, wrapping their arms around your waist. "Please, my love."

Their eyes fluttered closed as you lowered yourself onto their cock. You took your time, letting the feeling of fullness take over your body.

You began to move slowly, taking long deep breaths as you rose and fell, building a rhythm that soon became urgent and frantic. Their hands roamed over your skin, caressing your breasts and back. The warmth between you intensified and you both gasped for air as you continued to move, bodies sweaty and entwined.

The pressure inside you grew unbearable again, and you knew it wouldn't be long before you came undone. You looked down at Gerard, their gaze filled with wonder and lust. Their moans were beautiful, soft and desperate, their body trembled and shuddered under your touch.

"I'm so close," they murmured, throwing their head back against the pillow and urging you to move faster, chasing the orgasm that threatened to consume them. "Honey, please... I need more.”

You quickened your movements, grinding against them, making them cry out in pleasure as their cock buried inside you. They looked up at you, their eyes pleading with you for release.

"Oh god, my love...," they whimpered, climax building rapidly. You could feel it coming closer, their body on the edge of ecstasy under you. You were so close yourself, the pressure inside you rising to unbearable heights, almost too much for you to take.

"I'm with you, honey," you murmured, lips moving against theirs as you spoke.

Gerard closed their eyes and moaned softly, their body shaking and trembling under yours. Their release was beautiful, making you gasp with pleasure as you joined them in their orgasm. Your bodies were still tangled together when you opened your eyes again. You couldn't help but smile, breathless and sweaty from lovemaking.

You leaned over them, planting soft kisses all over their face, cherishing the moment, taking in the beauty of them. They wrapped their arms around you, holding you close, stroking your hair and whispering sweet words into your ear.

"Oh my love," they murmured, squeezing your hand. "I’m so lucky to have you."

Your eyes began to brim with tears, happiness bubbling up inside you. "I'm just as lucky to have you," you whispered, leaning in for a tender kiss. "I love you."

Their gaze was full of affection and tenderness, their fingers intertwined with yours. "I love you too," they whispered. "You are my world."

In the soft afterglow, Gerard cuddled up in your arms and you held them close, carefully running your fingers through their hair. The room was bathed in the gentle hues of the rising sun, casting a warm, golden light upon your entwined bodies.

You both knew this wasn’t a magical solution, and that Gerard would still have their ups and downs, it was going to be an uphill battle at times. But for now, everything felt good, and it felt like it was going to be better.

You smiled down at Gerard who had almost fallen asleep on your chest. You kissed the top of their head softly and pulled them closer. The sound of their breathing made you calm, and soon the both of you had fallen asleep.

I hate to sound like a YouTuber (no offence, lol) but thank you for reading if you made it all the way here. I hope you liked it. And don’t hesitate to send me any requests you might have. I have a lot to do right now, but I still like to hear new ideas. Okay, thanks a lot!

[mellowyellow236]

DokiDoki! Wonderland

Not me binge-writing this in mostly one night... I did the start of it before, but dear God, inspiration for this hit me like a freight train, and it has not left just yet. I'm going to post this and then go to bed, though it's too late at night for me right now... If you see me online after this, I'm failing, not lying. TW for an implied ED, the story starts off with a nightmare and the main character being stalked.

My child, please stay with us… 

An older woman… She’s got my eyes, but black hair. That’s different than everyone else. And my face, I noticed that when I was ten. And there’s a man with hair like mine. 

Mother, I could never let anything happen… 

There’s a young woman like me, too. They’re gray, with hints of blue. It’s not rare, but something makes me think it’s special in that woman’s case. 

Love, let them leave and live… 

And then they kiss, and we go our separate ways. I see someone exactly like me in those moments. But small. A baby? And yet I can see her when I’m my age, I can see her looking just like me. The young woman is running towards a large… Painting? It’s maybe a… Mirror, window? I can’t tell. It’s too fancy, too glossy, but when I look at it, I can see a skyline. It’s full of palaces that look almost too smooth to be real. Like drip classes made out of sand, but marble or some other white stone. 

And then suddenly someone else bursts into the room. It’s a man with black hair, and red streaks coursing through. I hear her scream, but suddenly I’m being pushed back. Suddenly, I’m underwater and falling, and there’s a flash of light. And everything’s water, and I’m floating through it, but I can breathe. I can’t breathe, but I can. Water is filling my nose and lungs but it’s fine. But it hurts. It hurts so bad. I’m alive but it feels like I’m dying even though I know I’m not. 

I want to go home. I want to go home. To people with white and black hair. To the young woman and the child. I want to go home. I love them. I don’t know why, but I love them. I love them. I love them all so much. I just left my home. I want to be home, I want to be home, I want to go HOME, I WANT TO GO-

~

I shoot up. I’m crying again. I need to calm down. Focus. Focus on anything else. Anything else, everything else. What else is there to focus on? There are flowers on my bedside table. Chrysanthemums. One white, one red. One black. An unnatural color. That one’s outside of the vase. My alarm’s blaring, it’s five in the morning. 5:03, to be exact. I have to leave at five-thirty. I have to go to the gym. School starts at seven. I can spend an hour at the gym. When I get back I’ll need to shower and do my hair. Deep breath in. Breathe out. Calm down. Get up, stand up, and walk over to the bathroom. Splash water on my face. Okay, I’m calm now, I’m calm. I’m calm. 

Okay. I’m going to walk over to the kitchen and make lunch. What do I have in the fridge? The stuff to make a salad, probably. I need to lower my waist by about an inch to fit into the newest rented costume. That means that I need to budget calories for the day, so no going out with Rielle since he likes cafes with those pretty cakes. I’ve never tried one so I can’t say they taste good, but even their coffee and muffins will be too much for this week. Once I’m done cooking lunch I’ll brush my teeth. I’ve got time to dress for exercise before sunrise, I can use that background for a quick picture, but I still need to keep up my appearance on Magicam. Dress up for it, say I’m going out for a jog. Then go to the gym, and workout. I need to work on my core and leg strength to do the dances for my next concert. Aside from that, I also need to- 

Oh, my phone’s ringing. It’s Grandpa. I should pick it up. 

But I haven’t stopped crying yet. Why are there still tears in my eyes? It’s been minutes. Nearly ten, which is too long for me to spend. I need to get ready. Why can’t I stop it? They feel too hot- like they’re burning me. My throat feels too raw, too tight. It’s too dark for me to see anything but my phone screen, but it’s still too bright. The white numbers are too bright. I want to go back to bed. 

It rings a final time. He leaves a message. 

“Yuri, I assume you’re still sleeping. That’s good, but make sure you’re going to bed early enough, too. You need to sleep more, dear. Remember to eat right as well. A well-balanced diet has plenty of fruits, vegetables, and grains. I know you’ve grown to dislike fruit in recent years, but you need to remember to have it. Speaking of, I was thinking about having dinner together on  Friday. There’s a staff meeting, but it should end at 5, so we could easily have dinner afterward. Or, we could have lunch the next day. It’s been so long since we’ve spent some family time together, you know? The house has been so quiet now that you’ve moved out, I haven’t been without a child for nearly forty years now, assuming you don’t count the year between when you moved in and the girls moved out. Speaking of, your aunts miss you dearly, too. Won’t you call more, Yuri? Well, you can’t answer me now. Call me back when you get a chance. Lots of love, goodbye.” 

There’s a click. He’s hung up. I want to talk to him. I love my grandpa. But I can’t do that today, I’m still crying. I’m still crying. Why can’t I stop crying? I put the lid on my lunch, it’s a salad. I was right, I had good ingredients for that. I’ll put it in my bag and zip it up. Just walk yourself through the movements, Yuri, and you’ll be fine. Everything will be fine. 

Go into your bedroom, get changed. Everything I wear is too… Bleh. I don’t like loose clothes or tight skirts. If you’re going to get me a hoodie, actually let me relax in it, let my back curve and slouch like a teenager. If you’re going to get me a skirt, you should get me one that I can move around in, not leather that’s too tight and short yet too big on my hips without a belt at the same time. Give it a use, and I’ll like it. Not that dolling yourself up is bad or anything, but… I wish I didn’t have to do it every hour of every day. But I wouldn’t be able to live alone without the money, and I don’t want to do part-time work just to make peanuts now that I’ve started getting more modeling gigs. My circumstances won’t change, he’s made sure that’s all but certain, so I couldn’t go back to living with Grandpa, no matter how much he calls to make sure that I’m doing okay. 

I’ve stopped crying. That’s good. I can’t cry while I’m in my car. When I open my door, I pause, for a few seconds far too long. No gift here. I make my way to the stairs. I need to walk to clear my head. That sounds good. I make it into my car before I’m about to cry again. That doesn’t matter, I still need to go. I still need to go. I make it to the gym. There’s a cat outside. Gray fur with little pink toe beans. It walks up to me and sits down at my feet. I’m sorry, dear. I can’t help you. Maybe two years ago, but not today. I have nothing in my apartment for you, and you don’t deserve anything that you would get for coming inside of it. You have a bow around your neck, though, so I know you’re okay. I don’t have to feel bad for anything but not giving you the pets you deserve. It meows at me, suspiciously like someone clearing their voice, but I walk inside before it can catch up. I need to clear my head. I need to, I need to. I have to. 

“Riri!” There he is. That booming voice I’ve come to know and love. Strong arms wrap me up into a hug, my feet still being lifted above the floor no matter how old I get. 

“Uncle Vargas!” I giggle. I don’t like that, but it’s part of the job. I’m an idol, after all. My image above all else, even real laughter in public. “How are you today?” 

“Great! Are you ready to work up a sweat? I’ve got a treadmill with your name on it once you’re done stretching!” I nod. The best part of the gym is Vargas. He’s also been like my fun uncle, sneaking me sweets when Grandpa and Ma said no, or being the first to be willing to learn dances with me so I had a partner. Assuming they were fast-paced, that is, as Grandpa would also try to participate in slower dances when his back wasn’t acting up, and Ma only knew ballroom dances well. 

I nodded, and let him start doing stretches with me in the part of the gym we were always in. The second best part of this place is the traffic cone ladies, as I like to call them, swooning over Vargas. I’ve been coming here since I was old enough to accompany him at thirteen, and every day without fail, they are gasping like fish out of water, gawking at a man who I think is old enough to be their uncle. Not father, but like… old uncle. Or young father, who knows? They’re a few years older than me, maybe five? They were from that high school near where I go to and graduated recently. As far as I’m aware, they’ve never even spoken to the apparent man of their dreams, except when I’m not here and he needs someone to spot him. I’m amazed that constitutes anything remotely romantic in their heads, it’d be impressive if it wasn’t so sad. 

“Stretching done!” I say brightly, the corners of my mouth lifting at least half genuinely for once. I love visiting Vargas, but doing this in public is exhausting since I still need to keep up an image. So that means having the exercise while looking like I’m having a good time. Smiling, looking pleased as I sweat myself to death and further. Dear seven, do I hate this job… I still need to work out, though, so it’s treadmill time! 

~

By the time I was back in my apartment, I’d ended two more bear hugs from Vargas, limbs that felt like jelly, and enough ennui to want to roll back into bed for eternity. Not like I could, anyway. School’s in half an hour… Agh… 

But I need to get ready, so into the shower, I go. With warm water running down my back and chest, my muscles should be able to relax. Should, if I wasn’t so focused elsewhere. A fourth chrysanthemum on my bed. White. Maybe a light blue if I look closer. An apology, maybe. Or another confession. I don’t care. 

~ 

I’m ‘rushing’ into school, a piece of bread in my mouth. Well, I’m set to be three minutes or so late into school, but I’m perfectly calm. Why wouldn’t I be? I’m a dumb blonde on the stage, not in reality. So now, I’ve just woken up and now I’m running there while eating breakfast because I’m late and hungry, as I always am since I took too long in the shower or eating breakfast or whatever. Today, it’s because I was reading in the morning and lost track of time. Jumping on my feet a bit as the door clicks open, waving at the security guard as she waves her hand at me to go before the real final bell. There are a few other people in uniform, some faces from every morning, some that I haven’t seen running late before. Luckily, Rielle and Neige don’t have any time in common with me until lunch, so I don’t have to deal with two idols who actually have the personalities they’re selling. A bit too naive and overly sugary for my taste. I wave and smile at everyone, and they wave back for the most part. 

Sheesh, talk about annoying. Either is mild shock and blushing, or mild disgruntlement. Honestly, the dirty look one guy is giving me is downright uncalled for, what did I ever do to him? Redhead, overly uptight look, short… Oh, the teapot tyrant! Riddle Rosehearts, one year under me. Student council president, strict and aggravating. A stickler for the rules to the point of, being hated by most of the student body. Whatever, time to head into the classroom. 

“Today, we’ll be getting-”

“I’m here!” I exclaim, loud enough for everyone in the classroom to hear. There’s a big but sheepish smile on my face, like a kid caught with candy by a tired parent. Aware that they’ll get a talking-to later, but that no one will take it away until it’s already been eaten. As usual, Ma sighs, signaling for me to sit down where I normally do, on the front next to the window. He runs a hand through his hair, half black on one side and the other a white like mine, and shakes his head. 

“Pup, sit down and put your bags away. Anyway, as I was about to say, we’ll be getting a new student today. He’ll be coming in about halfway through this period, so I expect all of you to give him a warm welcome.” He called out to the class, staring at me as he did so. The last time we got a transfer, specifically six transfers within quick succession, I nearly cried after each one. Luckily, they are all first years so I only see them during the breaks, but I did freak out when we got home, like toddler-level tantrums. Because I’m an absolute drama queen when it comes to my stalkers, the harmless ones, and then my… Rather committed one. Just thinking of him makes me uncomfortable, a shiver running down my spine. “Now, open your textbooks to page 63. If we want to get onto our lab before the tail end of this period, you all better get to work!” 

~ 

Easy peasy, lemon squeezy. Math work is a breeze, so chem tends to be just as easy. It’s just memorization, and I’m not taking any advanced placement classes, so homework is manageable. If I spend my breaks doing it, then I even have an excuse not to talk to those idiots. Maybe I’ll talk about how I’ve got so much studying to do because I really want to be able to pass this class with an A, not that I really do. Well, it’s technically true, but honestly, I just want to graduate and be done with it. Maybe sell some of my gifts and clothes and move to attend college in Europe.

There’s a yawn coming from the back of the classroom, followed by a dreamy sigh from the seat in front of him. Leona and Rook, based on how the voices sound. The most interesting characters in 3-A. I can already sense the poetry Rook’ll be spilling at the end of the period and the scolding that Leona’ll get from Ma. I’m the one that wants to sleep in class because of them… But smiles! Smiling! I’m an idol, and I intend to keep my persona going for as long as I possibly can! 

The door’s opening. I can’t help but take a look at it. In comes an eccentric-looking young man. Over six feet tall with gray-black hair, as though he recently stopped dying it. Or maybe, as though it just started growing in that color. There are various strands of different colors, and every time he moves his head, which he’s been doing quite often around the room, it feels like his hair color changes. He looks like an old man or something. 

“Ah, there you are,” Ma said. Pa’s following behind the boy, cooing as Ma introduces himself.

That kid seems excitable, but there’s something under the surface. I don’t trust him. There’s something that he’s not telling… His clothes look as though they’re brand new, as to be expected from a new student, but his glasses look old. They clearly aren’t for him to be able to see, and from the way he bows to Ma, he seems to be from Japan, so they likely aren’t for style. Assuming he has any sense of it, that is, or if he cares about what the current ‘look’ is. So, why are they so old? They wouldn’t let him transfer in on a scholarship, and I’ve never heard of someone with heirloom glasses that are willing to let their kid wear them to school.

 “I’m your teacher here, you may call me Mr. or Professor Crewel. Class, this is our newest student. Please introduce yourself-” 

Oh- Now he’s looking at me. I’ll give him a nice look, close mouthed smile. A bit of encouragement, to help him to introduce himself. Wait, why’s he getting closer…? He’s excited, not at all nervous like most people are when they approach me, and as though he has a good reason. 

“Skully J. Graves, what are you doing? Get back to the front of the class and introduce yourself. Right now, young man!” 

Another fan? I never knew him as a kid this time, but at least he seems to be in this class. But just look happy to see him, maybe you can get a bit of confusion in. He looks like he has a purpose, a confession of love, maybe? 

“Hello, what is it? Skully, was it? Is there anything I can help you with-?” 

He grabs my hand in both of his, kneeling on the floor and kissing my knuckles. He cries out, “Princess! I’ve waited for you, I’m so glad I found you! The mirror was right, you were here in the mystic city of Tokyo!” Oh, so he’s crazy-crazy. He’s Junior High Syndrome went terminal, well into his senior year of high school. Well, I’ll let him down easy… Maybe ask Ma for a class change, if I need to. 

“Skully-” He presses a pen into my hands, shining gemstone on the top of it, golden details all around. 

“Help me to save Lumeria, Princess Yuri! Transform and fight the evils of Briar Valley with me! You shall be our savior and queen when you kill the Lord of Malevolence in magical, brutal, and glorious combat!” 

…He wants me to do what now? 

[xoxoholix]

Hi ! How are you?If you can.Could you please write yandere modern au headcanons Gyokko and Douma x gender neutral reader.

Of course! I’m so sorry for being late I have a lot going on ..I didn’t proof read it so I hope it’s to your liking

Modern Au Douma (Yandere)

- Before he met you he was an empty shell that enjoyed inflicting pain on others for his own pleasure. You however were his butterfly, his light to brighten the darkness of his heart. He may have sen you walking long the streets, or even shopping at one of his favorite clothing stores. It didn’t matter though, the moment his beautiful eyes found yours, he knew he needed you, and he knew for sure you would be his forever.

- It didn’t take him long to kidnap you he did it after just a moth after eyeing you and of course stalking you for a while. Once he had you in his arms he couldn’t get enough of you, you were too sweet and you’re fearful eyes drove him insane. When he first brought you to his home he already had your favorite things sprawled out neatly in a room you would now call yours permanently. It was painted your favorite color even, Your bed was there, perfume’s/ cologne’s , All of your clothes, everything was there.

- He didn’t mind you screaming at him or crying and begging him to let you go. You didn’t have to love him…you just had to know he loved you and won’t be leaving you any time soon no matter how much you begged. He never grasped the concept of being cautious of feelings, sometimes he would hurt you and not realize it until you’re shaking and crying in your room or a corner.

- He won’t purposely hurt you but if you’re deserving of it in his eyes he will not hesitate to remind you of your place. The worse thing he will do is lock you in a room with no light or any sense of entertainment. Just so you can sit and think about what you’ve done to deserve this. He’ll feed you of course after you learned your lesson. He doesn’t care how much you curse at him you aren’t coming out of that room until you’re begging on your knees for forgiveness. Maybe then he’ll forgive you if he thinks you’re sincere with your apology.

- He’s definitely the type to cuddle with you and watch movies and tv shows with you. They’re all his favorites so you watch what HE wants to look at majority of the time. But occasionally he’ll let you pick something out if you’ve been behaving.

- He likes video games and if you do great you can play with him. Even if you weren’t the best you’d still have no choice to sit in his lap and play every single game he decided to enjoy that day. Finds it cute when you fall asleep in his lap, he may even cut the game off just to wrap his arms around you and hold you. Caressing every bite mark he’s left on your skin, soothing the inflamed skin against the pads of his thumbs.

- speaking of bite marks he leaves a shit ton . Why he does it simple he loves seeing them on you, and doesn’t plan on stopping despite your cries for him to stop.

- He likes to cook and will cook whatever you want him to. He adores when you cook something for him to, it makes him feel loved. Hell he’s cried once when you decided to make him dinner before he came home. You aren’t chained to your room you have free range of the house. He couldn’t help but let his emotions run when he didn’t try to escape and make something for him.

- You will most likely develop Stockholm syndrome from being around him for so long. Then will he be nice enough to let you outside under his supervision, he’ll give you much more freedom and be willing to let you go places with him….but don’t let his lenient behavior fool you. He will wait for you to slip up just so he can repeat the process over again and remind you thoroughly this time not to test his patience.

Modern Au Gyokko (Yandere)

- Gyokko is a different story…He doesn’t see you as a person he sees you as a pet. A cute puppy that he has to take care of and love. When he first laid eyes on you it was a disaster coming your way and you my dear were obvious. You were kidnapped immediately and you couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

- He dresses you and picks out all your clothes , doesn’t care if you don’t like how skimpy or tight it is either. If you’re a male he takes you to the clothing stores he goes to. If you’re a woman he’ll take you to every store that has either the cutest outfits or the most scandalous. Regardless of gender he wants you in something revealing. You look like a fine piece of art to him anyway so why not show it off?

- He finds it cute whenever you try to cover yourself while he paints portraits of you. He’s artistic and will even put you on one of his vases. You’re attractive and he’s just obsessed with how you look and is persistent when it comes to making you model for him every chance he gets.

- He will definitely make a collar for you and have his name engraved in it. He loves to see it right around your throat moving every time you walk or move. It’s the color you like the most which he seems to be influenced with. All his paintings and vases have your favorite color, hell he even has his fingernails painted that exact color.

- Everything about you makes him drive you nuts. You don’t have your own room he just put you in his room in a small little fluffy chair that resembles that of a dog bed… he’s a asshole and lives to humiliate you.

- If you try to leave he’ll kill you simple as that, and he doesn’t care if you do love him or not. He just keeps you as a possession and nothing more.

- He’s the worst out of the two of them.

[streakyglasses]

So I have another prompt…well idea. Stris getting a dog - so a Stris friend of mine and I have talked a lot about this lol. We also have their children named 😆 but first, I think they need a dog. I just imagine them talking about the next step in their relationship, adding a member to their family, aka a dog 🥺 thank you for all your amazing little stories, I adore every one of them!

Hello! I’m absolutely in love with the idea of them getting a dog (if that isn’t obvious). thank you for sharing this—it was an absolute joy to write! i feel like I got to stretch writing muscles/explore aspects of their relationship that I hadn’t before. + calling back to some earlier moments & hopefully injecting enough fluff to keep us all warm through winter lol! thank you for all your support & being a part of this lil community 🩵✨

read under the cut (will be on ao3/fun later)

Things are perfect. It took time, sure, but they are. Fulfilling jobs. A small one-bedroom apartment that’s distinctly theirs. Pictures lining the walls and two backpacks hung next to the door. Hiking and food trucks every other Sunday without fail. Boredom and adventure in equal measure that blend into the only thing either of them ever wanted: security with someone else. 

On the days they both get the evening off, they usually end up in the kitchen. She teaches him family recipes in exchange for the comfort meals he’s picked up along the way. Her laugh echoes off the cabinets when he wraps his arms around her from the back, taking in a deep breath of the delicious, crispy chicken that’s cooking away on the stove. She finds his cheek without looking, easy after they’ve done this dance so many times, and turns just enough to steal a kiss before clicking the stove off. 

“Bowls, please,” she smiles. Making a dramatic show of having to let her go, Street gets them down and carries them to the couch once they’re full. 

She brings the drinks and napkins. With an already-queued baking show ready to go, she throws her feet in his lap and they dig in. It’s perfect. 

And it’s exactly the situation they find themselves in just after Halloween. Chris’s stomach is full from her burger but alive with excitement as she draws her feet back into her own space, the question that’s been on her mind all day finally about to see the light. A dissatisfied noise escapes Street, pausing the tv without a second thought, and he turns to look at her. He smiles the second he sees her smile, heart jumping at how lucky he is that she chose him. 

“You’re up to something,” he comments and narrows his eyes. She rolls hers. Glancing at his hands, she leans forward and grabs one. 

“I’ve been thinking,” she starts. “How would you feel about getting a dog?” 

Street freezes. He races through every recent memory to figure out where he missed her bringing this up before now, but comes up short. The familiar pressure of her squeezing his hand brings him back to her wide, sparkling eyes. He doesn’t know if she knows that she’s biting her bottom lip, or that she could ask him for anything while making that face and he’d find it for her. So all the questions about when and why and how melt away like ice in July. 

“Okay.” 

“Really?” Chris lights up brighter than the sun. Thumb running over her knuckles out of habit, he nods with a soft laugh. 

“Did you think I was going to say no?”

“I thought you were going to have questions. To want to talk about it.”

“I do,” he says, tugging her back to him, all the way onto his lap. “But I figure the answer is going to be yes, so we might as well start there and now we can do all the logistics.”

Settling into him, she splays her hand over his chest and breathes in his woodsy detergent. 

“I love you,” she smiles, features soft. He cuts her off to murmur it back. Pink crawls up her neck and dusts her cheeks. “And, it’s time we got a new family member. I haven’t had a dog since Champ.” 

Understanding and admiration swirl in his eyes when he looks down at her and then kisses her forehead. The few memories he has of Champ, and the poignant one of her after he passed, are as vivid now as when it happened. He holds her closer. 

“I know how much he meant to you. What breed are you thinking? Another shepherd?”

“Yeah, actually.” She blinks back the tears forming at the thought of her old partner, waving off his concern. “I’m in a group with a bunch of other K9 handlers. Cop named Andrew is looking to home a three year old named Jasper. He was shot during a raid, and the damage is too much to reinstate him, but he’s fully recovered and mobile.” 

“Do you have a picture?” 

Eyebrows furrowing, Chris reaches for her phone and pulls one up of a dog sitting in the grass, his head cocked to the side and a large bone at his feet. 

“Looks like a perfect addition.” Street says, a warmth curling in his stomach that he only feels in moments alone with Chris. “When would we get him?” 

“The end of the week. That’ll give us enough time to get everything, and for me to get in touch about any special needs or upcoming shots. If Friday works for you?” 

“That it does; twenty’s off on Friday.”

Giddiness up to her ears, she hugs him as tightly as she can, able to feel his heartbeat through her bones. He holds her just as tight. 

“What about days were both working?” Street asks, softer, mind spinning with all the new questions and possibilities. She shrugs as if she’s already thought this all through, and he realizes she definitely has. 

“He’ll come to the safe house with me. It’ll be good to have an extra set of eyes, he’s already trained, and I hope the girls will feel more secure knowing he’s there, too. Plus, I’m going to teach him some emotional support techniques.” 

“That’s amazing. You’re amazing.”

“Remember that when he’s lying on your side of the bed.” She jokes, scratching his neck lightly and feeling his muscles jump under her touch. 

“Can’t be much different than you lying on my side all the time.” 

“Please, you love it.” 

“Never said I didn’t.”

He gives her that cocky grin and she swats at his chest, but he catches her hand. The sun is starting to set, casting them in a golden glow. His eyes trace over their space.

“I see a bed in the corner,” he whispers to her, breath rustling her hair. “Toy basket next to the TV stand. Leash next to our keys. Food bowl…”

“At the end of the island.” Chris joins him, more content than she’s ever been. “And another basket of toys in the bedroom.” 

“Did you spoil Champ like that?” He sounds like he doesn’t believe her, and she laughs.

“I did. He took care of me, saved my life. Least I could do was make sure he had a lot of toys and bones. We’d usually end up on the couch together after shift; he loved to watch remodeling shows with me.” 

Street’s heart swells at the love in her voice. He sees her through his lashes and savors knowing he’ll have the rest of forever with someone as kind and passionate as her. Feeling his gaze, she glances up, too, and it’s easy to see that it’s mutual. 

“I always wanted a dog.” He starts. “Obviously my parents never had one—thank God for that.” 

She snuggles closer, pulls a blanket over them to burrow up underneath in a tangle of limbs. 

“Did any of your foster homes ever have one?” 

“A few. I was never there long enough to really learn how to take care of ‘em, though. Duke was really my first dog, if you can count that.”

“Please, I count Duke as one of mine for how much I see him.”

“And to think of all those times Luca almost walked in on us, you were really just there for Duke.” 

A full body laugh rolls through her, and it isn’t long before they’re both dissolved into the fit. Only once her breath catches and she feels the imminent threat of a hiccup attack does she rein herself in. They collect the blanket and readjust, but the buzz stays in the air. 

“Champ was my first dog, too, you know. Guess that makes Duke my second.” 

“Really? I’d’ve thought you had at least one or two growing up.”

“No,” she shakes her head. “Five kids and four adults— we could barely see the floor growing up. And then Sarzo worked full time and Helena had her hands full with me and Tomas.”

“So…”

“A few of my cousins had dogs as kids. And in high school we had to do volunteer work and one of the approved places was a shelter. I loved getting to walk the dogs, train ‘em. I knew I wanted to be a cop but it really solidified my choice to go into K9 right away. Felt like I spoke their language more than all the ‘good old boys.’” 

He drops a tender kiss on her forehead, picturing a younger Chris cuddled on her couch with Champ and remembering all the times she’d train Duke when she came over. 

“Looks like we’re both taking some big steps then; I’m excited. Who would’ve thought six years ago…” 

Narrowing her eyes, the memory dawns on her in a slow vignette, and she lets out a stunted, surprised laugh. 

“I can’t believe you remember that.”

“How could I not?” Street counters. “‘I like dogs. Not dawgs.’ How things have changed.” 

“Uh, no.” She pats his chest as if to offer her sympathy. “That still stands. You just no longer fit the description. Lucky for me.”

Her voice has barely dropped but he senses the change within it, too. A slight raspiness clouding the sentimental of the past with everything of the present. Who is he to stop them when things are perfect? 

“Thank God for that.” He matches her tone. Capturing her mouth in a deeper kiss, her chest rises to meet him. Salt lingers on his lips that she takes her time savoring with her tongue as she maneuvers to straddle his lap. 

“Hey. Hey, wait,” he gets out around heavy breaths. She pulls back, supported by his hands on the small of her back, a question on her face. “Is Jasper trained in German?” 

“Yes? Why—right now?” 

“Looks like I’ll need a teacher then.”

Street smirks something deliciously evil, and Chris has never backed down from a challenge. Her laugh is softer but no less intense, and she murmurs her answer into the corner of his mouth after another kiss. 

“Good thing you’ve got me then.”

Hands snaking under his shirt and up his chest, it lands on the coffee table and her voice lands near his ear, low and hot. 

“You need a teacher for this, too?” 

“This?” He whispers, lust speeding through the barriers in him, spurred on by something primal that puts her shirt on the floor, behind the couch. Her legs wrap around him instinctively when he stands, one arm under her thighs while the other stays square on her back. “No, I’ve got this.”  ————————————————————————As it turns out, perfect isn’t a ceiling to reach, it’s a home they build. Friday comes, Chris’s truck bed full of toys and treats and another brand new dog bed—after they came to the conclusion that just having one in the living room wasn’t enough—and she’s practically vibrating as she stops at Andrew’s place. 

He’s waiting for them with Jasper firmly at his feet, panting in the California fall. Street’s eyes widen like a little kid’s when he sees the dog; it starts to sink in that they’re taking him home. For good. 

“Hello!” Chris jumps into a baby voice to talk to Jasper, after saying hi to Andrew. She takes the leash and Jasper jumps up, ready to go. His tail wags and he happily follows every command she has in exchange for the treats she’s got in her pockets. 

“You wanna try, Street? He’s a great dog.” She asks, unwilling to let the wisps of hesitation in his irises keep him from all the good he deserves. For good measure, she bites her lip. 

“Sure. Jasper!”

Jasper turns at attention, tail still going. 

“Sitz!” 

He sits. An odd feeling sparks in Street’s chest—a sense of accomplishment and joy so large it almost seems silly for the situation. But he catches in his periphery all the confidence and pride in Chris’s gaze on him, and he lets it grow.  ————————————————————————Perfect is messy. It’s bright ropes and lamb stuffed animals and too many tennis balls strewn across their floor. It’s Chris in the middle of it all, covered in black fur and laughing her heart out as tussles with Jasper. It’s Street throwing his jacket over one of the bar stools so he can join them. 

“He’ll get used to it quick,” Chris promises Street when she senses his concern at how Jasper paces the space after they’ve played. They’re still on the floor, backs against the couch. “It just takes time. Doesn’t it, Boy? Yes it does!” 

As if she said the magic word, Jasper plops down in front of both of them. His head cocks like in the picture, one paw crossed over the other. Street races for his phone to snap another. 

After dinner and a long walk, Chris texts Andrew an update that Jasper is settling well, and they head to bed. Another small bag of treats is on the nightstand if need be, but Jasper takes one look at the lush bed on the floor and the giant one, and promptly goes up the short staircase Chris insisted on buying to protect his hips. Circling a few times, he lands in the center of the foot of the bed. 

“Finally, you can’t put your cold feet on me.” Street teases. Chris rolls her eyes but turns out the overhead light and flutters over to join them. 

“Night, Jasper!” She whispers as she goes, kissing between his eyes. Slipping under the covers, she finds her usual position with her head on his chest, just at slightly more of a diagonal. 

“Good night, Street,” she yawns, and burrows her feet up to Jasper’s side. “I love you.” 

“Love you, babe. Good night, Jasper!” 

Things are perfect. 

[moriohradiojanitorroom]

Hi, I stumbled across your blog and I'm really excited to try the match-up✨

Sorry if I write anything wrong, this is my first experience

I have always been told I am a very kind, caring and compassionate person. I think this is true, I always try to help people around me. I am also very optimistic and always try to think of the best. I am still a very shy, insecure and irascible person, but my bad moods pass quickly. If this helps you I am pisces and infp

Speaking of hobbies I really love my favorite manga and anime and cooking. Although some of my recipes sound suspicious but the dishes turn out really delicious. I can't imagine my life without music, I listen to it all the time. I think it's a bit funny, but I do know a lot of facts from many different fields

Oh, I'm afraid I've written too much. If something is unclear then please apologize, English is not my native language. Anyway thanks and good luck, looking forward to your reply💐

Hi there!!! Thanks so much for this request, I was really excited to fulfill it! And don’t worry about too much info or anything like that, this is great! This is also my first time writing a matchup so I hope it’s alright dkdnjsmd You didn’t specify an age or any preferences, so I’m gonna give you a canonically adult character & assume you don’t have a preference for other stuff, like gender or what part they’re from - if you’d like to resubmit with that in mind tho, that’s okay!

With all that in mind, here are some honourable mentions:

Noriaki Kakyoin was the first to come to mind when I read your request, but with the age thing in consideration, I decided to choose someone else.

After that, I considered Jonathan Joestar, Erina Pendleton, and Mohammad Avdol! Ultimately, though, I ended up choosing:

Robert E.O. Speedwagon!

Your positivity and kindness hooked the man in faster than he could even blink - we all know exactly how loyal he is and how quickly he can tell who deserves that loyalty. It only took him a few minutes to read that you’re one of those people.

He’s also pretty intrigued by how much you know. He likes to exchange little bits of knowledge and stories with you, especially after he’s done some travelling and has a wider expanse of knowledge. Even before that, though, he always keeps your words in mind - who knows, one day one of those facts might just save a life!

He also very well understands the difficulties of insecurity and hotheadedness, having faced them himself. He does his best to keep you grounded, and encourages you to leave your comfort zone now and then - it’s key to growth, after all - but he knows when to back off. He can be a little stubborn, especially if he’s enthusiastic, but in the end your comfort matters more. If you’d rather stay at home with him than go out and dance or something, that’s fine by him. Hell, with all the travelling he does, he may actually grow to prefer that more relaxed atmosphere.

On that topic, Speedwagon’s pretty good at reading people’s moods and actions. On top of knowing when he needs to let you chill, he also knows if/when he should make somebody else do the same. If he sees something or someone bothering you, he’s quick to swoop in and do whatever he can to settle the situation, whether that’s just to comfort some insecurities or get a particularly annoying person to back off. If he knows that you can handle it, though, he’ll take a backseat and play cheerleader. In fact, it makes him proud to see it.

Also, this man grew up on the most dangerous street in London. He’s no stranger to meals with some odd ingredients, and frankly, he’ll be even happier to learn how good they taste! He’s not the best cook himself, he’s the type of man who uses whatever he has on hand to try scraping together something reasonable, so a good meal will go straight to his heart.

For the sake of anime and manga, I’m gonna go ahead and pretend we’re a little more modern day for the next few. I feel like Speedwagon is more of a reading guy than a television guy. After a long day, he’ll to sit down and read with you, manga or not. He’ll watch a show too if you ask, but there’s something quite romantic about cuddling up and sharing a book that he feels can’t be matched by much else.

On that note, please forgive him ahead of time - if you do get him to sit down and watch your favourite shows, he will have a lot of commentary. He’s the type of guy who will interrupt a scene to enthusiastically declare something like, “So THAT’S why the bugger carries that chain around!”, or confoundedly question what a character thinks they’re doing. He’ll probably do this while reading too, just maybe not as often. He’s not trying to interrupt, he just gets excited - if you tell him to settle down, he’ll do his best to accommodate, but he might slip from time to time.

Also, (and this is another one of those modern day ones) depending on your music taste, he may or may not buy vinyls or discs of your favourite bands and try to get you to dance with him to them. He’ll probably suggest a concert at least once - something tells me that he’s the type to prefer live music.

Knowing that you’re passionate about something makes him passionate, too. He’ll try his best to look into your interests on his own time, and try to involve you in whatever he finds - maybe he asks an older lady he knows for interesting recipes to show you, or he scours a book store for a series he hasn’t heard you talk about yet. He’s doing his best to match your love for these things, even if they’re sometimes new to him.

Your bright outlook on life, your compassion, your love for the things you enjoy - they’re all astoundingly inspirational to this man. He may sometimes worry that you deserve better than an Ogre Street ex-thief, but by god, will he use all the motivation you give him to make a good life for you.

Okay - I think I might have rambled a bit there, but yeah, thank you so much for the request!! It’s the first one I’ve gotten anyways so I hope you’ll forgive all the babbling jehdjjfs

This was a ton of fun to write, and I hope that you’re happy with it!

[icebear4president]

Author’s note: This is just a little self-indulgent story, because England and America are so fun to write about together.

“Alfred, will you please just unload the dishwasher?”

Alfred barely looked up from his phone at Arthur’s voice, and a small twitch of his lip was the only indication he heard him. He wasn’t ignoring his pseudo-father figure per-say, but he wasn’t exactly in the mood to answer him either. While their monthly dinners weren’t anything new, there always seemed to be something one of them would pick a fight about.

And while Alfred tried not to get too irritated with Arthur, he wasn’t about to let the snide remark about his hard-earn space collection slide. Besides, he always cooked the meals, so Arthur can’t complain about being put on dish duty.

“Alfred, you are acting like a child.”

Rolling his eyes, Alfred stuffed his phone into pocket, and leaned on the counter arms crossed. Whatever, if Arthur wanted to annoy him, than he’ll annoy him back. So why not make Arthur extremely uncomfortable with his request. Not that he desperately wanted to hear the words or anything.

“Sure! If you say you’re immensely proud of me, that is.”

Arthur’s excessive scrubbing faltered for a second. “What?”

“If I unload the dishwasher, will you say that you are immensely proud of me?”

“No-why would I do that?”

Alfred grinned at how uncomfortable he was making the other man. Honestly, was it really that hard to answer the question? Apparently he didn’t want help with the dishes as much as he said he did.

“Because I’m America. I always demand payment in some form, and this is what I want. I’ll even unload the dishes first, but after you have to say your immensely proud of me.”

Arthur hesitated, frowning at the soapy water. He just wanted help, was that too much to ask without being subjected to Alfred’s nonsense. “Are you sure you don’t want money or food? Maybe buy one of those gold kiddy coins you like?”

‘Collectible and vintage coins,’ Alfred wanted to say, but bit his tongue and smiled instead. “Nope,” he said, popping the ‘p’, “I want you to say you’re proud of me.”

“Why in the world do you suddenly care if I’m proud of you or not, you never did before,” Arthur asked. “Look, I would unload the dishwasher myself, but I’m going to hand wash them first. It’s only fair.”

What was with this guy and dodging answers. Good thing Alfred was just as stubborn as him, as well as persistent. “I demand payment, and this is the payment I want. Come on dude, they’re just words. It’s not like I’m asking for something unreasonable here.”

Arthur sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was getting a headache from this whole exchange. “Alfred, if you’re going to unload the dishwasher, than unload the dishwasher. If you don’t want to, than don’t. It’s not that big of a deal.”

Alfred leaned forward, desperate now. He was beginning to think this wasn’t about dishes anymore, not that he’ll think too hard on that. He just wants Arthur to say the words. Hell, even if he didn’t even mean it or if he says it sarcastically he’ll take it.

This was turning out not to be as fun as he thought it was.

“But I WILL unload the dishwasher. I’ll wash the dishes too….you just need to say you’re proud of me. Not even immensely or anything, just that you’re proud of me.”

Wiping his hands, Arthur finally turned to face Alfred. “But what have you done to warrant me to say that? Proud of you for what? Washing the dishes and putting them away? Like every person on this planet does,” he asked, genuinely curious for the answer.

“No, just in general.”

Arthur sighed, returning to his task. This back and forth was tiring him out. “I’m not going to say I’m proud of you for just being here.”

Alfred clutched his chest, feigning hurt. “After all I’ve done to get to this point, and you still aren’t proud? You wound me, what even is the point of life if my big brother can find no good in me,” he said, swooning dramatically. Of course, none of his words meant anything, he didn’t actually care what England or any of the others thought of him after all. Definitely not.

“This again. Why do you get existential and crap when you’re upset?”

“I’m not upset. Why are you getting upset?” Alfred countered. “They’re just words, they don’t actually mean anything. I’ll unload the dishwasher, plus do the dishes if you say them.”

Arthur sighed again, and shook his head. “Evidently they mean something to you. And no, I’m not going to say them. Now, if you’re not going to help, than go do something else productive,” he said, turning his back to Alfred and signaling the conversation to a close.

Alfred stared after him a while, before angrily digging out his phone again. He didn’t care, he shouldn’t care. It was a joke and he admits he pushed it more than he should’ve. Maybe it hurt a little, or maybe a lot, but it was fine. He didn’t need England’s validation, he was a big boy and he would be fine. He would just go watch tv, or cry in his pillow, and forget all about it. “Fine, whatever,” he finally said, with a dismissive wave.

After a few moments, Arthur turned to check that Alfred was gone before he spoke again. “I am proud of you. Immensely. I thought you would have known that already,” he said, voice echoing in the room.

[oddygaul]

Scott Pilgrim Takes Off, and also just Scott Pilgrim

-footage from Rebuild of Scott Pilgrim

I watched Scott Pilgrim Takes Off, then realized it had been nearly 15 years since I actually read the comics, so then I re-read all of those. I wish I had just done it in the right order to begin with, because doing it this way really scrambled my thoughts about both works. In my defense, how was I to know Takes Off is actually a sequel? What am I supposed to do, read things?

I was pleased to find that the original Scott Pilgrim honestly holds up pretty well. Takes Off is clearly such a reflective work that I was expecting to find the original story a lot more problematic than I had in high school, but… for the most part, it really knows what it’s doing. Yeah, a lot of the characters are shitbirds, but they’re meant to be shitbirds. The entire point of the book is showing us flawed people who intermittently make shitty decisions, and giving them a chance to grow, reflect, and treat the people around them better.

So generally, I still really liked Scott Pilgrim. All the goofy-ass character art and the surreal, unexplained quasi-fantasy Canada bits that made it tick back then still work. This time around, I really appreciated the writing and dialogue for not only its bevy of solid jokes, but for how fucking weird it is. In the past decade or so, I think a lot of ‘quirky’ humor has homogenized somewhat into a particular tone. Call it Whedonization or globalization or internet brain or whatever you want, but it can sometimes feel like anything aiming to be comedic hits a lot of the same beats.

The Scott Pilgrim comics, however, are a weird time capsule and their own vibe entirely. These fuckers just talk like aliens sometimes. They say random stuff, but it’s not *holds up spork* random, it’s “shit sorry I was kind of half listening but I think the thing I’m about to say is relevant” random. It’s less big swings to try and land a punchline, and more of two people letting loose a stream of consciousness at each other, lending a sense of constant confusion to the proceedings. It’s absolute nonsense sometimes, and I was way into it.

This ties into a slight shift in my read on Scott as a character, too. I always just saw him as a huge asshole - and that led to my biggest issue with the movie, which was that Cera plays him way too meek and doesn’t suck nearly enough. Reading the comics again, though, while Scott absolutely does suck, he’s just so fucking head empty that I warmed up to him a bit more. He’s still an asshole that doesn’t take responsibility for how his actions affect others, absolutely, but also god damn he’s so dumb that it softens the blow sometimes.

There were some little details about characters I’d forgotten that I really love - like the fact that Scott is actually a really good cook, but does it purely through intuition without knowing what anything’s called.

Art-wise, I liked it a lot more than I remembered, too; it definitely starts out a bit rough, but there’s a lot of charm to the characters and their weird gremlin mouths. I also laughed at some of the manga inspiration I didn’t pick up on before; everyone’s got big anime eyes, sure, but the grey screentone Clip Studio pattern fills? The hiring of assistants to do polished background work as the author gets into the later volumes? Ahh, classic.

Takes Off was a lot of fun, too. I gather that a lot of the internet fandom is upset it wasn’t a straight retelling of the original story with killer animation, but man, you gotta let creators create what speaks to them. Bryan Lee O’Malley started Scott Pilgrim twenty years ago. He’s been both married and divorced since then. Surely he’s gone through as much growth and change as we all would in such a timespan - how could you expect someone to just re-tread the exact same ground on such a personal story?

I find it interesting how prevalent this trend has become in the past decade or so - a creator or creative team returning to an old work - seemingly out of necessity, as the IP has become such a juggernaut that it’ll happen with or without them - and refusing to just tell the story again by the numbers. Anno’s Rebuild of Evangelion is the closest spiritually to this, but even recent ‘remakes’/reboots like Final Fantasy VII and God of War 2018 have followed the same path - creators ruminating on the strengths and weaknesses of older work from a more distant lens to create something new. They all seem to have arrived at this methodology independently, too (O’Malley said he only watched the Rebuilds once Takes Off was written and well underway); it’s not about chasing the trend of an altered remake, it seems to just be a natural desire to reckon with the past this way.

Because of this, one of the reasons I really wish I watched the show after re-reading the comics is to have a better sense of the evolution, and the change in tone and message. Due to watching Takes Off while having only a hazy recollection of the original, I made a lot of assumptions about how the original work must have portrayed things, to explain what Takes Off’s themes were a rejection of: that by giving Ramona more agency, she’s less of a damsel in distress/prize to be won, and isn’t defined by her body count… when in fact, neither of those are really the case to begin with. Ramona has plenty of agency in Scott Pilgrim, she fights as much as Scott does, and really is only defined by her body count as narrative framework, not judged in-universe by the other characters* **.

*I think some of these misconceptions may have come from having rewatched the movie more recently than I read the comics, as the movie (if I remember correctly, which this entire blog has established I likely don’t) does tend to treat Ramona as more of an passive object. Her subservience to Gideon in the real world (rather than in her subspace mind prison) comes to mind.

**Also, you could argue that the framework of the story itself being ‘guy fight’s girl’s evil exes in order to earn the right to date her’ is inherently placing importance on Ramona’s body count and someone’s romantic eligibility/desirability being defined by that but like… man that just is clearly not the vibe imo

If anything, I think the real lack that the show was trying to make up for wasn’t Ramona’s lack of agency, exactly, but a lack of screentime. Takes Off simply spends more time inside Ramona’s head, letting us see things from her perspective, and understanding the reasons for why she is the way she is and why she does the things she does. In some volumes of the book, she’s aloof almost to the point of feeling like a trope; it’s clear (especially later on) that there’s a reason for the way she acts, but the story just doesn’t necessarily communicate it very well. In the show, with Scott sidelined, we get to spend a lot of time with Ramona, understanding her thoughts and feelings, which is certainly a welcome change.

Anyway, intentions of the changes aside, I wouldn’t trade Takes Off for a straight remake in a thousand years; the sense of utter surprise I felt while watching the story take a hard left turn was exhilarating***. Plus, if the reason you love a series is the characters you’ve developed a bond with, what could be better than canonized fan fiction written by the original creator, showing your favorite characters interacting in new and novel ways? How could one not be excited to see Gideon and Lucas bro out and watch anime together? How could one not be thrilled to see Wallace Wells enact further chaos upon the whole province? More than righting storytelling wrongs, Takes Off is making space to tell more stories and round out everyone’s favorite supporting characters in a franchise that, due to the inherent density of its plot and setup, simply hasn’t had the real estate to develop all of them and let them breathe.

***Having just played through NieR recently, I almost felt like the show had scanned me, detected I had gotten Scott Pilgrim Ending A before, and was throwing some NG+ bonus content at me lmao

As far as the production goes, I was impressed overall, but thought it did suffer from some awkward timing and pacing issues. It’s stiff competition when your inevitable point of comparison is an Edgar Wright movie - even other live-action movies can seem stiff and slow compared to his frenetic pacing and constant cuts - but it still felt remarkably low energy at times, especially in the back half. Now, this is a problem you see a lot in anime dubs; English and Japanese are two very different languages, with different cadences and construction. Since a cast is typically required to dub over already existing animation, the translated dialogue often ends up being elongated and unnatural when it should be a quick back and forth, or hurried where it should have a little more breathing room. Given, though, that Takes Off was not only recorded in English before Japanese, but actually recorded before animation then animated to the dialogue (exceedingly uncommon), I was surprised the show still had this issue.

Regardless, the boarding in the first 4 episodes or so manages to be bombastic enough that this isn’t a problem; there’s a lot of wild camera angles and perspective shifts that keep things dynamic even when the dialogue itself isn’t moving too quickly. The animation highlight for me personally was the fight in the video store between Ramona and Roxy; great idea, incredible execution.

While Science Saru is the main production studio, I was intrigued to spy a bunch of other studios listed in the credits - WIT, Shaft, Ufotable, Trigger - but upon some further research it looks like they were just doing inbetween work.

Also the music includes slapped - I was jamming hard to Kidnapped by Neptune and Konya wa Hurricane, and then that United States of Whatever drop? unreal.

[co-mixed]

Your Favorite Characters Will Never be Perfect in Movies.

Remember how Hawkeye was nothing like in the comics? Or how Rogue never even encountered Gambit on screen? Or how the whole Titans show did its own thing? 

And are you one of those people who can’t help but mention that this-is-not-how-it-happened-in-the-comics? Yeah, I used to be one too. 

In my case, it was enough to part with my expectations for the things I’ve already seen to realize what I’m missing by dismissing (I swear I’m not freestyling here.) But there’s more to it than just working on my own hopes and dreams. There is a reason (a few in fact) why we don’t see page-to-page adaptations. 

Where do I begin?

I’m trying hard to get into DC and the aforementioned Titans only pushed me closer to it (yeah meet another show I absolutely love now). But what stops me every time is issue number 1000+. I have time and I’m a patient lady but I won’t start something I can’t hope to finish. Both Action and Detective comics are over 1k issues long. I’m not sure I have time for that. But I’d love to get to know the characters and so would many others. Lucky for us, each one of them gets an origin story and if you’re lazy, a dedicated segment in an encyclopedia of their respective universe. Movies and shows aren’t that. They always have room for improvement and a fresh look. What they don’t have to do is retell an old, sometimes outdated ~30-page arc. Been there done that. Take me someplace new. 

The Power of a Retcon

Name a character who's never gotten a retcon. I’ll wait. If the first name that pops up is someone who has 10 pages of panel time before being cast off into the roster oblivion, we’re thinking alike. Most prominent characters have had their origin replayed and rewritten. No matter what the reasons were (sometimes it’s just lazy writing), you can always count on at least 3 different ways the character discovered their powers. Now which one do we take to screen? The latest? The fan favorite? Can’t please everyone. Besides, sometimes writers gotta work with a whole different universe (Hey ya, MCU). No one illustrates this better than Wanda and Pietro. And if anything, it’s our weird attraction to canon that caused them to be disowned by Magneto (correction - he never disowned them but it was revealed that he’s not their bio parent, although he reclaimed them back as his own eventually). 

There are a few characters and types of characters for whom it’s important to keep their origin intact. In my opinion, one of them is mutants but even comics have been messing it up for a long time now (looking at you, artist formerly known as Apocalypse!)

With so many changes how do we even trace a character back to their origins? It’s really easier to capture their general sense and role.

Crisis on Every Earth

We get retcons in the main timeline but how about all the other ones? Remember how Marvel went ahead and built a whole Ultimate Universe? Gotta say I loved the experiment even with its shortcomings. And I’d love to see more of that (just give me a high-school Evolution-style AU already!) Oh and then Nick Fury and Spidey became so wildly popular- they made it to movies and 616 respectively, remember? That’s kind of the point. The versions of the characters we know and love aren’t always necessarily the best ones. But we won’t find out unless we give them a fair shot. And I’m all for that.

And if you already have a version you like then what are you actually losing by getting a new one? You’ve read them and you’ve seen them.

Too Many Cooks 

To build upon the previous paragraph, all characters have their creators and then they have dozens of other people who took their turn at writing them. Now which one did it best is quite a question (the best example will always be the X-men although let’s face it, they’re a team). The thing here is, under a new writer every character picks up new traits. There’s a huge difference between the original take, a take from the 90s, and whatever is going on now. Again, it comes down to personal preferences and the story you choose to tell. 

To change or not to change

That, and what to change exactly. Every character can essentially be boiled down to several qualities that you shouldn’t change no matter what. The rest is flexible. 

Yes, for some characters it’s their signature look that can’t be altered (but that’s far less common than most people want to admit). For most though it’s their values or a specific origin or their role in a team. Just because we don’t expect it doesn’t mean it doesn’t work. 

The question of what exactly you can and should change, now this is a fun one. 

What works on paper doesn’t always fit into a frame. Like Superman’s questionable habit of wearing underwear as a top layer of clothing. Sure it works for a campy version but the truth is, he could look however the hell he likes as long as he’s a humanoid. His origin and personal traits are what makes him Superman. But depending on the story you wanna tell, you can change whatever and it will work for me. 

Toys and Sandboxes

Every character is shaped by decades of writing (good and bad). Events get added and erased but even if you get the origin right, the character won’t go through the same things as in comics. That is, unless you’re planning on retelling every story (I’m sure you aren’t.) Every slightest change of events will make them grow apart from their og version. By the second movie, it’s already a different AU version. That’s exactly what AUs are for. Exploring options, using opportunities. 

Our vision of characters always ties to when and where we see them for the first time. With our favorites it speaks to how much they resonate with us. And truth be told, that’s not always their originally intended personality (or look). I’ll go into DC, having a few expectations of my own, same as I watched the X-men movies with a clear vision of their characters. But teenage Jean Grey will never have the memories of teenage time displaced Jean, and  og teenage Jean was absolutely replaceable by a cardboard cutout. 

So there it is, something I will be holding on to when I finally go to see MCU’s take on mutants. And something we all should consider before judging any casting. 

[m1ckeyb3rry]

LMAOAO plot armor saving Otoya’s ass I can’t wait

Man I’m about to go into a Nagi spiral at this rate because his backstory is so deceiving…like he’s got a lot to unpack too shdhsjsjs

SHEHSHS ONE SLAP FROM BAROU AND YOURE DONE Imagine it’s like when they spread their arms (Karasu style) and block people or pressure them and stuff but instead you just go flying because you got smacked by Barou or Shidou….actually I think this would make for a really funny like blooper scene LMAOOOO

If you ever made that story I would be your first reader fr because playing off the reverse harem cliche to throw people off only to reveal the true love interest would be so cool (esp if you kept who it was a secret LOL) I believe you have quite a bit on your to-write list though so maybe in the future sometime

And YEAH LITERALLY Agi spelling it out and I think recently someone else said it too (I can’t remember exactly who it might’ve been Rin or Barou..?? Not sure they mention Reo by name though er) but also I think it’s really funny how after they get back together and start dropping Chigiri becomes the MC poster boy like yes you go Chigiri (I’ll never get over his exchange with Barou in MC vs Ubers where he’s like meowing LMAOOO)

I feel you it’s really the facial hair for me like I KNOW it’s that stubble like….the thing is it’s not even a full clean beard it’s STUBBLE like boy please trim or clean it up a little…also doesn’t help that it truly makes him look like an uncle kinda but I digress…what’s funny is I have a friend who loves Aiku and I think it’s THE STUBBLE that she likes because she also likes Aizawa from MHA so I’m like…it must be the stubble…

Fr the f-boyification has to be the worst it’s everywhere too…I also agree he’s also probably and asshole off field most of the time I can really only see him softening up slightly if he really found someone…and also maybe went to therapy a couple times LMAO

Also that post you reblogged about Kurona so real first poor kurona omg LMAOA getting bulldozed by someone almost a full foot taller than him but also they’re so right that reminds me of when Barou called Hiori Isagi’s dog it’s so funny like

Also…drop that yogurt strawberry bite thing…that lowk sounds good right about now….

-Karasu anon

i think part of it is just because otoya is kinda of a figure instead of a character atm?? like he’s “the ninja” and he’s driving the plot forward but we don’t actually know who he is yet. whereas y/n and karasu’s meeting is lowkey giving meet-cute 😭 like in any other story with a more typical and shy fmc he would be the love interest but unfortunately he’s stuck w hollyhock y/n who’s not either of those things 💔

NAGI SPIRAL YESSS LET’S GO 🤩 i’m always thinking abt…my baby fr 🥹 i think at a surface level he can seem like a boring character but to me he’s just v subtly written which almost makes him more fun than characters that are in your face abt what they’ve gone through

THAT’S WHAT I’M SAYING like a typical foul for the boys is straight up murking you 😭 that one scene in season 1 where barou tackles tokimitsu and chigiri slides in front of him…a female character would be cooked in that situation if i’m being honest 😰 there’s def ways around it but like it’s smth to consider which i don’t think a lot of people do

YES i think it would be so fun especially because i would NOT make one of the itoshi bros the main love interest as is typical (although they would def be “reverse harem” participators) so it would be a surprise for sure. i think a lot of stories that start off as reverse harem but end up focusing on one character tend to go for rin or occasionally sae just because of how popular they are but yk me…i’d never let an itoshi bro win 🙂‍↔️ hehe atm i have my two hiori requests, your requests, another karasu request, hollyhock, and kind of peregrine to work on!! so def a bit busy but one day for sure i’ll try to get to it

i do feel like barou might’ve implied smth like that when nagi asked him why played soccer but my memory is a bit fuzzy (i want to reread the manga at some point but then i also don’t want to know everything that happens going into s2 yk)!! and yes hehe honestly chigiri is slaying i think he’s scored in like every match or smth!! it’s so cool how far he’s come…i’m scared for his leg though i feel like they’ve mentioned how he could re-injure it a few too many times for it to not be brought up again yk?? i’m hoping he at least makes it to the world cup before anything happens though 😩

the stubble is truly such a dividing factor…i can stand it on some characters but smth abt it on aiku truly does not work for me!! i agree it gives heavy uncle vibes 😕 although tbf it is peak teenage boy behavior to try and grow out his facial hair and lowkey fail miserably at it so ig at least it’s in character 😓

THE FBOYIFICATION RUNS RAMPANT IN FANDOM i rlly think it’s almost a wish fulfillment thing/those kinds of characters are easier to write?? in p much every fandom i’ve been in they’ve characterized the guys like that it’s rlly interesting almost because half of the time it doesn’t even make sense?? idk like i won’t hate on anyone for what they choose to write but yk…it’s certainly a choice…a lot of the time it takes away most of what makes the character interesting to me as well so it’s def not my fav thing to see ALL of the time (every once in a while is def ok though!!)

HAHAHA RIGHT IT HAD ME GIGGLING 😭 one of the reblogs said it’s because none of the other strikers have friends and like lowkey yeah 😟 because yk isagi kurona and hiori are just chilling off field there’s not whatever weird ass dynamic rin and nanase have going on 🫣 they truly are just buddies who also understand that there’s more than one way to play soccer?? poor kurona though he did not deserve that 😒 like at least hiori is sassy back and also 6ft tall himself so he can handle his own but kurona is tiny and a sweetheart…side note but his character facts are so cute and him cheering up depressed reo in the epinagi extra scene was adorable 🥹 he seems like such a chill guy

AHH THEY’RE CALLED YOGGIES I THINK?? we get them from costco let me see if i can find a pic. i actually love snacking on them hehe just not putting them in my yogurt. but they’re super delicious!!

^ they look like that!! rlly yummy snack…also personally i care a lot abt food textures and these are nice and chewy without being sticky which i rlly like

[violetmina]

Chokehold - Ch. 2

Chokehold Masterlist

Taglist: @roundroald, @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night

Pairing: Billy Butcher x Fem!Reader

Word count: 5,419

Warning: Swearing, minor injuries. Slight sexual tension? Butcher being...Butcher? So an ass. He’s defintely an ass.

A/N: Buckle up, y'all. It's a long one. I tried not to let this get away from me but it's hard writing these moves and techniques without getting wordy. Please keep in mind that Brazilian jiu jitsu is a complicated system with many variations of many techniques. Even common names can also vary from gym to gym, instructor to instructor, ect. What I describe here is fairly universal and written as what has been taught to me. BUT it is not the end all, be all.

I also hope describing the reader as shorter than Butcher, or other similar minor details, are not outstanding enough to take away from the story. I have done my best to be as vague as possible. Enjoy.

"Wait…why don't you want me to tell them?"

"Cuz I said so," Butcher grumbled, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as he waited for the light to turn green.

"OK, fine," you shrugged in the passenger seat. You turned from him long enough to sift through the bag of fast food sitting warmly in your lap. The two of you had volunteered for this evening's food run, a moderate size order since Frenchie and Kimiko were the only other ones still there for the night. You passed over Frenchie's order, the lone shake Kimiko had requested and finally finding your individual prizes, you moved the bag aside to replace it with your fries. You waved Butcher his burger in offering. "But a little explanation would be nice."

He waved away the burger and you slid it back in the bag. Then promptly squawked when he snatched a clump of your fries. You hid them by your hip closest to the door, hopefully out of his greedy reach. "Look," he explained around two of them in his teeth like a poised cigarette, "You came to me. It's not they're business. You can surprise Hughie and the congresswoman when you're well and ready. In the meantime, let's not have the temptation of too many cooks in the kitchen, eh?"

The light changed and he eased onto the gas, snapping the fries into his mouth. "For whatever reason, the boys like you. They'd be happy to help. But bless they're bleeding little hearts, I don't need them fluttering about with pointers or how they do shit. Next thing you know it'll be Ryan or Hughie bugging me to teach them, too. I'm not running a fucking daycare."

You paused in chewing, stuffing his fries out of the bag and into the console on his side. You slid his drink in as well before he could eye yours. "Did you just call me a child, or are you saying you're old?"

The streetlights caught the glitter of annoyance in his dark eyes as he pinned you with a look. "Old enough to spank ya, ya mouthy shit."

If he had any inkling of the internal conflict that caused you, he showed no indication as he turned his attention back to traffic. You popped another fry in your mouth to chew on instead of your lip. For two and a half weeks now you'd been training under Butcher's firm instruction. If you could call two hours of mobility drills, three times a week "training". You had expected this whole experience to be rough, grueling, militant even. What you had not expected was your growing awareness of Butcher. The kind of awareness that noted how large his palms and how long his fingers were when he corrected your form. The kind that locked onto the flex of his thighs under dark denim when he demonstrated a move in the drill. The one that often traced and retraced the distinct outline of his shoulders when he shrugged on or off his coat. Going through the motions was easy in comparison to the growing war you had with the intrusive, pulsing thoughts that came during each lesson.

What's worse was that it was now seeping and lingering long after the lessons. During random things he'd say or do. Like just now.

A tight exhale through his nose pulled you out of your thoughts as he pulled up to another red light. You'd been around Butcher long enough at this point to know that he was a little off. Grumpy seemed to be his default, but lately he'd been more snippish than usual. His brow sat a little lower, a little heavier, his eyes a bit tighter at the corners. It had been a disappointing day, a supe had gotten a plea bargain and lowered the five years in prison to an insulting six months parole. By the way his fingers gripped the steering wheel and the other strangled his soda, you had a feeling he was craving something much stronger and blatantly denying himself. You admired his self-discipline almost as much as his physical attributes. But god was his mood getting harder to tolerate with each passing day.

With that in mind, you shifted - or shoved, rather - away from his response and doubled back. "I didn't come to you for lessons. You caught me in my bluff and took over. You or nothing, remember? But I get your point. We've all got our hands full and I don't want to distract everybody from our cases. Kinda feel bad already."

"Oh?," he mutters, still glaring at the road.

You sip on your drink before nodding as the light hits green again. "Yeah. Actually…" For a second you hesitate but push forward anyway. "Butcher, I wanted to say thank you."

That snaps his head to you with a look you don't see on him often - genuine, mild surprise. "Thank me?"

"Yes, Butcher," you laugh. "Thank you. I mean it. I still don't really get why you insist on being my coach. With everything you got going on - Ryan, putting up with Hughie and the bureau, Homelander still even existing - I don't know how you find time to breathe. But you're still finding time to help me, personally and I honestly wasn't expecting that from you. So…thank you."

The corners of his mouth twitched up for a brief second, the first you'd seen in days, before gliding the car to the curb. "Yeah, well," he mumbled as he killed the engine, "You're welcome. Can't risk having you being turned into a red smear under our boots out there, now can we?"

You smile and the both of you gather your food before stepping out of the car. In a brief moment you've entered the building and crossed the lobby. "That actually might not be a bad idea, though," you mused, sipping again on your drink in contemplation as you enter the elevator.

"What? Being smeared across the concrete?"

"No," you reply, nearly choking on your soda as he presses the button for the right floor. "I mean about you teaching Ryan. Maybe it'd do you both some good."

Butcher barked a laugh. "Mallory would just love me for that, wouldn't she? First, I drop a supe kid in her lap outta the blue, then I show him how to dislocate a knee or elbow. Only he can do it with a little flick of his pinky. A bit of gym class on those poor guards when he's not doing his homework." He shakes his head. "Nah. He don't need that."

You shrugged. "I don't know. You said he's been having nightmares, right?" Butcher nods. "For all the power he has, he's still a kid. He probably feels lost. His life is out of control. Maybe learning how to defend himself will give him that - some sense of control."

"You really think that?"

"I don't know for sure. But that's what it does for me. Not that you care but it's helped me more than -"

"How could I not care?"

You're startled by it and by the look he's whirled on you. His brows furrowed and his eyes lock on you like he's searching for as much a nonverbal answer as a verbal one. It's not angry per se, but you feel like it could peel you back in layers. It dawns on you that you're staring at him, and how dumb you must look with the straw still perched on your lip. You don't know how to respond.

He shifts on his feet and blinks as if remembering something. "Look, I might not always be what this team needs. I'm a bit of a bastard. But this bastard cares just a little bit about this lot." Here he held up his fingers in almost a pinch. "And whether you like it or not, you're in it."

"Oh. Okay. I…I didn't mean to…"

The elevator jolts to a stop and you both watch the doors open. "C'mon." He presses a hand between your shoulder blades to steer you towards the office. "Let's finish this grub before it gets cold and that stupid shake melts over everything."

Your brain finally kicks back into gear and into the present when you step across the threshold of the office space. You find Kimiko and Frenchie curled up on the couch watching the TV, both looking a bit perturbed. Her sour expression is the first to change when she spots you, a smile unfolding as she bounds off the couch towards you. You hand her the shake, recognizing her sign for "thank you" before she clasps it with both hands. You often still need Frenchie to translate for you but you've been making steady progress in your interactions with her. "Enjoy," you tell her, momentarily wrapping her in a hug.

"Can you believe this bullshit?," Frenchie interrupts the moment, eyes still glued on the TV. Your ears recognize the news coverage of the supe that had slithered out your fingers earlier in the day. "Two months. Two fucking months of intel, following that asshole around. Just for some attorney to buy him a slap on the wrist. Merde!"

"Shut it off, Frenchie," Butcher snaps, shedding his coat to deposit on a chair. "Ain't listening to you bitch all night. Can't do nothing about it now."

Frenchie grumbles but turns it off anyway. Kimiko curls back into her spot next to him, happily working on her treat. You sort through the bag and set the rest of the food on the coffee table before settling in between her and Butcher.

"Thank you, Y/N, for bringing the food," Frenchie smiles at you as he encourages Kimiko to steal whatever she wants from his order. "And putting up with this pissy bastard to get it." Billy chucks a condiment packet at his face and flips him the finger in response, but Frenchie swats it away with a teasing grin.

"He ain't so bad," you shrugged, finally wrapping your hands around your burger. "We're all kinda pissy after today. Besides, he only bit me twice on the ride over. Didn't even break skin this time!"

Butcher flashes a conspiratorial smirk at you around a mouthful of food. "I'll fucking remember that." At which you remember what waits for you when the food is gone, and the other two retire for the night. Oops.

Kimiko glances at you and signs. Frenchie nods and swallows before saying, "She wants to know if he bit your knees and elbows. They're an awful pretty shade of maroon."

"Huh? Oh." You look yourself over and realize the jeans you wore had a hole in one knee, where, just as he had said, a solid red-tinged bruise peeked out. In an attempt to spare your shirt of stains you had also rolled up your sleeves, flashing the same shade on your elbows. You'd been pretty diligent at keeping them out of view up to this point. No need for them to start having the same train of thought Butcher had when he'd found out about them.

"You've been pretty beat up the last month or so and you're not even out with us in the trenches. You doing ok, mon amie?"

"I'm ok, Frenchie. I've been trying a new workout at home lately. And rearranging my apartment a bit." Part of you feels bad at how easy you lie to them. But when he and Kimiko just look at each other and shrug in acceptance, you practically feel Butcher's keen attention pull away, although he never moved his eyes from his dinner. There wasn't a sign that he'd even been paying attention to any of you but instinct said he was satisfied with your answer.

You try to focus on your food and its flavors. You try to focus on the conversation as it shifts topics. You try to focus on the jokes and banter that Frenchie initiates with Butcher. You just try to focus on anything other than how aware you are of him, and don't know how to feel about it.

Eventually the time comes and the two shuffle out the door, buying the excuse of you and Butcher staying late to follow up a lead. It's a go-to at this point and they seem to eat it up like the food they just ate, so neither of you elaborate any further. You waved goodbye as they step into the elevator, and only once they were out of sight did you close the door. When you turn around, Butcher is already standing, tilting his head to the furniture. "Let's not waste any time and move this shit. We gotta lot of work tonight."

It's become routine. You pair up together and shift the desks so as to prevent further scuffing of the floor. Then one of you moves the coffee table and the other follows behind with the rug. You had tried to get him to leave it in the first week, hoping for some kind of relief on your contact points. But he'd only gave you a smirk, yanked it further away, sat a chair just on its edge, and planted himself firmly in it. You hadn't bothered asking for even the slightest accommodation since.

Once the floor is clear you immediately sink down into the space. "Combat hip drill?"

"That's right," he says, leaning against one of the columns closest to you. "But slightly different. When you're up off the floor, you'll hold. Gonna give you a pop quiz. When you answer right, you'll go back to the drill unless I say different. Rinse and repeat."

"And if I get it wrong?"

"You'll find out, won't ya?"

"Ok…" You're curious at the change of pace but say nothing. You start, arms close to your chest, hips doing the work as you sit up. Then hold.

"What's your breakfall?"

"It's how you fall back to break your fall to minimize damage. Like if somebody pushed you to the ground."

"Show me."

You tuck your chin as close to your chest as you can, holding the slight curve in your back as you fall backwards. You stretch your arms out and slap your palms down as you make contact with the floor. 

Butcher nods. "Good. Drill." You shift up and start again, switching legs. You get through three more cycles before he tells you to hold the top again. "What's shrimping?"

"It's a hip escape. The movement helps you escape out of positions when you're on the ground."

"Breakfall and show me till I tell you to stop."

You almost cast him a look but follow through, falling back to the floor again. Once there you shift onto your side, place your bottom foot and hands on the floor and shift your hips back as far as you can, now resembling the shape of a shrimp. Then you switch sides and repeat, sliding across the floor. You reach several feet before Butcher calls out for you to turn round and do it back to where you started. Even though you know how crucial this move actually is, you still feel a little ridiculous as you move across the floor.

You barely reach your original spot before he tells you to drill again. Up, back, switch legs. Up, back, switch legs. "Alright. Shift gears. Do your gators, to the door and back. I know how much you love these," he drawls.

You suppress a groan, knowing it would only encourage him, and roll onto all fours. You shift to a push-up stance then place your left arm slightly in front of you. You keep your right hand where it is and slide your right knee up as close to it as you can, left leg straight. Then do a push-up, or at least your attempt of one that doesn't have you firmly kiss the floor. At the top you alternate sides, moving you slightly forward and do it again. Gator crawls, gator push-ups, whatever they were called, Butcher wasn't wrong - you hated them. They made your shoulders and arms and…Well pretty much everything burns.

You're mentally cursing at the tremble in your muscles and how loud your huffing quickly becomes when you hear movement next to you. You turn your head and almost fall over when you find Butcher moving alongside you. Only he makes it look far easier than you do. He dips low, arms and muscles supporting him with ease, one leg stretching long and lean behind him before switching with the other. But even in your position it's his back that catches your wandering eye. The hem of his shirt rides up each time he trades arms and the skin above his belt peeks out. Not even the loud print on the fabric could hide the deep line centered over his back, or the thick, flexing cords of muscle that go up his spine and flare broadly out from his shoulder blades.

"Wha…?," you croak. The second it leaves your drying mouth, you're glad that you can blame it on the exercise. He pauses at the top of the pushup to look at your confused face, just a half pace behind.

"Oi!" He scowls, and a ripple of envy at his fitness hits you as he balances enough to give a quick swat to your shaky bicep with the back of his hand. "Gonna be in trouble if I beat you back here! Move your ass!"

You want to ask him what the hell he's doing but you don't dare risk what happens if he outpaces you. Part of you wishes you were faster as you both reach and turn back at the door. But you take a little comfort in hearing the faint grunts even he makes in the effort of executing the exercise. You manage to push yourself to finish the gator crawls just a pace before him and roll onto the floor with a sigh.

"Don't get cozy there, yet. On your feet."

"Yes, sir." He casts a glare down at your sarcasm but lets you rise up off the floor and onto your feet without comment. "Alright. What's next?"

Butcher begins to remove his watch. "No more drills tonight. Now we start the nitty gritty. The advantage of a grappling art like jiu jitsu is it focuses on the ground being the playing field. The worst place to be for most, cuz most don't know fuck all to do when they get there. The disadvantage…" He places his watch on the nearest desk. "...is it's on the ground. Which means you gotta get you and your attacker there to use a lot of what I'm gonna teach you. And an old fashioned hip throw is a good place to start."

"Oh. Well that's great," you grimace. "Is this because I joked about your age earlier? I'm your ragdoll for you to throw around tonight then? Look, if you want an apology-."

"Actually, you're gonna throw me."

You blink. Then smile. Which quickly fades when he smirks back. "Um, Butcher, if you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly setting weightlifting records. And 'small' is not a word I would use to describe you."

"Ain't even got me drawers down and you're already praising me, love?"

You close your eyes and tilt your head back. "I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that."

"You don't need to be setting records," he continued, ignoring your exasperation. "You could throw MM if you fucking wanted to. That's the point of this. It's about technique. And this!" He steps forward and taps sharply between your eyes. "This right here is gonna be your biggest asset or your biggest problem. And you have to train it as much as the rest of you."

"OK, that's great Mr. Miyagi but -"

"If you're starting this early with that mouth of yours, you're gonna have a long night," he growls. "Cut the shit. And focus."

A smarmy part of you wants to sass back. Another part of you is hanging on to how the words rumbled out of his chest. You go with the part that knows better than to push buttons on an already edgy Billy Butcher, and tell the other parts of you to politely fuck off.  "Alright, sorry. I'm focused. How do I do a hip throw?"

He shifts a step back out of your space. "We start with you blocking a punch. Bring your hands up. Put one hand back like you're covering your ear. Most people throw first with their right, so use your left. Your elbow should be pointing at me and not the ground. That's good. Now when I throw that punch you want to step into me like you're driving that elbow in me."

"Step into you?"

"You can't throw me if you run from me," he teases. "Don't look at me daft, I ain't gonna throw it for real. We'll get there eventually." He imitates the punch and you take a step forward, your elbow just brushing his shirt. "Hold that. You see where my arm is at?"

"Yeah."

"How well am I gonna land that punch after you stepped into me?"

You peek at what you can see of his arm on the other side of your block.  "You…can't? Your hand is past me."

"Lookie there. She does catch on." He ignores your eyeroll and continues, "Sure, if I react quick enough I could change tactics and grab you instead. But you're not gonna give me the chance to do that. Take that hand by your ear and clamp it on my tricep."

"Like this?," you ask, putting your left hand on his upper arm.

"I mean clamp it. Grab me tight. Now step forward, slide that other arm under my left and grab the back of my belt. If you can reach my right hip, even better. You wanna be perpendicular to me."

You fumble a little but finally shuffle into the position. Your right hand has a firm grip on his belt, your hips perpendicular to his with just a breath of space between. The open v of his shirt is right at your eye level and a hint of dark hair and a dash of freckles peek out at you. Focus, focus, focus…

"Pin my right arm as close as you can with your elbow. You want it tucked against you so I can't pull it out. Good. Now hold. This right here," he taps his foot for emphasis, "is your T-position. If I tell you to start with T-position, this is it. You lost yet?"

"No," you shake your head. "T-position. I'll remember."

"You need to tuck your head in though. Even better if you put it against my shoulder. Bad to have your head straight up."

"Why?"

You see a flicker in Butcher's eyes for only an instant. And before you can blink, his left fingers are tangled at the back of your skull, tight against your scalp. You hiss at the sting from his grip alone. He doesn't yank. Instead he slowly pulls back, just far enough for you to start to see the ceiling. Your grip on his belt tightens as you become uncertain of your balance. Oh fuck, bad, oh fuck, bad, your brain repeats it like a mantra.

"That's why." He's grinning and you blink rapidly, trying to collect your thoughts. "If I get control of your head, well…" He tilts his chin and hums from his chest as if he were musing. "...I could pretty much do whatever I want with you from here."

"G-g-got it. Got it!," you swallow thickly, after finding half your brain. He let's go, dropping his hand back down to drape his arm across your back and you can't help but sigh in relief. You quickly tuck your chin, pressing your head into his shoulder. The scent of him is not helping what little brain you've retained.

"Now pay attention." And like that, it's as if it had never happened, except for the lasting tingle in your scalp and the mental whiplash. You're not sure just what had happened. But drill sergeant Butcher is back. "Keep a hold of my belt and my arm, and step your right foot in front. You need your hips in front of mine."

It feels a bit unnatural but you manage, your back now to Butcher as he leans over you at an angle. "We're not fucking up my back by staying here long," he grunts. "So do this next bit quick. Shift your tailbone about where my right hip is with bent knees to load me up. Then lean a bit, straighten your legs and you'll throw me."

"Butcher, I'm not sure -"

"I am. Now do it."

"I don't-"

"For fucks sake, woman, shove your ass back and throw me!"

You don't dare find out if he has some unexpected counter to this - like another grip in your hair - so you grit your teeth and quickly shift your hips. In a split second you feel the bend in your knees, the shift of his weight onto your hip, the lean -! 

Butcher lands solid on the floor but he continues into a roll away from you. You're still slightly leaned over when he reaches his feet with a huff. "See? Now was that so bloody hard?"

"That was…That was actually easy." It comes out a breath. And a smile creeps onto your face before you can stop it. Then you giggle with glee, "I actually threw you!"

"What did I tell ya? Eh?" Your grin must be infectious because his annoyance slips into a brief chuckle. "You actually have the advantage with that throw. You're shorter, gravity is on your side. It's basic fucking physics."

He sidles up to you and taps between your eyes again. "I told you this right here will make you or break you. You don't need to be some muscle bound bloke to throw people around. Or to keep them from doing it to you. Do you understand me now, love?"

You nod, still smiling, trying to keep the little victory from going to your head. Your ego got you caught in that mishap months ago. You would not let it happen again. Besides, there was more than enough of that to go around with Butcher, nevermind the other guys in the crew.

He places a hand on your shoulder, squeezes. Then slides his palm to the side of your neck. He locks eyes with you. His tone is serious but soft when he speaks again. "Stick with me. This shit don't always come easy. And you very well might even hate me for how hard on you I'm gonna have to be. But put up with me for a bit and I promise, any bastard that tries to lay hands on you again? They'll wish they never saw your pretty face."

"Even Homelander?," you half-joke.

You feel a subtle twitch in his fingers. His face darkens. "Especially that cunt."

"You think we could modify the throw? Maybe I can throw him over with his cape. Or maybe you can show me how to use it in a choke?"

He blinks and his scowl turns into a smirk. "Now you're speaking my language." He pulls back. "But don't get ahead of yourself. You did one little throw. Gonna take alot more than that to convince Hughie. And you gotta convince me before you even think of talking to him. Let's go again."

A thought rolls into your head. You shift on your feet and he stares at you when you hesitate to start up the lesson. "Butcher, about that. Will you vouch for me?"

"What?"

"You're not wrong. Hughie's a sweetheart. But he can be stupidly stubborn when he cares about someone. Even if I train for years, he might not listen to me. But if…if I have somebody to vouch for me, somebody that Hughie respects…?"

Butcher nods. "Suppose you're right. Hateful little shit, innit he?" You say nothing and he sighs. "Alright. After a while, you show me you know what you're doing, and that you know how to use it when shit gets real messy, then I'll vouch for ya. Sound good?"

"Good."

"C'mon then. From the top."

It takes a couple more times going through the motions but you start getting into the groove of the sequence. You alternate sides, start tripping less on your feet or Butcher's, and start finding your grips with less effort. It's especially easier without a tense moment of hair pulling, or heady thoughts. 

Of course, Butcher can't let you have all the fun. You do your due diligence, taking turns throwing slow punches at him and applying your breakfall techniques to soften your landing on the unforgiving floor. Which isn't much. You might have the advantage in gravity but he has experience. He throws you not with too much force but certainly enough speed to just make you nervous.

After a few minutes, he gives you a hand up off the floor and rolls his shoulders. "One more for you, then we're done for the night. Gonna do this one a little different though. Go through the sequence but hold when I tell you."

You give a thumbs up and assume the stance in front of him. He swings just a bit faster this time, right handed, and you move fairly easy. Block, catch the arm, grab the belt. You expect his command to hold when you get to T-position but it never comes. Assuming he must have forgotten, you follow through. You step in front, shift, bend the knees, load him up, ready to -

He grabs the top of your jeans.

"Hold!"

"What?!" 

You totter for a split second, start to lean back to set him -.

"I said hold," he growls in your ear, shifting his weight to force you forward again. Your feet automatically reposition to accommodate the sudden change to prevent a faceplant. "Put me down, you won't like my counter. And if you fucking drop me…"

A tiny part of your brain briefly registers how comical this must look. Oh, if the others were here now to see it. But it's a fleeting thought as your legs and back protest, getting louder by the second. Your muscles quickly start to shiver. "Cant!," you pant. "Butcher!"

"Can, Y/N. Hold."

You manage to turn your head to look him in the eye. He merely smirks like the devil. "You asshole," you grind through your teeth.

The seconds tick by long and slow. Your knees burn and quickly threaten to buckle. The shivers progress to shakes. You groan as the effort saps your low energy levels. Your grip on his belt grows sweaty. "Butcher!"

"Alright, thro-"

You don't let him finish, leaning forward and using your grips to compensate for the loss of force from your legs. It's sloppy but it gets the job done. You slip to the floor a second or two after he does and roll onto your back next to him, panting at the ceiling. You close your eyes as your equilibrium recalibrates. After a moment you open them again, finding Butcher sitting on his heels beside you.

"See?" He leans over and pats your cheek. "Told you, you could do it."

You stare at his stupid face and stupid hazel eyes. And that stupid fucking smirk. "You know when I said thank you? Earlier?"

"Yeah."

"I take it back."

Hours later, after the office is put back in its place, after Butcher lets you hobble home, you lay in your bed, half-dozing. Only half because when you begin to sink into slumber, behind your eyelids are images that leave an afterburn when they snap open again. Whispered playback in your ears to jolt you alert.

…firm hands pulling your hips back flush against his…

…do you understand me now, love?...

…your sheets sliding down a long, thick-muscled back as it flexes…

…I could pretty much do whatever I want with you from here…

Between the slow ache setting in your limbs to match your new bruises, and catching a lingering hint of Butcher's scent even though you had long since showered before bed, you had to wonder. Wondered how long could you really maintain like this? Would it be long enough?

…put up with me for a bit…

You turned a little more into your pillow with a groan. Then sighed, "You asshole."

[lothloriien]

Hey I saw your tips for drawing muslims but do you have any for writing them?

hello hello, thanks for the ask!

WRITING MUSLIM CHARACTERS

stereotypes to avoid

– the “oppressed hijabi” trope

listen, most of us wear hijab because we want to. because we grew up around it. because it’s as natural as wearing a shirt. please stop acting as though we all despise our hijab and our religion

– the “misunderstanding parents” trope

why are all muslim parents emotionally or physically abusive in fiction? i personally have an amazing relationship with my parents. also not all muslim parents are trying to suck the joy out of their children’s lives. they’re just trying to keep their kids safe. also this trope usually gets pretty racist because the reason they don’t understand their child is because they’re “not from here” and “don’t get how things are done” so yknow, avoid that.

– the “abusive dad” trope

listen. i’m fully aware that abusive parents are horrible and something that people should be made aware of, but when every muslim dad in fiction is abusive, that’s just islamophobia. just. give us good relationships with our family!!!

– the “silent mom” trope

how come muslim mothers in fiction have no lines? have no voice? they’re just silent products of a household there to cook and clean. what is that all about?? please. just stop

– the “White Boy Romance” trope

oh, all muslims know where i’m going with this Do. Not. Have. A. Hijabi. Take. Off. Her. Hijab. For. A. White. Boy. please. don’t have her take it off, period. but especially not for romance. actually, if your narrative involves a muslim girl stepping away from her religion and taking off her hijab and realizing she’s happier this way, throw the whole story away. i’m sorry, but if you’re not muslim, this isn’t something for you to write about. this is not your story to write, and writing it will be extremely islamophobic. avoid a typical romance. muslim romances do not occur the way western romances do. either you gotta be okay with that and write it properly, or you should do your best to avoid it altogether.

THINGS TO DO

– let them have friends!! let them have muslim friends!! especially if they live in an area that has a high muslim population.

– let them talk about things that aren’t their religion. listen, my muslim friends and i talk about religion occasionally, but i can assure you, more of our conversation revolves around the hot boy of the week or about whatever shows we’re watching. and in terms of non-muslim friends, religion isn’t a point of tension. we respect and celebrate our differences, and that’s it. we talk about it sometimes, but we don’t argue about it

– make it clear that we’re muslim without just saying it. have us take a step aside to pray. have a character compliment our hijabs. have us fast in ramadan (or make up fasts in the winter). have us eat halal meat. say bismillah before we eat. say alhamdulillah after sneezing or when we’re thankful. subhanallah when we see something beautiful

– we’re not nuns. we find people attractive. we discuss it. it’s not a big deal

– make sure we have a personality that doesn’t revolve around our religion. yes, our religion can be a huge aspect of our identity and life, but no, it’s not the only thing. make them obsessed with a show. give them nervous habits. what do they collect? are they introverted? you tell me!

– avoid intimately close friendships with the opposite gender. casual acquaintances is fine, but this is something i would personally avoid writing if possible

– research what is haram. i’ll give you a basic list:

- pork

- meat that isn’t halal

- gelatin (unless it’s plant gelatin or from a halal store)

- missing prayers

- sex before or outside of marriage

- cheating in any way

- abuse towards your family (yes, this may come as a shock to some, but it’s actually prohibited by islam)

- drinking

- drugs

do more research, of course, but this is a basic list.

i think that about covers it: don’t stereotype us, make sure it’s noticeable that we’re muslims, give us personalities, and make sure we’re avoiding haram stuff

before anyone comes at me: i’m aware that there are muslims who don’t follow the rules and who do haram things and who don’t like their religion and don’t have stable family relationships etc, etc. BUT when that is our only representation in media, it’s islamophobic. show us good muslims, who like their religion, whose religion is their identity, who don’t feel like their religion is causing them to lose out. because we exist.

[naddiesflower]

Hi! This is gonna be a wierd request but I just got really bad injuries on my fingers and I can't use them without being in immense pain (text to speech has become my best friend) so you think you can write something with M H A characters with an S slash O that can't use their hands after a mission/accident without being in a ton of pain? I just need some fluff to read while I recover. Thanks!

Not weird at all! Sorry for the late post, a tornado had taken out my wifi lolol I wanted to keep them short and sweet, if some of your favorite characters are missing please let me know so I can do a part 2

Characters: Midoriya Izuku, Bakugo Katsuki, Todoroki Shoto, Kirishima Eijiro

Midoriya

CEO of finger injuries

Knows what you’re going through and I think he’d be the best person to have by your side during this time

He’s like a tiny hospital with all the stuff he has for injuries

Izuku stop breaking yourself challenge

Ices your fingers for you

Has compression bandages and wraps your fingers to help with pain and swelling

You try to do something and this boy is quick to be by your side

Actually, I kind of imagine him just cautiously hovering near you

but he makes sure not to be too overbearing in fear of bothering you

He absolutely doesn’t mind caring for you

It’s a nice change of pace for him since he’s the one who’s also hurt because of his quirk and you would always be by his side

He’s happy he’s able to return the favor

Bakugo

First, he’s going to scold you for getting yourself hurt

Then he’s going to take care of you in his own stubborn way

He acts huffy but he actually enjoys helping you

You don’t ask him for much, but he’ll go out of his way and do stuff for you in an aloof manner

Like with school notes, he’ll hand them to you like it’s some sort of obligation, but they’re done so neat and legible and it’s honestly cute that it contradicts his body language

He’s pretty good at cooking, but baking is a much different story

He secretly goes to Sato for some baking advice so he can bake you your favorite sweet

And one day he turns up with them in hand in front of your dorm room

He insists on feeding them to you so you don’t further injure your hands

Will absolutely argue with you if you don’t listen to him

Shoto

Kind of blames himself for your injuries

“If I had been there-”

You would have smacked him if your hands weren’t injured for saying that

I headcanon him to be the type of person to show his love through actions rather than words

Will carry your stuff for you 

You don’t even ask him to, he’s already in front of you with his hand out like ✋🏼

Ice bags?

Nah fam, he holds your hand with his cold side (he’s very happy holding your hand)

He feeds you since using chopsticks would be a hassle

Dude acts like he does this every day since he doesn’t look the least bit phased about it, while your face is as hot as a furnace

Is coming up with ways in his mind to feed you even after you’ve fully healed up

Kirishima

Looks like a kicked puppy when he finds out about your injuries

Kisses your hands saying that they will make you heal faster (ugh what a freaking sweetheart)

If your injuries leave you with scars he calls them cool (also kisses your scars 🥺)

Tries to make your favorite foods

Keyword tries

Can’t cook for the life of him but he tries dammit

Is usually always affectionate with you, but is a lot more during this time

Absolutely hates seeing you in pain

Will hold you through it and does anything possible to help alleviate your pain

This baby is just a ball of serotonin and he makes the healing process so much better