#this also sounds like someone who truly has been bullied and is scared of expressing their wants or needs

[lafilleestmorte]

the thing is, toey never initiates emotional intimacy with q. he'll wonder for a year what kind of music q listens to but never even think to directly ask. he'll bug q about all sorts of tips to make his art better without revealing why he chose to pursue art at all. he'll collapse onto q's lap when he is drunk and extremely tired but won't ask to sleep next to him or even try to come up with an excuse to when he's sober. he doesn't actually ask q to come with him to the park - he asks peem and then peem asks q. toey will nag q with his tone or with his teasing or with his eyes? but never ask for what he actually wants

but even when q (or peem, or tan) takes initiative to make their intimacy possible, toey just seems happy and content to be held as close or as far as q is willing to have him.

If q came all this way to teach toey how to shade, if q is worried about toey being in the studio alone at night, if q (maybe) wants to learn how to skateboard, if q is worried about toey getting kicked off of the bed by peem, toey interprets it as exactly that and nothing more

[eloignetoi]

My opinions and overall throughts about Netflix Wednesday because people (including me) are obsessed with it but there is very little content about it (beside the TikTok trend).

The show itself is amazing - not just because it's popular - but the storyline, characters and overall aesthetic are quite endearing. I loved how characters worked together and how sometimes they didn't:

Wednesday is not perfect nor horrible. She has many traits that fit the autism spectrum : obsessions, blank tone and facial expression, unique perception of the world - no she is not depressed, she isn't numb to reality nor sad, she simply enjoys what most people are scared of -, and her perception and understanding of social and emotional conventions are, well, unconventional. These traits make her uniquely enjoyable, but it also gives place for improvement and development in this new social environment that is Nevermore, and which we witness throughout although mostly at the end of the show.

Xavier is not a classic manipulative white boy. He is clueless and emotionally constipated (which I believe has something to do with his dad), and that can be annoying, especially when you know he could have been a lot more helpful with Wednesday's investigation as his dreams/visions seemed to complete hers. A certain tweet has made people agree that he is manipulative and annoying, which I don't really get. He is supposed to have flaws so that there's place for character development, just like Wednesday. But he always had good intentions. He did not manipulate Wednesday into asking him to the ball : considering his serious crush on her, I think he truly hoped she had changed her mind - one can hope lol - and teased her as a friendly joke. That's why he got so mad when he found out about her ulterior motives: he realized she never planned on being his friend. He was not being obsessive either. I mean, when you're in love with someone who's been the target of an attempted murder, I guess you try to go out of your way to protect them - and eventually forget them. That's what the painting was for (as he clearly explained it), don't act like you've never been in love or had a hard time getting over it. The one thing I do agree with is that he and Wednesday have no romantic chemistry, and I hope they are not going to try and force this relationship. If they do, I hope they'll make it right with a better atmosphere, context, chemistry, etc... and let's be honest, it would take a lot of changes and efforts. What would really work (with the atmosphere and context of the first season), would be a strong friendship, not only because they made up at the end, but also because they have many similarities and their powers could be very useful when put together. They would be amazing investigators.

When it comes to Tyler, I am surprised people didn't catch on his uniqueness. There were very little to no clue about his true nature, but he was definitely odd: the only normie kid rejected by his normie friends but without any outcast friend either. Troubled teenager who lost his mom, has a bad relationship with his father and a history of bullying (with Xavier), and the creepy scene in the Gates' mansion where his face suddenly appears in the light. After watching the end, you can also catch on the change in sound/music at the ball when Thornill smiles at him, like there's a form of dissociation from the rest of the crowd. Overall, I think the twist was rather unexpected. What I am really eager to see is what they are going to do with him: he was manipulated and experimented on to turn into his outcast form, but from there he also willingly killed people while enjoying it and manipulated Wednesday in the creepiest way (planning a date and their potential first kiss in the very crypt he knew they'd kill her, seriously...). I wonder if they are going to try and save him or push the monster hunting to the edge. After all, his mom apparently didn't kill anyone - I believe they would have mentioned similar deaths from 30 years ago (although that might be information kept for season 2 and it might have something to do with the normie death from 30 years ago that forced the Nightshades to disband). And I can't imagine his dad's state after all the revelations: the guilt he must feel for not talking to his son about his mom and not seeing he was being manipulated.

If there is a second season, I can't wait to see more revelations about Bianca and her mom, Xavier's dad, and just more of Ajax, Enid, Yoko, Eugene and maybe even Kent. And I'm not even mentioning the stalker, as well as the new possible mayor, principal of Nevermore and Thornill's replacement.

What I really liked about this show, beside characters, were costumes: the Addams' gothic style, perfectly modernized while still being close to the original comic/movie. And I loved Enid's colorful clothes (especially her amazing pink shoes in the last episode).

I do have a few complaints about the show:

Although dialogues are perfectly intelligible, everyone being at the same volume, I could barely hear any background music. I only realized it were here in certain scenes thanks to the subtitles, and it sort of loses the whole impact its supposed to have on the scene. So, if you have a hard time hearing (I am aware I don't have the best hearing), I would advise you to use headphones to really get the whole experience.

I'm also slightly disappointed by the style of the series. With Tim Burton as a director, I guess we expected a darker, more "crooked" style (with character designs or even sceneries), which we mostly only got from Tyler's Hyde form and Thing. I am aware Tim Burton doesn't have full freedom and, contrary to animation movies, has to deal with the material and physical limits of the real world (human face shapes, expensive makeup and CGI).

I think my last complaint would be about the length of the season: it was slightly fast-paced and therefore quite short in the end. So many things happened in only 8 episodes. I know productions now have to deal with many constraints, deadlines and even budgets, but I hope the success of the first season will give more time and money for the producers to have fun and add as much as they want to the final product.

Finally, I think it's just fair to write about Jenna Ortega's acting, which is absolutely amazing. Beside the no-blinking thing (which is really hard, not only because of the length of the scenes but also because of reflexes - try not blinking while moving your head around, or try doing it while keeping your movement natural), her posture is so straight yet remains natural. I'm also quite impressed by her capacity to control her full body - try staying as straight as her while falling, like in her vision scene after the kiss.

I also think it's important to note Gwendoline Christie's performance (principal Weems). Her facial expressions are to die for, with the slight eye movements whenever Wednesday or Morticia piss her off !

Emma Myers (Enid) also has some good facial expressions (at the ball, or with the homeless man who steals the camera) and her whimpers are so fun !

The expressiveness in this show is quite phenomenal and really participate in the story - big fake smiles (like Noble and Weems), odd expressions (like the woman who drives the hiker in the woods in the first episode, or Tyler's weird scene in the mansion), and the ambivalent, twisted meaning of Thornhill's actions and reactions that are great to rewatch after the twist revelation.

I have a few more thoughts about the choice to involve Pilgrims in the story (which is unique, hilarious and meaningful), but they're not fully developed.

I don't mistake my opinions for truths and I'd love to see more approaches to the series.

Also please note I'm French and English is not my first language. If you see any mistake or weird syntax/grammar, please inform me 😊

[wromwood]

It’s been a few days since I watched Turning Red, but I can no longer hold these thoughts inside my body, so I might as well say it on the Internet.

Click the “Read More” to read a very long winded essay post about how this movie is the first girl-focused teen coming-of-age movie that I really really like. Spoilers below.

When I first saw the trailers for Turning Red, I was both excited and afraid. I was excited because the animation looked super good, the premise sounded interesting, and I liked that it was going to portray a background (Asian-Canadian) that I was/am not familiar with in a time period that I lived through when I was very very young.

I was scared because I hate teen coming-of-age stories. Especially ones that focus on “girl” puberty and adolescence.

I’m a transgender man. I hated teen girl stories all my life, and it was only after coming out that I realized why: Any and all coming of age stories from my past typically followed really trope-y gender and sexuality stereotypes, most (if not all) of which made me feel othered and alone. They reinforced this idea that teen girls and boys have specific, rigid experiences that hardly overlap, and that when you become a teen, your relationship with the other gender (because of course there are only two in these stories) will forever change. If you are a girl, you can not return to the time in your life when you can just befriend a boy, and vice versa.

This made me especially spiteful towards stories about and aimed for teen girls. Either the stories were entirely unrelatable, and I spent my time reading/watching them being annoyed and confused, or there were aspects of the stories that I could potentially relate to, but they were IMMEDIATELY undercut with the INSISTENCE that these were female experiences, and that no body other than girls could truly understand them, which made me furious and dysphoric.

So once it was clear that Turning Red was about puberty and focused on a 13 year old girl, I couldn’t help but be afraid that I’d experience these spiteful, dysphoric feelings all over again.

I LOVE Turning Red.

By the end of the movie, I was immediately examining my feelings to pinpoint how this movie succeeded where others failed miserably. They mention periods, for god’s sake, a topic that typically makes me so physically uncomfortable and dysphoric that I want to shrivel up and die whenever it’s brought up in media. But I was able to watch this movie, laugh and be appreciative that the movie was normalizing a natural process, and only cringe at the scene that was SUPPOSED to be embarrassing.

I think Turning Red did a great job at portraying a girl’s coming-of-age story that other people can still relate to.

Meilin has a scene where she crushes on someone and draws anime-inspired sketches in her notebook. Is this something that people associate with teen girls? Yes.

Does the movie insist that this is a girl thing and that only girls do this? No. The most you could argue is that it implies this through not showing a boy doing it, but I actually think it’s fine as is.

(This is also a scene I heavily related to, as I drew fictional characters I crushed on in pseudo-anime styles in high school. The process of her doing it and her facial expressions NAILED those feelings.)

Meilin and her friends, who are girls, love the boy band 4*Town and crush on the members. Is this a thing that people associate with teen girls? Definitely.

Does the movie insist this is a girl thing and that only girls do this? NO. Not only does the concert have boys in the audience, Tyler is present and quickly accepted into Mei’s friend group as a 4*Towner. He is not mocked or othered for this interest, and 4*Town’s music is legit awesome enough that any audience member would feel justified in liking the music.

SPEAKING OF TYLER!

Tyler is a 13 year old boy who is the closest thing that Meilin has to a bully, but is honestly just a bratty teen boy who likes messing with her and teasing her. Is it true that Mei’s main male classmate has negative interactions with her? Yes.

Does the movie blame this on Tyler being a boy and insist that this is a natural boy/girl dynamic? NO. I argue that it gives enough subtext to show how this is a personal Tyler problem and not a boy problem. Like Mei says, Tyler is an insecure jerkwad at the start, insecure being the operative word. He wants Mei at the party so people will show up, implying that he doesn’t really have friends, which is supported by the audience not seeing him interact with other classmates. He quickly accepts the idea of paying $200 for Mei showing up, and he has a big cool-looking house, which implies that his family has a lot of money. (Also, he’s able to attend the 4*Town concert, which means his parents were willing to fork over the ticket money and just apparently leave him there with little supervision) My head canon is that Tyler is somewhat of a spoiled brat of a boy who needed to work on his personality and feelings of insecurity before being able to make friends, and having the music of 4*Town to bond over was the starting point he needed to connect with others.

I could go on and on, but my main point is this: while the movie picks a few things that can be seen as tropey girl stuff (liking boy bands, thinking boys are cute, drawing anime drawings, etc), they don’t reinforce that restrictive girl vs. boy dynamic that just infected all previous teen stories I had to experience in my life. These are all things that these teen girls just happen to like/do, but they aren’t insisting that ALL or ONLY girls do this.

Perhaps it’s more of a vibe thing, but those are the vibes I got, and I loved it. I did not, at any point, feel ashamed for relating to the things these fictional girls did, which is huge for me.

Also, I feel that Mei’s panda does not only represent female puberty. It’s a metaphor that, specific to the story, is a female puberty (the panda blessing is passed from daughter to daughter), but any non-fictional audience member could relate to it.

People keep saying the panda “represents periods”, but that’s not true. It CAN represent periods, but even then, it doesn’t ONLY represent periods. Honestly, the panda more personifies growth spurts, body odor, heightened aggression/panic/sadness, new levels of physical strength, feeling like the biggest and most obvious presence in a public space that could draw tons of attention to yourself...

... THOSE ARE ACTUAL UNIVERSAL PUBERTY EXPERIENCES.

Sure, there could still be people out there who don’t experience some of these aspects. But these are aspects that apply to the puberties of far more people than just girls.

I actually have an original character that I created back in high school. He was one of three characters, and they each personified different parts of my brain. This character was made of my anger, my lust, the feeling that I was an obvious presence that people could dismiss as overgrown and disgusting... but he wasn’t a negative character to me. He also had the anger that believed I deserved to be treated with respect. He appreciated and loved the small, sensitive, sad side of me. I related to him and singled him out, but did not know how to define him.

Now more than anything, I think he’s my panda.

(Or not a red panda, since I’m not Chinese. Maybe my mom could pass on an Ecuadorian animal blessing. Like a Pampas cat. Yeeeeesssss.)

The true beauty of Turning Red is that while you can totally view it as a story of  a teen girl’s puberty, and teen girls can relate to it, I think that anyone can relate it. I know there are a ton of hot takes out there that “oh boo hoo, the cismen are saying they can’t relate to characters who are different than them”, but my take goes beyond that by insisting that you honestly don’t need to do that much work to relate to it.

If this insecure, dysphoric transman can totally love and relate to this story, then it says a lot about how universal it can be.

P.S. I also heavily related to the generational trauma aspects. There were definitely differences between Mei’s Asian mother and my Ecuadorian mom, but god damn, there were still moments that yeeted my consciousness back to being a teen who was worried that I was betraying my mother by questioning her and being embarrassed by her. Encanto and Turning Red felt like two puzzle pieces of relatability in that regard.

[mettywiththenotes]

320 bits I wanna talk about

Iieda looks like he’s doing the *inhale* before the BOI IF YOU DON’T- meme. Something along the lines of “BOI IF YOU DON’T GET YOUR ASS BACK TO UA-” kind of thing lol.

He holding something in definitely. Maybe charging up for an attack? Idk but he sure seems concentrated

Actually, Iieda seems kinda considering. Maybe he’s weighing up if he should join in the fight, as if he’s asking “Will I have to fight Midoriya, if it comes down to it? Or can the others handle this?” Something tells me he doesn’t want to have to weigh in on the fight. Maybe tear into Izuku verbally, but fight? No I don’t think he wants to do that

But also, I find it interesting that that black panel of text is under him and then it cuts to Bakugou yelling at Izuku. I mean, it could very well be Bakugou thinking that, but if that’s so, then why is Iieda the first person we see?

So, I think it’s Iieda thinking that. Tensions are rising, it seems. I’m expecting his turn to be full of a lot of emotion, or at least trying to get across to Izuku that he feels betrayed but mostly just wants Izuku to come back home.

I don’t really know what’ll happen with Iieda exactly, but I’m totally interested to see what happens

I know Bakugou has problems with his emotions and words and stuff, but I also think here he’s trying to anger Izuku in order to get him to fight back, maybe so he’s more angry than flexible in a fight, so the end result would be Izuku getting too angry to predict anything and eventually tripping up, and that’s when 1A could capture him.

The one thing to remember about Izuku is that allowing him to think is going to be the opponent’s downfall. We saw in the Kacchan VS Deku 2 fight that Bakugou knew this and so kept attacking as much as possible so Izuku wouldn’t have time to think. Which worked, because Izuku is great at analysis, so making his “Win” attitude [getting competitive therefore putting more energy into attacking than strategy] come out over his “Save” attitude [you’re my friend and I want to help you] is kind of a weakness of his. That’s kind of one of the reasons he lost that fight.

Then again, maybe Izuku has improved since then? I don’t really know but I think enough time has passed for him to have maybe improved more on that so idk we’ll see

I really love Bakugou’s expression in that bottom screencap lol

His wound!! All bandaged up!! I wonder if there’s a scar there or smthg :O

LET’S GET READY TO RUMBLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

I know Enji or Bakugou probably gave them details about the multiple quirks but I still find it wild that everyone just knows now

KOUDA! MY SWEETHEART! I’m glad he’s getting a part in this too, along with Sero. Two of them who didn’t really hang around Izuku but still want him to come back :’)

Sero and Black Whip! Finally! I mean it’s not much but it’s still better than nothing

Also, seems like Sero is trying to taunt Izuku to get him to attack him maybe [same as Bakugou feeding into Izuku’s competitive side] soooo idk Sero following Bakugou’s lead? Maybe :)

Look at how,,,, innocent Izuku looks,,,,, *head in hands* AND SERO TEACHING HIM!!

I knew this lil moment would come bite me in the ass at some point, I knew and yet I’m still tearing up goddamn

That “I thought she was going to tell me its a useless hobby” bit really drives home how Izuku’s friends are 1A, that he loves them and they were the only friends he’s ever had [except Bakugou but he was a bully at the time so I’m not really gonna count him for back then]. HOW many people before UA had gone around and told Izuku his taking notes hobby was useless? SHOW me the people!

I, mettywiththenotes, will NOT allow anybody to slander one of my own!

I know it’s like the only moment Izuku and Ojiro shared, with the sports festival thing, but it’s still really sweet that Ojiro sees that Izuku stood up for him

*head in hands*

Shouldn’t this kid be more worried that he’s likely going to get kidnapped?

“Yeah this super evil villain guy has decided he wants to kidnap me and take me away, but like nbd guys really, that’s why I left in the first place! So I wouldn’t be a burden!” Somebody get this kid a fucking therapist or some shit

This is kind of a chilling and pretty scene though. The rain falling above Izuku and him looking down with these piercing green eyes likely being the only light between them. Good stuff.

Satou! Aha I like how he’s pulling all the stops, such as “I WON’T LET YOU BORROW MY INGREDIENTS FOR ERI!”

Also let’s appreciate that Satou caught Ojiro and Jirou and managed to land on a freaking traffic light. The balance on this kid! Very well done

Kaminari putting Izuku in a headlock! How cute :)

Be cuter if they weren’t trying to subdue a martyr-complex cryptid from killing himself, but still

Does Shouji have some kind of support-item?? Or could he always do the stretchy thing?? Or I guess maybe he’s just stretching his arms out like branches [like he usually does] and using them as more like a capture weapon rather than his usual stuff. I don’t think we’ve ever seen him use his heteromorph body and quirk for anything other than the 5 senses, though I could be wrong

Also Shouji remembering what Izuku said at the training camp, I’m so glad! Shouji always seems like the kind to be so protective over his friends, so I’m glad he remembered that. Then again, Izuku did compare them to freaking ALL MIGHT, but if the nice analytical kid in your class who knows your limits and strengths says you could basically beat A GOD, then that’s definitely one for the memory scrapbook lmao

“It’s nice and dark here, Dark Shadow.” Who said that?? Kami or Izuku?? I just have this mental image of Izuku being shrouded in darkness and trying to keep his eyes open from falling asleep haha

Tokoyami remembering that from all the way back then!! It makes me think that not only have Bakugou and Izuku been watching each other, but that Izuku has always had everybody’s eyes on him! Which is true, he’s inspired everyone! It goes both ways; Izuku loving his friends, and them loving him back :’)

Kami telling him to take a bath lmao I love it. Finally somebody said it

*ugly sobbing noises*

This kind of segment, with a mask falling, a space in-between and a reveal, reminds me of Compress’ reveal :) In that, the person is hiding their identity and then when the mask comes off, they reveal who they truly are underneath

While Izuku is of course determined to go after AFO and is quite the fearsome powerhouse, I really think when he takes off that mask, he’s showing who he really is underneath - a scared little boy who just wants everyone to be happy

JESUS, SHOUTO REALLY IMPROVED HIS QUIRK HUH!! LOOK AT IT, IT’S EVEN HIGHER THAN THE SKYSCRAPERS!!

“The burden placed on you... it doesn’t allow for tears, right?” He sounds so sassy here.

Kind of like saying “Oh you look upset. But that’s weird, I thought Heroes weren’t supposed to cry.” Lol it really shows here how pissed Shouto is at Izuku

But then he relents from that snark and is like “Hey, come on, we’ll share this burden. I’m not letting you go it alone, remember that we’re all here.” :’)

I love when Shouto is sassy and passive aggressive but I also love it when he shows that soft side of him

Okay, this is something I really love.

Tsuyu didn’t join the Bakugou Rescue Squad because “they would be just like Villains breaking the rules”

But here she is, learning from that regret of hers and coming right back to make sure Izuku isn’t the one struggling. She wants to be a part of this rescue squad and pick up where she left off :)

Tsuyu has always struggled with her regrets. It was shown after Kamino when she cried, but for me, I only realised this fully during the Joint Arc when she had her regrets about not making better decisions and not being quick enough [I think that was it].

“I won’t cry in such a flurry” reminds me of “I want to live a life without regret” and so that’s what she’s saying here. This won’t be another regret of hers. She wants to do her best to save her friend

“When scared, you’re allowed to tremble when it’s tough, you’re allowed to shed tears. That’s how you become a Hero like in the comics.”

I feel like that quote piggybacks off of Shouto’s “Heroes cry too”, in that, this is now 1A comforting Izuku. This is them fully coming up to him and telling him that they can help, and that he’s allowed to feel sad about his situation. Shouto’s quote was the teaser, while this entire chapter [and the rest that come to follow] is the main course.

And this is exactly who Tsuyu is. Reassuring, comforting, someone dependable. It says a lot that she’s come from not going to help in Kamino, confessing her feelings and crying about it, then coming back in a similar situation and offering her help - that she’s not willing to just let an opportunity go to better herself. I think I remember reading a few posts on her crying after Kamino and saying it was “performative” or that she just “wanted attention” or smthg like that, but I think she’s really just quite an honest person, and here she is making a great show of how she won’t let something like her guilt slow her down from being the hero she wants to be.

[A part of me feels like this is also a little more evidence with the whole People Not Caring About Bakugou’s Feelings Of Helplessness but like. I digress. It kinda counts but at the same time, it’s not what is going on at the moment.]

Seeing everyone try to reassure Izuku was lovely, and I can’t wait for the rest. I’ve seen a lot of people waiting more for Bakugou’s portion of the battle [AND YEAH DUDE ME TOO] but I really feel like Bakugou’s won’t come until like 2 chapters later or something.

Cause, if this chapter is anything to go by, we’ll probably get through Mina, Mineta, Kirishima, Hagakure and Aoyama next chapter, and then we’ll move onto the “more important” conflicts which will be Iieda and Uraraka, and if their segments are chocked with tension drama and tears, then Bakugou will have a whole chapter to himself hopefully.

Which means we’ll probably have to wait 2 more chapters until we get that sweet, sweet Bakugou chapter :( I hope I’m wrong and it comes sooner than predicted but whatever

I know for some people, that’s all they want, but personally I love these little bits that reflect on the background characters. As someone who isn’t really obsessed with the background characters but also likes them enough to appreciate their development/the little moments they have, I gotta say I really liked this :)

[ijustwant2write]

Estranged-Fred Weasley x Malfoy!Reader

(GIF credit to @genterie​)

Tags: @obsessedwithrandomthings​

Masterlist

Prompts List

Requested by anonymous: 'Love your writing it’s amazing! I was thinking of a Fred Weasley imagine where he doesn’t die. And after the war, he falls in love with Draco’s twin. And like her parents accept it because all they want is for her to be happy. (They learned from their past mistakes)'

Characters: Fred Weasley x Malfoy!Reader, Molly Weasley x Reader (platonic), Lucius Malfoy x Reader (father), Narcissa Malfoy (mother)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Swearing, mention of death, mention of abuse/bad childhood, estranged family relationships, judgement, reconnecting, lots and lots of fluff

                                   *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

(Y/N) Malfoy felt people staring at her as she walked down the street, some in disgust, others just intrigued as to why she would show her face after all these years. Her platinum hair gave away her identity, as well as her fine clothes that were clearly expensive. She didn’t want to flaunt, but she had earned these items now, after working to build up a reputation again since...since the battle.

Why couldn’t it be normal for her now? Yes, she had been on the wrong side, but she and her brother, Draco, didn’t have a choice. Their last few years at Hogwarts had been miserable, all because their families had made ties to the Dark Lord. (Y/N) had always been quiet, almost mute when she was younger; although she wanted to speak up about many things, defend anyone her brother was bullying, explain how she didn’t agree with her parents views on wizards who weren’t pure bloods. But she was always too scared, she didn’t want her father to yell at her like he did Draco, or that one time she tried saving a house elf from a beating (that had caused many nightmares to occur). The only time she did use her voice was when she convinced her brother to spare Potter, to lie, to make sure that their fellow classmates could live; although taught from a young age that they were superior, she realised how wrong her families’ beliefs were.

Shops turned silent when she entered, conversations were only whispers, the shop keepers not serving her with the same warmth as everyone else. As usual, she kept quiet, quickly paying for her things then leaving. Deep down, (Y/N) had always known she wouldn’t be normal like anyone else, but she could try. 

As she left, keeping her head down again, someone bumped into her with such a force that it sent her flying to the ground. She yelped out, instantly feeling pain shoot up the arm she landed on, her shopping falling out of the bag and scattering around. No one helped her, they walked past as she struggled to gather everything.

 “What a bunch of twats.” someone snapped, and she recognised the voice.

Looking beside her, out of all the people in the world, Fred Weasley had bent down to help her.“Fred?”

He sadly smiled, helping her to her feet as he held her bags.“In the flesh. You alright?”

“Yeah.” she breathed out.“Thank you.”

“No problem. I haven’t seen you for years.”

She ducked her head.“Yes, it’s been a while.”

He sensed her anxiousness.“Are you sure you’re OK?”

She cleared her throat, ignoring the pain in her arm.“Now I am.”

“Hey, why don’t we go grab a drink? You know, catch up?”

She looked up in surprise.“Y-you want to hang out with me?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

Flashbacks to all the times her brother spoke down to their family, the moments where she didn’t stick up for them or tell Draco to back down. And when her family fought against the Weasley’s at the battle. She had heard from witnesses that Molly Weasley was the one to kill her aunt, Bellatrix Lestrange (although it didn’t sadden her, Bellatrix had always made (Y/N) uncomfortable and scared). Yet here Fred was, kindly offering a hand. Sensing her hesitation, he nodded, understanding now.

“I don’t hold grudges (Y/N), especially against those who haven’t done anything wrong.”

(Y/N)’s tense posture relaxed, thanking him once again as she went to take her bags from him. However, he retracted his arms, holding them away from her. 

“So, are you coming?” he grinned.

Surprisingly, (Y/N) nodded straight away, laughing as she tried to grab her bags again. He laughed with her, already walking away as she caught up. She recognised the route, they were heading towards Diagon Alley, soon stepping into The Leaky Cauldron. Luckily it wasn’t full of people, they had come at a quiet time, though she still chose a table in the far corner, slightly hidden away. Fred went to get their drinks, leaving her alone with her thoughts. He was being so nice, no one had been like that in a long time.

“I can’t believe how long it’s been.” Fred sighed as he settled back in his seat, handing (Y/N) a drink.

“I don’t really want to think about the last time we saw each other.” she mumbled, looking down at her hands.

“No, me neither.” he quickly changed the subject.“Well, what’s been happening in your neck of the woods?”

“Not much I’m afraid. No one wants to be around a Malfoy.”

“I’m here aren’t I?”

She bravely looked into his eyes.“You’re just being sweet.”

“What about your brother?”

“Draco is fine. He’s actually met someone, it seems serious.”

“Wow, Draco Malfoy is settling down?”

“Yep. I’m happy for him.” she asked the next question before she could think about it.“Have you found anyone?”

He scoffed a laugh.“No, still stuck with my brother at the shop.”

“You know, I only ever went in there once. Draco caught me, he dragged me out of there.”

“What a prick.” Fred closed his eyes, sighing when he realised what he said.“Sorry, just used to saying that.”

She giggled, making him smile.“No, you’re right. He used to be the worst at times. But he’s better now, more understanding. He has a lot more respect for people.”

“And you’re talking more.”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“You used to be so quiet. I remember the first time you spoke, it’s all anyone ever talked about.”

“I had always been told to keep my mouth shut or face a consequence. It comes and goes, though I’m happier now. Much happier.”

“Me too.”

That first meeting turned into another, then one more after that, before they found themselves seeing each other every week. These ‘catch-ups’ became much more than that. (Y/N) had laughed more than she had in her entire life, and Fred found it easier to open up to her about the past. They no longer met up in public, Fred mostly visiting her small home (not the lavish Malfoy Manor he had heard so much about) as it was more private and further away from anyone else. Drinks phased into dinner, dinner moved onto staying the night; both couldn’t wait to wake up next to each other, loosely snuggled up before tightening their embrace as they stirred. 

They got away with keeping it a secret for months, except from one individual. George wondered where his brother disappeared to, teasing Fred when he came to the shop late and dishevelled. He dared to follow Fred one night, shocked when he saw (Y/N) kissing him. George gently brought it up, at first upset that Fred had been bewitched by a Malfoy. After the three sat down, George saw (Y/N) for who she truly was; she was scared about what George thought, though when he saw how they lifted each other up, he knew this was the right thing.

George had been accepting. But what about everyone else? (Y/N) had thrown up the day of meeting the Weasley family. Fred convinced his parents to not invite anyone else, just let it be the four of them. He also forgot to mention that (Y/N) was a Malfoy. She had to refrain from crying the whole way there, breathing deeply and thinking about something else to avoid a panic attack. She recognised the shock look on Mr and Mrs Weasley’s faces as she walked into the Burrow, their lovely smiles vanishing almost instantly. 

“Mum, dad, this is (Y/N).” Fred proudly said, not afraid to wrap his arm around (Y/N)’s waist.

“H-hello.” (Y/N) shakily said, desperately trying to stop her nerves from getting the better of her.

The sound of the poor girl’s voice made Molly’s heart break. Everyone knew of their quarrel with the Malfoy’s, but seeing such the young, intimidated and quiet girl made her forget all of that. It had been slightly awkward at first, but Fred helped ease everyone into conversation, and by the end of the night, there were smiles on everyone’s faces. As they said their goodbyes, Molly had a chance to pull (Y/N) aside, seeing her son and husband deep in conversation.

“Thank you for tonight Mrs Weasley, it’s been lovely.” (Y/N) said, finally feeling comfortable.

Molly had seen (Y/N)’s surprised expression when they had been welcoming to her (once the shock of being a Malfoy went away). This girl had never received this type of attention, Molly imagined the only time the family was together was for silent dinners and public outings. But her personality around Fred was calmer, she looked reassured. (Y/N) needed love, she needed that experience of being part of one big happy family.

“You are welcome here anytime dear.” Molly smiled, squeezing (Y/N)’s hands.

When Fred managed to get (Y/N) away from his mother, she had been gushing about everything that had been said that night.

“Did you hear what she said to me?!” (Y/N) exclaimed.

“Yes, you’ve repeated it many times.” he chuckled.

The happiness remained until Fred brought up the question (Y/N) had been dreading.

“So when can I meet your parents?”

Although (Y/N) desperately wanted to skip that milestone in their relationship, it seemed unfair that she had met the Weasley’s, and Fred wouldn’t meet the Malfoy’s. (Y/N) hadn’t kept much contact with her parents, mostly letters to her mother, even though there wasn’t much to talk about. One night when she was writing one of the said letters, Fred had been looking over her shoulder, convincing her to mention the relationship. (Y/N) found it incredibly hard to put pen to paper, not writing Fred’s name, but explaining how far this relationship of hers had gone. Her mother penned back, expressing how much she wanted to meet the mystery man. It was finally time to do so.

“Should I have got a different suit?” Fred stressed as they made their way to her parent’s house.

“No, why?” she asked.

“Because...well, it’s nice, but not as nice as the ones your dad wears.”

“I don’t want you to dress like my father. I want you to be you. And are you sure you’re alright going there?”

“Are you?”

She thought about it.“Not really. I just keep telling myself that it’s just a house, there’s nothing more to it.”

As they stood outside Malfoy Manor, (Y/N)’s heart rate increased, She felt Fred’s hand become sweaty, but that could have been her’s too. Now looking at it, it felt much more gloomier, more haunting. But they only had to be here tonight, no longer than that. Of course her parents didn’t greet her straight away, the door opened by itself, and the couple cautiously walked in. (Y/N) flinched as the door shut, remembering how much she hated this place. It was so different to the Burrow; (Y/N) knew she should have been grateful for a manor as a home, with lavish decor and large amounts of land, but that could never replace the safe feeling you were supposed to feel at home. 

“(Y/N).” her mother, Narcissa, gasped as she entered the room.

(Y/N) crumbled at the sight of her mother, knowing that she wanted their relationship back to how it used to be. But she still didn’t rush to hug her, casually walking over. Narcissa took in (Y/N)’s features, smiling as she thought about how beautiful her daughter was. Hugging her like only a mother could, she didn’t let go early, hating how long it had been since they saw each other. When they pulled away, Narcissa noticed the man, hiding her surprise when she saw he was one of the Weasley boys. (Y/N)’s shoulders ached from how tense they were as her mother approached Fred, opening her arms to him. Her mouth almost dropped open, as did Fred’s as he returned the hug. Narcissa no longer cared about being part of a ‘superior’ family; (Y/N) was happy with this man, and he had managed to bring her daughter back to her.

"Come you two, we have drinks waiting for you." Narcissa smiled, gesturing for them to walk ahead of her.

(Y/N) grasped onto Fred's hand again, feeling her breathing become deeper at the thought of seeing her father. Fred didn't want to push any boundaries in front of her parents, but he would be damned if he let (Y/N) become upset. He wanted to come to ensure that her family gave their blessing, it would feel wrong not to come; but if this was the last time she wanted to see them, then so be it.

Walking into the drawing room, (Y/N) unintentionally gripped onto Fred's hand harder, almost digging her nails in. There were no complaints from him as Lucius Malfoy turned around. He looked a lot better than the last time he saw him, though he had definitely aged, and being part of Voldemort's army hadn't helped with that.

"(Y/N), welcome home." Lucius said, his usual cold tone in his voice.

"Thank you father." she whispered, going back to her quiet self.

"So, he's a Weasley then?"

"Yes sir." Fred spoke, not afraid anymore.

(Y/N)'s head whipped up to look at Fred, then to her father. Lucius narrowed his eyes, stepping forward until Narcissa stopped him.

"Lucius." she warned."We've just got them back."

"Them?" (Y/N) questioned.

"Draco visited only last week. We met Astoria." Narcissa explained.

"He finally did it."

"What? You knew about her?"

Fred squeezed (Y/N)'s hand, silently encouraging her to go on."I send letters to Draco too. We've both been petrified to come back."

"Why?" Lucius had the audacity to ask.

"I'm with a Weasley. You belittled them for years. And it pains me to say that I stood back and did nothing. Never did I imagine that I would be forgiven by them, let alone fall in love with one."

She couldn't believe how forward she was being. But they were all listening intently.

"I've grown since I've left here. Fred has helped me to change, change for the better. I have missed you both, but you can't deny that we weren't a normal family."

Lucius and Narcissa exchanged a look, a wave of sadness washing over them. They had been caught up in the Dark Lord's work, wanting to fulfill the purpose they had been taught from a young age. They assumed their children would follow in their footsteps. Oh how wrong they were. And they regretted every second of it.

"(Y/N)," Narcissa calmly started, slowly stepping towards the couple,"we cannot express how much we regret abandoning you as a child. We weren't focused on raising our family. Losing you and Draco was the worst pain I have ever felt in my life. Your letters have been the only thing bringing us a small amount of joy each week."

"Your mother is right."

Though his face was stern, anyone could see that Lucius meant what he said. He just didn't know how to express that.

"I can no longer tell you what to do or who to be around." he said."Your mother and I have had many long conversations about this particular topic, about you and Draco. We want you to move on, be with someone who will give you a good life and treat you better than we ever did."

This was too much for (Y/N), this was the longest they had ever thought about their feelings ever. She was frozen, unsure if this was a cruel trick. Were they really going to be happy for her?

"A-are you..." she steadied her shaky breath as tears fell from her face."Are you being serious?"

Narcissa's eyes widened at the thought of this being fake."Of course darling. I can't lose you again."

"(Y/N), we are happy for you both." Lucius added.

That sent her over the edge. She made up that she needed a minute, rushing out of the room. Fred didn't hesitate to run after her, calling her as she ran outside. (Y/N) collapsed onto the steps to the door, head in her hands as she sobbed.

"(Y/N), hey, it's alright. I'm here, I'm here with you." he gently said, sitting beside her.

She felt him pull her hands away."I just...I just can't process...did they really say all of that?"

He smiled, wiping away the tears on her cheeks."Yes. They love you. I know you've been through all those hard years, and this is a huge shock. It's going to take time to get used to."

"I'm so happy you're here with me."

"Be a bit awkward if you said you had a boyfriend and didn't show up with one, wouldn't it?"

She let out a short laugh, and he knew that she was calming down."Let it all out love. If you want to, we'll go back inside. If not-"

"No, I think I need to do this. You're with me, that's all I need to continue."

He held her face in his hands, slowly leaning in and pressing a small kiss on her lips."I love you."

"I love you more."

"We've got this, we're in this together, always."

[fabricated-misslieness]

Peter Parker x gender neutral reader with powers

Powers inspired by Fetch from Infamous Second Son

(I made this moodboard earlier on in the week to keep inspiration, since I didn’t have the time to write this then. This basically describes the reader)

Part 2 here

Requested: No

Word Count: 2512

Warnings: Swearing

Everyone knew (y/n) as the star of the track team, but to certain others he was a little more than that.

To the people in your classes, you were the quiet kid, the one that the teacher always seemed to forget to call. Yet they couldn’t seem to be that angry at your luck, maybe it was your charm, or maybe it was that sweet smile of yours.

To the quiet, shyer students, you were the nice popular kid, the one that would pull bullies away from others whenever you saw a situation arise. Ironically, the bullies were usually other popular kids.

To the popular kids, you were the one that they all liked, despite not talking much. You could say one sentence in an entire conversation and it would make them grow fonder of you.

To the kids in your art class, you were the one that always had a tip for their artwork, a tip that never failed to help. You were the artistic kid who got praise from everyone and would not hesitate to praise back.

To your best friends, you were crazy, in the good way. You had a risk to try every day and a gorgeous hide-away spot hidden in plain sight. But you had the tendency to disappear without a trace, though you were always back by a day or two. As for where you went, it was a mystery. They asked, but you never gave a direct answer.

To Peter Parker, you were someone that gave him subtle hints. Hints to what, he didn’t know, but you always winked when you saw him and didn’t have the time to speak, which was rare. You usually approached him, gave him a suave greeting, and sometimes a small pick up line. Ned told him they were pick up lines, but he didn’t actually believe that they were. The constant of the confusing equation that you were, though, was your smile. It was genuine. Not pitiful, not forced, not mocking, but truly, truly genuine.

It felt nice for someone, someone who wasn’t all that close to him, to smile at him in that way. He was used to the pitiful stares from people who knew what happened to his family, the forced ones he got from people trying to act nice, the mocking ones he got from Flash and his friends when they taunted him.

But to Spider-Man, you were an enigma. He’d usually find you spray painting the side of a building. Of course, he didn’t know it was you. Your ‘disguise’, he called it a disguise but it clearly wasn’t one, was a painting mask, one that blocked toxic paint fumes, and a beanie. Really, it was that simple. 

You couldn’t blame him, though, anytime you had the small gut feeling he, or for that matter any other law-abiding citizen, was nearby, you’d bolt.

Your powers came in handy for that.

Speaking of which, he wanted to know where those powers came from, if they were tech or superpowers, if you ever had to replenish, if they consumed something like energy, if you could do something other than run faster and let the trails linger, and several other questions.

Everything you did with them left a neon red glow or  trail, sometimes you even used them for your artwork.

Anyway, what even was the crime you did for Spider-Man to come after you?

Vandalism, straight up graffiti. That was certainly a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man kinda job, huh? Helping grandmas cross the street, old hispanic ladies get directions, stopping people from loitering where they shouldn’t be… non-Avengers level stuff.

Your graffiti was mostly political/social movement stuff, but sometimes it was a way for you to express yourself.

Nobody knew about your powers, hell, you didn’t even know where they came from. That was why you never told anybody, but man was it a hard secret to hold. Your reason was that they’d push you to become a superhero, like Spider-Man. That, however, wasn’t the biggest of your fears, nor the biggest reason.

You were scared. What would they think of you?

What would they think of the real you? The ‘you’ you wanted to show them.

You sighed, looking at the artwork on the wall. You’d worked as the ideas came to your head, even with how messy it was, it looked good. You felt like it represented you.

Even with how good it felt to paint your feelings out, your recent thoughts about how your friends, or really anybody at all, would react had altered your mood.

“How does Spider-Man do it?” You muttered to yourself. How did he keep a different identity, from superhero to teenager? At least you thought he was a teenager. Every time you ran from him he’d scream for you to “come back” or “slow down”, and he’d always sounded like a teenager.

“How do I do what?” Before you could run just like the other times, he webbed your wrist to the wall, too late to realize it was fresh paint and you had your watch on.

You shrunk back, side-eyeing the artwork and struggling against your restraint, forgetting in a state of panic that you could easily break it with your powers.

Spider-Man could see the panic in your eyes, and he was quick to calm you down.

“Struggling won’t--” No, Peter, that’s not how you reassure someone. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He was relieved to see panic to falter that teeny little bit.

“I just want to make a deal.” It struck him a few seconds later how wrong that sounded. “N-Not a drug deal, or anything.” 

The panic subsided, though the uneasy feeling didn’t. You were amused at his mixup, thought you didn’t show it.

“You stop spray painting areas where you’re not allowed, and I let you go with a warning.”

You raise an eyebrow, pulling down your mask slightly so that he could hear you properly. Peter couldn’t help but think you looked a little attractive that way.

“You’ve seen the activism stuff I’ve done.” He has, and he was all for it, but it was still vandalism. “The world needs to listen, and if they can’t, they have to see.” You stuffed your hands into your pockets. You would’ve assumed that Spider-Man would be all up for it, but it seemed like he wasn’t.

“Trust me, I agree with it, it’s just that it’s illegal.” He crossed his arms as if to intimidate you but it had no effect on you.

You huff, furrowing your eyebrows. “You know that’s bull, Spider-Man.”

“Look, I love your artwork, but you have no permits.” He insisted, which was making you grow more and more agitated.

“You don’t have to be lawful good.” Peter raised his eyebrows at the DND terms, but you couldn’t see that. “These are statements for the world. And they’re—“

Spider-Man gestured towards the graffiti behind you, which was clearly not a statement.

“Alright, you got me there.“ You roll your eyes, “I can stop these, but I will not stop the important ones. I put them in those places because I need the people to see.”

Spider-Man was conflicted. On one hand, you were morally correct. On the other lawful hand, the spray painting was still illegal. He didn’t know how he should act on this.

Once again, he could clearly see you growing frustrated.

He steps forward to put a hand on your shoulder, but as his hand lands on it, your powers let out a neon red shock.

It doesn’t affect you, but it clearly affects him… and the web on your wrist.

He collapses face-first on the ground of the alleyway.

“Shit,” You kneel down next to him. “Of all the times for these stupid powers to backfire, it’s now?”

You stand up, debating on whether or not you should flee from the scene, leaving the red clad superhero on the ground.

Your moral compass was pointing to no. You couldn’t just leave him here alone, he seemed hurt.

You’d never done something like that on accident, not to this degree. Anything else remotely similar had been used as self defense, to some mugger or two, and all it did was stun them for a sec so that you could run away.

You turn him over to check on him.

He appeared to be fine physically, but then again if he’d only fainted he’d be up and running by now. 

You sigh, stretching and getting ready to pick him up because he didn’t exactly look like a light-weight. Now, where was the nearest hideout?

Peter woke up in a sleeping bag. The first thought in his head wasn’t where he was, rather, why was his mask on? 

He moved to take it off but then remembered what happened last night.

Then he asked himself, where am I?

He strained to sit up. It felt like he’d been hit by a truck several times.

He first looked down because his head throbbed with a splitting headache. When he found himself stable enough, he looked at his surroundings. 

The first thing he’d noted to himself was that this was definitely not his bedroom, nor was it a place he recognized.

The second thing was, the place was dirty as all hell, it looked to be an abandoned warehouse. The only furniture seemed to be placed there by squatters, which was technically what you were, since this was your hideout.

You walked carrying a dunkin donuts bag. “You’re up?”

Without the beanie and the mask, he could finally see who you were. “(y/n)?” He whispered under his breath, hoping you wouldn’t catch that. You were the person who gave him hints, and also the star of the track team. No wonder you were able to run away from him that fast, even with your powers. He felt stupid, it was so obvious who you were.

“Yeah, that’s me.” You snicker, sitting next to him. You take note of the way he sways as he sits as if he were dazed, which he most likely was. “I’m going to assume you know me. As much as I’d like to guess who you were, I think that’d be a bit rude.”

Despite how dizzy he felt, Peter couldn’t help but notice you acted as if whatever happened in that alleyway didn’t happen.

You were being nice to him, even when he started that argument.

“I brought food, even if you won’t eat it in front of me.” You hand him a sandwich and a cup of water. Peter nods, taking the drinks but keeping them next to him. “I checked you for any serious injuries, had to pull back your suit.”

You notice the way he leans back from you, you take it as a sign of worry.

“Don’t worry, there was nothing serious. I didn’t check under your mask either, if you’re worried about that too.” You thought he would’ve assumed you didn’t from your previous comment about his identity, but panic can make you forget things, you guess. “Just bruises, and I think I gave you a concussion. They’re probably from that red burst... sorry about that by the way.”

“Probably?” He asked.

You hummed a yes, rubbing the back of your neck. “I don’t actually know much about these powers.” You played with the neon light of the glow stick you always carried around with you, in case you ever needed a recharge. You ‘pulled’ the light from the stick, admiring it. Spider-Man seemed to admire it too, though probably in an investigative manner.

After a while of molding it into different forms, you put it back on the stick. Peter took that as a sign to speak up.

“You don’t mind me knowing your identity?”

You stare up at him with a cheeky smile. Peter thought you looked beautiful under the red glow of the glowstick. “I wasn’t trying to hide it.”

Peter flushes a bright red, thankful for his mask. He nods slowly, pretending he was processing the information.

“I should.. leave.” He stands up, a little too fast for his dizziness. As a consequence, he nearly falls back down, if it weren’t for your fast reflexes.

“I think you should stay a while.” Your smile was wonderful. “Wait ‘till you feel fine.”

Peter looked out the small windows of the warehouse, it was still dark out. That was a relief, since that day, or maybe tomorrow who knows, was a school day. “Okay.” He mutters adorably. He plops back down on the sleeping bag.

You sit next to him again, taking a bite of your own sandwich. “I don’t imagine you’re actually hungry.” He nods back at you.

“You should take these back.” He makes an effort to shove the items back in your bag, but you stop him before he can.

“No, you should keep them.” He can tell you seem worried.

“Y’know, I think my concussion is--” He tries to stand up, yet you pull him back down.

You gave him an all-knowing look, “It’s not. You’re still swaying.”

You see the spider eyes narrow at you, and you can’t help but think he’s adorable. It’s almost like Peter trying to figure out if you’re flirting with him or not. “You’re nice.”

“I caused your concussion.” You reply.

Right, you were the one that pulled Flash away from him. He’d heard the stories from the other kids, too. Man, you seemed absolutely perfect.

The rest of his time with you he insists on making small talk, even if you tell him not talking might help him rest up more. You weren’t exactly sure if it would, and he wasn’t either, which was one of the reasons he insisted.

Thankfully, it didn’t take long for him to stop swaying. He had a small headache, which would most likely last for the rest of the day, but the dizziness had left him.

His main priority was to get out of there, not only to get home, but also because you were making him flustered. You liked teasing Spider-Man, despite not indulging in blush because of the mask. You could tell by the way he looked down or how he fiddled with his fingers.

“I think I’m good now.” You made him stand up to make sure he was telling the truth.

He passed that simple test so you showed him towards the exit.

You checked your phone, “12 am.”

He nods, sandwich bag webbed up to the drink for easier carriage. “Uh..” You hadn’t expected Spider-Man to be this awkward. “Thanks..?”

“Yeah,” You smile. “No problem.”

He turns to head out but you stop him with a hand on his shoulder. He nearly jumps back when you press a chaste kiss on his cheek.

“See ya around?” Your smile turned cheeky.

“Y-Yeah!” He exclaims out nervously. A second later, he’s right out the door. Even if he has a mask on, he’s not risking embarrassing himself in front of you.

“God, why do I have to be so awkward?”

[zayray030]

Ramble

Summary: Spencer knew that his tendency to ramble has at times frustrated people but he thought that at least the BAU wouldnt mind. Guess he thought wrong. OR 4 times someone told him to shut up and 1 time someone told him to ramble

Spencer rambled a lot. It was conman knowledge. He especially seemed to ramble when he was either anxious, scared, injured or with someone he was close with.

When Spencer had been younger he had regretted rambling so much. Maybe if he hadn't rambled so much his father would still be with him. If he hadn't rambled so much maybe, just maybe he wouldn't have been bullied so much. Maybe he could have a happier life.

Anyway, he shouldn't think like that! He had a new, even better family. The BAU had accepted every part of his weirdness with limited questions and light teasing.

The BAU had especially adapted his rambling tenancies and listened to him when he rambled. Most times anyway.

I mean, Spencer couldn't exactly blame them. Not everybody could continue having the patience of a saint. Some people tended to snap when too much was handed to them. Spencer guesses he was the too much they couldn't handle.

He knew that the team didn't mean to be hurtful. It just hurt that the people he thought he could trust were just so…cold when they wanted him to be quiet. But they were.

And Spencer didn't know what hurt the most. The fact that he wasn't shocked that they had gotten tired of him or the fact that they did.

Instance one where people had too much of him (Maybe talking about the importance of healthy eating wasn't a good idea)

Spencer and Morgan had been at the lunchroom when Spencer had noticed that all Morgan had was a protein shake, two cookies and milk.

Those weren't nearly enough calories to be able to power Morgan up! Especially considering the older agent had the tendency to overtrain himself to get more muscled.

“You know that isn't enough right?” Spencer asked, gesturing to the measly meal in front of Morgan.

Spencer missed the look that Morgan sent him and continued rambling about the health and safety of having limited food and the dangers that can do to the body. Just as he was about to start rambling again Morgan cut him off, harshly.

“Listen, thanks kid but I don't exactly need health tips from a skinny twig. How about you shut up and just let me eat in silence, okay?” and without waiting for Spencer’s reply Morgan up and left, not bothering to look behind him.

If he had he would have seen the heartbroken expression on the younger agent. He would have seen the slight fear in his eyes at the thought of another person is his life leaving him.

Spencer looked down at his meal and shook his head out of any thoughts to do with Morgan just being a tad bit rude with how he wanted Spencer to be quiet.

He should have just kept quiet and not spoken. This was all on him. He shouldn't have bothered the older man. He'd be quiet around him to make him happier.

Instance two where people had too much of him (Maybe he shouldn't ask someone if they need help from now on.)

Spencer was making his way to Garcia’s office. Maybe spending some time with the older woman would help but his mind at ease with what happened with Derek. She might even offer him a solution!

However, when he walked in there it was too see Garcia focusing on something on her screen.

“Hey Garcia!” he said happily. He hadn't been able to have an actual conversation with the other in a long time and he wanted to just rant with her. She was the most patient with him and sometimes even joined in with some of his ramblings.

“Hey Spence” she greeted distractedly. Maybe that was one of the clues that Spencer should have taken and left the older girl to her devices before coming back, but he was too stressed and he wanted to talk to his ranting partner.

“Did you know that…” and he continued rambling about the dangers of constantly staring at your screens (we'll just ignore the slight hypocrisy) when he stopped when García banged her hand on the table.

The boy jumped and turned to look at the girl in a mix of confusion and fear. The blonde took a deep breath before turning back to Spencer.

“Listen, Spencer. I love you, okay pumpkin? But currently, I need to do this so please shut up.” and she spun her chair back around and continued back to what she was doing.

Spencer took that as his cue to leave. The other didn't notice as the genius of the BAU turned around and left her office. She didn't notice the dejected look on his face as he turned away, sure that this was another person who was tired of him.

Instance three where people had too much of him (Maybe he shouldn't be asking questions. He is a genius after all)

He hadn't been able to understand why the unsub had the tendency to put a picture of their victims' happiest moments near their dead body and had gone to Rossi to explain it to him.

Not his brightest moments he would admit to that.

He had approached the older man in hopes of learning more from him but maybe he should have done it when the man was feeling better. But it was hard to tell with that man whenever Spencer was around him. He would always have a constant scowl. Maybe he should have taken that as a sign to not continue speaking.

“But why?” Spencer continued to wheedle. He had hated not knowing something. It was truly frustrating.

“Listen, kid.” the older man snapped, turning to glare at the genius. “Maybe for once it would do you some good to not know something. Or maybe just use your genius brain to figure this out. Either way, shut up and stop bothering me!” the older man was almost yelling by now but he lowered his voice at the last minute, making it sound like a vicious hiss. Spencer couldn't help but feel like that felt worse.

Before he could respond to the other, Rossi had turned around and stalked off, muttering things about kid geniuses being a pain in the ass.

Another person left him. Maybe he really was the problem for everything going down.

Instance four where people had too much of him (Maybe he should stop trying to explain things to people. It never turns out well in the end)

Emily and JJ had been talking about a new campaign thing they can do and Spencer had decided to drop in his two cents. Big mistake.

Just as he was about to go into detail about the various colours and where they come from, Emily put her hand up.

“Listen, Reid. Not that we don't appreciate your input.” she began, shooting him a tight smile. The same smile his father would have whenever he explained anything to the older man.

“We don't.” cut in JJ, before stuffing a dorito in her mouth.

“We would much rather you shut up and leave and let us handle this on our own. We don't need or want you to explain this to us.” Emily continued as if she hadn't heard the blonde.

Spencer didn't say anything, just nodded and shakily stood up. He walked out quickly, the only tung he could hear behind him is Emily and JJ talking about the campaign again.

He had lost two people in one go. He hadn't thought he would be able to hit that number after he sent his mother to the asylum. He truly was alone again.

And one instance where someone hadn't had enough of him (A.K.A Aaron Hotchner is the best)

Aaron was confused. Now, this wasn't exactly unusual. In this job, you tended to become really confused when dealing with the crazy things that happened in the BAU.

No, what confused him was the youngest member of the BAU. One Spencer Reid.

Once again, this wasn't exactly shocking. The young genius tended to confuse things with his ramblings about the most random things. Some people would find it annoying but Aaron found it quite endearing. Whilst he might not understand what the genius was blabbering about, he found it nice that the younger man would let down his guard enough to not care what he was talking about and just let things be free.

He also couldn't say anything when those sparkly eyes were targeted at him but no way was he going to admit to that. If anybody found out they would use it to get away with almost anything. Especially Morgan. Aaron inwardly shuddered at the chaos that would cause.

So that's why the agent couldn't possibly understand why Spencer wasn't rambling to him and why he seemed almost scared about even going near him.

“Hey, Reid?” and he couldn't help but feel slight anger when Spencer jumped and flinched when he called his name.

Not anger at Spencer, never. Anger at whoever had hurt him yes.

“Y-yeah?” and the younger man winced before starting again. “I mean yeah Hotch?” and he was fidgeting with his sleeve, looking anywhere but him.

Aaron shot the younger man a look, not liking the lack of rambling.

“I was wondering if you could tell me something about the stars.” and it was an absolutely pathetic attempt at a conversation and he knew that, but he was getting desperate now.

“Umm, well they're up in the sky.” answered the younger man, words coming out more awkwardly than intended and both men winced.

“Cmon. I'm sure there's more than that in your big head. Come on. Tell me more.” the older man encouraged, a small smile on his face.

Spencer shot him a surprised look, and Hotch couldn't help but feel confused.

“Umm well, did you know that…” and hearing the younger ramble made him relax ever so slightly. It was just one of those things that once you get used to it feels too weird not to be around anymore.

However, Hotch’s peace was interrupted by the very boy who started it. “I'm sorry. That's probably enough. I'll shut up now.” he said bashfully, looking down and scratching the back of his neck.

Hotch saw red briefly before calming down. He can get angry later, right now he was going to deal with why the younger man seemed to care that he was rambling so much. He didn't care before, so why know?

“Why would I want you to shut up?” he asked, slowly making his way to the smaller man when he noticed the slight shaking in his shoulders.

“B-because everyone w-wants m-me to s-shut up and I-I don't want to l-lose the o-only family I have l-left” the brunette answered through his choked sobs,

Hotch enveloped the prodigy in his arms, not allowing him to escape. The younger made a small sound of surprise before collapsing into the man, shaking as he continued to son in the man's arms.

When he looked up he realised he had an audience that consisted of a group of oddly guilty-looking BAU members.

Suddenly, something clicked but he needed to make sure.

“Who's everyone, Spence?” he asked gently, contrasting the harsh glare he sent everyone else. A ripple of satisfaction went through him when they all looked away in shame.

“D-Derek, G-garcia, Emily and JJ and R-rossi.” he answered shamefully, burying himself deeper in the man's arms, almost as if he was trying to make sure the older man wouldn't see him in such a weak state and judge him harshly. So that he wouldn't see the look of disappointment.

Hotch felt his heartbreak as the young man in his arms continued to cry. Eventually, those sobs died down and only light breathing could be heard. He must have cried himself to sleep.

Making a split-second decision he quickly gathered the man in his arms before picking him up and laying him down on the couch. He took a blanket that was lying there and draped it over the peacefully sleeping form.

He then turned around to the people who caused this mess.

“Do you guys have anything you want to say or do you want me to make an assumption?” he asked sarcastically, shooting them all a furious look.

“Look, Hotch we didn't kn-”

“Shut up, Derek,” he replied and took little satisfaction when the man in front of him flinched away.

“I don't really care how stressed you guys were, what happened that day, what you ate. But none of that makes it alright to tell the person who was told to shut up for most of their life and mistreated for most of his life to shut up.” he hissed, mindful of the sleeping agent in the room.

When none of them disagreed with him he continued.

“Know, here's what you guys are going to do. You will all listen attentively to whatever he has to say, clear? You all have to do as he says, clear? And if I don't hear him ramble and the only cause is because he's tired I will personally assign all of you to convenience store robberies. Clear?” and he knew that would get them to agree if Spencer’s crying face wasn't.

Nothing is more humiliating than being assigned convenience store robbery cases. They all nodded their heads quickly, not wanting to anger the other man any more than they had.

“Good. Now go. I doubt Spence wants you guys to be the first faces he sees when he wakes up.” and they all scuttered away, like mice.

‘Rats would be more fitting.’ mused Aaron as he turned to the man he'd grown to see as a son.

“Get some rest, k Spence. You're going to need it. After all, tomorrow you're going to have to deal with a bunch of sorry ass' ' and he placed a small kiss on the boy's forehead before making his way out and closing the light and door after him.

Spencer would be okay. And if he wasn't you would have to deal with one Aaron Hotchner.

[natakari-tash]

More lies, more projecting..

Anons by their side, wow, doesn't sound familiar at all.

December 2019 has been a long time ago, I've been in the twitter GC when the "confrontation" happened. Been confused by the way it all exploded, I remember that clearly. This group chat has always been and meant to be a safe space, to vent, to discuss fandom things, talk about the show too. When misunderstandings happened they were either cleared up in chat or in messages or just given time to cool off. People clash sooner or later, you can't agree with everyone on everything, nothing wrong about that. No one is, will be nor was blamed for leaving the chat, even less for taking a break from the fandom. Also need to add that all fans are equal regardless the followers or whatever reason someone finds to assign as "qualifying" to be better than others. So, a group chat of fans that are friends, new people added here and there, new friendships made, fallouts happen here and there, friends talk again, life continues.

Except... This was never a problem to these two. Tink and Saz. They saw and seem to still see it the same way (if not worse) as back then. That Min is the problem. Guilty of always speaking condescendingly to other fans according to both, considering Tink an "idiot" which was pulled out of thin air (again, I happened to open the chat on those messages, closed it as I thought it has been cleared up to an extent).

How did Saz reply to my message where I reached out to her?  "I'm sorry you feel that way"

See? No remorse. Claimed she wasn't uncomfortable with the whole gc but uncomfortable and scared of Min. Sell that bs to someone else.

According to Saz, the whole chat was okay with Min's horrible behavior that no one dared to speak about nor put a stop to it which had to be changed. When no one bit her bait she was clearly free to claim we're all horrible people that gang up on others and attack them relentlessly whenever they think differently. She's still saying it. Wow, standing up to hurting people, to lies, to other obvious bs makes you an awful person. Guess I shouldn't report anyone who attacks shippers solely for the ship and not behavior.

How dare friends vent for the past pain some fans inflicted on them and keep it contained in *gasp* a group chat that isn't public and everyone is free to be themselves?! The woooorst.

Okay, back to those memories.. Soon enough Saz was yet again defending Tink, claiming Min didn't stop but supposedly made subposts or sth and even threatened and blackmailed her.

Uh, wtf?? Way to twist words, wow, taking everything someone posts as personal. So healthy...

I've left them alone, so did my friends from chat and outside it. It's always the two that mention us in some way, add a lie etc. They do it in cycles they keep accusing us of.

Turn off that projector already, you two, move on, stop being vengeful spirits, c'monnn.

I'm not sure what happened before and what after, me messaging Saz or her messaging people from the chat she supposedly considered friends like Tink supposedly did too, I am sure that Saz went around trying to pull people with her and stand up to the massive threat that she clearly still sees Min as. I never messaged Tink. None of the people that have been contacted from the chat that have known Min for longer than me and also irl, none have agreed with Saz. What's even worse, Saz fed all that to another friend that I didn't see as being played by her, used this friend at the confrontation. That it indeed took me long to see.

At a point the two admitted that why they joined the chat for over a year, planning to leave it soon, that they regretted thinking it was a good idea, then both acted like that didn't happen- never said that, that no one saw that. Suuuure.

Hey, people have memory not just eyes. Your bs is not any less bs, Tink, Saz. Think we'll just ignore what we know know and ignore your maskless faces? Nah. Nice try.

Filp and flop, bitter then not and not then bitter again, contradicting selves again and again, taking every swing our way as an opportunity to add to it...

Like I mentioned already, it's cyclic. Feeling attacked so they let it out, then silence from them about it, bam, silence, more lies, silence, more slander, silence, new name for the horrible gc, silence and without doubt there's been bad mouthing in the months I moved on and didn't even remotely think of either of them.

When I expressed doubt to Saz about her words she took it as intimidation tactics, that this is what she gets or daring to disagree with Min and trying to call out Min. Her words. That I'm blind if I can't see the problem with Min, also that I'm bullying her.

Hello? Irony anyone? Self-awareness?? No one's home. Naturally. She's the frigging blind one. When it's more than one person that tells you you're wrong maybe take a step back and consider seeing where you're wrong and work on it. Saz and Tink have been around Min for less than others within the chat if I'm correct. Hell, I didn't know Min for as long as Chriss, Shea, Dot, Hikari, Sam and many others, yet still enough to see how Min is. A person, that like everyone can mess up, fight, apologize,  stand up to inaccuracies, to bs and other things while doing their thing, living their life, having their views...

Saz and Shea talked, anyone that knows anything about Shea knows that she won't just nod to bs and . She knows how people can get, knows how to handle them, had a job like that. She can go from zero to murder cop if necessary. Being Min's partner she looked into the situation and guess what? The whole thing has been taken out of proportions, there was no condescending tone, and also no innocents she said. I'll never forget that. No innocents. No one was innocent. There have been mistakes made my Min, being condescending WASN'T one of them.  

Yes, I've accused Saz of being okay with Yeshim because Drula is all buddy with Yeshim who Saz was (is?) friendly with, true, had to see the reaction. Did I believe that? Nope. That reaction along with the previous messaging told me enough on its own. Wasn't seeing her as a friend when I first messaged her already yet still being open to hear her side but nothing more cause it was clear to me she won't change her mind any soon nor will apologize to everyone she hurt. Her reply showed me she didn't and doesn't care about anyone in the chat but her and Tink.

I'll say it no matter how many times it needs to be said. If one of my friends does sth wrong and I see it I'll most likely contact them, reach out to them, tell them they did sth wrong, do it within a chat as it happens if needed. 

My point? I don't manipulate the people I consider as friends.

And once again.. Not only I'd notice the superiority in tone if there was any, I'd frigging mention it and talk about it. Most likely in DMs.

It looked like a misunderstanding at first, handled poorly, it uncovered a whole mountain of yikes in the end, kept getting worse since then. I think Saz never truly saw anyone in chat as her friends, she wouldn't accuse us that fast and keeping it up so long if she did. Acting like we betrayed her not the other way around.

Now the cult thing, Polol Discord server, Min being the cult leader.. Saz is lying again. Tink too. Notice the pattern?

Min being guilty of sth. Them not able to see what's right infront of their noses. People supposedly fearing Min and afraid to disagree. Min being a mighty fearful cult leader for having certain knowledge & being specialized in their fields. Uh, not happening. Obsessed much?

Ask anyone in the server, I'm waiting.

Stop projecting your issues on people, Saz and Tink. Not anyone's fault around here you feel inferior, feel the need to save people from others, feeling threatened without being threatened, playing victim for who knows how long so far, assigning power and clout where it's not in play at all. Therapy is nothing shameful, moving on is necessary. Please.

[nissakii]

5 sad truths that made Horimiya so relatable [spoilers!]

Horimiya has ended but not the feelings that the winter season left behind for us.

As Horimiya has been a topic lately on our blog with Nissa’s quote analysis and one of my latest breakfast anime reviews, this time we are going to look how the anime actually impacted us.

The anime which did really well and gave us a refreshing and out of the ordinary romance story compared to other series, had a lot more to give than simple romantic relationships and wholesome moments.

Why is Horimiya so relatable?

Why does it differ from other anime in this aspect especially considering relationships and romance?

In today’s blogpost we will cover those questions, with 5 sad truths that made Horimiya so relatable.

Please be aware that this post will contain spoiler, read at your own risk.

1. Hiding a part of yourself

With the first sad truth we shall start and it’s something we also see in the very beginning of the anime, actually it is the whole start of the plot and how it unfolds.

As we see, especially our two main characters have a drastic change in behaviour, in Miyamura’s case even appearance, when they are both alone. None of them want other people to know about their other side.

We see why they do not want that secret to be exposed, with each character having a justified reason.

And not only Hori or Miyamura, also Yoshikawa, Ishikawa, Remi, Sengoku and most other characters in the series are hiding a part of themselves which makes you wonder what would they think if they ever saw this side of me?

In Yoshikawa’s case when she was obviously jealous as Kono made her romantic approach on Ishikawa, realizing most of the things she wants but does not speak out loud are not in her grasp and if she decides that she wants something it is already gone. Not her jealous feelings seem like a different side, since every human has those feelings which are normal if treated in a proper way but also the way Yoshikawa acted out those feelings as she herself mentioned that she was disgusted by herself doing things behind the scenes to avoid that Kono would come closer to Ishikawa, a side that only she knows since she hides those feelings deep inside of her. Nobody would have known that she hid the fact that she wasn’t actually dating Ishikawa or that she purposely said mean things in that sense, since the Yoshikawa everyone knows is energetic and happy-go-lucky.

But it’s not limited to Yoshikawa, beside the main characters we also have Sengoku who is also hiding his cowardly self, scared of most things and not as amazing as he seems to be. A side that only Remi knows and secretly loves about him as she mentioned that he started to change toward the end of the anime but that she loves both the new and old Sengoku, yet he tries to be much more manlier and strong for Remi without Remi asking for it.

The latter also hides many things she could have said to Sengoku, many of her feelings and the way she acts when alone or around Sengoku and Kono, who knew her for a long time now look past her cute and happy act, Remi is a very smart and observant person who is not unaware of the things happening around her it is quite the opposite in fact.

All of those characters have a side they do not want to expose, as it is human nature that we adapt to the environment around us and put on the facade or personality we need to distinguish between work, school, friends, family and more.

The sad reality is that sometimes we even lie to those around us, those who are close and maybe like Remi or Yoshikawa just cannot express the true feelings that we are desperately hiding inside of us waiting for somebody to notice, that is hiding a little part of yourself that nobody shall ever see.

2. The past that haunts

It is nothing new to hear that we should leave the past behind us and just focus on the future ahead, or use the past to learn from it and correct our mistakes to step into a new light.

But that is easier said than done and that very example is represented in two characters especially: Miyamura and Tanihara.

Apart from their connection and the past they

overcame becoming closer, leaving their dispute behind there is still a conflict that each of them are fighting on their own respectively.

Miyamura, whose present self is no longer the same as he was in middle-school, learned how to interact with those around him, considering people as friends and even getting himself a girlfriend who he cherishes dearly as she does the same in return. Still there is never an episode where he doesn’t think back of the past or get anxious about it, even in the opening we see the correlation of Miyamura’s past haunting him until his graduation day of highschool, obstructing him to be truly happy despite the fact he overcame the difficulties and made friends with Tanihara who was one of his problems in middle-school as well.

Nissa wrote a whole analysis on that, if you are interested check it out, I won’t go much deeper into that topic here.

We also have Tanihara who seemed to hate Miyamura, but we also see that he is not just living his life as if nothing happened but still let’s the past replay in his head. He used to bully Miyamura and tried to continue that when he saw him in highschool as he was walking with Hori but due to some events both of them became more involved and started to hang out as friends after talking it out. Tanihara still used to dream about the incident that happened in middle-school and was even frustrated why he was actually bullying Miyamura in the first place as he simply didn’t like him for no apparent reason. He is aware that the things he did to Miyamura were in no way justified and doesn’t know where to start to redeem himself, or how he should apologize to him causing him to have nightmares and being scared to encounter Miyamura in some cases (also due to seeing Hori being a threat he considers both of them dangerous).

In our lives we cannot always do things right, leading us to mistakes towards ourselves but also towards others. Sometimes other people can forgive what we cannot forgive ourselves, as the past is nothing that can be overcome overnight. We struggle with ourselves to become a better person in the future.

But simply letting the past go even when we are now at a better place, Miyamura and Tanihara show us, it’s not that easy to just pretend the past never happened.

3. To be liked is a matter of heart

Another thing that we often experience in our lives is that no matter how good or nice we are, people simply cannot fall in love with us, or like us in a way or another.

Winning someone’s heart can take some time, but in some cases no matter how hard we try it just doesn’t spark or click.

“A matter of heart”, as we can say since some things cannot be solved by logic or forcing kindness on a person.

In Horimiya again this parallel is represented by Kono Sakura, who has a crush on Ishikawa after an encounter.

Kono being a quiet, cute, reserved and responsible person who cares dearly about the people around her is in no way not appealing, on the contrary even Sengoku mentioned that the ones who rejected her was simply dumb/blind to not see the good qualities in her.

But Ishikawa as well who used to like Hori for a very long time was rejected by her not because he was someone bad, but since she was simply not interested in him romantically while as friends she also cherishes him dearly.

As Kono started her pursuit of giving Ishikawa sweets and becoming more bold when it came to her indicating her feelings for him, at the same time Yoshikawa and Ishikawa started to become more aware of their own feelings for each other.

With Kono still being adamant to confess her feelings, being true to herself and make it clear that she likes Ishikawa, Ishikawa himself mentions that she is a nice girl, she is good in baking and more compared to Yoshikawa, but the one he is interested in in the end is Yoshikawa.

Sometimes we cannot help who we love and like, and sometimes even when we dislike someone but cannot grasp why despite trying our best to like them it’s still a matter of heart and feeling who we like.

No matter if one person seems like the better choice in other people’s eyes.

4. Loneliness is a hidden pain

Loneliness is a big topic in Horimiya, even visually we see that feeling being represented with colors and auditory with a representative sound.

A feeling so familiar yet strange, a feeling that every human experienced at least once in their life.

But despite loneliness that can be detected in some cases most of the time people struggle with it deep inside nobody aware of the hidden pain tugging inside.

We get to see a variation of loneliness that the characters carry with them.

Hori being the oldest sibling and with her parents always away due to work, grew up becoming rather independent and relying on herself. When she fell ill for the first time we get to see her vulnerable side as she was struggling with that deep-rooted loneliness since her childhood, when her parents didn’t even give her the special time back then so for her it was common to be alone until Miyamura was there for her and suddenly the loneliness that she subconsciously tried to push away gushed out of her.

With Miyamura we have someone who was lonely from the very start, not in a sense like Hori was since she still had friends who surrounded her but Miyamura didn’t have anyone around. The feeling of loneliness was so familiar to him that he never considered what it would feel like to have many people around before meeting Hori, as Shindou was his only friend in middle-school and they aren’t able to meet that frequently since they attend different highschools. Miyamura struggled with constant loneliness and even deceived himself that it wouldn’t bother him anymore if he was alone or not but in the end all along deep inside he knew that it was.

Additionally we have Kono who hangs out a lot with Remi and Sengoku due to the student council yet feels like she is always left out in a sense, may it be due to them being a couple or just generally when they ask her for advice as she feels like that’s the only thing she is good for.

Speaking of the student council, the former problem with Remi hiding her true feelings, we can see that there is a sense of loneliness as well, as she sees Sengoku slowly changing despite her liking him the way he was even with his little flaws. When she narrates the way they met and that she was fond of him, she doesn’t seem to give off the feeling of a sweet everlasting romance that started from that point, but rather talking nostalgically and with a hint of missing the old Sengoku she fell in love with.

Last but not least we have Honoka who appears to hate Miyamura in the beginning but we get to see that he reminds her of her deceased brother. Coping with the death of her brother who used to get along with her very well, the strong underclassman of Hori and Miyamura is fighting with the loneliness of having lost someone very dear to her as she sees Miyamura every day resembling that very person.

Loneliness cannot be simply defined and is a complex feeling as we can see in those characters that we have a variety of that feeling and most of them represent someone out there who may have experienced the same, making us think which of this loneliness is my own?

5. Communication is hard

With the last and obvious sad truth we see that one of the things we probably do often in our daily lives but still struggle with it the most is communication.

Each human is individual and different, we may share similarities some more than others but in the end we communicate with each. May it be through words, gestures, letters, chats and so on we are always connected in a way.

Still it always happens that no matter how hard we try, there are misunderstandings and we often conclude after a dispute or later on when we re-analyse the problem, there was a lack in communication or miscommunication.

In Horimiya especially in the beginning where Miyamura and Hori start to see each other more often we see from a viewer standpoint that both of them enjoy each other’s presence yet each of them thinks about the possible concerns and outcomes of problems that could occur.

In some cases there are incidents that could have been solved if someone would have just started explaining or maybe the other one trying to resolve the matter by speaking up, but just like in real life we humans tend to make assumptions about what the other person probably could think instead of asking them directly in most cases, or we are afraid to know.

Hori for example thinks it is obvious that she likes to be around Miyamura while Miyamura thinks she is probably pitying him and at some point they won’t meet anymore. That again results in Hori thinking that Miyamura may see her as pushy and therefore she doesn’t want to force him to do things with her in the beginning and Miyamura thinks again she is getting tired of him.

If neither of them would have spoken up this would have continued despite that both of them shared the same thought of wanting to stay with the other person.

We also get to see that with Yoshikawa and Ishikawa.

Even with Yanagi when he confessed to Yoshikawa, if it wasn’t for him clearing the misunderstandings that he caused most of the characters would have had the wrong impression of him and Yoshikawa would have thought he wasn’t serious about the confession he made in the beginning.

Same goes for Remi who tends to say things in a round-about-way, which mostly Kono or Sengoku need to clear up so other people wouldn’t misunderstand her actual good intentions.

Sometimes talking about a matter a bit longer than needed can resolve it than letting it sit in our heads and becoming a far worse misunderstanding. Often we get into disputes, discussions or become angry but in the end the longer we try to get across that what we really mean (if we mean well of course there are always people who mean harm as well), and try to make the other person aware of that what made us act or talk the way we do, the easier it becomes in the future to resolve matters just like Hori and Miyamura became much better in understanding each other towards the end of the series.

What do you think made Horimiya relatable for you?

Leave a comment and let us know!

Until then, spring started again…

Makii

[percywinchester27]

About a boy (Part-8)

Word count: 4.7K

Warning: Suspense, feels, physical abuse, child-trafficking and bullying

Characters: Dean, Cas, Gabriel, Benny, Michael, OCs and… Sam?

Summary: Dean Winchester has a secret. A secret that could really land him in trouble. He never expected to connect with anyone when he walked into the ‘Blue Stone Orphanage for Boys,’ but even then, the walls he has put up are slowly coming down. Now, a series of strange events are threatening to expose him. When everything starts falling apart around him, will he still be able to save the one person that matters the most?

A/N: I’m sorry this part is so delayed. Life got to me in a not so nice way. I will try my best to be better from now on <3

All my love to @thing-you-do-with-that-thing​​​​​ and @deanssweetheart23​​​​​ for beta reading this story <3

About a boy masterlist

“Sometimes I think that some of these kids dye their hair,” Will muttered, kicking a stone out of the way. “There can’t possibly be that many brown haired boys.”

“You have brown hair,” Cas pointed out mildly, feeling sympathetic towards the boy.

“But my name isn’t Sam!” Will exhaled, attacking another stone. 

The two of them were walking back from school. Dean had waited back for some extra class, and on the way out Cas had bumped into Will, who had been in a dark, brooding mood. Only now did he know that it was because of an abundance of dark haired boys.

“I feel like I’m disappointing Dean,” Will admitted. “But I swear there isn’t another Sam on the floor, unless some kid is hiding his real name for whatever reason. The only other thing Dean gave me to go by, was that Sam has brown hair. But that is most boys.” His voice was full of despair. 

“You’re being harsh on yourself, Will,” Cas soothed, placing a hand on Will’s shoulder. “There isn’t much to go on here and Dean knows that. He isn’t going to be disappointed.”

“I had to do this one thing, and I’m wretched at it,” Will moaned, seemingly not having accepted a word of what Cas had said. 

He is used to always having a solution, Cas thought. Will attempted math Olympiads for fun. He was smart enough to fuse out the fire alarm system. He was the sort of boy who was used to getting solutions for his problems, answers for mysteries, and now that he couldn’t figure this one out, it was bothering him. But there was also one other thing. Will was probably used to being self sufficient. He had always made his own bed and clapped his own back. Now, there was Dean.

Cas realised, Will looked upto Dean. The way he hung on to Dean’s every word like it was a gospel. How he glowed when Dean lightly made fun of him, teased him or even called him a dumb-ass. Behind Will’s disappointment was his inherent desire for praise, and not any praise, but Dean’s praise.

Cas felt a deep pang in his stomach, a swell of empathy. He had seen so many kids yearn for attention, for a drop of love in this place where everyone was lonely together. Will was no different. He’d never had anyone to appreciate his intellect. Lots of parents would have sold their souls for a prodigal child like Will. But here he was looking for acceptance from a boy who was looking for something else, someone else.

With a heavy heart, he said, “We’ll keep looking, Will. We’ll find Sam.”

The boy looked up, hazel eyes round, the question in them clear as the day. Who is Sam? But he didn’t ask. Maybe something about Cas’s expression made it clear that he wouldn’t answer. It wasn’t his secret to tell anyway. Besides, he had no business dragging a kid into this. Especially a kid residing on the 4th floor. Cas shuddered.

Will cast another look, but didn’t talk for the rest of the way back.

*****************************

“Damn it!” Dean cursed as he stumbled over a rough patch of land. It had been three days since the fire alarm incidence and he could only barely manage to walk by himself. Of course today had to be the day when the calculus teacher extended the class. Ordinarily, Dean would have ditched in favor of having a steady support in Cas to walk back, but he paid attention in calculus. After all, he had promised to help Will out with it. So much for that crazy kid’s expedition to champion math! Which was why Dean took meticulous notes and for that, he had to wait back.

Apart from having to stumble all the way back, Dean didn’t really mind walking alone. Cas had been hovering over protectively over Dean at all times, worrying that if he was left alone, Michael’s goons might ambush him and finish what they started that night. As it turned out, Cas needn’t have worried at all. All his fears had been put to rest when the Principal had called Dean and Cas and asked about their bruises. Apparently, the nurse had made a formal request to the principal to look into the matter. Dean hadn’t given names, but the word got out and the said gang of goons started skirting him. It had still taken a quarter hours reassurance to get Cas to leave without him. 

Now his legs ached, his lungs screamed in protest. I’m experiencing old age at fifteen, Dean thought wryly as he pushed the gate of bell stone open. He heard the voices before the scene around the corner met his eyes.

A woman’s voice was echoing in the yard, high and poignant and authoritative. The familiarity and hope of just seeing someone he knew had Dean running despite the pain shooting up his foot. He wasn’t wrong. 

There she was standing tall and thin, with short brown hair, and the sheriffs uniform crisply cutting a formidable figure before him. Even though her back was to him, Dean knew it was her.

Jody.

He started rushing towards her, then abruptly stopped, the realisation hitting him like a block of ice. No one knew that he knew Jody. He couldn’t just barge in like that and blow his cover and their plan. The sight of her induced such homesickness, Dean staggered to the tree next to him, falling back against it for support. He felt like his legs might give out anytime. 

Even if he did meet her, what was he going to tell her? He’d made no progress when it came to the Stynes. Jody had put all her trust in him, risked arguments with authoritative people to get him in and he had nothing for her. He had no clue about where all the kids were disappearing off to. Shame and guilt flared up inside him and he lowered himself on the ground, disappearing completely from her line of vision.

He had disappointed her. 

“Officer,” someone cleared his throat. Dean recognised Andy. He sounded uncomfortable and scared. “It wasn’t really my fault, you see.”

“Not your fault?” Jody thundered. “Locking up kids like that on floors? And don’t you lie to me, I saw the grills myself.”

“They’re old, rusted and just there, doesn’t mean we use them,” Andy stuttered. He was much taller than Jody, but right now she seemed to tower over him.

“Do you take me for an idiot? I rolled one of those down, and for iron so rusted, it sure slid down smoothly.”

Despite the reeling shame, Dean wanted to whoop out loud. Jody was one of the smartest people he knew, and badass. Andy was in for it.

“We searched the whole place thoroughly, and those kids live in horrible conditions,” she said. “This place is a living hazard. You call it a boys home?” And what of the left wing?” she pressed, disgusted.

Dean dared to raise his head above the shrubbery just a little bit to peer into the opening. Jody was standing along with two other police officers, all of them in uniform. Andy was just a few feet away, visibly displaced, and Garth was hovering in the background, for apparently no other reason than to provide staff support to Andy. Garth seemed disinterested in the exchange and was fiddling with the dials on his walkman.

“The left wing is not in my jurisdiction. It’s always locked up. It doesn’t belong to the orphanage.” Andy’s voice was reedy.

Jody put her hands on her hips. “Really?” There was a dangerous edge to her tone. “And you don’t have the keys.”

“No,” Andy lied through his teeth. That asshole. 

If Dean had had any reservations about whether or not Andy knew what was up in this place, they were shattered right then and there. He was in this with the Stynes.

Jody turned to the police officer next to her. “Alright, Andrew, we’re breaking in.”

“Do you have a warrant to search the place?” Andy questioned. Dean swore under his breath. This man actually had the audacity to act superior. Dean tried to raise his head further to get a better view, to see the expression on Jody’s face. His foot slipped and fell back on the ground with a crash.

“Who’s there?” Andy said sharply.

“Shit!” 

“Get up,” Jody ordered, and Dean, after muttering a few more choice words, staggered to his feet and raised his hands. “It’s me.”

Andy’s face turned red, the suppressed anger making its appearance. “Winchester!” he bellowed, “What the f-... hell are you doing there?”

“I-I fell down,” he said hurriedly. “Was coming back from school.”

“From behind the bush?” It was Jody. “Higgs, what’s this boy doing here?”

Dean noted with detachment that he’d actually never known what Andy’s last name was. He avoided meeting Jody’s gaze.

“Look up!” Jody ordered, and Dean did so; slowly.

It was there for a split second, but Dean saw it in her brown eyes as they widened. A complex emotion; a mixture of relief, tenderness, pain… and then horror… anger.

“Higgs.” Jody’s voice was low, but it was so full of anger, loathing, that Dean backpedalled. “What the hell,” she said, seething, “happened to his face?”

Andy looked at Dean properly for the first time and paled. The angry red patches on his cheeks disappeared quickly. “I-I don’t know,” he said, running a hand across his face nervously. “You know how they get sometimes. Boys will be boys.”

But Jody was having none of Andy’s shit. She grabbed him by the collar and pulled his face to her level. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t drag your ass back to the station for allowing child abuse.” She looked dangerous, and Dean truly understood why everyone with ill-intent back home ran in the opposite direction when they saw her car. 

Dean knew she couldn’t actually haul Andy to the station. This wasn’t her area of jurisdiction. This was just part of her case. And even if she could get the local PD to do this, it threatened their whole operation. Sniffing police interference, the Stynes might completely move their base. Children would keep disappearing and Dean would lose his only chance of finding Sam.

Andy stammered a mumbled explanation as Jody pushed him roughly. Dean didn’t hear a word of what Andy was saying, for Jody had turned to look at him, and Dean braced himself for the disappointment in them. Not only had he failed her so far in the operation, he’d managed to get his ass kicked spectacularly, too. In fact, his bruises were better now, light purple to yellow in some parts and the swelling almost gone in others. 

When Dean looked up, Jody had squared her shoulders to face only him. Her eyes were blazing, though not with dismay or any hint of let down. There was only regret and pain there and so much worry that Dean felt he would drown in it. 

He was reeling. Suddenly he was standing in the front space of Bobby’s house, Jody looking down at him not with anger but worry when he’d first rigged a car. The day when he’d caught Bobby and her sitting on the porch steps and how hastily she had withdrawn her hand from Bobby’s when she’d seen Dean walk towards. He remembered the sun light squinting off the wooden table and how she had been nervously running her fingers along the edge of the table when Bobby told him they were seeing each other. Jody who was never nervous, only scary, had cared about what Dean, who wasn’t even Bobby’s son, had to say about their relationship. 

Dean remembered all the times she had driven by early so she could drop Dean off at school when Bobby was out of town. he had hated being driven around in the sheriff’s car. It was like announcing ‘don’t be friends with me, I know the sheriff.’ He’d barely ever spoken a word to her then. Suddenly there had been casseroles on holidays and real food on the table on Sunday mornings, instead of whatever mix Bobby put on the table in his hungover state.

All the sneaking around, whispers that were quieted too quickly so it wouldn’t make Dean awkward. The hope in her eyes when he sipped the coffee that she had made on mornings that she’d stayed over. She would almost always get it wrong by adding sugar, when Dean liked his black. Only now, after he had lived in this hell hole, did he realise the sort of luxury he’d had. He was no different from all the boys living in the orphanage. His parents were as dead and cold in their graves as the others’. But unlike them, he’d always had a room of his own, no worry where his next meal came from. He’d had gruff ‘good mornings’ from Bobby and shenanigans in his garage. And unexpectedly, softness from a woman who made her living by being firm.

Tears burned at the back of Dean’s throat and he blinked rapidly, still unable to take his eyes off of hers. Of course there would be no disappointment in those eyes… only care and… love. Jody’s eyes shone with unshed tears of her own, and he could see her desperately trying to get a grip. 

“I got punched at school,” Dean said through a thick throat. “It wasn’t anybody’s fault.” He fervently hoped that behind his words, she heard what he truly wanted to say. It wasn’t your fault, Jody. None of this is. Please don’t pull me out of here. For the both of us.

She had wanted this one win in that male dominated department where she was better by ten times than any idiot. And he wanted… no, he needed to find Sam. He stared intently back at her, willing her to understand. At long last, she nodded. A quick jerk of her chin.

“Alright,” she said hoarsely. Dean hoped that the others interpreted it as anger. “Get going then. Next time I hear of you breaking into fights, I’ll admit you to a juvie myself. You get that?”

Dean nodded.

“Off you go,” she ordered in what was supposed to be a stern voice. Then, she very deliberately raised her hand, as if to shoo him off, and pointed it to the side of the orphanage. Even though the main door was right in front. Something glinted off her finger as it caught the Sun, and Dean caught his breath. It was a thin gold band, plain but solid, resting on the second finger.

He had to bite his lips so as to not betray a reaction.

She widened her eyes. GO.

Dean turned on his heel and headed towards the side she had pointed towards, completely bypassing the main door. In the distance he could hear Jody ordering Andy and the others off towards the left wing, even if just for the heck of it. Leading them away, he realised, away from him.

He increased his pace and turned around the corner. Dean rarely visited this part of the ground. Mostly because there was an old barnhouse there that totally creeped him out. Once upon a time, when the orphanage hadn’t actually been an orphanage but a handsome, inhabited manor, the barhouse used to house actual animals- poultry, horses and pigs. Now it was just as dilapidated as the manor house if not more. The timber girders were sagging under the dead load of the disrupted roof. The planks that made up the walls had been eaten into by termites, and cobwebs adorned the facade extensively. Of course it gave Dean the creepers. Of course he’d never even been slightly tempted to go in. But as he inspected the barren building, he noticed, to his surprise, that the door was ajar.

Dean knew the barn-house was used as a storage for things so old that even the Orphanage didn’t want it inside, which was saying something. Dean and Cas often joked that the only use it would be would be if they used it as kindling and set it on fire. At least one night wouldn’t be so cold anymore. The trepidation he felt as he stepped inside the threshold now, was very real. 

Inside, everything was at least five times dustier than what he thought it would be. And so much darker. Silhouetted against the broken furniture and wardrobes was a man. He was wearing plaid underneath a thick flannel jacket and a baseball cap. Scruffy beard covered his face. A face with all too many frown lines, but laugh lines around his eyes. A face that was more familiar to Dean than any other.

Before he knew it, Dean was bounding forwards till his face was pressed against the soft cotton of the man’s shirt.

“Bobby!” Dean let out a strangled dry sob. 

It was too much. The weeks and weeks of living in this hell house, the constant fear for Sam, of not finding Sam, all came crashing down. Then there was that other feeling, one that almost made him feel ashamed. If Dean didn’t know better, he’d say it was a feeling of… belonging. But how could he belong to this place? He hated every brick of the orphanage. A place that caged children. His Sam... Cas and Will. Maybe the belonging wasn’t with the place… but with the people.

“Hush,” Bobby said gruffly, patting Dean’s shoulder. Dean noticed that his voice was thicker than usual. Bobby cleared his throat. “It’s alright, my boy.”

Dean didn’t want to let go of Bobby. Not just because he had missed Bobby terribly, but because he’d never actually ever hugged Bobby like this. He didn’t know what to expect when he pulled back. 

When he did, there was only fierceness in Bobby’s eyes. Fierceness and fear. Not unlike Dean’s own fear for his brother and friends. A disjointed part of his mind wondered if love and fear were always this connected. And how it had taken him a trip to this goddamn place to feel both of those emotions so viscerally.

Bobby was still looking down at him, his lashes were wet. Dean had to look away.

“What are you doing here?” Dean asked.

Bobby shrugged. “I heard about the fire from Jody. I-I was worried.” he hesitated, then added. “I needed to know that you were fine. I know you’re… well, you’re scared of fire.”

Dean had never said it, but Bobby was there in the early days when Dean even flinched from the stove fire. 

That still didn’t answer the question.

“I mean, what’re you doing here?” Dean gestured to the out house.

Bobby cleared his throat once more. “Sneaked in. Had to see you. I had to beg with Jody so I could tag along. Her only condition- no one could see me.”

“Jody!” Dean suddenly remembered, then threw a finger towards Bobby. “You’re getting married?”

Bobby shuffled from one foot to another, almost looking nervous. “Yeah. I had that ring made for a while now, since before you left. And I meant to ask you before asking her… but she found it in the back pocket of my pants and well, the damn cat was out of the bag.”

Dean stared. 

Romantic proposal was one thing. He hadn’t really expected Bobby to put on fairy lights around the house and fill the front yard with rose petals, but the proposal could have been more than her accidentally stumbling upon the ring. Dean wanted to shake his head indulgently at Bobby’s complete and utter lack of romantic timing. Maybe Jody liked that sort of spontaneous thing. Who knew? 

There was something in Bobby’s words that stopped Dean from acting upon his amusement.

“You said you wanted to ask me?” Dean asked flatly.

Bobby looked even more nervous if that was possible. “It is your home, Dean. I wanted to ask you if it was alright with you.” He looked at Dean with a worried expression.

This time Dean really did shake his head. “Bobby, you crazy old man,” Dean laughed. “Of course I’m happy for you. Jody is a badass.”

Bobby’s eyes softened, and his shoulders relaxed. “She wanted you to know, too. Said it didn’t count as engagement if you weren’t in on it.”

The tears had just subsided, but Dean’s throat burned with them again. 

“Bobby,” he said, his voice rough. “You getting married to Jody would be the best damn thing to happen to our home.”

Bobby beamed. His whole face lit up, and for a second Dean could almost feel the homely warmth of Bobby’s kitchen in the cold, dusty barnhouse. Then Bobby’s smile slid.

“What’re you doing here, kid?” Bobby asked, his face screwing up in his classic frown. He always tried to look annoyed when he was feeling something, Dean remembered fondly. “Come home. The place feels just like an empty car dump without you annoying my gourd,” he said pointing to his head.

Dean wanted to smile at Bobby’s attempt to lighten the tone, though it didn’t take a keen eye to see the wetness of his lashes, hear the gruffness of his voice.

“Sam…” Dean started.

“Sam’s… Sam’s a ghost story, Dean!” Bobby almost gasped, as if he’d tried too hard to not say those words, but they had escaped him anyway. Dean’s heart seemed to crack just a bit. He could see that Bobby loved him. Like his own son. But for Bobby, Sam was still his friend’s son, who was lost. He had no connection to Sam whatsoever. 

All these years, through hot grizzly afternoons and through cold shivery winter nights, that blood bond was what had kept Dean awake, picturing horrors that might have been happening to his brother who was still out there somewhere. Who knew? Maybe waiting for his older brother. Dean had held on to it, steadfast, never giving up. But somewhere through the years, Bobby had.

Dean didn’t begrudge Bobby the non-attachment, but if only he understood that finding Sam was the purpose of life for Dean, especially now that there was a ray of hope, now that he was so close to discovering the truth.

Perhaps Bobby understood too well, because he put his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Shouldn’t have said that,” he sighed. “I’m sorry. I just worry about you.” His eyes roved over Dean’s face. “Look at all of his,” he gestured vaguely at the bruises. 

“It’s nothing, Bobby,”

“Exactly!” Bobby pointed out. “It could get so much worse.” But something about Dean’s look made Bobby’s shoulders slump. It was clear that Dean wasn’t going to give up on this.

With a resigned gesture of his arms, Bobby turned around and produced a wooden box from behind. The box wasn’t ornate but, the rosewood exterior had a pristine quality to it, as if the box had been in existence since a long, long time.

“Here.” Bobby’s voice was heavy, and his eyes had that look… the one that made him look older than he was. “Take it.”

“What is it?” Dean asked, running his fingers over the rough exterior of the dark wood. 

Bobby didn’t answer, and Dean clicked the lock on it. The lid opened easily enough. Inside was a collection of mismatched things. There was a small knife, a little charm bracelet, a figurine of a peaceful looking baby angel and among other things a bundle of photos. Images after images of his family… of faces that he was afraid he was beginning to forget. Photographs from his parents' wedding, in front of their lawn, from his childhood, dad hugging mom in front of a sleek black car.

“Your dad loved that thing,” Bobby murmured, but Dean barely paid attention. He was hungrily flipping through the bundle, his hands shaking. At the very end, there were pictures of a small baby, clicked in a series. Small chubby hands held out, rosy cheeks, light brown hair and a laugh that seemed to reach out of the picture itself. 

Dean didn’t know whether to simply keep looking at the picture- because at this point his eyes were simply devouring it- or shut the box, just so he could control his feelings, get a grip on his wildly failing heart.

“Where?” he stammered, shutting the box as the later instinct won. “Where did you find these?” Even to his own ears, Dean’s voice sounded strangled.

“I’ve always had them,” Bobby said, then gauging Dean’s outrage quickly added, “I wanted you to move on, Dean. When you first came to live with me, you didn’t talk for half a year. It was like living with a shadow. I didn’t want you to get lost in the past and never resurface from whatever goddamned dark depth you had fallen into. And then when you started talking, and it looked like you were finally going to get a childhood, I didn’t want you to lose yourself in a false hope.”

“So you never gave these to me?” Dean glared. He could feel the blood rising to his face, his fingers balling into fists.

Bobby squared his shoulders. “Damn right I never gave you those. And I won’t feel sorry for hoping that you’d give up on the crazy mission to find Sam. You were just a kid, Dean. You still are, and from what I knew, I truly believed Sam was lost.” His voice cracked.

Just like that Dean felt all the anger leave him, his body deflating. Suddenly he felt tired, bone weary. His legs gave out from under him and he collapsed onto a dusty trunk. What was the point of being mad? It was not like Bobby had kept his childhood from him. Dean still had his mother’s picture by the side of his bed. His dad’s first sawed off and baseball glove on the wall. He’d always had mementos to remember his parents by. The only things new were Sam’s pictures. And what was even the point in blaming Bobby. All he wanted was to help Dean. Besides, Bobby had left no stone unturned in his time to find Sam.

“Why are you giving this to me now?” Dean asked, head bent low, all energy simply draining out of him.

Bobby lowered himself to Dean’s level, hand back on his shoulders, “Because now it might actually help you.”

Dean couldn’t help himself. He flung his arms around Bobby once more. This was more hugging than maybe all of their time together, but Dean simply didn’t care. “I can’t wait to be back,” he admitted, his voice muffled against Bobby’s shoulder.

Bobby chuckled dryly. “Can’t wait to have you back either, kid.”

After a moment he let go, patting Dean’s back in quick succession. “You still remember about the pager, right?”

Dean nodded, now slightly awkward. “I’ll send out a flare if there is ever an emergency.” Secretly Dean knew he wasn’t going to do it until he found Sam because that would mean an immediate rescue and permanent goodbye to this place.

Bobby gave him one more hard look, then nodded and walked out of the barnhouse. Goodbyes weren’t really his thing.

Dean knew that they couldn’t have left together, too much risk, so he waited for a few minutes, then slipped out, too, the box clutched tightly in his hands. He felt both lighthearted and also awfully homesick at the same time. So lost was he in his own feelings that he never noticed the shadow move from the side of the barnhouse where it had been lodged for a while now, and come face to face with him.

Dean ran headfirst into the wall of black, then staggered backwards.

“Benny!” he said, surprised as he looked into the shadowed face.

Benny’s face looked impassive, his eyes however were narrowed. “That police woman looked like she wanted to smother you in hugs.Your old man looks pretty solid and caring and alive. Care to tell me who is this Sam you’re looking for, Winchester?”

******************************

A/N 2: Please do tell me what you thought of the chapter? I live for comments!

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[melodicsiren]

If Sharing a Body was a Little More Complicated- Morro Flips Out and Swears a Bunch, Featuring Hurt/Comfort and Character Development

It was an unfortunate side effect of being in a living body, the fact that it required sleep. Eventually though, they had to rest. Lloyd’s exhausted psyche would slip into dreams, and Morro would lie down and close their eyes, his own consciousness remaining alert within, to keep the little ninja from taking back control.  

It was boring. 

So when, during their third such nap since his takeover, he felt Lloyd tense up from a nightmare, he decided to enter the dream with him and enjoy the show. 

Dreams were odd things. The dusty landscape was indistinct and constantly shifting, but never felt out of place. The contents too, the things that happened within, were also inconsistent; and for Morro, who was floating above it all without being truly connected to it, it was more than a little confusing. 

Below him was a small child wearing pajamas and a black cloak, huddled in a ball on the ground and crying as a shadowy monster with glowing red eyes loomed over him. The scene flickered, and it became clear that the crying child was Lloyd himself as his form changed to his current appearance. At the same time the other ninja arrived, poised to fight against the monster with him. For just second it seemed like the nightmare part of this dream was about to end- but then the shadow reached the white one. There was an explosion, a horrible sound of scraping metal, and when the shadow drew back, the white ninja was left a scattered pile of mechanical debris. Lloyd’s shape reverted back to a child as he screamed, reached out, but couldn’t seem to move, as the shadow swallowed up his friends one by one and spat them back out disturbingly broken. Alone once more, the child looked up into the red eyes above him, shaking as silent tears tracked rivers down his cheeks.

“Why... Father...?” 

Morro had seen enough. He left the dream, rising back to near the surface of consciousness. It was obvious what the dream meant emotionally, but it made him curious about his host’s actual history. 

So he went looking. 

Sharing a body while still being a separate entity was an interesting experience. He had access to everything, but didn’t necessarily have to connect with it. So while he could use all its senses and move its limbs, he hadn’t bothered to look into Lloyd’s mind. There had never been a reason to. Now though, he was seeking information, combing through the boy’s memories to find his answers. 

And the more he looked, the more enraged he became. Until he could no longer sit still, yanking them into wakefulness, and flying out of his small hideout in Stix at full speed. 

Despite the early hour, the ninja and their sensei were gathered around a table in the main room of the tea shop, trying to come up with some sort of plan. They were unprepared for the sudden hurricane that blasted the door off its hinges and swept into the store, sending everything flying off the shelves and up-ending nearly every piece of furniture in the room. Following the storm was its source; Morro came flying in, glowing too bright, and clearly so angry that he couldn’t properly contain his powers if he wanted to. He was shaking with rage as he glared at Wu, the wind whipping around him with gale force. 

“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!?” The ghost shrieked, his voice only empowered by his element, booming loudly enough to shake the building.  “WHAT WERE YOU THINKING LETTING A LITTLE KID GET INVOLVED IN ALL THIS SHIT!? THIS FUCKING 12 YEAR OLD KID!? WHO ALREADY HAD MORE SHIT TO DEAL WITH THAN HE SHOULD, AND YOU THOUGHT WHAT? ‘COOL LET’S MAKE IT WORSE’!? WHERE THE FUCK WERE YOU WHEN BOTH HIS PARENTS JUST DIPPED OUT HUH!? THE ONLY FAMILY HE HAD LEFT AND YOU JUST LET HIM GET DUMPED AT THE SHITTIEST SCHOOL EVER!? A SCHOOL FULL OF WANNABE BULLIES- DID YOU EVEN KNOW HE GOT KICKED OUT!? THAT THIS TINY KID WAS FUCKING HOMELESS FOR OVER 3 MONTHS WHILE YOU WERE BUSY PLAYING MASTER!? HE NEVER GOT TO BE A KID AT ALL!! EVEN I HAD MORE OF A CHILDHOOD THAN HE DID!!”, he choked slightly, tears finally escaping down his cheeks, even as he continued to scream, “YOU DRAGGED HIM INTO THIS HELL- YOU DRAGGED ALL OF THEM!! I SAW IT IN HIS MEMORIES!! ALL THE SHIT THEY’VE BEEN THROUGH- YOU THINK JUST CAUSE THEY HAVE POWERS THAT’S OK!? THE ROBOT KID FUCKING DIED!! I DIED!! YOU STARTED ALL OF THIS, THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!! NO WONDER LLOYD HAS NIGHTMARES!! WHY- JUST WHY!?!?”

Finally, both the wind and Morro’s rant petered out as he floated above them, breathing heavily. 

The silence was deafening after that. No one knew what to say. eventually it was Kai who broke the quiet, his voice meek, unsure. 

“Does that mean.. you’ll give him back...?” 

The ghost blinked. In his anger he had forgotten everything else. His gaze shifted to take in the other ninja, their expressions all sharing the same desperate and frightened look. He could feel Lloyd inside his mind, exhausted and scared, reaching out not as a ninja, but as a child, for the people he considered his family...

He had everything he’d ever wanted. All the power he’d sought after since he was a child. And in front of him was the evidence of the price of that power. This group of kids who had seen so much more danger and destruction than anyone should have to- and Lloyd who had no choice but to take the responsibility of leadership, because destiny said he had to. 

All of a sudden, he just felt tired. As he sunk to the floor, all the ambition, anger and resentment that fueled him drained away. Once he was standing in front of the others, he pulled out, releasing Lloyd and drifting back, as the boy collapsed, was enveloped by his siblings in a tight group hug.

There were a lot of tears, and soft, happy voices sharing welcome homes. Tensions rose slightly as Wu stepped towards them, Morro’s ghostly shoulders hiking up as he felt a bizarre surge of protectiveness for these near strangers he only knew from someone else’s memories. 

Then he realized Wu was crying. The man had stopped few feet away from the pile of young ninja, looking so much older than he ever had before. 

“I... am so sorry.” He was shaking. Somehow seeing him looking so fragile was frightening. 

“I never meant- I didn’t think... I was only thinking about this place my father created and the prophecy he left behind. Not the lives of the people who were in it. I should have been better...” 

Someone in the group sobbed, and the old master was pulled into the hug, trying to hold all of them at once as he hiccuped along with them, more ‘I’m sorry’s being mumbled into their hair. 

Morro watched them, and as he did, he realized something. 

Wu was human. 

As old, as strong, as wise as he was; he wasn’t some infallible deity. He made mistakes, sometimes huge ones, just like anybody else. And when he did, or realized that he did, he acknowledged it, and apologized. Morro couldn’t remember how Wu had treated him once it was clear he wasn’t the green ninja, only his own feeling of betrayal. Maybe it just didn’t have to matter any more. 

He drifted over to the group and tugged on Wu’s sleeve to get his attention. The master’s gaze was heartbroken as he turned his head looked at his old student. 

“Oh, Morro...”, but the ghost just shook his head. He already knew. He didn’t need to hear it. 

“I don’t want to be the green ninja any more”, he smiled ruefully, “But I’ve opened a can of worms that I can’t put back on my own...”

[alternislatronemhq]

Congrats, BELLA, you have been accepted to AL for the role of FRANK LONGBOTTOM (FC: John Boyega). add some comments and stuff here. BELLYBOO! Wow, what a great app! It’s so exciting to have Frank here, and your portrayal of him just made me fall even more in love with him and your writing. OMG I can’t wait to see some of your plot ideas play out. Rachie is about to be PUMPED. Please send in your blog (no sideblogs for first characters, please) in the next 24 hours and be sure to take a look at our new player checklist. Welcome home (once again), we’re so excited to have you join the family!

OOC

name — bella! hi it’s me. age — 24. pronouns — she/hers/her. timezone — pst. activity level — i would give myself somewhere around a seven, but i always post at least twice a week.

IC Overview

name —franklin ibiyemi longbottom. faceclaim — john boyega age — 29. gender —cis-male. sexuality — heterosexual. patronus — elephant; frank is formidable, but not in the way that alastor moody is formidable. he’s a calming presence, one that brings people together, especially in times of crisis. he’s also known to be the protector, the person who will make sure others in his life are put first. his father’s patronus was also an elephant, and it’s a fact that he wears with pride. boggart — when frank was a little boy, a boggart escaped from a cabinet in his mother’s office. then, the creature appeared to him as a gigantic spider, scrambling around the house after him as he screeched for one of his family members. when frank was in school, slughorn allowed him to see another boggart. then, it was the thought of not being successful. of not living up to his mother’s expectations. it was an image of himself living on the side of the road, alone and without anyone in his family by his side. when he was finally an auror, it was his own death. he was so afraid of losing himself to the cause that it became his biggest fear.

his boggart has changed throughout his life. maybe that means that he’s always been scared; always been afraid of what might be. although he hasn’t seen a boggart recently, frank is certain it would be the loss of alice or neville, which is maybe his biggest fear of all. he now has a family, and he would be lost if he were to lose them.

IC In Depth

personality traits —

+ compassionate: frank has always been kind. he’s had a heart for those who need it; a keen eye to help when someone is hurting. he’s never known how he got pushed into the role of being the person people lean on, but he enjoys it. he enjoys knowing that he can make someone feel better with a long talk or a cuppa. it quite reminds him of his father, stern and stoic as he was. their ability to soothe was similar, and frank had always admired that in himself.

+ flexible: although steadfast in his morals, frank is not one to be stubborn. he easily bends his mind if it means that the job (or the conversation) will be easier. it makes him a good friend; a person who is easy to apologize for mistakes he’s made or the person hew as in the past. frank learns easily and doesn’t like to stay in one spot. he hopes to grow, and knows that it is impossible to do so if he isn’t flexible.

- over-protective: although he, sometimes, finds his protectiveness a use, for the most part it just gets in frank’s way. he can’t seem to stop protecting the people he cares about. if he knows they need help, he will over-help to the point where they might start to resent him. frank doesn’t know when to stop, and he truly doesn’t know what it does to the people around. he doesn’t realize that he might be stepping over lines that he shouldn’t be crossing.

- paranoid: hand-in-hand with his over-protectiveness is frank’s paranoia. especially since the war ended, frank has almost sounded like a conspiracy-theorist. he knows with every inch of his being  that the war will come back. he knows that he must take every precaution to keep them safe. this makes him not only a bit less present in his family life but in his job. he’s not quite sure how to stop it but it’s taking a toll on his mental health as well. it’s not long before he knows his physical health will go down the drain too.

character biography —

When Frank was born, no one would’ve expected him to turn out an auror. He was scared of everything: from too hot pans to tiny bugs that would appear in the kitchen. No one could understand how this child was the product of one Augusta and Abaeze Longbottom. For many years, Frank couldn’t understand it himself. His mother was on the Wizengamot and his father, having immigrated from Nigeria, rose his way in a new country through the Department of Mysteries (like his father before him). They were fearless supporters of muggleborn rights (although Augusta was not exactly the best at showing that support outside the debate room), bright minds leading Wizarding England into the future. Meanwhile, Frank couldn’t even learn to hold his wand properly without fumbling when a spark shot out of it.

Of course, that put a slight strain on his relationship with his parents, especially his mother. Where Abaeze had learned to be patient, Augusta had learned frustration. She would often get short with her son if he wasn’t able to figure out a spell and, even at a young age, expected nothing more than her son to be perfect. Frank tried as hard as he could to please her, and earned the reputation of a goody-two-shoes. Where other pure blood kids would sneak off at social gatherings to play games, Frank remained either with a book in his hand or socializing with those adults whom his mother hoped to please. And, a part of him never minded. He adored his alone time, especially if they meant settling in with a good book. Nothing to scare him there. Only words and stories that he longed to be real. He’d practically exhausted the selection in their home library by the time his Hogwarts letter arrived.

Frank finally was given an owl and a wand (his own wand! something he could hold and not fear an explosion from), and was sent off on the Express with few words of wisdom and money for pasties on the train. He was determined to make friends this go round, after all, muggleborns and halfbloods would be here as well. Maybe it was fate that he ended up in Alice’s cart. He knew of her, of course, from pureblood society, and was disappointed at first not to meet someone different. That disappointment quickly turned to a feeling of luck. He’d never met anyone who he’d bonded with faster than Alice Rosier.

When they got to Hogwarts, he was shocked to find the hat almost instantly shouting Gryffindor! upon touching his head. As if a switch had been flipped, Augusta wrote with a letter saying how proud she was that her son was in the same house as her. A bit of the pressure she’d put on him began to lessen, especially as Frank’s grades proved to be formidable. Soon, although still afraid of a lot, Frank began following in his parents’ footsteps. He even got detention once for trying to stop a Slytherin pureblood from hurting a first year muggleborn. His mother had cried tears of pride upon hearing that fact (although Frank still got a talking to as to why it was wrong to curse a bully and not talk to them first).

It was on a warm spring day that an Auror visited their Defense Against the Dark Arts class and talked about what it was like to work as a premiere wizarding law enforcement agent. Frank was star-struck. Starting his fourth year, Frank came into school with a new purpose and it wasn’t long before he started to look forward to the future. With a recommendation from both Flitwick and McGonagall, Frank was almost instantly accepted to the program, especially upon getting Head Boy in his final year of school. It was sometime in there (although Frank never was certain when he fell in love with Alice, he always just was in love with her) that he’d asked Alice to be his girlfriend. When they became aurors together, well, that was just a cherry on a very tasty cake.

And then the war started.

It was almost like his dream turned slowly into a nightmare. The bright edges turned a little bit grayer. Yet, there were always moments of sunshine. He and Alice got married and had Neville. Frank thought he knew love; thought he knew what it meant to be in love, but then Neville was born and it was like the entire world had stopped. The prophecy was spoken and he felt as though he were going to explode every day with the thought of keeping his son safe. He didn’t expect what was to happen next. He didn’t know that it would be his mother to be the one to save his son.

To this day, he wishes it were him. Frank feels a deep sense of regret that his father was left alone because his mother did what he couldn’t. Of course, he wasn’t home. Alice and himself were on a mission. It’s been five years and he still feels a deep sense of guilt for what happened to his mother. And, surprisingly, he misses her. He misses her quips and her over-the-top speeches. He misses her silly outfits and the way she had to wear her hat just right. But most of all, he misses the fact that he had just started to become friends with his mum. The war is over but he can’t help but think that it might start up again. And Frank refuses to lose anyone. No, not this time. Frank would be damned if he let anyone take away his family again.

plot ideas —

madness: i want to see what happens if frank lets his paranoia take over. he’s got a good heart, but what if he thinks his family is in trouble? what if he thinks that alice or neville might be at risk again? he would go to any lengths to see them safe, even if that means betraying what he believes in.

grief: i don’t think that frank has ever truly dealt with what happened with his mother. he has never given himself the time to realize what happened to her and take a breath. he has been so consumed with taking care of everyone else, namely his dad, that he hasn’t thought about taking care of himself. what happens if he gives in to his grief? what happens if he finds himself falling in too deep?

care: frank cares deeply about his friends and he can’t imagine what lily potter is going through right now. while he wants to make sure remus was alright, he also hopes that the young mother is taking care of herself as well. while he knows there’s not much he could do, the thought of losing alice in an attack was enough to make him want to help in any way he can.

worry: while he knows that remus doesn’t need the care, he worries about the younger man. his status as a werewolf is precarious at best, and frank doesn’t know just how to help. he fears he’s overdoing it. and what if he is? what if he’s pushing remus away because he cares too much? it’s the dad in him, of course, but he hopes he won’t lose a friend in his paranoia.

family: frank knows that alice is having a rough time lately, just like his father. they are both feeling as guilty as he is, and he hopes to take some of that guilt off their shoulders. besides, he loves alice more than anything in the world. maybe it’s time that he shows them what his love means.

work: i want something to go terribly wrong for frank at work. i think up to this point he’s had no conflict there. he’s good at his job, but what if his paranoia makes him suffer? what if his inability to stop makes him lose some of his security?

[fairiesherefairiesthere]

All’s well that ends well (Fraxus)

tumblr decided to nerf my last post, so here we go again! A Fraxus fic feat. demon!Freed

Whispers about the well in the woods have been following Laxus since his early childhood. Warnings to not go there are being repeated every morning, even by his grandfather, who is by no means an easily impressed man. That more than anything keeps Laxus away from the place shrouded in mystery, until his decaying health brings him to the much talked about place anyway.

He's no older than nine when his father grabs him by arm and drags him out of the house. If he weren't coughing his lungs out, he might've protested. But as is, a black mist is dancing in front of his eyes and he can't stop sweating. For now, he'll close his eyes. His father might do a lot of hurtful things when Makarov isn't around, but he's never killed him before (his fever-muddled thoughts don't pick up that that's quite logical), so it won't happen now, right?

"Demon!" His father's bellowing snaps him out of his slumbering state and for a moment, he thinks his father is talking to him. After all, he's called Laxus a greedy money-sucking demon of a child before, so it wouldn't be that strange. Picking himself up from the ground his father dumped him on, he starts to take notice of his surroundings. His suspicions get confirmed when he sees the infamous well.

"Dad", he says nervously, tugging on his father's pants. "We're not supposed to be here, gramps says it's dangerous." Tsk'ing, his father gives him a swat. "Don't be a coward Laxus, I know you've got more potential in you than that."

Potential. Such a strange a word. His father uses it often, describing qualities he wished Laxus would have. Laxus wonders why he isn't enough yet.

"Your grandfather is a fool without ambitions. All that lurks in the depths of this murky water hole is a demon, who can grant your every wish. Of course you must pay a price in return, but that's only fair, right?" He waits for Laxus to agree before he continues his spiel. "So I'm going to ask it to make you a healthy boy. Aren't I a good father? Makarov knows about this demon too, but he would rather let you die than take a risk himself. The only one who cares about you, is me."

When his father puts it like that, there's no way that Laxus can disagree with him and little moments like this make him remember why he keeps loving his father with such fervor (desperation). It's because his father truly loves him and wants the best for him.

"So go to that well and ask to get better", his father orders him and Laxus briefly hesitates. When his father catches his questioning gaze, he scoffs. "Did you think I'd ask for you? I just explained, didn't I? It's give and take and we're here for you, not me. Be responsible."

The well that apparently harbours a demon, doesn't look all that threatening. The grey stones reveal nothing about the monster that lurks in the debts of those murky waters, but when Laxus trails his fingers over the edge, purple writing starts to light up. Because Laxus can't really peak over the edge, his father picks him up and places him right on top of the ledge. Before he can ask his question, he falls in and the water engulfs him, dragging him down.

When he comes to, it's completely dark around him. "State your reason for being here", a voice echoes through the space and there's no quality Laxus can describe to the voice, but he does know what it said. Probably magic. "I uh...", he gathers his courage. "I'd like to be healthy", he demands, before adding a meek "please" (Makarov said that one should always say please).

"Should I grant you your wish, what could you give me in return?"

He thinks about that and comes to the conclusion that he doesn't have an awful lot of things to offer and his father surely wouldn't chip in. "Is there something you particularly want?"  

A laugh makes Laxus' bones rattle and the demon speaks up again. "Aren't you awfully naïve? You don't ask a demon what it wants, because it's never something you can provide."

"You've gotta be a bit realistic, demon, I'm nine. I don't have a large fortune or a firstborn child."

There's a bit of silence. Then : "Fair enough. Here's the deal, every evening you bring me a share of your dinner and a sip of your drink. Should you fail to live up to this, then your health will not only go back to its former state, it will also noticeably worsen and you'll have to offer me something new on top of that to placate me."

"..."

"Yeah, tremble in front of this offer."

"How old are you?" The question slips out his mouth without Laxus' permission, but he doesn't  regret letting it. "That sounds like a stupidly simple thing, what are you, five? I might be the frailest kid in town, but I bet that even I'd bully you if you were a human child."

The darkness shatters and falls around him, with the sound of a thousand glasses breaking. A dark mass with one glowing purple eye approaches him and as Laxus scrambles to get away, the thing screeches: "I.AM.SIX." It's that irked declaration, combined with a high, childish voice that erases Laxus' fear completely and he bursts out laughing.

Apparently, the dark mass doesn't like this very much, as nearly a second later Laxus finds himself having a scratch on his eye. "Don't fool around. Do you take my graceful offer or not?" The high voice is still laughably childish, but there's an icy quality to it that makes Laxus' blood freeze in his veins. "I'll take it", he whispers and offers his hand. The demon doesn't take it, but Laxus suddenly finds himself standing next to the well, his father nowhere in sight and his right eye hurting like hell.

Against the odds, Laxus returns home. His father is pleased with the development and his grandfather is angry. Whatever, the man doesn't care about him anyway. He isn't too sure his father does either, so without offering either of them an explanation, he returns to his room. When it's time for dinner, he sets a portion aside and later in the evening, he brings it to the well.

A few days later, he brings another plate to the well and sighs when he sees all the plates from the days before, still filled with food. "You know", he says out loud, "If I have to travel here everyday, you might as well eat it. I haven't poisoned it or anything." For a moment nothing happens, but then the water starts rippling and the demon crawls out of the well as graceful as he can, which isn't anywhere near graceful at all.

Eyes full of lingering suspicion, the greenhaired child munches on some of the freshest food. "Dinner without companionship is a lonely, unbecoming affair", he mutters and Laxus feels a bit of sympathy for this lonely creature. He's not human, his too pale skin, purple glowing eye and horns would never allow him to fit in and the sight of his grotesque teeth would scare anyone off. "Don't you have parents?"

"No", the creature simply answers. "I'm born out of superstition and six years ago, I was given a definite form by a man who had a wish that cost him his life."

No more words are spoken that night, but from then on, Laxus tells the demon little anecdotes from his own life. Not too long after that, the demon hesitantly takes part in the formerly one-sided conversations and Laxus comes to learn that his name is Freed Justine, which is quite an ironic name as the demon is shackled to the well and the townsfolk love to call him a liar and a scammer, unlike his last name suggests. Over the years, he starts thinking of him as a friend.

"Freed", he hesitantly starts, "can we make another deal?" He's twenty and he hasn't ever left his hometown and so, he's been surrounded by the same people his whole life. Freed, who had been sunbathing on the edge of his well with a content face, comes to face him with a stern expression.

"What do you want so badly that you turn to demonic magic?" the boy asks, clearly disapproving. "Friends", he answers and completely misses the way the other boy's face crumples. "Adventure. A life outside this city."

"You'd have to give me something pretty big in return", Freed muses as he shoots Laxus a glance from underneath his eyelashes. "Considering you wouldn't be able to fulfill your first deal, should you leave this town."

"Ah shit."

"This is why you don't strike deals with demons buddy, it never ends in your favour." Rolling his eyes, Laxus gives Freed a noogie. As the demon protests, Laxus sighs deeply. "What did I say about teenage demon angst?" Freed looks at him from underneath a mess of green locks. "To not do it?"

"Correct." As Freed sighs dramatically because he's an insufferable attention hog, Laxus notices the setting sun. "I should go home, see ya tomorrow." Freed gives him a small wave in return. "See ya."

The following day, Freed hands him a pen. "Write me when you go", is all he says and Laxus has to press for more information. "You want to go, right? Just write me a letter every evening. You do not have to post it, all you have to do is pretend we're actually talking and I'll get the gist of it. Put just as much care and attention in those letters, they will be a replacement for the food. Now for the second wish..."

Laxus waits with baited breath, as he's not dealing with his friend right now. Now it's the demon talking him into a deal and he knows that he's going to take it regardless. "Every bond you make, every friendship you strike..." He waits for a moment, before he pokes Laxus in the chest. "Tell me about them when you get back."

"For someone so feared, your deals suck."

"Shut up and go already, loser." Before doing exactly that, Laxus turns to Freed to hug him. It doesn't work out like he wants it to, because he falls straight through his friend's form. The boy sends a bemused smile his way. "I don't have my own physical form, I'm only an idea. A need for miracles personified."

"That sounds afwul."

"Eh, it's whatever. Now Laxus Dreyar, state your wish." Whenever Freed practices his magic, the purple in his right eye turns so intense that Laxus forgets to breathe for a minute. "I wish to go out of this town, go on adventures and meet my own band of ridiculous but beloved friends."

"I hear your wish and in return, I'll share those adventures through tales you'll tell me." They clasp hands and Laxus' shoulder itches and burns. When he takes a peek at it, it's now decorated with a jetblack tattoo. "I improved my craft", Freed explains before he ushers Laxus to go.

A year later Laxus returns, with a friend in tow. "You guys really don't have to follow me, you know", he mutters as his newfound friend claps him on the back. "No way man!" the blue-haired eccentric exclaims. "I wanna know your deepest, darkest secrets. Spill em, baby."

"Hello there", Freed greets him warmly and regards his companion with interest. "Who do we have here?"

"Introduce yourself, moron", Laxus says while giving Bickslow a push in Freed's direction. "To who?" the man asks incredulous. "There's no one here buddy." As Bickslow scans the place in search of human life, Freed shrugs. "He hasn't struck a deal with me and he isn't planning to either. Physically manifesting is draining, so you'll have to tell the tales of your journey to the air."

Right at that moment, Bickslow jumps on the edge of the well, right next to Freed and stares him dead in the eye. "There." He pauses and Freed whispers: "I'm scared." Tilting his head, but never breaking eye contact, Bickslow reaches out. Before he can poke Freed's forehead with his index finger, the other grabs him by the collar and dumps him on the floor.

"Awtch, your entity isn't all too friendly. Do you think it'd let me see him?" Before Laxus can answer, the both of them have vanished into thin air.

It takes three hours before they show up again, Bickslow with a new tattoo. On his face. Like, smack-dab in the middle. "Why?" he asks Freed and the demon shrugs. "He wanted it." Laxus doesn't know if that's entirely right, but they're both weird enough to let things like that happen. "Anyway", he sighs, "want to hear about our adventures?" While telling stories, Laxus notices that Bickslow isn't fiddling with one of his dolls as per usual. Freed does absentmindedly dig it up during their conversation and Laxus can't help but notice that he's never had to pay with something so dear to him.

Another year later, their group has grown again and Bickslow is already bullying Evergreen with tales of the 'super scary demon' that was going to snatch her soul for sure. Sadly enough he's sputtering all of this nonsense within Freed's earshot, so Laxus doesn't feel sorry when the water splashes over the edge of the well and drags him down to his depths.

"Oh my god!" Evergreen screams and Laxus stops her before she can jump right after Bickslow (she might deny it, but she loves her brother in all but blood to death). "They're just roughhousing", he explains and surely, Bickslow gets spit out by the well and lands rather painfully.

Freed's head peaks up from his well, but he doesn't move to get out of it. "I'm tired", he mutters with his mouth under water, which makes his words sound like bubbling water. Patting his head, Laxus offers his sympathy. "Not a lot of jobs lately?" The demon shakes his head and Laxus feels for him. Freed looks kind of awful at the moment.

"You guys should've told me that you hallucinate in sync, then maybe I could've prepared myself for it", Evergreen says in a snappy tone and Laxus shakes his head. "We're not hallucinating, we're talking to the demon", he says and points at a waving Freed.

"Right." Evergreen gives him an unimpressed look before rolling her eyes. "I'll believe you because Bickslow is a nutjob. Hey demon!" she yells in the well and Freed mutters: "Why does everyone keep yelling at me? I can hear perfectly fine, thank you very much." The two of them disappear and reappear in the same fashion he and Bickslow did a year ago. Now, Freed's hair is held together with the elegant flower hairpin made out of jade Evergreen had gotten from her mother. In return her ankle is decorated with a floral design. Once again he shuts up about the price.

Later that evening, it's just the two of them and looking at Freed sitting peacefully underneath the moonlight, eyes shining with serenity, Laxus can't help but notice how handsome he is. He files that thought away for later. "Hey Freed", he muses while looking at the starry sky, "What would it cost to have you travel with us?"

When he doesn't get an answer, he turns to face his friend. His eyes are wide with disbelief and he closes his formerly open mouth with an audible click. "I don't know Laxus. That would cost me more magic than mere objects can offer and please, do not ask me to take more than that from you." Freed looks so sad at the thought of that, that Laxus swallows down his offers to do exactly that. "Okay", he says, but the thought won't leave his head at all.

The next morning he gets dragged back to the well, who both declared "Well that won't do!" when he had told them about his conversation with Freed the evening before. "Hello, we're here with a four way deal", Evergreen declares and Bickslow adds : "It's like an orgy! Just as magical, just way less sexy."

"Hey, I hate you", Evergreen bites back, before turning back to Freed. "Draw the magic you need from us three, that would lessen the load on each individual. Could that work?"

"It could work, I think", Freed hesitates and Laxus throws him his headphones (he used to use those to ignore the sound of his father and grandfather fighting, they're irreplacable to him). "Here, since I've never given you an actual object. Work your magic demon boy, we're leaving today."

They all notice that this deal takes quite the toll on them. Every night they're asleep faster than one could say 'demon' and throughout the day, they also often get tired. But it's worth it, as Freed looks happier than he's ever seen him and he gets excited whenever he learns something new. He still doesn't have an actual body though, as that would take a too big toll on his friends. Freed, Bickslow and Evergreen also share a bond that Laxus would describe as familial and more often than not, those three brats gang up on him (he loves them).

Whatever the relationship between Freed and himself is, he doesn't quite know. They're closer to each other than the others, because of their earlier established friendship and because of something else Laxus can't quite name. But when he's feeling down, he knows Freed'll be there to cheer him up and whenever Freed has a new idea to trap another human being inside a cage of double edge words, he sends Laxus this particularly mischievous smile and without exchanging words, Laxus knows what he's about to do and he smiles back. The way they deal with each other is filled to the brim with wordless, nearly effortless communication and fond gestures.

It's the day of Laxus twenty-third birthday when he knows what he's feeling for Freed. They're strolling through some quiet town and Freed, choosing not to be visible to anyone but Laxus, has taken on the task of dramatically and sarcastically narrating the life of the villagers. While the man's particularly engrossed in a tale he made up about the baker's son, the sun hits him from behind, encompassing him in a golden halo as he unattractively snorts at his own very bad pun. Laxus has never desired another quite as much as he does now.

He doesn't tell Freed that day, but he puts more attention in their interactions, in his gaze and if he could, he thinks he wouldn't be able to stop trading innocent little touches with Freed. But although Freed has confirmed that he too, loves Laxus (it's a big word, but he'd never use it in any other way), he has also been keeping a distance between them. A confrontation that's less than pretty (from both sides) reveals that Freed doesn't want to start a relationship if he can't fully commit to it.

"Laxus", he says with a wavering voice, "my heart, my soul, my love, it's all yours. But none of these are things I truly possess, I have nothing I can physically offer you. Would you like for a mirage, a cheap imitation of a human, to tell you that you are loved by it? It wouldn't even be able to accompany you at all times, unless you (or your friends) pay it with your very own lifeforce. Please, do think of yourself."

If Laxus were to think of himself, he'd press the matter and repeat to Freed that he loves him every damn day. But thinking of Freed and the misery it'd bring him, he drops the matter and doesn't do that. Since he can't erase the words of appreciation from his mind, he writes them all down. How smart he thinks the other is, how cunning, how funny, how much he appreciates Freed's soft heart (even though the demon denies it every time), how easily he cries at stupid romantic books when no one's looking and how much like a reward it feels when Laxus makes him smile. Every day he writes those feelings down, with the pen Freed had given him a few years ago, forgetting that the object still carries the gist of his ramblings to Freed.

Laxus is twenty-seven and on his way to the well with his band of friends (they've made a tradition of visiting it once a year), when tragedy strikes. They're resting, tired from the journey they've made and Laxus is about to take a nap when Freed appears in his peripheral vision. He's wearing a too wide grin when he asks if Laxus is hot. "Of course I am, it's July and way too fucking hot", he complains and freezes when Freeds snaps his fingers, dumping him straight into the nearby river.

When he rejoins his group, Freed's still laughing at him, but stops when an object meets the ground with an irony clink. It's Ever's hairpin and the woman bristles at Freed. "Man, that thing is important to me!" she yells, but Freed doesn't seem to hear her. It's because Laxus is standing in front of him that he sees the purple light dying in Freed's eye and as he reaches out to him, the demon falls right through his arms and disappears, leaving nothing behind but the hairpin, the doll and Laxus' own headphones. It happens so fast, that there's no chance for them to even say goodbye.

Stunned, the three of them watch the objects and it's Bickslow who snaps them out of their stupour. "The well", he says, "something must've happened with it." Although they've never found an explanation for it, Bickslow does seem to have an unusual sense for all things abnormal. As such, Laxus turns on his heels and sprints the last miles to the well, arriving to a scene of utter chaos.

The villagers he's known all his life have gone at the well with about every weapon they could find, leaving only a couple of stones behind. His grandfather, bless the man, is putting it back together stone by stone. Makarov however, is too small and lonely to make any difference and the destruction of the well proceeds far faster than the reparation process.

The first sentence that stumbles out of his mouth is : "I thought you hated this place." Makarov scoffs at that and explains his reasoning rather loudly, intentionally attracting the attention of the crowd. "I don't hate this place, brat, nor the generations of demons that have housed here. People just need to keep the price for their wishes in mind and they seldom do, so it's easier to tell them to stay away. People love to complain about the consequences of their actions."

"We're not tearing this place down because of the prices that were paid!" a man yells and some woman continues: "Yeah, we're destroying it because this useless demon hasn't listened to our wishes for years! First he terrorises us and then he decides we're not worth his time? Away with the devil!" There's too many people to fight all at once and Laxus doesn't know how to stop this madness. He wishes he did.

Oh. An idea forms inside his head, so stupid that he's almost certain it won't work as soon as his mind comes up with it. But Freed had always like to say that words and their implications matter and that one should keep all meanings of a single word in mind. So he moves to the remnants of the well. "Demon!" he bellows, knowing Freed absolutely hates 1. people yelling at him 2. one of his friends calling him by anything but his name. He hopes that it catches his attention.

"I've come to strike a deal!" he yells and the villagers halt their efforts to watch this spectacle. He's nervous as hell, but the sight of Bickslow and Evergreen, who finally caught up with him, does calm him down. "I offer you my life", he continues and he feels the air going static with magic. "I offer you my life and Freed Justine will live as a human being. It's a demand, not a wish."

"Are you crazy?" Finally Freed appears looking angry and Laxus can't help but smile. "Yeah. I offer you my life in the highest and most binding of contracts. My heart, my mind, my body it's all yours." While Freed looks more and more angry, Laxus drops to one knee. "Marry me", he simply says. "And live beside me as a human being."

The magic in the air swells to a point where it's nearly unbearable and then it dissipates all at once. Freed is standing above him, smiling in that particular way when he thinks Laxus has been especially clever and it nearly makes Laxus' heart beat out of his chest. With a little sob, Freed collapses on his knees in front of him and Laxus has the luxury to be able to hold him. "Of course I'll marry you, crazy bastard. I love you." Freed doesn't hesitate to smash their lips together after that declaration and when the roughness makes place for a tenderness that Laxus has never felt before, he thinks he's so happy he might cry. Screw that, he's definitely crying.

Evergreen dries her eyes in a sophisticated manner as Bickslow full-on bawls. Within seconds, he has grabbed Ever's hand and made a cuddle pile out of the four of them. Things aren't super comfortable because Evergreen's elbow is digging into his side, but they are definitely very, very good.

Well, things are about to get very, very good because they're still surrounded by villagers who want to see Freed dead. But they manage to escape the town because of Makarov being the most helpful grandfather in the world, who happened to have a carriage nearby. "Invite me to the ceremony, brats! And you better let me meet my new grandson before that, Laxus! Where are your manners?" he yells as they run towards the location he had given them.

Like on many of their other adventures, the four of them leave the town running, chased by an angry mob. But unlike all those other times, Laxus has a husband who presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth and whispers the sweetest words to him as their friends gag in the background.

[hardtoswallowtruthpills]

Jenna Marbles Didn't "Do Blackface"; Here is How Cancel-Culture Broke the Internet’s Adult in the Room

On May 31, 2020 Jenna Marbles, a well known Youtuber with about 20.3 million subscribers tweeted out in regards to African American’s rights to life and the Black Lives Matter movement. Marbles stated that “This is not a political issue, this is a human rights issue.This is systematic racism and oppression at the hands of law enforcement in our country. We want justice and we want change.  It shouldn't have happened once and it should never happen again.This is not a discussion”. Almost a month later, though, Jenna Marbles released a video on her Youtube channel vaguely titled “A Message”. Her subscribers would come to find when watching this video that Marbles was officially quitting YouTube over messages she had received asking her to address videos that were made in 2011 and 2012 for their “racist” content, as well as asking her to apologize. Marbles obliged, officially ‘canceling herself’ as some have said. Most of her fans are concerned about the break that Jenna Marbles is taking from the internet. Most even begging her not to leave Youtube permanently, but, there are bigger issues within this whole debacle that are being overlooked.

 Mainly, how did we get to the point where the current generation (which yours truly is a part of by the way) is so sensitive, that we harassed, intimidated, and bullied potentially one of the biggest voices on Youtube for the Black Lives Matter movement off the internet for an indefinite amount of time?

Don’t worry dear reader, you probably are wondering what could have possibly caused such a thing. Well, as most media outlets will tell you, Jenna Marbles quit youtube, and in turn the internet, because of accusations of her “doing blackface”. Surface level this sounds bad, doesn't it? It almost seems like her getting driven off the internet by a vocal minority almost seems expected, but remember, this is only surface deep. There's a whole bunch of stuff under the surface that needs to be unpacked, stuff that exposes why those who went after Marbles are, to put it lightly, hypocritical, or if you want it put bluntly, full of it. All of them though, have gone too far. Dear reader, this is a prime example of how the cancel-culture we have created is toxic slacktivism that gets us nowhere, and diminishes real world issues, and inevitably has broken one of the internet adults in the room.

The video that Marbles addressed in her apology that brought on the blackface accusations was one in which she did an “impression” of Niki Minaj. Here's the thing though...she was overly tanned at the time, filming in low lighting, and was wearing a cheap, acrylic, neon pink wig. With all factors combined, it becomes clear that none of this was “blackface” as the slacktivist warriors claim, it was just really bad filming technique. At the end of the video, Marbles even claims that it was “just a joke and that she loves and respects minaj”. We see in this clip one the wig is off, that Marbles was a spray-tan junkie at the time, which was common for girls in their 20’s about a decade ago.

Marbles also went on to apologize for a rap video she did, once again about a decade ago, for an original song called “Bounce on that Dick”. The rap was about toxic masculinity and the misogyny that toxic masculinity encourages. The lyrics express how men constantly brag about penis size or their attempts to sexualize women is ingrained in society's toxic notions of sexuality and masculinity. In this video Marbles, done up as a stereotypical asian man raps "Hey Ching Chong Wing Wong, shake your King Kong ding dong,". In her apology she admits it was racist and wrong and that she has privated the video because of the hurtful stereotype it portrays. Still though, it is being used against her even after apologizing.

Marbles also goes on to mention some of the other private videos on her channel. Claiming that she herself found most of them to be expressions of the internalized misogyny she held within herself back then. All of the videos she mentions in her apology have been privatized instead of deleted, showing in a way that Marbles is not going to pretend like these things didn’t happen, but she is also actively making sure that the videos cannot offend anyone anymore. 

For context, all of the videos that she discussed were around 8 to 10 years old as of this year. Meaning that in the oldest videos, Jenna Marbles would have been 22. Most 22 year olds at the time made mistakes, Jenna Marbles is not an exception to the rule, especially since the internet was becoming a vast place where anyone and everyone could express their thoughts and opinions. Sadly though, it seems this vocal minority that took it upon themselves to harass Marbles for an apology in the name of social justice think that just because she is a public figure, that at 22 she should’ve seen that in 10 years, this would come back to haunt her. The social justice slacktivists that seem to think they have done good in this world also forgot that in 2010, that was the humor of the time. Jenna was participating in humor that, back before cancel culture was really a thing, was considered harmless. She was doing impressions right along Shane Dawson’s Shanaynay, a Ghetto caricature that frequently appeared in videos on his first channel ShaneDawsonTV, or NigaHiga’s fake infomercials that would sometimes contain Ghetto or Gangster impressons and over the top asian impressions. Jenna was right there in terms of misogynistic or sexist stereotyping becoming a joke with Smosh, which compared a “Just Dance” game character to “A Skinny Ron Jeremy”, or comparing soft McDonald's fries to what the penises of men with erectile dysfunction would look like. Needless to say all of these creators couldn't see a decade into the future. It was acceptable to joke about these things back in the day in terms of Youtube culture. Since everyone in 2020 is now overly sensitive to decades old content, though, it is enough to get a creator “canceled”, even if they have shown significant improvement over those 10 years.

This vocal minority deliberately targeted Marbles, and pulled up videos from her past back up in an attempt to find something, anything problematic with her. Mind you, this is someone who’s most exciting, recent content was hydro-dipping a pair of crocs, acid washing old sweatshirts, and throwing a birthday party for her greyhound, complete with treats for the dog, and a  framed picture of Jerry Sinfeld as a birthday gift. Those who contacted her about her past and demanded an apology are directly responsible for what happened. They can claim it was Jenna’s choice to leave as much as they want, but would Jenna have made this choice if she weren’t harassed and bullied to the point where she felt her very existence on Youtube was hurtful? Would she have walked away if she weren’t scared that anything she could possibly say would inevitably offend someone? Most likely, the answer here is no. Instead of educating, or politely correcting past errors in private direct messages, these people decided it was their god-given right to demand an apology for videos that were made 10 years ago. They know that these videos and mistakes don't reflect the Jenna Marbles we all knew for the past 3 years, the one that actually changed and grew from it all.

These people seem clueless that their crusade for clicks and apologies they can turn around and deny under the guise of “the creator not meaning it” are diminishing every aspect of real-life issues and movements. If this continues the way that it is, if Smosh, or NigaHiga, or Shane Dawson are next in line for the cancel-culture call out machine. If they’re next to be accused of deliberately offending people, and when they apologize being told what their intentions were by internet strangers, who’s going to be there when they need big creators to back up their cause the most? The answer is nobody, nobody with a platform will be there to support them.

These people seeking to call out and cancel big name celebrities and public figures for their “racism” are ultimately going to hurt the Black Lives Matter movement. If anyone, celebrity or everyday citizen were on the fence with their support and they saw the Jenna Marbles fiasco, do you think they would be willing to support these movements? Especially in the case of Jenna MArbles, who openly defended the group before the accusations and cancelling began? They probably would be running for the hills. When we let people get away with being toxic, we are complicit in cancel-culture, If we are calling someone out for something that happened a decade ago, if we feel the need to air out their dirty laundry, without first addressing that the ones doing the aring out may have their own dirty laundry, then we let hypocrites get away with their hypocrisy. If you honestly support the Black Lives Matter movement, you would understand that change comes through education of the self and others, through protest, through showing those in power that we will no longer stand for their oppression of the minority. What does not bring about change is liking comments that harass people for mistakes made a decade ago, by canceling anyone over these mistakes, by driving a woman away from a platform where millions could’ve heard the message that she was trying to spread because of the entitled and toxic personality that these people seem to possess. All of this is driving people away from a social justice movement that is trying to bring about change, and is silencing those who are trying to be heard. Those who participate in this kind of toxic cancel-culture, are making movements like the Black Lives Matter movement an utter joke to those who are trying to understand, or worse, those who like life the way it is, who like their privilege, and want movements like this to be undermined.

In the end, it should be believed that those who called Jenna Marbles out OWE her an apology. Your toxicity drove away a proponent to a movement that could have made a difference. You made a woman who has continually educated herself over the last decade up and leave because you refused to believe that change was possible. These participants also OWE an apology to their closest Black Lives Matter chapter, for they need to understand how much their participation has diminished the message and work of those trying to actually make a difference. Maybe after this experience, they will realize that making a change doesn't happen through cyber-bullying. Perhaps, these people who participated in the cancel-culture that drove away Jenna Marbles will realize that they haven’t done anything to better themselves until they pick up a book from a Black author, or actually take to the streets and march for what should be a basic human right. Besides, maybe marching will also give these people a long-needed lesson on how it feels to have your speech repressed, and how discouraging it is when others won’t listen to what you have to say, just like how they did not listen to all of those apologies they demanded get thrown their way.

For now though, sadly, we get to live with the ramifications of the actions of a few. As long as Jenna is off the internet, there is one less platform bringing the much needed attention to a much needed movement. So, thank you cancel-culture, you silenced someone who has grown and was using their privilege to speak up for the good of those who cannot speak for themselves by claiming they were the very thing they were speaking out against. We all hope you're proud of what you did, that you feel superior for bullying someone. Since you like to cause ramifications like this to come to be, we hope that you ride off this high for a long time, specifically so you leave the rest of those using their platforms and privilege for good alone.

[icarus-imagines]

Goro Akechi X Bullied!Male!Reader

Hi, you're a really good writer, could you write an Goro Akechi x bullied male reader where reader is a grade lower Akechi but friends with him, and actually has a crush on the detective, but ends up ends up putting a request on thr ohansite for help, cause he feels like he'd just be a nuisssance, but Akechi catches him putting the request on the phansite. If you think Akechi would actually react to that happening

Word Count: 2,993

Category: Persona 5

Hopefully I did everything you requested. Thank you for such a wonderful request.~

-Mod Icarus ଘ(੭ºัᴗºั)━☆ﾟ

~A Crow Watching Everything Before Him Unfold~

"Stop."

That voice. That voice that had plagued your mind rings in your ears and the finger that had raised on the computer mouse to press send stopped in mid-action. You didn't know if you should turn around or continue with what you had intended to do. Your brain was telling you that you had already gotten this far. After so many weeks of being tormented you deserved to deliver justice onto the one who had caused you so much misery and dismay.

Yet, you couldn't.

The voice that had stopped you on your mission to eradicate said tormentor, belonged to the one person you couldn't bring yourself to go up against. Of course, he would stop you. Of course, he would be the one to discover what you had conducted. This orchestra you had created, with you as the conductor, was quickly crumbling with his intervention.

You wanted to feel resentment, some sort of negative emotion against Goro, but you were weak against him. Any attack you could deliver towards him would deplete his health, but he would rise high above it. He was strong. Someone with high walls that could put on a mask of secret facades. Unlike you, you could not do such a thing. You had no mask, no armor to protect yourself.

And this is why you had become a punching bag.

As you sat therein, in the school library in a random chair with a provided computer, you contemplated on if you should turn towards him. If you should meet his gaze or ignore that he had ever spoken and click send. You were choosing on whether or not you should play your cards carefully or go all in and bet everything that you were you.

As always your resolve was one filled with cracks. You broke right there and you bet he could see it when you swiveled your head slowly to look at him. The deep breath you had inhaled almost got lodged in your throat when you peered up at his high stature.

You looked like a mess and you knew it. He probably knew it too, but he showed no signs of disgust at such a thing. With his perfect, immaculate clothes and perfect posture. No strand of syrup colored hair was out of place even though it was shaggy and should be hard to keep since it was longer than most males liked it to be.

The inside of your mouth feels dry and you wished to get a drink of water, but doing something like that right now would be the most idiotic thing. So trying to form words, you feel should be like a suitable response to his single worded demand you come up with something that is as equally idiotic as you want a drink of water.

"Why."

What you offer him sounds, unlike a question. Yet at the same time, it does not sound like a statement. You truly do not know what it is, but the expression he offers you makes your stomach twist in a painful way. You regret saying such a thing, but what were you supposed to say? What was the right response to what he was asking? Well...there was no other response. Nothing you would say could convey what you were feeling. Convey what you were thinking as this painstakingly long moment that kept ticking on by.

He does not say anything for a moment and you fear what you said has caused him to be repulsed. But despite thinking so he actually takes a step forward. WIth the closer distance of him being only a foot away, you can see that pained expression on his face become more clear. His lips, that usually always held a small, albeit fake sometimes, grin, had now morphed into a strong straight line. Dark mocha orbs were filled with discontent and this caused his whole visage to become one of a solemn omen.

"You never told me."

His voice that was usually so gentle with you, so lighthearted has become heavy. It is a heavy weight upon your shoulders when he speaks to you like that. Yet you feel no remorse. For some reason, even you cannot explain his words cause your body to become filled with unfiltered rage. You are suddenly angry at him and you are glad nobody else is in the school's library otherwise they would have to witness you both becoming unhinged.

"Why would I need to?" you almost spit out. "Shouldn't you have noticed? Everybody else noticed."

Your nasty mood seems to affect him and his gloomy expression quickly becomes one of mixed guilt and exasperation. He brings himself forward, a hand coming to rest itself on the edge of the desk and he leans on it. He towers over you and as you raise your head you feel tiny. You honestly feel scared at what he will deliver onto you. But what he says is different from which you had first anticipated.

"Of course I noticed, you fool," he speaks through gritted teeth.

His words strike you as him committing wrongdoing. He was a detective, he abided by the laws of the world. But he also had his own moral code that he went under. And from his face, it looked like he had broken a moral law. He had executed a transgression and it made you wonder what law he had broken to become so disgruntled.

"Then why...," tears begin to sting in your (E/c) eyes as you speak, "...Why did you not do anything? You are telling me you noticed and you did nothing to stop it? If you noticed then wh-"

He stops you from going on. "I did do something. Believe me."

You glare at him in what is akin to disdain. "Well, whatever you did obviously made no difference."

"Can't you see I know that?" His words spill with venom. "There is only so much I can do that is legal."

You pause, mouth open to deliver a rude comment, but you are filled immediately with clouded confusion. Closing your mouth you stare at him for a second before rethinking your next words. "Legal...," you start slowly. "What do you mean by that?"

You have a feeling you may know what he means, but for somebody like Goro to cross a line such as that irks you as terribly wrong. For him to break the law would be like a fish trying to walk on land. It was impossible to imagine, but at the same time, it may not be impossible to do if they tried hard enough.

There is a grin on his face you have never seen before. It is a foreign one and it makes a shiver wrack through the entirety of your spin, nerves inside of it almost short-circuiting. Was it horrible to say that you were attracted to the look displayed on such a perfect face? To see something so forbidden looking on someone that should be docile. You could feel yourself falling for him again. Falling for a part of him you never knew existed until right then.

"If I had it my way," Goro mumbles lowly. His phrasing is so different from his usual self. You wonder why he is talking so low, making his voice so deep. A part of you does not want to know why and only wants more of it to be delivered. Your prayers are answered when he continues on, leaning down closer as you sit there defenseless. "Let's just leave it at us both knowing that there would be absolutely no one to bother you anymore if I confronted them how I truly wished to."

The chuckle that tumbles out of his mouth is something you find similar to an antagonist of a story. It is immensely deep and you swear you feel your face becoming hot. What this the face, the demeanor, the personality of which you had come to crush on? Was this boy the true person you had found yourself yearning after?

Yes.

It had to be. If he was not, you would have felt sickened by his change of character. Yet here you were. Sitting there enjoying it. You were actually thrilled about it and while you should have been scared about your attraction to him you were instead not the least bit unsettled.

"So, you knew," you say, hand slipping away from the computer mouse to rest in your lap. Your hands rub together feeling somewhat helpless beneath him. This new Goro, that was there the whole time and you didn't know it, was an intimidating person. 'What else do you know?"

"More than you would like," Goro simply exclaims. His eyes run away from yours and latch onto the computer screen, the Phansite that belong to the Phantom Thieves that proclaimed they could change people's hearts open to view. "Way more than you would like."

You look back at the screen and see your unposted message, the glaring 'send' button there with it. Though you had wished to earlier, you cannot bring yourself to do it now after everything you had learned. Hand momentarily returning to the mouse you delete the message and watch as it erases your confession. Turning you peer through your (H/c) hair to see another unique expression flit across your crushes face.

Complete satisfaction.

You could not fathom why he would have something like this, but you didn't care. All you cared about was knowing what he said he knew.

"And...," you begin, drawing his eyes over to your own. You want to stop speaking and stare into those eyes forever, but doing so would just embarrass you. "What do you know about me?"

"Quite a lot. You are what I would call a completely open book," he explains. He takes the chair behind him and sits next to you. His legs brush your own and you want to pull away in embarrassment. Just like he had said he justifies his statement by gripping your knee in one of his hands. His other hand comes up to cup your cheek, the gloved texture a bit strange.

It is supposed to be a calming, affectionate gesture and while it does come off that way you can feel an edge on it. You almost feel trapped, like you are under his mercy and control. And if you had known better you would have stood up and left. But you do not. You stay and witness everything unraveling.

"You may think you have been hiding yourself well, but it was obvious really," his thumb rubs your cheek, and you know for sure the heat radiating off of your skin can be easily felt. Just knowing that must be making the heat rise at that very moment. "Did you really think I didn't catch onto what you were doing? You must have thought yourself clever, thinking I had no idea how you felt."

You want to gasp, but his gloved thumb travels to press onto your bottom lip, the pressure upon that part of you has your heart racing. The hand grabbing your knee travels to rest and grope at your thigh and you are struggling on whether you want him to travel further out to stay put. Either one will give you what you want.

"What do you think I feel?" You ask, eyes slightly shaking in anticipation when he moves impossibly closer.

"I can show you if you would like?" What he says is not a question and it is obvious when it comes true not a second later.

His face comes near and before you can even think about hesitating his lips meet yours and you have to put a hand on the chair's armrest to stabilize yourself. It's like a firework has set off, staring at your lips and leaving them tingly. It travels to every single limb of your body, to the ends of your fingers, to the ends of your toes, and you feel it reside in the pit of your belly. It's like tiny firework poppers are tumbling around in there and for a second, you wonder if he can hear it. If he can feel the excitement spilling through every pore in your body, igniting and being set off by his very doing.

You think he will pull away, but his assault continues. For a second you wonder what it would be like to be in bed with him and though that thought is dirty the fireworks lead you on. If making out with Goro was like fireworks it was quite possible that doing something more would be like a forest fire.

You feel his tongue swipe across your lip and the hand he has cupping your face move to tangle itself into your hair. You want to taste his tongue, know what it feels like meeting yours but it is almost as if he knows what you want. This irks you when he pulls away from you, licking his lips in a display that had your hormones growing crazy.

You watch as he slowly comes forward and you lean in hoping he comes back to your lips, but he swerves off the path confusing you greatly. His hand in your hair and the one atop your thigh both make an experimental squeeze, measuring out their dominance and hold over you. You can only sit there as he maneuvers your head to look up, neck exposed out in the open for him.

He watches as your Adam's apple bombs in obvious nervousness before he places a kiss on it. Your hand reaches out in instinct, grasping onto his clothes, surely messing up their perfectionist look. It is tantalizing torture not seeing what he is doing, but you can definitely feel it. It is hard not to feel his lips moving across your skin, the heated flesh reacting quickly to his slow movements. It is a haze of deliriousness when he begins to assault it. Tongue wet, it slides over your jugular big tendon ligament since it was so easily exposed at this compromising angle. Hot against the skin, you can only reach another hand out to grasp at his shoulder as he bites those tender areas. It gets progressively worse when he moved downwards and begins to nip ever so lightly at your collarbones when he moves away from the collar of your white button-up shirt.

Fears begins to rise wondering just how far he will go to display his somewhat twisted affection for you, but it is quickly resolved when he gives one last nip below a collarbone and separates from your body. You are left wondering what he will do next, nerves seemingly physically shaking with the excitement that rises with the thought of it all.

"Is that enough?" He pretty much states The crazily marred look in his eye goes unnoticed by you as you try to nod. "Good."

His hands pull away from you without warning and he stands up quickly. Stepping away his gloved hands go on to fix his clothes and put his tie back in place. A hand combs through his hair and when he turns to you he looks exactly how he was when he had first arrived.

Unblemished.

Immaculate.

Perfection.

"That should suffice, should it not?" The grin he wears sends your heart soaring. "Now I should advise you to not go on that Phansite anymore. If you have any problems with the bullying come to me. I will deal with it personally, you have my word."

Like a black crow, one of secrecy and deceit, he exits through the school's library doors, disappearing from your sight. He leaves you there sprawled on the computer chair all alone. With (H/c) hair an utter mess and shirt splayed open you didn't care if anybody came in and saw you this way. With lips bruised, neck and collarbone abused you actually thought it amusing to think about what somebody would say if they confronted you.

If you had known being bullied would lead you to something like discovering detective Goro Akechi's hidden Persona you would have insisted on being taunted much earlier than this. A cruel thought really, but this senpai of yours was worth all the torment that you had been through.

Sitting there with only yourself as a company you came to realize Goro was the true bully. He had known about everything that had happened to you and even though he said he had done something, he could have done more. The reveal of his true personality was an obvious indicator that he was capable of more than people thought he was. It would have not surprised you if the bully had been a random person to come and toy with you. A plan set up by Goro to make it out like he was some knight in shining armor. This was all wrong though.

Goro was not some knight in shining armor.

Goro was the villain, the antagonist in disguise.

A crow watching everything before him unfold.

~The End~

[patsdrabbles]

Five Times Hawkeye and Charles Don’t Tell Each Other What They Think And One Time They Do

Fandom: M*A*S*H Pairing: Hawkeye Pierce/Charles Winchester III Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Word Count: 2492 Summary: Five times Charles and Hawkeye don’t say what they’re thinking and one time they do- six scenes ranging from angst but developing toward fluff starting shortly after Charles’s arrival at the camp and ending several years post-canon. A/N: Prompted fic for the awesome @onekisstotakewithme! Thank you so, so much for this prompt (and getting me into this nice ship <3), I had lots of fun writing this! ♥ Feedback is, no matter how short, super appreciated and helpful! ♥ Enjoy <3   (AO3)

1) Pierce, I am scared.

They are already gathered inside of Colonel Potter’s office and Hawkeye just suggested drawing matchsticks, while the colonel himself is standing outside at the radio station, still trying to argue for only one of them having to go help out at Battalion Aid. In the end it’s no good though: The other camps either already sent surgeons themselves or can’t afford to send one of their staff either, and Hawkeye is very well aware BJ and the colonel were the ones who went to the front the last times. Charles has been stationed at their camp for a while already but hadn’t been to the front so far, so the honor will fall to the two of them.

Hawkeye takes a steadying breath when he climbs into the truck and he can see Charles trying not to let on the worry he feels. Hawkeye almost says something then but finds he can’t lie about it not being so bad. It’s always bad, just like this entire war.

It doesn’t take long once they have arrived for another attack to hit the area immediately before the bustling medical camp. They continue tending to the patients that have it worst, keeping the dust off them as best as they can. Charles looks like he is ready to pass out for the first two or three hours.

They get a short break when a surgeon from another camp arrives and takes over and move to an adjacent room where they won’t be in anyone’s way. Hawkeye lets himself slide down the wall tiredly, every bone in his body aching and the smell of blood still in his nose making it impossible to enjoy a breath of fresh air.

“Pierce, this is-“ Charles doesn’t get the chance to say Hell, because that very instant, a mortar shell goes off almost immediately behind the wall they’re both resting against.

Hawkeye ducks and doesn’t remember reaching out as he waits for the life to be drained from him, and neither does Charles, but they both do. The next seconds are filled with the sound of debris raining to the ground and people screaming outside, and against all odds, their wall is still standing, they are still alive.

Charles moves in Hawkeye’s arms. Under normal circumstances he would never have-

But this isn’t normal. And he’s never been this scared for his life before. Charles’s eyes are screaming in panic when he opens them and Hawkeye does the same, meeting his gaze from mere inches away.

Charles doesn’t need to say it, even if he could, if he weren’t trembling in their tight embrace. Hawkeye’s been here before. And he knows how the panic, the fear for one’s life, never gets less no matter how often you’ve come here before.

Pierce, I am scared.

2) You’re a good brother, Charles. And a better person than you want to let on.

Hawkeye must have found out somehow. Charles doesn’t know how, and for some reason it seems like he hasn’t even told Hunnicutt yet, no comment coming from the other man over the course of the following week, but when the other surgeon enters the swamp and heads straight for the distiller, Charles can see a faint smile playing around the corner of his lips. He finished recording his reply to Honoria a good minute before Pierce entered the tent, so surly he can’t have heard-

Did he wait outside for Charles to finish his recording? It doesn’t seem much like the man that is his constantly loud, annoying bunkmate, but maybe... Just maybe Hawkeye Pierce has some sense of consideration and decency after all.

When Hawkeye sits down on his cot with a tired groan, a martini in his hand, Charles looks up to meet his eye for a short instance. What he sees confuses him deeply. Pierce is wearing a visible smile on his lips now as he toasts to Charles. It almost looks like he means to say something to him, only to think better of it and keep quiet, drinking his martini in silence, his gaze now fixed on BJ’s empty cot.

He had seen Charles’s copy of Moby Dick on to the young private’s bed last month, had heard about how said private had been bullied at first and had put one and one together. He had also accidentally walked in on Charles recording replies to his sister two times already, stopping in his tracks today when he heard Charles speaking softly inside the swamp. This time he waited for him to finish recording his letter before going inside. He doesn’t know much about Honoria Winchester, but Charles seems to care deeply about her.

He takes another sip of his martini as he glances at the man on the cot opposite of his out of the corner of his eye.

You’re a good brother, Charles. And a better person than you want to let on.

3) I won’t tell a soul.

He doesn’t mean to walk in on Pierce and the unfamiliar corporal who are kissing each other frantically in the supply shed. He should have waited outside and knocked, long ago having learned the rule of the sock on the door handle. And still, he can’t help but keep staring for the split second it takes until Hawkeye finds his gaze and there’s panic in his eyes, then anger, then panic again and then a mix of both. Hawkeye is stammering and the corporal is winding out of his arms, ducking behind the high supply shelves and out of Charles’s field of view.

“You- Charles, please.” Hawkeye is struggling to get words – any, really – past his lips and Charles understands, understands so well, but he can’t do much more but give Hawkeye a court nod and a calm “I am not one to start gossip and I certainly shall not start with stories of your romances either, Pierce.” Then he turns and leaves the room, leaving a gaping Hawkeye and the nameless corporal behind.

He walks straight out of the front door, the supply check he’d been meant to do forgotten about. As he leans against the sidewalls of the building, half hidden by the shade, he lets the breath he’d been holding out. His hands and the clipboard he is holding are shaking, and he’s both embarrassed at what happened, for the most part, really, but also just the tiniest bit... delighted? Not at having caught Pierce and the corporal kissing quite intimately, but very much at the fact that he thinks... he understands him a bit better now. Charles doesn’t intend to give him any reason to be able to say the same, but... the thought that someone in the camp would be able understand his position is comforting nevertheless.

His thoughts travel back to the supply shed and Hawkeye’s fearful gaze. He clenches the nails of one hand into his palm as he considers what he truly had wanted to tell the other man that moment. How much he really meant it, wouldn’t tell anyone nor otherwise get him in trouble for it.

I won’t tell a soul.

4) Stay. Please.

Hawkeye is running his fingers in little circles over Charles’s chest, his head resting heavy against the very same. Every breath he takes is a bit of a challenge with the added weight half on top of him. He huffs, and the air he exhales makes the top of Hawkeye’s shock of black hair move slightly.

“Do you always do this when you’re nervous, Pierce?”

Hawkeye lets out a stifled laugh that vibrates right against Charles’s chest. “Who are you to speak? Mister ‘I call the guy I just kissed senselessly by his last name’?”

“Pierce, look-“ Charles lets out a groan that sends Hawkeye into a genuine fit of laughter. “Hawkeye! ... Hawk. Will you please look at me?” He places a hand under Hawkeye’s chin, gently directing the other man to look at him again. He has been avoiding meeting Charles’s eyes for the past five minutes now and, to be quite frank, it is making Charles antsy.

The view he receives takes his breath away for a moment. Hawkeye is still laughing when their gazes meet, his eyes sparkling mirthfully while also expressing an overwhelming fondness. Charles has to fight the urge to lean in and kiss him again.

Just a second later, however, the expression on Hawkeye’s face changes as a thought seems to pass through his mind. The one that had originally driven him from Charles’s reach, his face thereafter hidden in Charles’s chest.

Hawkeye turns his head away and Charles swears he understands what he mumbles next clearly. “I will only be the ruin of you.”

They haven’t talked about this yet. How they each feel about this... arrangement of theirs. What is going to happen when the war finally ends.

Charles has... an odd feeling deep down in his chest that tells him he already knows. Knows what he hopes for. Possibly understands that Hawkeye might just agree with his sentiments. But it is not time for that kind of talk yet.

Right now, it is 3am in Tokyo, and Hawkeye Pierce is busy reaching for his bathrobe, ready to wrap it around himself and his rumpled pajamas. With the added weight off his chest, Charles sits up as fast as he can. He reaches out for Hawkeye’s hand, catching three fingers only at first but holding onto them as if he were holding his entire hand. Startled by the shift of the bed and the sudden touch, Hawkeye freezes and carefully turns around. His other hand is still holding onto his bathrobe, as if his mind is made up, but the gaze Charles now is at the receiving end of is full of fear, past hurt and an odd amount of hope.

Charles’s voice carries the lightest tremble when he speaks up into the silence between them. “Don’t go yet.”

Stay. Please.

5) I won’t give up on you, no matter what happens.

The door lock breaks open a second after they had frantically closed the visible portions of their buttons again.

“Finally,” Hawkeye rasps out, then blames the scratchiness of his voice on the heat in the supply shed they allegedly have been stuck in for almost an hour now. He doesn’t even make a remark about the annoyance of being stuck with Charles of all people anymore. They’re long past that and Hawkeye doesn’t want to feign, doesn’t want to throw verbal stabs Charles’s way even when they both know they’re only lies.

They still don’t talk about it, but it’s there. They only changed their view on each other drastically half a year ago, but it’s enough to make their relationship something they won’t forget – don’t want to forget – for a lifetime. Something so strong that it almost makes them forget about the danger of a blue discharge at times.

Later, much later that day, Charles passes by Hawkeye as he enters Post-OP for his shift. Their hands brush for the briefest moment and Hawkeye takes hold of Charles’s hand as he passes him, squeezing it ever so shortly. He doesn’t stop for a short conversation, a talk that could only cover work-related issues or private ones that were of less importance than what had happened earlier, had been happening for a while now, but that’s alright.

Charles watches Hawkeye walk briskly toward the swamp before turning and going inside to look after their patients. His hand is still tingling from Hawkeye’s brief touch.

I won’t give up on you, no matter what happens.

+ 1) “Till later at the hospital. I love you, Charles.”

Hawkeye is practically draped over his shoulder and whining from the back of his throat. Charles doesn’t know if he should roll his eyes in annoyance or give in and laugh.

“Don’t go.” It’s mumbled into his shoulder and it sounds grumpy as only Hawk manages to be on occasion, said occasion being when he wakes up earlier than he has to and Charles is leaving for work already. Lord have mercy, Charles can even feel him pout through his suit jacket.

Two gangly arms wrap around him and for a moment, Charles is mentally back in Korea and they’re sitting in a jeep, Hawkeyes arms and a blanket wrapped around him comfortingly, with only the stars above them as witnesses. Then he turned around and raises an eyebrow at the man he came to love so many years ago, earlier than he’d allowed himself to admit it.

“Unlike you, I have work in the morning already, Hawkeye. Besides, I can’t afford to be late to my lecture. While my students are quite the eager sort when it comes to learning, they sadly appear to be just as curious about my private life at times. Especially when I’m late for class.” Charles pauses for emphasis, noting the grin that was slowly spreading on Hawkeye’s face. He finds himself returning the grin as he gently lifts Hawkeye’s hands off his shoulders. Hawkeye is quick to replace his hold on Charles, though, his arms now wrapped loosely around Charles’s middle. “Speaking of which, I shouldn’t have brought you for that guest lecture last semester. They keep asking about you all the time!”

“How bad can it be?” Hawkeye asks, seriously, before deciding that it’s time to say goodbye to Charles’s neck, peppering kisses all over his skin. Charles shudders under Hawkeye’s ministrations but makes sure to elaborate nevertheless.

“Well, while the occasional question about whether you will be looking for an apprentice in two years’ time seems quite genuine, I also received a few more personal inquiries the week after you held that lecture. All of them were concerned with the status of your... availability.”

Hawkeye merely hums as he keeps pressing kisses up Charles’s throat. When he reaches his chin, he pulls away. “Well, tell them I’m taken. Smitten. Utterly and foolishly in love for the rest of my life.” He puts his hands over his heart dramatically before pressing a kiss to Charles’s lips, lingering a moment longer than he knows Charles is bound to tolerate when under beginning time pressure.

“How about dinner at that new Italian place down the street this evening?”

Charles tsks. “Again? We only went there the other day. And the day before that.” “Can’t help it, they really know how to make a good pizza.” Hawkeye is grinning at him. “So- is it set?” Charles rolls his eyes at him fondly, but nods. “It is.”

“Now- go look dashing and go dazzle your students with your brilliance,” Hawkeye teases and, with a sweet final kiss, steps back so that Charles can finally leave.

“Till later at the hospital. I love you, Charles.”

Charles makes sure to meet his gaze before placing his hand over his heart.

“I love you, too- utterly and foolishly.”