#and it's reminding me of how when I had a brief period of insanity about superbatjokes and I wrote a weird pornfic of it

[kayforpay]

one thing I've noticed since making actually good friends is that even though they are not inherently interested in my interests they're happy to hear about them from me and might even check them out to see if they'll become interested themselves. before I could only talk about shared interests or I just wouldn't be listened to

#kay talks a lot #currently I'm insane about x-men #and it's reminding me of how when I had a brief period of insanity about superbatjokes and I wrote a weird pornfic of it #I literally didn't even feel the need to tell my friend at the time #bc they were fully uninterested #and now I'm constantly bothering my pals with x-men and they're like ohhh so That's why you like this guy #or ohhhh so the fast guy is related to metal guy #like they don't have to actually like it! it's fine that they aren't into it! but they recognize that I am #and because my interests matter to me it matters to them #because I matter to them. feels nice

[the-s1lly-corner]

Heyy me again so about the creepypasta thing, I just wondered if you can do Ben drowned with a gen z reader platonically? It's okay if your uncomfortable doing it ><

Ben drowned x gen z!reader (platonic!)

not uncomfortable at all! love that im getting ben drowned requests since i enjoy him a lot and kind of want to write for him more; just strictly platonic ..which reminds me, i need to draw him again soon! gonna answer this then take a break and get back to requests yipe!

admin is still sold on the idea of ben being confined to electronics most of the time so i can easily see him gaining access to your devices so he can pester you whenever he wants; though this may get a little annoying since youre... well still alive! you have a life

whether or not the reader is a creepypasta themselves or is a normal person is up to you! i think both can work, though i must say the idea of the reader being just some random person is really funny. like can you imagine? you get some haunted virus but the ghost is chill an you guys become friends

i do think ben can only mess with devices, i dont think he can mess with like. any internet browser stuff.... which segways me to my next idea; the og creepypasta came out in 2010, majoras mask came out in 2000, so putting it in the middle lets say ben died in 2005.. bro has missed a lot. youre going to have to fill him in on a lot of stuff, and boy let me tell you hes going to be going nuts

tell him about the new legend of zelda games. i think he would be hyped. throwing admins hc of ben being sick and tired of LOZ due to being trapped in the game out the window, admin needs this boy to get joyous!

he probably pesters you and asks you about the dumbest shit, does it on purpose because he thinks its funny

sometimes you guys play video games together, bro is absolutely astounded by how far games have come since he passed away. i think he would go insane over five nights at freddys. fill him in on the lore

going back on the video game stuff and playing together, just know that hes going to break the game and cheat + hes a sore loser, soooooooo...

do you think sometimes he comes and tries to spend time with you more and more over time because hes been stuck for years and hasnt really had many people to talk to? like yeah hes an angry spirit, but even angry spirits deserve friends!!!

ponders

probably messes with you by messing with your recordings if youre trying to make a video/tiktok/reel/what have you

probably interjects his own texts into your posts, never really says anything harmful, just messes with spelling or adds dumb messages

honestly its not your SM account/blog, its yalls shared account/blog now/j

stuck with old 2000s humor but i think he would absolutely love present day humor and how unhinged its gotten, though quick warning hes going to start quoting stuff

definitely quotes the sticking out your gyatt thing, hes going to drive you insane with it and hes going to laugh at you

do not play roblox tycoons with him hes going to bully small children

you guys play a horror game together on roblox and you can hear him freaking out through the speakers (likely using an old device for him so youre not fighting for control over one device)

absolutely DEVASTED when you tell him club penguin shut down

just know hes punching the metaphorical wall

on the rare chance ben is able to pull himself into the real world for a brief period of time, you guys probably do the same stuff hes just physically there for a short time!

make him touch grass while hes out, bro hasnt touched grass in nearly 20 years. this isnt even a haha "hes chronically online" joke, he hasnt actually touched grass in years due to circumstances

closing this with a hit of angst that made me go :( but imagine that it starts out as you guys being around the same age (well... close enough, since ben doesnt age anymore due to being a ghost) but overtime, you obviously grow up and have less and less time for him and :(

like owie

"what happened to us? we used to be best friends?" audio but its you two SOBS AND CRIES

#creepypasta x you #creepypasta x reader #ben drowned x reader #ben drowned x you #ben drowned imagine #ben drowned headcannon #creepypasta imagine #creepypasta headcannons

[fdrsamericanflagduckfloaty]

- - - - - - - - -

i compiled angst abt TR + his sons because i. ... i got bored. and because it'll help me w/ writing angst when i have all of this in one spot.

im just posting it w/ a specific tag so i can find it when i need it kslkskd this post is also kinda long btw

--

TR himself - batshit insane

-

Okay so this mf has enough angst to fill. An entire. Like. Pool. But we'll start w/ the most known:

His wife & Mother dying on the same day just hours apart.

We all know how it goes but if you don't, his first wife, Alice Hathaway Lee, and his mother, Mittie Bulloch, died just hours apart on Valentine's Day, 1884.

And at the Funeral:

There's going to be... a lot more photos. The grieving is so intense I can't leave it out at all.

Doesn't this sound like an unhealthy coping mechanism? TR never really got the grip of coping healthily, but this isn't the earliest example, which I'll touch on soon.

It's beyond reasonable - and in fact correct - to assume he never entirely, fully got over Alice Lee. He never mentioned her again. Not on record, at least, and certainly not once in his autobiography. He mentioned his mother a handful of times at most. And this is where I say this part makes me feel nauseous because of how damn sad it is.

TR, as I said, never came to terms with Alice's death, and he never would. Over decades maybe he could handle a brief sorrowful thought of her, maybe a second. But I don't think anybody would be wrong in assuming he still could never truly talk of her. It sounds sad, but it's true. He never handled grief well.

I do think this is one of the periods of TR's life that you hear of but, never seeing it mentioned again, really enforces that he wanted her gone. He couldn't stand the thought of her. Which... do. Do you see the therapy that he desperately needed?

WELL if you thought this was it then you were wrong!!

His father died when he was nineteen. TR idolized his father beyond all else. He had a massive portrait of the man in his office and he always wondered what his father would do in times of strength during his presidency.

And TR admitting fear is a very, very rare thing, because you don't. Actually see it often. He'd be more likely to admit to a crime.

So for his father to die, and not being able to see him before (TR couldn't arrive in time), really, really left its mark on him. This was also around the time he had a spat with his then-close-friend, future-second-wife Edith in a small summer house. His father's death left him grieving and the argument left him. Well. Seething, for lack of a better word.

TR was actually able to acknowledge his father. That was the only difference.

But he also needed extreme help by the time Valentine's Day 1884 rolled around, and I am not alone in that thought.

I'd also like to mention that the argument I referenced above is never going to be explored beyond what is known: They argued, it was intense, and it ended any romantic prospects between them for years. Other than that? We have abso-fucking-lutely nothing. Nothing to go off of. Neither ever told anyone what they argued about. All Edith said was that Theodore 'wasn't very nice', and TR just said they both had tempers. Other than that once again? Nothing.

He also experiences even more grief later but we'll touch on that later.

TR almost lost Edith, as well, during 1898 when the Spanish-American war was ramping up to its climax of official war.

It did not get better. As you'll see, this was also when Ted was put under suffering, aswell.

*Cut because the rest is in Ted's section*

Even though it ended well, TR was likely getting flashbacks (or intense reminders) of what happened with Alice Lee just 14 years ago. And in those 14 years I'm very sure he wasn't fully done suppressing the memory. Being put under such strain twice doesn't do well on a person, nor their mental stability.

And now I'd like to mention: TR possibly having bipolar disorder.

Listen I'm not going to go in detail because I have before (probably, if not just send an ask that tumblr hopefully wont eat), but basically, traumatic experiences when he was so young, multiple injuries, almost dying countless times when he was young as he had asthma, and never truly coping, and honestly just naturally, he could have had Bipolar Disorder.

I find this theory interesting and it's very believable. He could be all over the place, smiling and ecstatic, swinging his limbs around, and then the next, quiet, gloomy. Suppressed. He never calmed down enough unless it was serious. Now, it could've just been his natural personality and behavior. But he was reckless, bold, daring, a risk-taker, and didn't ever really care about dying as much as he should have.

TR ignored his doctor basically telling him "DO NOT DO EXTREME SHIT. IT WILL HURT YOUR HEART. BADLY." and proceeded to be the goddamn president. Don't even mention climbing mountains and tough sports and putting himself under immense strain.

Hell I'd say it's worthy of a book (albeit short or not who knows), but there isn't one so far (as I know of) that focuses on that theory and goes in depth.

(But I do consider it a mild headcanon of mine for NATM purposes because I genuinely think it's something to consider, and hey, if you get memories, why wouldn't that pass over? Or I just like angst idk skkdnfgk)

Edith also suffered two miscarriages during the White House years, so the trauma of losing two unborn children must've hit pretty hard too.

i could go on even more about this sad meow meow bastard but lets move on. (Oh, the trauma I mentioned we'll touch on later, we will touch on near the end in Quentin's section.)

2. Ted // aka the one who was sort of forced to be the best

(also this mf was IMPOSSIBLE to search for. 'Ted' brought up words w/ -ted at the end and it took me so damn long to filter those results out)

This one below is in the White House. The two above are from 1898.

(the proudness is mildly concerning)

The 'nervous exhaustion' and migraines Ted ended up getting were because he was being pushed so hard at such a young age. I tried to find the book that had it (with no luck) but his mother admits that TR pushed Ted far more than the other children. Whether it was because Ted was his eldest son or his first or his namesake or all of the above I don't know, but after that pledge, TR doesn't seem as hard on Ted again in the rest of the Trilogy this lies in.

I also tried to find this next part with once again no luck. However I'll explain the best I can:

When Ted was in college, he got sick with a very violent case of pneumonia, to the point where he was put to bedrest. TR may've had a hard attitude to sickness but he came down to be by his son's bedside and the concern must have been intense. Ted's mother also came down and eventually Alice did too when she was allowed (they actually considered each other like siblings, probably some of the closest between the six with only a 3/2 year age difference). Ted did get better, but it was still worrying in the moment.

I can't find the copy (when I can I'll probably edit this post), but in another book, during WWI, Eleanor (Ted's wife, not FDR's, it's. It's confusing I know) confided in TR that Ted worried if his father was proud of him. TR was particularly surprised, but he told Eleanor that yes, of course he was proud of Ted. He called the war he fought in (Span-Am War) a bow and arrow affair compared to what Ted was fighting in -- a war with bombs and motherfucking aerophysics.

So in Ted you have the 'Heir who's really stressed' part of being a Victorian kid of someone who may or may not need lots of therapy and already have daddy issues (because he did. and i am right.)

OH!! FDR and Ted also had this weird rivalry and Ted basically disowned his ass and called him a maverick. Republican tings ykwim- FDR kept Ted's war moves from newspapers to stunt his cousin's political career (Which is a dick move), but even in the end, FDR presented the Medal of Honor to Ted's widow and admitted that TR would've been the proudest of Ted.

-

3. - Kermit: really sad guy

Okay Ted was fucking impossible to search for but Kermit is not thankfully

Kermit doesn't seem to be as ... optimistic or loud as the other kids, as you can tell.

*in reference to Harvard, where all four of the boys attended. FDR was also slighted for like the rest of his life bc he wasn't allowed in a club that Ted and Kermit got into lmao i just find that funny*

Kermit was also 'easy to bruise' and 'adored' by his mother but he was still... uh. Well. In short terms, traumatized as fuck and had PTSD that goes beyond any realm I've ever fucking seen.

(I WILL be writing fic for this)

I guess you could say it's sort of depressingly similar to TR and his own brother, Elliott, who also died an alcoholic and with multiple attempts of su!c!de. Kermit is the younger brother, Ted is the older. TR was the older, Elliott was the younger. Ykwim?

Basically if Kermit the Frog is memey and funny then this Not-Frog-Man is tragically the opposite and he also. Really. Really needed therapy isn't that a running theme at this point though-

-

4. Archie - mischievous. that's it

-

Not much I can find on Archie in an angsty way, which I think is actually good for my heart because the Edmund Morris TR Trilogy did not do wonders for my mental stability

The most prevalent thing I can find is this:

Archie--born in 1894--would be 15, so a 15 year old struggling for dear life and terrifying the shit out of his family. Doesn't sound good huh?

But!! Besides that Archie was the only American soldier to be disabled in BOTH World Wars (The three remaining sons (Quentin died in WWI as we know this) all fought in WWII. Fighting spirits indeed) and because of the SAME injury in the SAME leg. He was quieter but still mischievous and energetic, and he got along best w/ Quentin and they rarely quarreled. I will admit, I don't see much about Archie. Quentin obviously is well-spread around, Ted is aswell, Kermit partially, Alice fucking entirely. Ethel and Archie though, I dont see much of.

ALSO!!

*these two paragraphs follow each other, they're just on separate pages. the first paragraph follows into the next, so you can read it normally without missing anything.*

I forgot that Archie basically got really, really unhealthy during the War. His arm was worryingly limp and his leg was practically fucked. Not only that but he lost his closest brother in the war, so you can imagine how he felt.

-

5. Quentin - FAVORITE CHILD there i said it

-

okay. you want angst? like, a lot? this one. this boy is your ticket to sad depressive trains of thought.

Quentin was also the most like his father and very much a risk taker, so if he lived long enough, he very well could have had a very successful political career (or in whatever he chose to go into.).

However, Quentin's death was a lasting pain for TR (who died less than a year later) and it's said that Quentin's death not only hastened the then-late-50's year old man, but that TR died of heartbreak over his youngest's death. More angst after the pictures teehee

'He' is TR. He could be vaguely cryptic in matters of worry and family. Remember this

He paces when his brain is going a million miles an hour. I actually forgot this small detail but I'll have to use it sometime tbh

this part just makes me sad even though its almost been a year since i reread it like 20 times (more on that in a second.)

The silent grieving and absolute devastation seems far more powerful.

Now, getting specific:

Yes, it was said, as I may've already mentioned, that the boy in TR died when Quentin was devastatingly taken out on July 14th in the summer of 1918. He'd already suffered losing his father (his idol. this is where his own daddy issues come from) and losing his first wife AND mother (who he adored, too) in less than 12 hours. so now, to lose his youngest son, his boy, his child? Oh dear.

So combine the fact TR already needed lots of therapy and this new, heartbreaking death, and you've got one HELL of an angst supply.

It's worth remembering TR really just said 'fuck it. beat the memory until it's too dead to throb' and thought of it as a coping method.

... his 'method' is what we'd now call unhealthy. He thought it was so fucking fine that he even recommended it to a friend (or his sister? I forget tbh) who was just recently widowed. He was not taught healthy coping/healing methods and it showed. Strongly.

TR also felt tremendous guilt for his sons getting hurt (and one dying) in WWI. He'd always glorified war to himself and his kids and he'd instilled in them that a man is only a man once he's fought in battle. Well, no, that's not true. But in the Oyster Bay line of Roosevelts, you either fought in battle when you got the chance or you were a coward for denying it. Hell, take this quote from before Ted was even born:

And that is JUST on college games. What about war?

Of course, even if he didn't push his sons into WWI, they were bound to go in eventually. His sons all shared his glory-seeking and they would put themselves in harm's way just to get their father's attention sometimes, as I mentioned with Ted truly wondering if--even after fighting in a damn war, getting gassed, and shot, and nearly blinded, AND suffering almost a mental breakdown before he was even a teen--his father was proud of him.

So not only was Quentin's death enough guilt, his sons all got hurt in a war he not only pushed for in general, but he pushed for them to enter as soon as they could. Afterall, if he couldn't fight in the war at 58 with horrible health, then his younger and healthier sons could.

All in all they ALL needed therapy and there is a resounding amount of angst all around the entire family circle. If you read this I am very much sorry.

(I can also probably get the PDFs I used to search for these. I had the physical copies but those were library copies so uh. Not anymore. I can't find the other two books either so some parts WOULD have been pictures instead of text descriptions, but oh well.)

P.S i swear im not insane

#stupid! stuff! i! write! #absolutely NOT tagging their names #this took so long jfc #i had to hard restart my tablet like six times #it also WOULD NOT let me post so skkmkskdnfbk n #im so sorry for my shaky highlighting of certain things #long ass post #tw sui talk #tw death #tw alcohol #tw alcoholism #tw war #if you think i should add any TW's lmk #tw depressing stuff #tw miscarriage #briefly mentioned though #tw trauma

[apoptoses]

***Sending this again in case you didn’t get it the first time (so if you did, feel free to ignore it 🤭)

"ps did you read the riccardo and amadeo fic? did you like it?" I DID x2. It was both insanely hot and peak comedy lmao Amadeo was SUCH an unbearable brat and Riccardo knew exactly how to handle him. They were babies! And they were so content in each other’s arms, before it all (literally) burned down in flames. Just babies!!!🥺

"or what seems like ages- months, years, time has no meaning here in the magical city of Venice" this line legit made me burst out laughing. Amadeo was really out there living Sharon Stone’s life in Casino for a while wasn’t he?😭 but also as someone who’s been in both Venice and Vegas, I can 100% confirm this is a thing.

“Does that feel good? Tell me how you like it, Amadeo,” Riccardo murmurs into his skin. There’s concern there but there’s a hint of arrogance too; confirmation that Riccardo knows exactly what he’s doing to him. It thrills Amadeo to his core, it reminds him of his master, so effortlessly self assured." PLEASE 🥵 The way they kept teasing and daring each other to escalate things further as they became more desperate for each other, so so good 🥵

And this, my heart 🥺 “This kind of boyish game could only happen between the two of them. They’re equals, he and Riccardo. There’s no stakes to this game. Just pleasure. Fun.” Such a perfect summary of their friendship. They were equals. Riccardo would’ve gone to hell and back (and he did) for Amadeo, but they were equals from the start.

I also loved how you noted that despite Ricardo’s efforts, Amadeo would never truly be satisfied, how the blood had made it impossible for him to ever feel like he got what he wanted. 10/10 absolute perfection xoxo DA ❤️

Also salivating over that medical kink fic preview!! can't wait to see Daniel's insides getting wrecked yet again 🥹

ahhhh I didn't get the first so thank you for sending it again!! ♥

Amadeo is SUCH a brat haha But it really sets up his future exploits with Daniel, how when he lets his guard down he can be just as bossy and demanding (and can handle catching hell right back from his partner too)

I just love this brief period of his life and getting to have someone show him a good time with no ulterior motive. Like he can be normal with Riccardo! They can banter and one up each other and then really enjoy the things they're doing because Riccardo is his equal, he doesn't want anything beyond having fun in the moment. And I think Amadeo needed that even if it didn't fulfill him in the end.

And not even because Riccardo couldn't satisfy him. Just that unacknowledged trauma, constantly having the goal posts shifted with Marius- it's a void in him time never seems to heal.

And now I really can't stop thinking about how similar Riccardo and Daniel could be (and the notes they could compare on Armand lol). I just really want to do more with this guy.

And oh! The medical fic! It's really gone off the rails haha There's going to be two versions, the usual explicit fic but also an uncut X-rated version with some more extreme kink that maybe like five people will enjoy lol

But because you indulge me and my begging for your reviews, here's another little preview-

[...] It’s hard to think with Armand placing the speculum into his nostril.

Embarrassing, this. Daniel’s face goes red hot as Armand peers up inside his nose, taking far longer than should really be necessary to do this little exam. Daniel glances between the drop-tile ceiling and Armand’s dark brown eyes; his own eyes watering when Armand cranks the instrument open wider.

His nose aches. His cartilage feels stretched beyond its limits but Armand just keeps looking. Daniel grips the edge of the chair and holds his breath, as if that will somehow make it feel like his skin isn’t about to break from this inspection.

“Armand-“ he begins.

“Just another moment, Daniel. Relax. Don’t you trust me at all?” Armand asks.”I’ve inspected more delicate parts of you without injury.”

Yes. Armand has run his fingers over his gums and examined the ridges of his teeth. He’s scrubbed the spaces between Daniel’s toes in the bath, has washed the most intimate parts of him. But those were with careful fingers. This is with a cold metal instrument. It’s a type of penetration Daniel can’t shake his awareness of and so he can’t get comfortable, not with this chrome piece of technology separating him from Armand’s hands.

“It’s just different, that’s all. Intrusive,” Daniel complains. “It’s-”

And then, before he can complete his sentence, the metal instrument is removed. Daniel barely has a chance to heave a sigh of relief before Armand is inserting it into the other side.

The annoying part is that his body is aroused by this. That his blood rushes from the pain, his cock twitches in his jeans from the utter loss of control. The shame of having Armand peer into parts of him that no one was ever meant to see is outweighed by the thrill of Armand knowing some secret about his body. When Armand’s latex gloved hand pats his knee and he mutters a “you’re doing very well, Daniel,” that touch sends a jolt of heat straight to his groin.

xoxo ♥

#apoptoses answers #dungeon anon

[yoonpobs]

bad boy good thing | drabble i. | m

WARNINGS. jealous jk, jk's gf is hot and he's not the only one who thinks that, jimin and tae as instigators, i swear jimin and jk love each other, fucking in public spaces aka a car in a parking lot, jk luvs his gf, appearance of perpetrator jin!

NOTE. i missed this couple 🥺oc is living her hot girl summer life and jk does nawt know how to deal with it Lol. hope u enjoy loves!!!!

WORDS. 3k+

“I’m okay,” Jungkook murmurs, eyes fluttering shut as he repeats his own personal mantra. “I’m good. I’m fine—I’m chill. Chillest person ever. I’m good—”

“He’s not okay,” Taehyung snickers.

Jungkook blocks the negativity out, purposefully and intentionally. Nothing could ruin his day—not on his watch, especially as the sun shines over bodies across the beach while the waves break into beautiful fragments that he’s yearning to dip his feet into.

Personal affirmations came first.

“I’m good, I’m fine, I’m okay,” he chants like a crazy person, definitely earning some form of side-eye from the people next to him but he can’t be bothered. Another person thinking that he was insane wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to him—not when—

“You should open your eyes,” Jimin says, “How are you going to fight them if you don’t know thy enemy?”

Immediately, Jungkook’s peace is disturbed by the mouth of Park Jimin, who painfully reminds him of why he’s got into the entire personal mantra and affirmation thing. He used to think it was redundant, unnecessary. How could the universe return your wishes just as you’ve uttered them into the atmosphere? It didn’t seem logical to him.

But right now, that didn’t matter—not when he had bigger things to be worried about.

“Don’t disturb my peace,” Jungkook snaps.

“They did it first,” Jimin retorts, cocking his head towards the flock of people at a certain part of the beach, specifically towards where the water meets the shore.

Jungkook’s eye twitches. His peace is disrupted, his happiness is compromised and it’s all Park Jimin’s fault. He spent a good amount of time getting into his zone, reaffirming himself that he was in fact, fine, good—he was okay! But now, he feels all his resolve dissolve when he realises he can’t even see the main thing that was responsible for his dilemmas.

“You’d think a celebrity was on this beach,” Taehyung snorts.

“Not helping,” Jungkook says dryly.

“So isn’t your crazy person chanting,” Jimin points out, “but yet, here we are—listening to you reciting your own version of a biblical verse.”

“I’m fine,” Jungkook grits for the umpteenth time, and no less is his assertions any more convincing than it was a moment ago. The flicker of his irises towards to crowd is enough to prove that fact. “I’m just enjoying my day at the beach with my friends and my girlfriend.”

“See, there are two false statements in that,” Taehyung tilts his head downwards, offering a smug smirk that Jungkook wishes he could shove into the sand beneath him. “You’re definitely not enjoying this because I can see the veins protruding out of your neck at how hard you’re clenching your jaw, and”—the older boy makes the effort to taunt Jungkook further by letting out a low whistle the moment the crowd seems to grow slightly bigger—“you’re partially right about the friend part. Your girlfriend though … where is she?”

I’m good. I’m okay. I’m cool—

“Oblivious, as usual,” Jimin sighs, plopping back onto the beach towel beneath him while shooting Jungkook a pointed stare. “It’d be sad if you only called her your girlfriend for six months when you’ve been in love with her for seven years.”

“Okay that’s it. I’m going there,” Jungkook declares, huffing as he pushes himself off the ground while Jimin makes an effort to grab at his ankle, halting the younger boy from causing any damage and potentially getting them banned from ever returning.

“Not with that temper you aren’t,” Jimin snaps, “Sit your ass down. God. Can’t you take a joke?”

“A joke?” Jungkook splutters, abhorred. “You literally just said she’s going to break up with me!”

“I said that it’d be sad if—”

“Same fucking difference,” he hisses, rubbing a hand across his face before he kicks Jimin’s petty grip off his ankle while levelling him with a menacing glare. Jungkook’s eyes slowly drift to the side where you finally enter his vision, still smiling like the soft and sweet person you were as you help Namjoon with whatever crab hunting mission he had.

See, Jungkook’s mature enough to know that you and Namjoon were good friends, great ones, even. The two of you were smart and clicked well, and if anything, Jungkook was more envious of the fact that the two of you shared such a wholesome and meaningful friendship than anything else.

The fact that Namjoon used to have feelings for you didn’t bother Jungkook anymore, not when he knew where your heart truly laid. He also trusted Namjoon with his entire life and his firstborns (not that he’d ever tell you that, and God—did he hope that day would eventually come when it came to you). But still, Jungkook was mature—he did some growing up, and he was proud of that.

But Jungkook’s human, a flawed, ever-learning and constantly improving human. A human who’s crazy in love with his pretty girlfriend that he’s longed for years—and a human who isn’t blind. A human who can’t ignore the fact that, apparently, he wasn’t the only person that was trying to keep himself in check at how stunning you were. Every day—and especially today, with how your dainty yellow bikini drapes over the curves of your body.

Jungkook nearly cries. Yellow was his favourite colour. You wore it for him.

Not for—

“Maybe you should head over,” Taehyung murmurs, snapping Jungkook out of his love-filled mind as his eyes clear, immediately catching what his friend was referring to.

Some dude. Talking to you. Smiling at you like you carried all the answers to all the world problems as you giggle a tune comparable to birds chirping. Maybe Jungkook was exaggerating but it always sounded like you were singing his favourite song even if you were just explaining economical concepts to him like a soothing e-book.

“God, why couldn’t she have been ugly,” Jungkook groans.

“You wouldn’t have dated her otherwise,” Jimin retorts.

Jungkook gawks, affronted as he gives his two friends a scandalised expression as he places his hands over his chest to indicate the offence he took to that statement.

“I’m not superficial,” he huffs, “I fell in love with her because of her—”

“Personality, yada yada,” Jimin mocks him in a lower tune that has Jungkook glaring at him. “Yeah, okay. But don’t tell me that her being pretty doesn’t help you bust a nut every once in a while.”

Jungkook flushes.

“Well, yeah, but I’m her boyfriend—”

“Thank you for reminding me that you are in fact, still a boy,” Jimin rolls his eyes, “Men. Mansplaining everything, really.”

Jungkook’s jaw slackens as his eyes briefly land on Taehyung’s figure who doesn’t look too bothered with how the conversation turned out as he shrugs in response.

“How about you do the typical manly thing of being a jealous prick and go over there and stomp over all her fan club members,” Jimin says sarcastically, resting his arm over his eyes to shield them from the sun.

There’s a brief rustle from where the sand meets the towel, and a relatively long period of silence while the only thing that permeates the air is the sound of waves with laughter coming from a family a distance away.

“He did exactly that, didn’t he.”

“You need to stop giving him ideas,” Taehyung sighs, plopping a grape into his mouth before occupying the space next to his friend. “Should we find another beach to frequent?”

“Really?” you laugh, “That’s so cool! I’m actually planning on landing an apprenticeship there over the summer.”

“Oh?” The man is leaning way too close to you for comfort, but you’re unfazed. Jungkook doesn’t even want to know where the hell Namjoon had gone, leaving you with this broad-shouldered, terrifyingly handsome man. “I could definitely put a good word in for you if you’d like.”

You beam, appreciative rather than brazen. But Jungkook thinks the man doesn’t know that.

“I don’t think I can accept that, Seokjin.”

And of course, you knew his name.

“Why not?” Seokjin smirks, and Jungkook knows that it’s definitely done him justice in other situations. “For a beautiful—”

“____,” he interjects, smoothly (or not quite) sliding next to you as his arms wrap around your waist before his glare rests on the man before him, who looks both shocked and unbothered at his appearance. “Who’s this?”

You jump slightly at Jungkook’s arrival but relax when you realise that it was just him and not some other beach weirdo.

“Jungkook, this is Seokjin! He actually attended our university—”

“Really,” he says dryly, “That’s nice.”

“Is this your …?” Seokjin looks Jungkook up and down before settling with a rather unimpressed look. “Do seniors usually bring their shadows out for playdates?”

Your eyes widen at his patronising tone, and before can even think to correct him with a tilted frown, Jungkook’s fingers dig into your waist, a precursor to his jaw that clenches while he engages in his own version of a staredown with the man before you.

“Boyfriend.”

Seokjin raises a brow.

“Me,” Jungkook blinks, unnerved and quite frankly, tired. He’s crossed this bridge enough times, and it’s always the same. Some older dude who thought that you were doing charity work by having Jungkook tag along with like some puny little brother. “I’m her boyfriend.”

“Jungkook—” you start, softly reaching to grip his arm.

“Interesting,” Seokjin says offhandedly and Jungkook knows it’s anything but. “Well, my offer still stands.”

He’s directing it to you as you peer up at him with your notoriously innocent eyes. Jungkook hates that this douche is still unaffected by his blatant declaration of the fact that you were—taken.

“I—that’s fine, Seokjin,” you say softly, lips curling into a thankful smile before he nods.

The look he sends Jungkook is nothing short of unimpressed, and Jungkook’s thinking of clamming the dude into the sand and quite literally, bury the hatchet with him. Sure, he was handsome and broad, and undoubtedly ripped—but Jungkook trained to benchpress twice his weight so he could beat up assholes who tried to hit on his girlfriend.

Right before he leaves, Jungkook calls for his name—intentionally calling him Seokmin—noting the way his face drops into a scowl.

“You’re not her type.”

He scoffs.

“And you are?” he throws back, brows raised as a challenge.

“That’s why I get to hold her and you’re walking away.”

With that, Seokjin doesn’t bother responding to Jungkook, especially in the way that you gawk at your boyfriend’s blatant warning to the older man.

He titters off, and it’s effectively just you and Jungkook standing by the shore while you briefly see the way Namjoon stutters before deciding to return to where Jimin and Taehyung lays.

Jungkook’s still seething in his rage, clenching and unclenching his fists even though he got the last word. It wasn’t that he thought you’d elope with Seokjin and leave him—he trusted you wholeheartedly and vice versa. He knew you loved him and so did he.

It had more to do with the fact that Seokjin saw you, and eventually, him—and thought that Jungkook wasn’t fit to be your boyfriend. That he saw a gorgeous girl on the beach and expected her to be single, and if not—to be with a boyfriend that had his shit together and not … not Jungkook.

“Jungkook?” you say quietly, tugging at his elbow while you peer up at him with wide and apologetic eyes. “I’m sorry.”

It’s no good, the fact that you’re apologising. As if you were responsible for his insecurities when you’ve done nothing but shower him with love and support ever since the two of you started officially dating.

“Don’t apologise,” he says stiffly, though his heart isn’t angry—he can’t help the way his words get out. “It’s not your fault.”

“But—”

“If you apologise then you’re gonna piss me off, baby,” he says lightly, peering you down with a small smirk as your eyes widen.

“I—okay,” you say weakly, and before he knows it, you’re intertwining your fingers with his, eyes suddenly twinkling in a way he’s grown all too familiar with.

“You have the keys?” he murmurs softly.

You nod, blind and in love as you sigh.

“Take care of me?” you ask sweetly, and Jungkook forgets all about Seokjin when he has you right in front of him.

“O-Oh, fuck—Jungkook—ngh—”

Maybe Jungkook really was a crazy person, but he’d argue that you were equally as crazy to oblige to indulge in his lewd fantasies. He was crazy, for you and your cunt that was like nirvana, and it’s proven further when he fucks into you at a brutal pace, uncaring whether or not the car shakes with the exertion of the activities that were taking place in it.

It could be the fact that he had a decade worth of fantasies to play out, but he knows that he plays a huge part in opening your sexual nature and he couldn’t be happier about it, especially when you unabashedly throw your head onto your chest, whimpering with the dirty squelches of his thrusts that echo in the vehicle.

“You’re mine, aren’t you?” he growls, hand wrapping around the back of your neck to force your glassy eyes to look at him.

The look on your face is enough to get Jungkook even more riled up, your flushed cheeks and swollen lips while you nod your head manically, crazy—and his.

“Y-Yours,” you whimper, and just about then, Jungkook brings your hips down with his free hand and meets you with a sharp thrust that has your mouth dropping open and your face scrunched up in pleasure. “F-Fuck, J-Jungkook.”

“No one gets to fuck you like this,” he hisses, pressing a hot kiss to your neck as you whine, hips involuntarily swivelling to meet his fast pace. The car is shaking and it’s all too risky, Jungkook knows that—but his rationale is clouded with the antagonising face of Seokjin. “No one gets to see you like this. Only I do.”

“Y-Yes!” you sob, clutching onto him as he feels your pussy tighten viciously around him, the walls of your inner linings spasming as Jungkook hisses at the feeling. “Only you K-Kook. Only ever want you.”

Jungkook believes you, especially when you desperately hold onto him as he feels himself slowly reach the edge. He knows you are too, especially when your whines get higher in pitch, and your tugs against his shoulders get tighter. He knows because he’s learnt about your body as your boyfriend—and he’s the only person that will ever get to have you like this.

The thought, paired along with the risk of your situation only fuels his determination to get you off, his strong arms immediately wrapping around you to root you into place as he shoves his cock deeper into you.

“Come on, pretty girl,” he croons as you mewl in pleasure, breathless whines turning more desperate as your eyes flutter shut. “You wanna show me how much you want me?”

You nod manically, your pussy fluttering around his length as he grunts in exertion.

“G-Gonna—pleasedon’tstop—fuck, I-I’m cumming—!” you cry, tugging your face into the crook of his neck as Jungkook bites his lips in focus, all ready to accept your hot pleasure and his own.

“Come for me,” he encourages, lips hovering over your earlobe as you obey his orders, head thrown back as he watches your mouth drop wider and your eyes roll to the back of your head, pussy tightening around his length.

Jungkook thinks you’re beautiful. On days where you don’t feel like you do, but he may be biased to say that he thinks you look absolutely stunning for him like this. When he knows that he’s the one responsible for your reddened cheeks, the way you so desperately cling onto him whenever you’d orgasm (the only person that would ever know this fact about you), and the way that you’re left breathless, satiated and with that hazed expression after his resolute efforts.

Jungkook cums shortly after, with those exact thoughts plaguing his mind. He was so whipped. He really only had to think of you and he would get hard, and having you right above him, soft and warm with your arms draped loosely over his form made his heart all mushy and soft despite the way his cock stands erect.

You mewl in oversensitivity although you don’t complain. You never do, whenever Jungkook cums after you. Even now, when Jungkook comes down from his high with pants of his own, his own mind-clearing while his cock softens in you—you remain patient. Patient like the ever-loving, wonderful girlfriend that you were—one that Jungkook wasn’t sure he deserved.

“Wow,” you giggle, forehead resting against his as you return from your own post-orgasmic bliss. “I can’t believe I let you fuck me in a parking lot.”

Jungkook flushes, reality sinking in when he realised that the two of you weren’t hidden from plain sight. While the idea of being caught was definitely arousing, Jungkook knew he wasn’t too keen on having anyone see you delirious, even if it was all for him. He was lucky enough that your bikini top remained on the entire time, but both your sweaty bodies were enough of a dead giveaway.

“I just,” Jungkook tries to explain, words slurring in embarrassment as you raise a brow at him. “You look really pretty today.”

You stare at his forlorn expression as if admitting that pained him. Jungkook feels slightly embarrassed at how he reacted, and if you notice this, you don’t point it out—yet.

“Wore this for you,” you murmur, pressing a soft kiss to the mole under his lip. Jungkook’s heart soars at your admission even if he knew that. “You know it’s only for you, right?”

Your question is purposeful and Jungkook shamefully looks to his lap, and even then—you’re still connected. He slowly pulls out, wincing when his cum threatens to pool out of your pussy, but before he can pretend to clean you up, you’re putting your bikini bottoms back in place and clamping your hands over his cheeks so that he’d look at you.

“Jungkook,” you say sternly.

He sighs.

“Yes,” he groans, feeling a lot like a child who’s being berated. “I just—God. He was such a prick.”

“I know,” you say gently, fingers combing through his hair while he melts into your touch. “There are a lot of pricks out there, but you know that I only love you, right?”

Your confession is the same as the one you’ve made six months ago, and just last night before the two of you fell asleep—but it’s a confession that Jungkook never grows tired of.

“I know,” he mumbles as you giggle at him. “It’s just that … he really thought he had a chance with you, and when he saw me it was like—”

You frown, finger pressed against his lips to stop his rambling as he peers up at you with doe-eyes.

“None of that,” you chide lightly, “I don’t care what people think. The only person I care about is you, and no one will change that, okay?”

Jungkook feels himself relax into your touch, especially when you lean forward to capture his lips in a soft kiss that isn’t set to lead anywhere. He remembers. He remembers the times where you were unsure and all too worried of the words of others—and here you were, with him and with your gentle and loving soul, the embodiment of comfort as you tell him the words he’s always known but needs to be reminded of.

“I love you,” he says quietly as you grin widely at him, “Sorry for—you know.”

You roll your eyes, lifting your leg to get off his lap as you wince at the cum that threatens to escape your lips.

“I mean, it was kind of hot,” you shrug with a small smirk.

“God, I’ve created a monster,” Jungkook snorts, looking over at you when you shoot him a devious grin.

“You love it,” you throw back cheekily, leaning into his shoulder as he wraps an arm around you with a sigh.

He does. And he knows that he’s the only one that you’ll love back.

#bad boy good thing #bbgt #bts #bts fics #bts series #bad boy good thing drabbles #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x oc #bts fanfiction #jungkook scenario #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook

[binniedeactivated]

txt reactions. || 👾 👾

during sex 💦

beomgyu --

he’s so switchy it’s crazy

one minute he’s underneath you moaning about how good you’re riding him and the next minute he’s pounding you

sex is wild and nasty with gyu

it always starts when he’s using his dialect to his advantage and whispering dirty shit in your ear

will talk about how much he wants to fuck you raw and hard, how he wants your pussy to be leaking with his cum by the time he’s finished with you

he will fuck you anywhere. huge exhibitionist. he literally doesn’t have any decency just as long as you guys have some sort of privacy

he’s always sending pics of his dick print

has a thing for short pleated skirts on you

or halter tops

always always always biting his lips during sex

king of boob sucking and nipple play he absolutely loves it

tit fucks you

his weakness is when you give him sloppy bj’s 

will bite his lips and whine with his fingers digging through your hair while you’re doing it

loves the way your eyes look while you’re sucking him off

will turn into a full sub if you tease him

will unconsciously jolt his hips up into your mouth and beg you to suck him the right way

his favorite subby word is “please”

will whimper “please” when the pleasure is getting too much for him to handle

he’s always down for a threesome because he loves getting his dick sucked by two people at once

loves seeing you get insanely jealous at how hard he’s fucking the other person

will always reassure his position in your life by fucking you twice as hard, stretching your waiting pussy and reminding you who you belong to

i’m sorry, but gyu is definitely the type to eat ass

and eat your pussy from the back

again I’M SORRY but he will

will make you arch your back while he clutches your ass cheeks and wade his tongue through your entire midsection

gyu is disrespectful he’ll spit all over it and lick all of it back off

will smack your ass and tell you to moan louder for him. he’ll groan while he’s eating you, knowing the vibration of his lips will make you pulsate harder

loves when you push back against his tongue

loves seeing the stringy goodness of your wetness mixed with his saliva

definitely the type to laugh or smirk a little at the vulnerable shit you say while he’s eating you

legs to the ceiling after he’s done tongue fucking you

and oh god, you don’t want gyu to push your legs to the ceiling

will drill the absolute HELL out of you in this position

forget about all morality 

and don’t you dare think about putting your legs down because he’ll pin them back up 

stuffs you and curses like a sailor while he’s doing it

loves seeing you cry a little at how good it feels

gives you the hardest best orgasms you’ve ever had in your life

no matter how wild and nasty gyu is during sex, he’s ultimately a sweetheart 

will wipe your tears and kiss your cheeks before preparing a warm bath for you afterwards

soobin --

can’t nobody tell me this man doesn’t have some sort of mommy kink

the subbiest of men

will do whatever you tell him to do

is shy to initiate things in public but all you have to do is smirk at him and make dirty jokes and he’s horny and blushing

moans in your mouth at just the feeling of how wet you are

will beg and unzip his pants if you don’t start fucking him fast enough

loves when you grab his hand and shove it in your panties when you two are already tongue kissing

loves girl on girl sex, will want you to have sex with another girl just so he can sit and stroke his dick at the sight of it

king of fingering and pussy eating and no one can tell me otherwise

his fingers would fill you so sufficiently deep you’d be cumming in seconds

suckling hickies into your skin while he’s finger fucking you at the highest speed

“please don’t cum yet please I want to feel you clenching around my tongue”.

not afraid of licking you through the thin fabric of your panties

holds your thighs at the sides of his head while lapping rapid fire up your clit before sucking it

always asks you if he’s doing it correctly even when your hips are practically stuttering on his mouth

loves when you call him a “good boy”

honestly you’d always have to tell soobin to take things slow, he’ll eat you so sloppy and good your cum would paint his lips in no time

sex with soobin is hot and romantic

loves holding your hands while eating you

loves using toys

will push a vibrator to your clit while his tongue is deep inside you

or will fuck you with a vibrating dildo while puppy licking your wet folds

he has a big ego when it comes to ruining you with his mouth and fingers but truth be told he can’t last long inside you after making your pussy so wet like that

will whine as soon as you slide down his dick

clutches your ass at the feeling of you clenching around him

will whimper for you to go slow because he doesn’t know if he can handle it

grunts lowly while clutching bruises into your waist

chest heaving with sweat

cries a little if he’s unable to cum inside you

no really--please let him cum inside you

face is always flushed and red when you two are through

he’s an absolute sleepy baby afterwards, very clingy and wants to lay on your chest

yeonjun --

 the only thing yeonjun switches between, is if he wants to be a soft or hard dom

you already know jun is in the mood when he pats his lap for you to sit on and clutches your thighs

junnie’s thigh riding sessions absolutely ruin you

loves feeling your wet pussy lips rut against his jeans

 loves hearing you whine in his ear while you cum in your panties

will stick his fingers in them just to taste you

loves booty pics, send him loads of them and he’ll get hard no matter where he is

dirty texts ALL THE TIME

sends videos of his veiny cock twitching in his boxer briefs

sex with jun is harsh and rough

king of face sitting and doggy style

if he’s in a hard dom mood he’s definitely bruising your thighs while you’re sitting on his face

makes you ride his tongue even if you can’t take it

has the type of shape lips that wraps around your clit perfectly

loves groaning about how good you taste

has an oral fixation so he’ll be eating you even after you cum is spilling down his face

legs trembling miserably but none of your side effects phase him he lives for it

can cum four times in one sitting with just his mouth alone

if he’s in a soft dom mood he’ll eat you rather sappy and slow

tongue kissing your sticky folds while rubbing your thighs lovingly

idc, this man loves thick thighs. i just get the feeling

groans about how much he loves you and how perfect your body is to him

extreme body worship while he’s eating you

it’s even worse when he’s in a soft dom mood because he eats you audaciously stagnant, prolonging your orgasms

doesn’t give you a resting period after your last orgasm

throat fucks you

manhandles you when he’s doggy-styling

loves the sight of your ass slapping against his skin dear god

be prepared for him to leave red hand prints all over it

sensitive to anything fashionably sexy, like skin tight dresses and lingerie

if it’s your panties he’ll push your panties to the side and pound the shit out of you

if it’s a dress he’ll knot it up with his hand and fuck you that way

broken headboards and dented walls

big fan of restriction

handcuffs your hands in front of you and makes you take everything hes giving you

not afraid to tie you to the bed either

sadist to some extent

loves hearing you beg and whimper

overstimulation to the m a x because he’s never satisfied

“just a few more baby”.

breeding kink, loves seeing your pussy filled with his cum

is the absolute hungriest boy after, will order you two some food and make you shower with him before it arrives

you’d have to pray to God that he doesn’t want a part two in the shower

#choi yeonjun #yeonjun #yeonjun smut #choi soobin #soobin #soobin smut #choi beomgyu #beomgyu #beomgyu smut #tomorrow by together #txt #txt imagines #txt smut

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 301: All My Todorokis

Previously on BnHA: We learned that when a bunch of superpowered villains are suddenly set loose with nobody around to stop them, things get fucked pretty quickly. Old Man Samurai and a bunch of other useless people decided to make “I pretend I do not see it” their new mantra, and resigned. Endeavor had a moment of despair on account of being crushed by the guilt of having ruined the lives of himself, his family, and basically everyone else in the entire world. For various reasons the heretical notion of “person who has done bad things feels sorry for doing them” sent fandom spiraling into a meltdown, so that was fun. The chapter ended with the entire Todoroki clan descending upon Enji’s hospital room to have a dramatic chat about Touya and All That General Fuckery.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “here’s the story of how Baby Touya slowly went insane trying to win his father’s love.” It’s a tale full of subverted expectations and heartbreaking inevitability, and also like twenty panels of the cutest fucking kids who ever existed on planet earth, who are so fucking cute that I can’t stop thinking about their cuteness even with all of the horrifying family tragedy unfolding around them. It is absolutely ridiculous how cute they are. Touya is out here pushing his tiny body past its limits because he inherited the same obsession as his dad and neither of them can put it aside even though it’s destroying them, and yet all I can think about is Baby Shouto’s (。･o･｡) face. Anyways what a chapter.

so I have to confess that even though I managed to avoid being caught off-guard by the early leaks, the number of people reblogging my Endeavor posts from earlier this week and using the tag “bnha 301” kind of gave me an inkling that this chapter will include more Tododrama lol. that said, I don’t know anything else about it, so we’re still good spoiler-wise

AHHHHH FLAHSBAKC AHHHH. omg I know I typoed the shit out of that, but I’m just going to leave it lol I think it’s fitting

holy shit holy fuck. so this is Rei and Enji’s first meeting, then??

yepppp, oh shit

so wait, I know this is not even the slightest bit important, but are they meeting at Enji’s home or Rei’s? because I always figured that Enji was the one with the super-Japanese aesthetic, but maybe that was Rei’s side of the family all along

(ETA: from what I found during my very brief google search, omiai meetings are often held at fancy hotels or restaurants, so maybe that’s what this is.)

there’s such a period drama feel to this setting. like it’s so outrageously formal fff how can anyone stand this kind of atmosphere though seriously

OH THANK GOD

I mean they’re still stiff af but at least they’re not rigidly sitting in seiza and staring at each other unblinkingly anymore lol. Enji’s actually got his hands in his pockets now. why is this somehow almost cute

oh damn it’s the flowers

Rei seems so subdued and it’s so hard to get any idea of what she’s actually thinking. I want to see her side of this dammit

but anyway, so at least from Enji’s perspective it seems like even though the marriage was arranged and he picked her because of her quirk, he still loved his wife and wanted to do right by her. the fact that he was watching her and noticed that she liked the flowers, and remembered that detail for all these years -- there’s a reason why Horikoshi’s showing us this. we know what’s going to happen later on; we know how much fear and violence and breaking of trust is coming up ahead, and while it may seem like this scene is serving to soften Enji’s character further -- which to be fair it is -- it also helps drive home the full impact of his abuse. that it’s so terrible not only because of the trauma of the abuse itself, but also because of the way it retroactively destroys all of the good things as well. this could have potentially been such a sweet scene, but it’s inescapably tainted by the knowledge of what’s to come, at least for me. and that’s just brutal

anyways, shit. is the whole chapter going to be like this?? feel free to toss in something I can actually make a joke about sometime, Horikoshi

oop, back to the present

omfg lol

“are you all right” “NO I’M NOT ALL RIGHT WHAT THE FUCK.” “oh, right, because of all the stuff that’s happened with me abusing you and you having a mental breakdown and being hospitalized for ten years and then our son coming back to life and killing thirty people, right, right. I almost forgot.” whoops

omfg you guys I’m loving this new and improved steely-eyed Rei. I’m loving her a lot

and what do you mean “part one” fkjds how long is this going to be. TOO MUCH DRAMA FOR ONE CHAPTER TO HANDLE

oh, hello

yeah I’ll say you did. didn’t seem to bother you much at the time, though

HMMMMMMMMMMMM

Dabi Is A Noumu intensifies even further. anyways though would you fucking look at this boy lounging on this moth-eaten couch doing his best DRAW ME LIKE YOUR FRENCH GIRLS impression wtf

Dabi what if you actually had killed him??? what would you feel?? satisfaction?? regret?? anything at all?? tell me your secrets goddammit

who are you talking to buddy

Fuyumi-chan, Natsu-kun (is it common for brothers to address each other as -kun?? can’t recall seeing that in many other anime, but hey), and “dot dot dot,,,,,, SHOUTO” lol thank you so much for this bountiful heaping of Tododrama Horikoshi we are blessed

AH, WHAT DID I SAY THE OTHER DAY

ULTIMATE MELODRAMATIC THEATER CHILD. “I’M JUST GOING TO LIE ON THIS COUCH SHIRTLESS AND ALONE AND MAKE SPEECHES TO MY FAMILY MEMBERS WHO AREN’T THERE AND SAY THINGS LIKE ‘WATCH ME IN THE PITS OF HELL’ WITH A STRAIGHT FACE BECAUSE NO ONE’S THERE TO JUDGE ME.” WELL JOKE’S ON YOU MISTER CHATTERBOX BECAUSE I AM IN FACT JUDGING THE SHIT OUT OF YOU LOL

(ETA: and on a more serious note, it’s interesting to see that “look at me”/”watch me” theme being used again though, because we see that same sentiment uttered repeatedly by the younger Touya in the flashback. well kid, you definitely got your wish at last. don’t know what else to say.)

OKAY HORIKOSHI HAS DECIDED THAT’S ENOUGH FUN, TIME FOR MORE FLASHBACKS

oh my sweet precious lord

just as cute as we left him. giving us a child this cute when we all know full well what’s going to happen to him is just unspeakably cruel though

HOMG

I’m fucking speechless. you broke me, congratulations. what am I even supposed to do with this

I can’t get over this. moving forward my life will be split into two distinct parts, B.P. (Before the Pout) and A.P. (After the Pout)

and meanwhile there’s ALL THIS BACKGROUND ANGST BUILDING UP, AND I CAN’T EVEN FOCUS ON IT. Touya’s arm and cheek are covered in bandages (I’m guessing this is shortly after that “ouch!” panel we got some chapters back), and Enji is deliberately avoiding training with him because he doesn’t want him to hurt himself further. I can’t fucking get over the irony that all this time everyone thought Touya had died because Enji pushed him too far in his training, and it turns out that it’s the opposite -- the tragedy ultimately happened because he didn’t want to push him. but I’m jumping ahead of myself though I guess

by the way,

remember this?? just wanted to remind you that it exists just in case you forgot

so now someone is talking and basically saying that Touya is the exact opposite of what Enji was hoping for when he decided to start playing with quirk genetics

-- okay hold up

...lol no, never mind. for a second I thought “holy shit he looks kind of familiar WHAT IF IT’S UJIKO OMG” before I remembered that Enji would have recognized him during the hospital capture mission if that was the case. so NEVER MIND, PROCEED

IMAGINE THAT, ENJI DOESN’T QUITE SEEM SATISFIED WITH THIS SUGGESTION OF QUITTING NOW

(ETA: how the fuck did this man go around saving 62 towns in a single day what even is All Might.)

[clicks tongue several times] trouble a’brewin’

MEANWHILE BABY TOUYA HAS UNFORTUNATELY INHERITED HIS DAD’S STUBBORN STREAK

KLDIHWOEIJFL:KSDJ

!!!!!!!!!!!

oh my god. oh my god. what is this chapter. WHAT IS IT

so now Touya is all “YOU JUST DON’T UNDERSTAND MY MANLY DESIRE TO BURN MYSELF ALIVE” well you got her there champ

THEY’RE TOO CUTE. OH MY GOD. HIS FURIOUS LITTLE TEARS. HER CHUBBY LIL FACE. HIS STUBBY LIL FISTS. SOMEONE HELP ME

also are they just home alone lol or what. “hey Touya, you’re what, like six now?? do us a favor and look after your baby sister for a couple hours for us would you? make sure not to set yourself on fire or anything.” WHAT COULD POSSIBLY GO WRONG!!

now it’s nighttime and Enji and Rei are arguing, presumably about his decision not to train Touya anymore

whew. okay. so, a couple of things here

1. first of all I think this conclusively shows that Enji really was trying to do the best he could for Touya. he stopped training him as soon as he realized it was hurting him, but Touya was still determined so he tried to make it work anyway, and even visited doctors to try and figure out if there was anything they could do. then, once they were absolutely sure that it wasn’t going to work, he tried multiple times to explain to Touya why they had to stop. he didn’t just abandon him out of the blue, which is really important to note. “no matter how much I tried telling him...”

so yeah, that debunks another common fandom accusation. so by the time he finally makes this decision, which we all know is going to turn out horribly, it’s basically because he’s already tried everything else he could think of. which, by the way, still doesn’t mean he handled this right. but at the very least he was taking Touya’s feelings into account and he was trying, and he didn’t just abruptly toss his son aside (at least not yet)

2. buuuut, then there’s this panel right below all that

which is the other side of it. if he’d just quit like the doctor person advised him to, that would have been the end of it. Touya would still have been upset, but he would have eventually gotten over it and the family would have moved on and possibly even been happy. but what happens next happens because Enji can’t let go. he still has this maddening urge to surpass All Might, and so he and Rei keep having more children, and then Shouto is born, and Enji finally has a kid he can start projecting all of his hysterical ambitions onto once again, and everything starts spiraling out of control soon after

though p.s. none of that is Shouto’s fault though!! he’s one of the few good things to come out of this whole mess and I’m very happy that he exists. the tragedy is that his dad fucking lost his mind over his quirk and fucked everything up. but that’s on him, not Touya or Shouto

anyways, SLKFJLSHGLKJL

I CAN’T FUCKING TAKE THIS YOU GUYS??? LOOK AT THAT LIL BUTTON OF A NOSE??? I’M LOSING IT HERE???

AND TOUYA JUST SEEMS DEVASTATED OMG

because children aren’t stupid, after all. he understands that his dad is still looking to surpass All Might. and so he feels like a failure, and feels like his dad is trying to replace him because he wasn’t good enough. and even now, isn’t that what the adult Touya is trying to prove?? that he was good enough after all?? “I’ll show you what happens when you give up on me, dad”?? “I’ll show you what I can do”?? fuck my life fuck everything

AND YOU CAN SEE THE TOLL THAT IT’S ALL TAKING ON REI GETTING WORSE AND WORSE AS WELL OH GOD

really nice touch here with the panel outlines becoming all shimmery from the heat of Endeavor’s flames (and/or becoming more unstable as the family gets closer and closer to their breaking point). but man, Horikoshi I can’t handle this, please show us more cute kids or something I can’t

GKELKWFJLDKSHFLKL

WITTLE BABE. BEEB. BUBS. SMOL. lkj; oh ouch a piece of my heart just detached and latched onto him huh look at that

TODOROKI “I’M SO SMALL AND I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT’S GOING ON AND I DIDN’T ASK TO BE HERE” SHOUTO AHHHHH

crazy how they all just seem to know right off the bat lol. kid doesn’t even have object permanence yet, let alone a quirk. but do they care?? IT’S THE HAIR, RIGHT. WE’RE ALL THINKING IT, I’M JUST GONNA COME OUT AND SAY IT. they knew the minute they looked at him lol

AND MEANWHILE TOUYA IS OFF HAVING UNSUPERVISED TRAINING/CRYING SESSIONS IN THE MOUNTAINS OR WHATEVER, AND, UH OH

are those blue flames yet?? they seem pretty close

(ETA: this is one of the few cases where the manga being in black and white is infuriating lol.)

OH MY GOD AND STILL

so it’s not like he was so disinterested that he didn’t notice what was happening, and he was still trying to stop it and get through to him. trying to reassure him that it wasn’t the end of the world and there were other things he could do with his life, but this one particular thing just wasn’t going to happen

fucking hell. it’s agonizing seeing how close they actually were to fixing it. if he’d only said the right words, or if he’d realized at this point how destructive his obsession could be to his kids, and backed off from putting that same pressure on Shouto. we came so close to possibly having a happy ending

AND ALSO THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH ANYTHING BUT PLEASE LOOK AT HOW TOUYA IS LIKE THREE AND A HALF FEET TALL AND HIS DAD IS LIKE NINE AND A HALF FEET. Touya barely comes past his knees flkjlkg. the Todoroki household must have been so filled with like plastic stepstools to reach the bathroom sink and all the little baby toothbrushes, and baby gates to keep the kiddos out of the important grown-up rooms and stuff. and also days-old half-empty cups of water and stale crackers and hot wheels and my little ponies strewn everywhere

“BUT EVERYONE AT SCHOOL SAYS THEY’RE GONNA BE HEROES” a wild Deku parallel appears?? how bout that

I know this is like a pivotal moment in the Todo Tragedy and all, but fucking look at this lil dumpling

“sup bro, it’s me, the manifestation of your fears of inadequacy and lack of fatherly affections. a GAAA. ba-baAA-baa [gurgling baby sounds]”

OHHHHH IT’S THE SOUND OF MY HEART BREAKING OH NO

HE WANTS TO BE LIKE YOU ENJI. good lord somebody please just get this family some therapy

“DAD YOU IGNITED IT IN ME” flkjslkj nope, nope. not ready for this pain here

baby Shouto, would you like to weigh in on this affair? “DA!! ba-ga-daaa, [pacifier chewing noises]” oh my, you don’t say. so insightful for one so young

OH MY GODDDDDD

IT’S SO DRAMATIC BUT ALL I CAN THINK ABOUT ARE THE SHOUNEN WOOSH LINES SURROUNDING FOUR-MONTH-OLD SHOUTO LOL HE WAS LIKE THIS FROM BIRTH OH MY GOD I AM DYING HELP

SHOUTO YOU’RE RUINING THIS ENTIRE CHAPTER!?!?!

“yo, the fuck kind of family was I fucking born into” oh, son. if you only knew. IF YOU ONLY KNEW!!

(ETA: lmao I got so distracted by the ridiculous cuteness that I glossed over the fact that Baby Touya seems to possibly be aiming at him?? it’s hard to tell because he’s also super out of it from heatstroke and may just be losing control in his attempt to show off his upgrade.)

ANYWAY THAT’S THE END EXCEPT WHAT’S THIS LAST LINE OMG

ffffff. and we’re in for ANOTHER chapter of this next week?? MORE drama?? MORE BABIES?? MORE OF EIGHT-YEAR-OLD TOUYA’S SLOW DESCENT INTO MADNESS. MY HEART CAN’T TAKE IT, BUT ALSO YES PLEASE SIGN ME UP

#bnha 301 #dabi #todoroki touya #endeavor #todoroki enji #todoroki rei #todoroki shouto #todoroki fuyumi #todoroki natsuo #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

[odos-bucket]

In Which Each of Bruce’s Kids Come Out to Him

and then he comes out to them

Dick

They’re working on opposite sides of the coffee table in one of the manor’s more habitable sitting room’s. It’s become a regular part of their weekday routine: Bruce finishes up whatever office work he has to do, while Dick does his homework, and talks about his day. Usually there are snacks involved. A parenting book Bruce had read recommended trying to get their work done together. It’s a good way to keep connected with their increasingly busy schedules.

“So anyways…” Dick’s story is starting to slow down a little bit, and the shift in tone has Bruce glancing up from his paperwork. “I should probably tell you, since, well, everyone knows at school now.” His voice is still conversational, and relaxed, but a little distracted.

Bruce shifts him his full attention.

“See, what happened was Cameron Josephs in my third period biology class came to school with nail polish on today, which I noticed with my clever detective skills, and promptly dismissed as unimportant, and everyone else noticed with their nosy pre-teen skills, and promptly lost their shi- I mean, minds over. And that was Mrs. Horton’s class, and she has absolutely no control over her students, so it sort of became this whole big thing. Kids were making fun of him, and other kids were yelling at them to knock it off, and he was just trying to do his work, but the rest of the class got into a big fight. And then Brad Cormick- he’s on my basketball team- made a homophobic joke, and we were sitting at the same table, and I could tell that he wanted me to laugh at it. So I told him to shut up, and said that I was bisexual, not that any of it really had anything to do with anything else that was going on, but it did get him to shut up, which was good. Except that I think it may have been because I have more friends than Cameron does, which is totally unfair, and everyone should just be nice to everyone else no matter what, but also I guess not really the point… The point is, yeah, I’m bi. Oh, also frog dissection got moved to tomorrow because one kid threw up.”

Dick takes a deep breath (finally) and a long sip of his juice, before immediately returning to doodling athletic stick figures in the margins of his algebra homework.

Bruce studies him for a moment, trying to figure out what kind of response is expected of him, what would be helpful for Dick to hear. He’s really not very good at this kind of thing.

He’s saved from the risk of putting his foot in his mouth when the science class story continues.

“Are frogs really that gross? I don’t think they are. But I guess our basement is filled with guano, so maybe my tolerance is heightened by regular exposure to the substance most frequently equated with insanity.”

Dick hadn’t seemed nervous before coming out, or relieved after. And if he’s not going to make it into a big deal then neither is Bruce, even if a part of him feels pleasantly warmed by the casual show of trust.

Jason

Bruce loves picking up his kids from school. It’s not something that his schedule allows him to do very often, and Jason- as Dick had been before him- always seems pleasantly surprised to see him. It’s a little thing in the grand scheme, but it’s just nice, normal. And he would never say it out loud- he’s not sure why, he knows he should- but he cherishes the little bit of extra time spent with his boys.

But today Jason isn’t happy to see him.

Bruce pulls up to the curb, and only has to scan the crowd of teenagers for a few seconds before spotting him. He’s on a bench with another student, their shoulders pressed together despite wide swaths of free space available on either side of them. Jason’s pointing out something in a textbook, while the other boy plays with his free hand.

Bruce pulls slightly to the side to let another car drive around him, figuring he’ll give Jason a few minutes to finish up, and notice that Bruce is there, rather than call out and risk embarrassing him.

It’s not even a full minute before they make eye contact across the lot, and immediately something in Jason’s expression changes. His eyes go wide and startled, his posture suddenly tightened. In one fast motion he shuts his book with both hands, muttering something to his friend as he practically throws himself off the bench.

Now feeling on high alert, Bruce sweeps an intense gaze over the school yard for anything that could have upset his son. He doesn’t manage to spot anything before Jason arrives at the car and pulls himself into the backseat (where he never sits, unless the front is already occupied). He starts talking before Bruce can ask what’s wrong.

“That wasn’t what it looked like!”

Bruce frowns, and looks over both Jason and the area in front of the school in an attempt to identify something that isn’t like how it looks.

“He just-“ Jason flinches, seemingly realizing something wrong with whatever he’d been about to say, and cuts himself off with a sharp breath. “I mean-“

Feeling lost is by no means a new part of parenthood for Bruce, and he’s sure it’s something he’ll experience many more times going forward. But, god, he really hates not understanding what’s going on, not knowing what to do, and he doubts that he’ll ever get used to it.

“Jason,” he tries. “Slow down.”

“Yes, sir,” Jason answers automatically. “Sorry.”

It’s been over a year since Jason’s called him ‘sir’ and the sudden reintroduction of the honorific sends a cold chill down Bruce’s spine. For a second they just stare at each other, with what Bruce is pretty sure are matching expressions of partially concealed horror.

“Jason,” he says more quietly.

“I know,” Jason interrupts. “I’m sorry. Please-“ He stops himself, covering his mouth before he can finish the thought, and then just as quickly lowering the hand back to his lap.

Another silence follows, short but harrowing. Then finally Bruce makes a rare admission

“I have no idea what’s happening right now.”

Jason stares at him, and the wider his eyes get the younger he looks, and the more Bruce wants to scoop him up into his arms. But he just waits, and tries not to look too expectant.

“I-I was holding hands with Derek,” Jason breaths out.

“…Alright?” He’s heard that name before. Jason doesn’t have as many friends at school as Dick had, so they’re a little easier to keep track of, even if Bruce has only ever met any of them in passing. “Is this someone you’re worried I’ll embarrass you in front of?” He asks after a brief pause.

Jason keeps staring at him, expression crinkling as his breathing grows erratic.

Bruce finds himself automatically exaggerating his own inhales and exhales, resting the side of one hand against his sternum, to remind Jason of some of their breathing exercises.

“That’s it, chum,” he says as he sees it slowly begin to work. “Everything’s okay.” For all he knows- or doesn’t know- right now it might not even be true, but dammit for his kid he will make everything okay.

“Everything’s okay,” Jason obediently echoes.

Bruce takes his hand off his chest, and starts to reach towards him. But Jason flinches away from him, not as violently as he had back when they were still new to each others’ lives, but it’s enough to make Bruce feel sick. He can practically feel the wrongness of it squeezing his heart into shards as he slowly withdraws his arm back into the front seat. He had truly thought that they had gotten past this.

“I’m sorry, Jay,” he says softly, a small concession to the part of himself that wants to beg his son’s forgiveness for whatever he’s done to make him afraid. “I’m so sorry.”

Jason’s not looking at him anymore. His head is down, and his gaze is fixed on his knees.

Bruce hesitates.

“I’ll never hurt you.” It’s a reassurance he had thought they were past the point of needing, but if they aren’t he’ll say it as many times as he has to. “Never.”

“Are you mad?”

“Is there something particular that I’m supposed to be mad about?” Bruce asks carefully.

“... That I was holding hands with a guy,” Jason elaborates, after a steadying breath.

Oh, Bruce is an idiot. What kind of detective is he if he can’t even- He cuts himself off, realizing he can’t wait too long to respond to that.

“Of course not. That’s what this is about?”

“I never meant for you to find out,” is the response he gets. And doesn’t that just hurt like hell to hear?

“That you like boys?” Bruce confirms.

“And girls, both. But I didn’t know what you’d think, so I figured if I couldn’t be sure it was better to keep it to myself.”

Bruce closes his eyes, taking a second to calm his own breathing.

“I never want you to feel like that,” he says. “About anything. I’m sorry I didn’t make that clear. I love you, Jaylad, that isn’t contingent on anything.”

I wish I could have protected you from whatever it was that made you feel like this was something you had to hide. He doesn’t say it.

Jason is finally looking at him again, gaze thoughtful and careful. A long moment passes, before he surprises- and momentarily terrifies- Bruce by getting out of the car. But before he can react to that, Jason’s climbing into the passenger seat, and after a second of hesitation, leaning into Bruce’s side.

“Okay,” he says quietly, sounding a little choked up.

Bruce puts an arm around his shoulders. The closeness is a balm after the pain of having his son flinch away from him.

Tim

Tim isn’t supposed to come over today. His parents are in town, and Bruce had made a point of hiding his reluctance when he’d given Robin the week off, chastising himself for the empty nest syndrome he has no right to be experiencing- at least in regards to this particular child.

So he’s surprised when he hears Alfred’s throat clear, and looks up to see both Alfred and Tim lingering in the doorway to his office. It would be odd to see him here at this time of day even if they had been planning to go on patrol; sunset is still a few hours off.

Bruce immediately has a bad feeling. He knows it’s commonplace for the Drakes to disappear unexpectedly partway through whatever length of time they were meant to be spending at home. As Batman it’s made his life easier numerous times. As a parent it’s beyond his comprehension. If he still had his boys at home- but he can’t think about that, not without breaking down, and if Tim’s just been abandoned that’s the last thing he needs.

As he approaches the door, Alfred’s pointed look, and Tim’s vacant expression confirm that he’s right to be concerned.

“Tim.” He keeps his voice neutral. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

He picks up on Alfred’s glare a fraction of a second too late to realize that he’s said the wrong thing.

“I’m sorry.” There’s something miserable in Tim’s voice, that makes Bruce want to bundle him up in a blanket. Before he can assure him that he has nothing to apologize for, Alfred cuts in.

“I told Master Tim that he’s welcome to stay with us for as long as he needs.”

Bruce nods automatically, looking down at Tim, who’s glassy expression looks a million miles away.

“Tim,” he says gently, eventually drawing the boy’s gaze, but feeling disconcerted by how delayed the response is.

Alfred leaves with a comment about putting a kettle on for tea, closing the door firmly but softly behind him. The sound it makes as it pulls all the way shut still makes Tim twitch.

“Do you want to sit down?” Bruce offers.

Tim stumbles a bit on his way to the couch. He’s so out of it; He won’t be patrolling tonight, even if his schedule’s suddenly open for it. Bruce sits down on the other side.

“Are they gone again?” He asks, trusting fully that the vaguely worded question will be completely understood.

There’s a worrying delay before Tim shakes his head, giving Bruce ample time to wish for Alfred back before he can register the response enough to be surprised by it.

“So...“ he begins uncertainly, before being cut off.

“I’m sorry,” Tim says again. “I don’t mean to be a bother.”

“You aren’t a bother, Tim.”

The- admittedly somewhat monotone- assurance just gets him a shrug.

“Can you tell me what happened?” He tries.

“Do I have to?” Tim asks after a long silence. “Can’t I just stay here?”

Bruce frowns.

“Of course you can stay here. But I think I really need to know what’s going on.”

Tim stares at him, eyes shining, mouth opening and closing several times before he speaks.

“Can I- Alfred says I can tell you something, and you won’t get mad?”

“Well, that depends on what it is,” Bruce says, thinking back on every time a robin has had something to tell him, but first wanted confirmation that he wouldn’t be angry.

Tim seems to shrink at his words, his breath catching audibly as he curls in on himself. Fuck, Bruce is bad at this.

“What do you have to tell me?” He asks.

“Well now I don’t know if I want to!” It almost comes out as a yell, strained by the sound of held back tears, and Bruce is a little taken aback.

“I’ll probably find out at some point,” he reasons.

There’s a beat of silence, and then Tim chokes on something that sounds like a suppressed sob.

No, no, no no. This isn’t supposed to happen. Bruce reaches out for him in an awkward and hastily aborted movement.

“I can’t,” Tim says after a minutes, tears streaking over his pale cheeks. “If you don’t-“ His voice catches. “I need you to let me stay here.”

Bruce’s heart hurts as he scooches a little closer, reaching out to rest a hand- hopefully not too awkwardly- on Tim’s shoulder.

“Of course you can stay here,” he reiterates. “I told you you could stay here. Even if I’m mad at you you can stay here. If you-“ He searches for a moment. “-Took the batmobile out on a joyride, and drove it into the harbor, I’ll be mad at you, but you’ll still have a place here. One will never have anything to do with the other.”

Tim makes a noise that’s over too quickly for Bruce to be able to tell if it had been a laugh, or just more crying.

“Did Jason do that?” He asks in a hoarse voice.

“Dick,” Bruce corrects.

This time Tim definitely snorts, which has Bruce smiling in spite of himself.

“Did you do something worse than that?” He asks.

It’s meant to be a joke, but Tim makes an unhappy face at the question.

“I- no!” He says, defensive, but confident. “I didn’t do anything wrong!”

Bruce gives his shoulder a squeeze before releasing it.

“Then why would I be mad at you?”

The humor that had begun to make its way into Tim’s expression disappears again, and Bruce curses himself.

“Mom and Dad were mad,” he says quietly.

Bruce scowls. He tries pretty hard not to let his dislike of Jack and Janet show around Tim- though he’s long suspected the young detective can tell- but it’s harder to hide sometimes than others.

“You said they were still home,” he remembers. “Tim, did they kick you out?” He does his best to keep the anger out of his voice.

And then he finds himself doing his best to keep the anger off of his face when it takes Tim a moment to answer the question.

“I don’t think forever,” he says uncertainly. “Just- They said they needed time to think about it, to d-decide what to do.”

The slight stutter puts him over the age, and fury starts to trickle into Bruce’s voice.

“To think about what?” He demands. Hell, that place is more Tim’s home than it is theirs. They have absolutely no right to ask him to leave! And where the hell do they expect him to go? Bruce forces himself to clench his jaw, and take deep breaths.

“...I’m gay,” Tim finally says.

Bruce stares at him for the second that it takes for the words to register, and connect back to the rest of the conversation.

“That’s it?”

He’s wincing at himself before the question is all the way out of his mouth, immediately convinced that he’s said the wrong thing again. But then, to his immense relief, he realizes that Tim has started laughing. It isn’t deep, or sustained. His voice is still a little weak, and his eyes are still a little red. But he’s definitely laughing, and Bruce realizes vaguely that a robin laughing is still his favorite sound in the world.

“That’s it,” Tim confirms, on the tail end of his laugh.

“Oh, Tim.”

Bruce doesn’t give himself a chance to second guess the motion before he pulls the boy into a hug, satisfied that it was the right course of action when he feels Tim melt against him.

“Of course I’m not mad, of course I’m not mad,” he repeats like a mantra. “I’m sorry I let you think I would be. You’re right, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

A few seconds pass, and he realizes there’s a wet patch at his shoulder where Tim’s face is buried. Bruce freezes, totally unsure of what he’s done wrong this time.

“I’m sorry,” Tim breaths out. “I- thank you. Thank you! I don’t know what I would have done if- I- I don’t want to be alone!”

“Not alone,” Bruce promises. “You’re not alone. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

Tim presses closer, and Bruce takes it as a cue to tighten his hold.

Alfred finds them like that a few minutes later, Tim curled up in his arms, while Bruce cycles through reassurances. The look they exchange is enough to confirm that they’re both thinking the same thing: this kid is ours.

Cass

One day Cass hangs a little pride flag up on her door. Later in the week when she catches Bruce glancing at it, she comes up to him, gives the flag a meaningful nod, before just saying, “Girls!” in a happy voice, giving him a hug, and disappearing down the hall.

Damian

Bruce can identify every member of his family by their knock, but Damian’s is particularly distinctive. Not just because it tends to come from a lower part of the door, but because Damian has cultivated a strong knock, the way businessmen cultivate a strong handshake. It’s a very confident and determined sound, that he often finds himself stifling a smile at, knowing that that isn’t at all the intended reaction.

“Come in,” he calls, and there’s no pause before Damian strides into his office, confident as ever. When he speaks however, the undercurrents of his voice tell a different story.

“Father, there is something I wish to discuss with you.” There are a few hesitations, that don’t quite manage to turn into stutters in his voice, ones it’s unlikely anyone outside of their family would notice.

Bruce doesn’t comment on them, just nods for Damian to sit down and continue.

His legs don’t fully reach the floor. Something else that Bruce has learned not to let himself smile at.

“Grayson says…” he begins confidently, before trailing off.

Bruce just raises an eyebrow for him to continue, not feeling like he has enough information to put anything together from at the moment.

“Richard says,” Damian continues more carefully. “He came out to you as bisexual when he was around my age?”

Bruce nods. He has a feeling that he knows where this is going this time.

“He did.”

“He said that you were okay with it?”

Bruce nods again.

“Dick is my son. My love for him isn’t conditional, certainly not on that. There’s nothing wrong with not being straight.”

Damian had broached the topic using Dick as a proxy, so Bruce had followed his lead and assumed that Damian would know to automatically apply the assurance to himself. But Damian’s face just falls into a puzzled frown.

“So why…” he begins, before changing track. “Richard isn’t your biological son.”

Bruce frowns back.

“Damian, you know that doesn’t make a difference to me. I don’t love your siblings any less because they’re not-”

“I know,” Damian cuts in. “It isn’t about loving us differently.” He says it very matter of factly. “I have the ability to carry on your bloodline, whereas they do not.”

“That ability isn’t an obligation,” Bruce says, wondering why his kids never seem to be able to just worry about normal things. “And it’s certainly not something that you need to be thinking about at thirteen years old.”

Damian nods slowly, staring down at the desk with a look of intense concentration, before slowly raising his gaze to Bruce.

“Mother and Grandfather said that you wouldn’t like it, if I wasn’t interested in girls,” he says quietly.

Bruce sighs. of-fucking-course they did. He gets up from his chair, and moves around the desk to kneel in front of Damian.

“Well they’re wrong,” he says simply. “And they had no right to lead you to believe that it would make any difference to me. Just like I don’t love your siblings any less, my love for you is no more conditional. Understand?”

It takes a moment, but Damian nods.

“All right. In which case, I suppose... I’m gay.”

“And I’m proud of you,” Bruce says, before pulling his son into a hug.

Bruce

Bruce looks at his assembled family, and begins to feel a strange sense of trepidation tickling at the edge of his consciousness.

They’re all here. Trying to get the whole family together all at once is like pulling teeth. But he told them it was important, and they all came. There have been plenty of points over the course of the years when that wouldn’t have happened. And even though they’ve all been pretty settled with each other for a while now, he never wants to take for granted having his whole family together- not that he thinks the part of him that only seems to settle when he has all of his children within arm’s reach would let him.

The comfort of having them all be together is overwhelming, but the trepidation is still there, just like it probably always will be any time he manages to round up the courage for anything resembling feelings talk.

They’re all in one of the living rooms, sprawled in a comfortable half circle across various couches and chairs.

“There’s something I wanted to tell you all,” Bruce starts to say.

“Are you dying?” Stephanie asks casually.

Beside her, Cass freezes, looking horrified.

“I’m not dying,” Bruce says quickly.

At the same time Steph rubs a hand up and down Cass’s arm and assures her she was kidding.

“Not like he’d tell us if he was,” Dick says.

He knows it’s meant to be a joke, just like Stephanie’s question had been, but it still sends a chill through him. Mostly because he can’t say for sure that Dick is totally wrong; it’s the kind of thing he easily could have kept to himself. But then he sees the uncertain frown that Damian is giving him, and Cass’s wide, anxious eyes, and decides that he has to be wrong.

“I’m not dying,” he repeats, reaching out for Tim who’s sitting closest to him, and who’s been staring very intently at the floor since the topic came up.

Tim leans into the touch without shifting his position.

“And I would tell you,” he adds seriously, feeling absolutely wracked with guilt over the fact that up until this moment he doesn’t know if he would’ve been able to claim that with any certainty.

“I swear, if there’s anything wrong with me, all of you will know as soon as possible.” By the time it comes out of his mouth, he knows he means it with total certainty.

“I think we’re all pretty tuned into the fact that there’s something wrong with you,” Jason offers, and the tension in the room breaks.

Bruce smiles despite himself. That was agonizing. Compared to that getting on with the conversation he’d previously been so apprehensive to have will be a relief.

“What did you want to tell us?” Duke asks.

“It can be… difficult for me to articulate what it means to me whenever one of you trusts me enough to share something about yourself. I thought that I owed it to all of you to return the favor, and share a… recent discovery of mine.” He stumbles through it as awkwardly as he’d expected to.

“This is weird,” Stephanie stage whispers.

“I’m bisexual,” Bruce admits.

“Bruce!” Dick says excitedly.

“Unacceptable,” Jason cuts in. “We already have enough of that nonsense in this house!”

Tim kicks him in the side.

“Well, seeing as it’s an option, I for one prefer the idea of you pursuing romantic entanglements that bear no risk of resulting in pregnancy.”

“Noted, Damian.”

“I’m happy for you, B,” Tim says. “It can be hard figuring yourself out.”

“Thank you, Tim.”

“Is that it?” Duke asks. “I mean, not that it’s not a big deal- and I’m happy for you too by the way- it’s just that most of our family meetings involve addressing some kind of crisis.”

“That’s it,” Bruce admits.

“Perhaps- seeing as we’re all here anyways- we could take this opportunity to have dinner together as a family for once,” Alfred offers.

#batfamily #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #cassandra cain #damian wayne #batman #batfam #dc #my writing #fluff and angst

[pigeonp0st]

Hey can you do a fic where reader is under mind control of some sort from an enemy and is forced to attack Nat and the rest of the avengers and Nat has to talk her out of it and calm her down something rlly intense and angsty pls

Natasha Romanoff x Reader #6

Words: 2,177

Warnings: Agnst

(tell me if there’s more I should add)

Notes:

I realized after I finished writing that I didn’t have Nat talk R out of it like you asked...I solved it in another way...i’m sorry!! I hope you enjoy anyways, thanks a lot for requesting (and sorry for spelling mistakes...there’s probably a lot) also sorry for this in general...I’m disappointed in it and the ending...I was sleep deprived and delirious for half of it...

———

It was supposed to be a simple mission, and a simple day. You and Nat had planned to head to the beach for the first time in a long time afterwards and everything. It was supposed to be a good day.

Good day...ha.

The sad truth is, is that things don’t always work out the way you expect them to. Sometimes things go horribly wrong.

Sometimes you get mind controlled by the ‘big bad’ and hurt the people you love most. Or maybe that stuff only happened to people like you. ‘Heroes.’

——-

You were conscious. That was the cruel agonizing part of it all. It’s that with every swing of your knife, every landed hit, every plea that fell from their lips, you knew what was happening.

You knew what was happening but could do nothing about it. Well...you could, technically, but it hurt. It hurt to fight. The pain was similar, you imagine, to what it feels like getting burned alive and then ran over eighteen times.

You didn’t think you could do it. Your will power wasn’t that strong. You would probably die trying to gain control—

It hurt. It hurt. You didn’t want to. You couldn’t, you—

Natasha. Natasha was saying; “fight it, Y/N, fight it,” and to you and to the pain that fighting the mind control caused, she may as well have been saying, “die, Y/N, die”

And yeah. Okay. For her, you will. For her you must.

Tears were running down your cheeks, it was the one thing the mind control didn’t have control of. It was...weird. Weird feeling such an immense amount of pain, such an immense amount of suffering, and being unable to show it. Unable to scream. You were silent, but your body felt loud, your head felt loud.

For a long minute you couldn’t hear them, you couldn’t even register the things you were seeing, all you knew was pain, everything outside of that was illegitimate.

Then, silence. For a brief, blissful moment before it was gone again. Nat’s arms were around you, and you were shaking, but completely still otherwise—finally, finally, you weren’t hurting them— “You’re okay,” Nat whispered, and how could that concept, in a few moments of agony, become something so foreign. Have you ever been okay before? Have you ever lived without this much hurt?

———-

“Nat,” you croaked, the words shaking almost as roughly as your body. “Natasha, kill me.”

Those three words, said with an immeasurable amount of desperation, were just as much not your own as your body was at this moment. They were said in a moment of pain.

Somehow, Natasha knew that. She knew that. She knows what you look like when you’re experiencing physical pain. It’s been seared into her mind countless times, but that doesn’t prevent her heart from aching as much as it does when you start begging.

“Natasha please, please baby, please. Somebody, please! Before it—”

And then you were screaming, and Natasha hates how it’s even worse than the begging.

Somehow you’ve managed to gain control of your vocals, but your body isn’t yours again, she realizes it when you start struggling against her arms…it’s a terrible thing to realize.

“Stop,” Nat yells, so obviously terrified and raw that half of the Avengers freeze where they’re circling you. “Stop fighting it, it’s okay, it’s okay.” She holds you as tightly as she can, with her eyes screwed shut. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

And god, she hates the way it sounds like a goodbye too, but she just knows that even if you could register her voice right now, you aren’t going to listen.

You’re going to keep fighting to protect her and the others, because it’s what you’ve always done.

So Natasha takes a deep breath, in and out, and tries to think about her options. She tries to think about her options with you struggling and trying to reach for your knife, and the Avengers circled around her with nothing but ashen expressions that speak of nightmares to come, and she doesn’t know. She just doesn’t know.

There’s no safe way for her to knock you out for a long period of time, not ones that won’t cause long term problems afterwards, but she doesn’t need any because suddenly your body stops struggling, and stops moving, and you’re slumped unconscious in her arms.

It’s a great relief for everyone until Natasha lifts her hand from your pulse, and says, shockingly and terrifyingly devoid of emotion; “I think she’s going into shock.”

——

Everything is a blur to Natasha after that. She recalls yelling, lights, arriving at the hospital, a countdown of; one, two, three, and then she’s sitting in a seat next to your hospital bed wondering when everything went so wrong.

——

All Natasha hears when she closes her eyes is you screaming in agony at the top of her lungs, and all she feels is the phantom touch of your cold ashen skin against her hands.

You’re okay now, Natasha reminds herself. You’re going to be okay, but there’s something deeply traumatizing and everlasting about the moments where you’re sure everything won’t be—the moments you’re almost sure the love of your life won’t be.

Hearing someone you love beg you to kill them, seeing the person you love most in so much agony, it’s...scarring...but Natasha will be strong. She has to be, because being weak hurts too much, but more importantly; you need her to be.

As traumatizing as the experience was for her, she knows that yours was just as bad—if not worse. You were strong for her, so she’ll be for you.

Like protecting her to you seemed like your only option, even while you were hurting so much because of it, it’s Natasha’s only option too.

So she’ll keep it all together, until you’re back to normal and she doesn’t have to anymore.

——-

Natasha startles when you wake up. She physically startles, because the first thing you do is start sobbing, sobbing hard enough to make Natasha concerned that you’ll start hyperventilating.

“Are you okay?” Natasha asks, up from her seat in a flash to be by your side, “is he still mind controlling you? Are you still hurting?”

You aren’t looking at her, Natasha realizes with a large amount of grief. You won’t look at her, but you’re shaking your head no to her questions, and she supposes that perhaps you are okay—physically.

She wants more than that for you, so she sighs, heavily and sadly— because she can’t protect you from this anymore than she was able to protect you from the mind control—and wraps her arms around your distraught form.

“It’s okay,” Nat mumbles, and then winces and corrects herself because it’s so clearly not. “It will be okay.”

That she is sure of, but you aren’t.

“Natasha,” you force out (Natasha tries not to remember the way you said her name yesterday), “You’re covered in- you’re covered in bruises and cuts...baby, i’m so sorry.”

Your voice cracks on sorry, and Natasha closes her eyes to prevent her own tears from falling. “It wasn’t you,” she whispers fiercely, “i’m not mad at you. Of course i’m not.”

“You should be.”

You pull away from her then. Natasha feels the loss in her heart, she’s sure.

All she wants to do is hold you in her arms and never let go, but with the amount of unjustified shame you’re feeling she doubts you’ll let her.

“Your arm,” you stutter, “did it need stitches?”

Natasha won’t lie to you, so she says nothing—instead she tries to meet your haunted eyes. It’s a useless attempt.

She knows what you’re remembering, and she hates it. “The cut on my neck...it wasn’t that deep. It shouldn’t even scar.”

“I didn’t ask you about the cut on your neck, Natasha.”

Natasha tenses where she’s standing, caught off guard by the loathing in your voice until she realizes that it’s not directed at her, but at yourself.

Your eyes finally, finally, meet Natasha’s. They’re tear brimmed, scared, and unbelievably angry. “I’m going to kill him,” you rasp brokenly, “Natasha, i’m going to kill him.”

——-

Nat says nothing. She just continues to stare back at you.

“He had no right, Natasha, he had no right to do that to me,” your face is crumbling now, anger turning back into devastation in an instant. “Nat, why—why was it me? I—god, i’m so angry, i’m so—i’m so sorry. I’m sorry, i’m sorry. God...what did I do?”

Natasha still says nothing, why isn’t she saying anything? You want to yell at her, you want her to yell at you, you want—you want.

“Is Clint...is he okay?” You ask wobbly.

You remember vividly the moment you stabbed him, and the betrayal on his face, the betrayal on everyone’s faces until they realized you weren’t in control of your own body.

“He’s okay,” Natasha says simply. Then, “the man who did what he did to you...Wanda is handling it. She’s able to block out his mind control.”

“Okay.”

“Can I hold you?”

“What?”

Natasha shifts where she stands, looking down. She’s never looked more uncertain. “You didn’t seem to want me close before...I wasn’t sure…”

Oh.

“Nat,” you whisper, heartbroken, “I don’t trust myself. I don’t trust I’m me.”

Natasha tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear and leans down to kiss your temple. You want nothing more than for her to get away from you. You don’t want to hurt her ever again. You can’t. “Oh baby,” she laughs a sad sort of laugh, “you’ve been handcuffed.”

And that, for whatever reason, starts another wave of unreleased tears, but you're laughing now too...if only at the insanity of your situation.

You feel restricted by the handcuffs, trapped in the way you were during the mind control, but you also feel safe. Safe from doing harm, so you allow her, between breaths, to join you on the hospital bed.

She lets out a relieved breath when you do, both because she’s allowed to hold you, and because you’re laughing...yeah it might me a manic sort of laugh, but it’s something.

Something is better than nothing. It’s a start.

——

“Natasha, I can tie my own fucking shoes.”

Nat looks up at you from where she’s crouched by your feet, raising a questioning eyebrow. “Then why’d you ask me to do it?”

“W-What? No I didn’t.” Mind controlled. You were mind controlled again. Fuck—

“Yeah you did,” Natasha reminds gently, “while you were eating your disgusting jello.”

Oh. Yeah.

You release a shaky breath, laughing quietly all the while, because wow. Wow. You’re losing your mind. “I totally remembered that...they just slipped something into my jello…”

Natasha watches you carefully for a few moments before rolling her eyes and getting to her feet. “Tie your own shoes.”

“Asshole,” you mutter bitterly under your breath. Natasha pretends not to hear you and simply presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“I love you,” she confesses quietly. Natasha’s been saying as much over and over again since you first awoke.

“Now I feel like the asshole. Just go get the discharge papers.”

Finally, Natasha laughs.

——-

You’re healing still, emotionally, the Avengers and Natasha are very aware of that. They’ve been as gentle as they can possibly be with you since you left the hospital a couple of weeks ago, but now—now it’s time for an intervention.

So naturally, you press the big red emergency meeting button Steve hides in his room and force everyone to meet in the living room.

“I’m not sad anymore,” You announce to them all when Wanda asks why the fuck she was woken up for.

The grumbling immediately quiets.

“Well,” you pause, considering, “I...am. Deep down. I’m tryna work through it but it’s kinda hard now that I'm forgetting a lot of what happened.”

Natasha sits up at that, alarmed. “You’re forgetting?”

You wave your hand dismissively. “My mind is blocking it out. I’m traumatized...but pretty okay otherwise.” The others don’t look convinced, so with an annoyed groan you relent. “I’m thinking about seeing Steve’s therapist. You guys should too.”

A chorus of protest instantly comes forward, not to your surprise...but Wanda...Wanda does surprise you.

“I am, too.”

Then Natasha, “I...was actually considering it myself.”

Well then.

“I’m also considering making my own sitcom,” Wanda continues, resting her head in her hand. “What do you guys think?”

“Stick to therapy, Wanda. Stick to therapy.”

At that, everyone comes forward in agreement.

You’re sure, in that moment, that with these people you’ll be okay.

#natasha x y/n #natasha x reader #natasha x you #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha imagine #natasha romanoff #marvel x y/n #marvel x female reader #marvel x you #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #female reader #black widow imagine #black widow x y/n #black widow #black widow x you #black widow x reader #imagine

[honeytae]

I think you’re forgetting how well I know you.

this has been on my wips page for so long and coincidentally i am so so soft for yoon rn :( i just miss him and adore him and yeah this is kind of a product of me wanting to take all of his problems away. hand them over, angel. i’ll take them all. tags: @ahgasearmyfan, @hoseokayy genre: fluff

warnings: semi-unedited eek sorry in advance word count: 2.3k

When you arrived at the dorm for dinner with Yoongi and his friends, you could immediately tell that something was off with your boyfriend. 

He was strangely removed from the group with the way he seemed to zone out in the middle of every conversation, adding onto the fact that he looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

During the entirety of the meal, he only pushed his food around his plate with his fork, his mind obviously in a different place as his friends laughed at the retelling of stories from their debut days.

You concern really began to grow when you noticed his nervous habit of picking at his cuticles, a tell-tale sign that you were definitely not wrong about this one.

Something was seriously bothering him.

Your eyes stayed on him throughout the meal and followed his movements as he picked up his plate, withdrawing his body from the table and, with slow footsteps and hunched shoulders, trudged through the doorway of the kitchen.

Seeing a potential opportunity to speak to him, you stood from your chair, gathering dirtied plates from the table top while the other members jumped up to do the same. Making sure to thank them for their help, you pushed your chair into its original spot, turning to head into the room to find who you were looking for.

You tuned out their chatter as they followed you into the kitchen, the voices behind you easily going in one ear and out the other as you frowned at the sight of your boyfriend. 

Yoongi’s back faced you as he sipped at the glass of water he’d just filled with his eyes directed out the window, seemingly lost in thought. His shifted demeanor from his usual behavior was perhaps unnoticeable to people that didn’t know him too well, as the man was a known introvert, but it never flew over your head.

Watching your bodies appear in the reflection of the glass panes, he took a step to the side, the movement shifting himself over a few inches and creating space for you to place the dishes in the basin of the sink.

“I got the dishes, boys.” You said appreciatively, the men seeming to get your hint as they nodded at you with sympathetic smiles.

‘Good luck,’ Namjoon mouthed to you before turning around to exit the room, ushering the other boys out into the hallway with a shooing motion of his hands.

Successfully pushing the boys out, you sighed as your focus went back to your boyfriend, studying the slight crease in between his eyebrows and the prominent frown settled on his lips as he seemed to switch his concentration to scrubbing at the dish in his hand with a pink sponge.

Silently creeping up beside him, you held your hand out for him to place the object in, him glancing up and smiling slightly at you before handing the dripping wet porcelain off to you.

The air in the room was calm as he continued rinsing the dishes, giving them to you once he deemed them good enough so that you could line them up in the racks of the dishwasher. 

You liked to call this the calm before the storm; the period of time where Yoongi was still clueless to the fact that you were fully aware that his smile didn’t meet his eyes. At this moment, he thought he’d done a great job at covering up his true feelings. Little did he know.

Once the sink was empty of its dirtied contents, you made the quick decision that it was time, shutting off the faucet to stop the outpouring of water as you placed yourself in front of him, leaning your lower back against the counter so he couldn’t busy himself with another meaningless task.

“So, what’s going on?” You asked him, Yoongi’s stoic expression changing to one of surprise as he picked his head up to meet your eyes. He only hummed in reply, looking at you with raised brows in a silent question of what you meant.

“You’ve barely spoken all night. Plus, you have that look on your face.” You elaborated, continuing to blink at him as you awaited an explanation.

You could tell he was trying to conceal his frown, the sudden and forced upcurve of his lips in response to your suspicions failing to waver your persistence.

“I have a look on my face?” His brows lifted in surprise, making you nod with widened eyes to exaggerate your point.

“You do. The look that tells me something is wrong.” You persisted, pupils imploring his own to be honest with you as his own guiltily darted from your face.

“I’m okay, angel.” He dismissed with a feigned chuckle, bending down to kiss your temple to attempt to prove his point. He pulled back with a tight lipped smile, turning from you but stopping once you grabbed his wrist, cementing him next to you so that he couldn’t run away.

“I think you’re forgetting how well I know you.” You reminded him, his face blank as you stared at him. 

With a sigh, you grabbed his wrist, the man easily following your lead as you walked down the main hallway to his room. You waved a brief goodbye to the men sprawled out on the couch on the way, them knowingly bidding you both goodnight as they watched you retreat to Yoongi’s bedroom.

You were glad that you had been able to pull your boyfriend away from the exposed area, knowing that he would never open up to you if there were possible other eavesdroppers listening in to your conversation. 

Shutting the door behind you, you let go of his wrist, releasing him from your hold and leaving him standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. 

Yoongi was not the best at opening up to talk about his feelings, which is something you’d learned in the first couple months of dating. It wasn’t that he was emotionless or cold; it was quite the opposite, actually. He felt everything, he just didn’t like to verbalize it.

“So, gonna tell me what’s wrong now?” You asked as you sat on the edge of his bed, peering up at him with wide eyes as he occupied himself by taking his watch off, setting it on the dresser on the other side of the room, the metal tapping the wood quietly.

He only let out a fake laugh, opening his mouth to deny you again before you cut him off.

“Please don’t shut me out, Yoon.” You said, Yoongi’s eyes casting to the ground at the sudden vulnerable moment as he chewed on his bottom lip. 

The room fell silent as you waited for him to speak, only the muffled sounds of the men in the other room fighting for the television remote being heard as you both exchanged brief small smiles at the sound. 

“Nothing serious happened.” He assured you, your head nodding as you took in his words.

“Okay, that’s good. But something upset you, right?” 

“I just had a bad day, I guess.” He admitted, shrugging it off as you studied his saddened face with a heavy heart, shooting him a look as if to say ‘is that really all?’ 

“I’m having a lot of trouble with this project.” He heaved a sigh, his tense shoulders dropping with his confession as you nodded, a silent ask for him to continue as you sat all ears.

“I just feel like, with each success that I have, the pressure builds. I’m so happy to have all the opportunities I’ve been given, I really am. But fuck, what if I screw it all up? What if I disappoint everyone?”

Your heart broke at his words, realizing that, yes, this insanely spectacular person in front of you had insecurities about himself and his place in the world. How, you didn’t know. To you, he put the stars in the sky every single night, made the world a better place just by simply being him. 

The man was a perfectionist, which was one of the things that you loved most about him. His passion and drive for producing the best quality he possibly could was at the very least admirable. But it was also worrying as a significant other.

You had to put a lot of extra effort into things like making sure he was eating and sleeping properly. There were many nights that you spent sleeping in his studio, waking up every few hours and attempting to drag him onto the cot with you.

Additionally, you were always the one who picked him up when he fell down. In moments where he felt as though he wasn’t worthy of the success he’d had, or feelings that he wasn’t good enough to participate on a track; you were there, boosting his confidence enough to continue on with what he’d been doing before he got sidetracked.

While this was certainly not the first time he had expressed insecurities in himself to you, it was the first time in a while that he had done so. A part of you wondered how long this had been building up inside of him, guilt taking over you momentarily before you pushed it aside, determined to reinstate his belief in himself as you sat up straighter on the bed.

“First of all, I don’t think you’re capable of screwing anything up. When you touch something, it turns to gold, so,” You lightly joked, Yoongi chuckling a scoff as you smiled slightly at him, your face falling again as you got serious.

“I can understand the pressure increasing, but you’re not going to screw it up, baby. It’s alright to feel a little stuck right now, but you’re so fucking talented. You have every reason to believe in yourself.” You said, his face unchanging as he stared at you. 

You could almost see the internal war he was having within himself, not knowing whether to believe the voice of the devil on his shoulder or your own.

”By the way, you haven’t been given anything. You’ve busted your ass to earn everything you have. Not once have you taken the easy way out.” You spoke firmly, his blinking speeding up at your words, an attempt to dry his eyes as he awkwardly shuffled under the thick air in the room.

It was when you saw his hands fidgeting at his sides that you stood from the mattress, the simple action providing you with the hint you’d been waiting for.

You’d known Yoongi long enough to know that he asked for comfort in subtle ways, never one to come out and ask for it. He preferred to insinuate the care he needed in small gestures; ones that you could easily miss if you weren’t looking for them.

Wrapping your arms around his torso, you hugged him tightly, palm soothing up and down his spine as he looped his arms around your waist, perching his chin on your shoulder as he sighed in appreciation.

“I’ve been trying new styles, but,” He trailed off, shrugging weakly as he spoke over your shoulder, “I just don’t know if people are going to like it. It’s different.” He sighed, the bunched muscles of his back loosening when your fingertips massaged into the area.

“Who cares if some people don’t like it? They can fuck off.” You said pointedly, Yoongi letting a genuine laugh out at your blunt words.

“Just trust your gut. Look where it’s gotten you before.” You spoke softly, Yoongi biting his cheek and chewing on the flesh anxiously as he listened to you, feeling unbelievably grateful for the endless support and grounding you provided him with.

“I wouldn’t be able to do any of this without you, I hope you know that.” He admitted as he pulled his face back to look at you, you swiping your thumb against his smooth cheek as you nodded.

“We’re a team.” You said, Yoongi smiling back at you before leaning down to brush his lips against yours in an appreciative touch.

“What can I do to help you?” You asked, the apples of Yoongi’s cheeks appearing as he chuckled under his breath.

“You already have.” He squeezed at your waist, voice soft as you studied his features for any of the disgruntled emotions you’d seen earlier. You found none, more of a tired expression in place of the sad one from before.

The skin underneath his eyes circled in rosy purple, his limbs increasingly heavy in your hold as you rubbed his arms up and down in your palms, Yoongi’s eyelids began to flutter out of his control as his shoulders loosened from their tense hunch.

“Alright, well. What else can I do?” You pressed, knowing that despite his change in demeanor, he still needed a bit more comforting.

“I think I’m just gonna lay down. You can go back to the guys if you want, I think they put in a movie.” He turned from you, plopping down onto the bed with a grunt and pulling the covers up over his body as he dug his phone out of his pocket, holding the device above his face so that the screen lit up his features in the dimmed room.

Smiling in amusement at his effort to play it off, you silently padded over to the bed, crawling onto the mattress and dropping your body down beside the man, your head landing on his chest as your arm crossed his stomach.

You didn’t miss the way Yoongi’s lips twitched into a small smile at your decision to stay with him, wrapping an arm around your back to hold you to him as you pursed your lips on the material of his shirt underneath you. 

“Thank you.” He murmured quietly, clicking his phone off and setting it down so that his other hand could wrap around your body, holding you to him with a content exhale.

“Teamwork.” You responded simply, Yoongi craning his neck slightly to kiss the top of your head as he shut his eyes, you doing the same as you rubbed soothing circles into his chest with your fingers.

#bts #bts writing #bts fanfiction #bts scenario #bts scenarios #bts imagine #bts imagines #bts angst #bts fluff #bts x reader #min yoongi imagines #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi fanfiction #yoongi #yoongi writing #yoongi fanfiction #yoongi scenario #yoongi scenarios #yoongi imagine #yoongi imagines #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #yoongi x reader #writing #fanfiction #imagines #x reader

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 142

Another late chapter... I’m really batting a thousand lately, seems like.

So, work has been insane, but @baelpenrose reminds me to post when I forget, thankfully. And this is SUCH a fun chapter.  I hope you all enjoy!

I dropped into a seat in Mess Hall Seven with a groan, so exhausted that I barely managed to get soup and a grilled cheese from the console.  Tyche yawned and nodded in agreement before poking at her sushi bowl idly. It was six Von-days after the last drill, and between coordinating increased training schedules for Shelters Three and Seven and helping Charly plan kink-night at the Undine, we were wiped.

“People are ungrateful,” she muttered before managing to barely balance a piece of salmon into her mouth.

I muttered something that hopefully sounded like agreement before I scooped up a bite of my soup with one wedge of sandwich, too lazy to even bother with the spoon. “Remind me why we don’t have Vati and Hannah handling the practice schedules?”

“Because they are handling the extra evacuation drills with Jokul and Arthur.”

Personally, I thought they were getting the better end of this deal, but since the raging success of their first Food Festival, it really was only fair. “And the relocations for those who need it,” I admitted. “Except mine.”

“Conor may actually strangle one of them if any of your plants don’t make it,” she pointed out, gesturing with her chopsticks for emphasis after having given up and using her fingers to eat her lunch. “Not to mention I wouldn’t wish packing with Maverick on anyone.”

“He’s letting me pack the books and textiles.” I shrugged in acceptance after taking another bite of soup-dipped sandwich.

We picked at our food in silence after that, grateful for something resembling a reprieve, before we were interrupted by a flurry of grey hair and enthusiasm landing in one of the nearby chairs with a heavy thunk. “Good afternoon, Madams Reid.”

“Hey, Jokul,” I muttered as Tyche just waggled her fingers at him. I really think I liked it better when he was trying to kill me. Right now, I might even let him do it.

“I know you are both on your meal period, but I wanted to test the waters on potentially scheduling a community activity,” he rushed out.

Tyche guarded her lunch with an almost feral aggression, having heard what happened the last time Jokul had interrupted my lunch. “That should really be something you run by Al-”

“Worthington, yes, I know,” he interrupted. “However, I know you are both quite busy and I wanted to be respectful of your time. As such, I will make this as brief as - ow!” He snatched his hand back away from the other half of my sandwich, rubbing where I had slammed my spoon down onto it.

“I have no idea where the food stealing comes from, but don’t,” I warned him.

“Rude, got it,” he nodded in a terrifying impression of Charly’s normal demeanor. “As I was saying, I recently learned a new type of game from Terra, from the Before.  It involves teamwork, and encourages creativity and escapism, and I think it would be a very good community activity - “

I surrendered to my urge to groan. “We are not doing a redux of Settlers of Cattan. Arthur stabbed someone last time.”

“I didn’t press charges…” Jokul pouted, glancing at the scar on the back of his wrist briefly. “Besides, it was only a fork. Clearly he didn’t mean it, there were four knives in arms reach counting my own.”

Tyche cocked an eyebrow at me. Seriously?

I pursed my lips and wrinkled my nose in response. Yep.

“So what game is it this time?” I asked hesitantly.

I was reward-bombarded with a grin. “It’s called Dungeons and Dragons! Somewhat like a video game, but with more people, and using writing implements and paper. Oh, and different kinds of dice, very important. One person is something of the narrator, to give the game a kind of structure, while the other players act as characters in the game… Ivan introduced me to it, and it is quite challenging with the right people.  The dungeon master - that is the narrator - has to re-evaluate the story based on the actions of the other players, but the players themselves don’t know what the dungeon master is going to do. It is very much a social diversion, and there are many classes….”

As Jokul continued to gush, he was rather oblivious to the fact that Tyche and I were stuffing our faces as quickly as possible to avoid interrupting him or laughing. We had both played when we were younger - in fact, we had been introduced to the game by our mother.  There had even been a very overwhelming pop-culture movement in our youth around the game, which further emphasized just how far out in the boonies Jokul had grown up.  As shocking as it was that he was just now discovering the game, it came at exactly zero surprise that he enjoyed it so much - it was right up his alley of interests.

About fifteen minutes and two more grilled cheeses into his retelling of the campaign he was part of, Charly and Arthur squeezed in with us, their own lunches in tow.  As seemed to be a growing trend, Arthur reached over and snagged one of my sandwiches before I could react, shoving half of it in his face.

That was apparently enough to snap Jokul out of his story. “Hey! Why didn’t you hit him?”

“His deathwish, not my problem,” I shrugged.

Around the remains of my lunch, Arthur managed to enunciate. “Told you, Noah fissed the dairy allergy.”

“Bleargh,” I gagged comically. “It’s okay, think I’m done anyway.”

Jokul’s hand swatted Arthur’s out of the way to steal the rest of my food. “As I was saying, Ivan was quite clever with his resolution to deal subdural damage to the player who was very much ruining the storyline by insisting his character was immune to magical sleep…”

“Oooooo! I love tabletops!” Charly squealed, bouncing in her seat. “What setting are you playing in right now?  My favorite was always Exalted…”

“Miss Harper, I think we are discussing different activities.” Jokul sounded supremely confused, but my heart broke a bit.

Arthur shook his head. “Maybe not Exalted, but what about Ebberron? Swordhaven, maybe?  Just tell me it isn’t Ravenloft… I know you haven’t been fucking around in a Dark Sun, but I beg you to tell me you aren’t playing Ravenloft.”

“I’m not sure what those are… Ivan introduced me to Dungeons and Dragons. There is only one setting.”

“So… Greyhawk or homebrew,” Arthur nodded. “Best place to start, get the basics down.”

Jokul’s head pivoted toward me and Tyche, squinting in annoyance. “You knew, didn’t you? And you let me prattle on…”

“You were so… happy….” I explained plaintively. “We didn’t want to ruin that for you.”

Tyche nodded. “We both remember how fun that first campaign is. And honestly? We’ve been having a kind of crappy day.  It was nice to hear someone be excited about something that isn’t work related.”

“But I came to you to discuss making it a ship activity…”

“Originally, yeah,” I shrugged. “That was maybe the first thirty seconds.  After that, you were doing what literally every tabletop roleplaying person has done since the beginning of time… telling stories about the fun, dramatic, and frankly stupid shit the people in your party are doing.”

“Says the two-foot eight halfling rogue,” Arthur scowled.

“I rolled it at random, it was fifteen years ago, get over it!” I threw my hands up dramatically. “At least I wasn’t mated to a frickin’ deity.”

Charly giggled uncontrollably while Jokul goggled at us. “Exalted is broken in all the fun ways.”

“You literally sacrificed, and I quote ‘all of your fucks to give’, for necromancy.”

“That was your idea!”

Jokul turned toward Tyche, waiting for her to say something. She just held up her hands defensively. “I was a murder monk-bunny.”

Arthur snorted. “You were the Black Rabbit of Inle….”

“Well if my wife would have just stopped dying…!”

“At least none of us were the Platinum Knight who pissed his pants every time he confronted his favored enemy,” I laughed. “He never did live that one down. Every. Single. Dragon. He would crit fail his roles.”

“Oh, please,” Arthur intoned drily. “Did I ever tell you about the time one of my players managed to make ‘Notice me, Senpai’ into the most terrifying in-universe warcry imaginable?”

Charly choked before swatting his shoulder. “Not in front of my pasta. Please.”

Jokul, however, looked both horrified and intrigued, egging Arthur on. “Barbarian whose entire clan worshipped a god named The Senpai…. Just imagine, a barbarian in a rage, bellowing ‘NOTICE ME, SENPAI!!!’ before just scything down thirty men with a broadsword.”

At this point, I was laughing so hard that tears were rolling down my face. “Please, please tell me there was a kilt and pigtails involved….”

Jokul touched his own hair, before straightening as seriously as possible. “They are warrior’s braids, Councillor.”

That was it, I couldn’t take it anymore. I just put my head down on my folded arms and waiting to either pass out from laughing so hard or from exhaustion.  A few deep breaths and a spinning head later, I managed to wipe my face on my sleeve and realized the conversation was continuing without me.  Just as I was clearing my throat to let Jokul know he should be fine to start organizing something and to send me a rough outline, Arthur dealt the final blow.

Leaning over, he whispered over my shoulder. “By the way, the barbarian’s name was Drystan of the Doki-doki tribe.”

I was proud that I managed to get up and dash into the hallway before collapsing against the wall in maniacal laughter.  I barely registered Hannah’s voice behind me asking everyone at the table if I needed medical assistance, and that did not help.

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#the miys #found family #humans are weird #science fiction #aliens #apocalypse #humans are space orcs #humans are space fae #earth is space australia #post apocalypse #post post apocalypse #original science fiction #original sci fi #original writing

[writing-on-standby]

time of dreaming (part three)

Summary: Soulmates meet in their dreams from the age of 16 until they meet for the first time. Once they meet, they share their physical and emotional feelings with one another until they die. Tom Holland was just starting to learn how to take over the family business and ignore the urge to find his soulmate when everything changes and he’s found face to face with you. You’ve always wanted to meet your soulmate and spend the rest of your life with them until you actually meet yours and life changes forever.

Warnings: Drug use, swearing, alcohol, angst, mentions of scars/injury (not self harm) 

                                 part three: coping mechanisms

A few days after your last interaction with Tom and Harrison, you were discharged from the hospital. Jazmin had taken you home and spent the week after at your house, helping you. She didn’t ask for details about what happened, but word was quickly spreading that you were assaulted in a drug deal gone wrong. Wrong place, wrong time. And you didn’t have the heart to say otherwise.

After a week of time off, however, Jazmin had to go back to work, leaving you alone to take care of the hundreds of stitches you had that kept your chest closed. Your arm was still in a sling and wandering around the house was difficult. There was a constant dull ache in your stomach where Luke O’Malley had stabbed you. You didn’t know what happened to him and you had no idea what happened to Tom and Harrison, but you didn’t care. At least that’s what you told yourself.

Nothing was more heartbreaking, however, than to feel the hands of another woman on Tom, exploring his body and getting to know him. You’d wake up in the middle of the night, tasting cigarettes and whiskey while feeling the lips of someone on your skin. You’d try to block out the sensation of Tom sleeping with another girl, but nothing worked, not even you drinking.

Eventually, one night that Tom was getting frisky with another woman, you looked at the medication you were given to help ease the pain you were in. You took a deep, calming breath, determined to get this feeling out of your head. Without another thought, you popped two painkillers and laid down on your bed. A small smile lifted your cheeks as you could only focus on the comfort of the bed.

Maybe it wasn’t the healthiest coping mechanism, but in that moment, you were desperate to feel anything other than Tom fucking another woman. You nestled deeper into your bed while your body felt light and airy. You slowly closed your eyes and smiled. This was working. For once, you had a way to numb Tom’s feelings and the sensations he felt and for the next six hours, you’d finally pretend he wasn’t your soulmate.

*

Two weeks and some bad decisions later, you were out of pain killers and your body was screaming in pain. You groaned and crawled out of bed. The stitches  had come out of your chest, but the mark was still there; angry and harsh against your soft skin. You had been kicked out of the internship program due to your incident and while the director denied it was because if that, you couldn’t hide the nagging reminder of the scar that somehow showed through any article of clothing you tried.

Tom’s feelings and sensations weren’t making things any better, either. If he wasn’t hooking up with random women, he was drinking whiskey at the worst time of day and smoking cigarettes like he would die without them. On days you tried to be productive, Tom would get into fights. His knuckles constantly ached as did his throat. Having him as your soulmate was insufferable and when you got a particularly bad cramp during your period, you couldn’t help the petty joy you felt, knowing he was also suffering.

You dragged yourself out of the house. The shirt you wore showed off the jagged edge of of the scar you had. The worst part of having the injuries you had wasn’t the pain, but the combination of a massive scar on your chest and the need to wear specific shirts to accommodate to the sling you had to wear. You sighed, trying to ignore the sense of dread seeing the injuries filled you with, but nothing worked.

You walked out of your dingy apartment and onto the streets of London. You were trying to find a way to get more pain killers, but the doctors had already refused your request. As much as you hated yourself for even entertaining the idea of illegally obtaining drugs, you couldn’t go another day with the feelings you had. Luckily for you, you lived in a sketchy part of town and happened to know where the drug deals went down.

Not even caring that your soulmate was a glorified drug dealer or that what you were about to do was definitely illegal, you approached the dealer who stood in the alley by your flat.

“Hey pretty thing,” the dealer spoke, gruffly. His face was ragged and covered with stubble. His blue eyes weren’t menacing like you always pictured a drug dealer to be. “Need something to help with that?” The dealer gestured to your injuries with a cigarette dancing between his finger tips. “Since you’re so pretty, I’ll give you a discount.”

How kind of him, you thought to yourself, sarcastically. You sighed and nodded, slowly. You ignored the spade shaped pin on his chest even though you knew it indicated who he belonged to - the Hollands. “How much?”

The dealer chuckled and told you his price. It wasn’t bad and you handed him the cash. With a sickeningly sweet smile, he handed you a bottle full of painkillers. “Don’t take them all at once, sweetheart.”

You ignored the smirk on his face as you turned and started walking away. Your heart was racing and your body was warm. You ignored every part of your instincts telling you to drop the painkillers and run, but you needed it. You tried to slow your breathing, knowing that Tom would be able to sense your anxiety. What did you care, though? He didn’t give two shits about you. He had made that perfectly clear.

*

Tom stood in his office talking with Harrison. It was the end of the day and they were waiting for the report on the sales his drug dealers had. It was a typical routine that happened almost every day. Tom filled two glasses with whiskey and grinned as he handed it to his best friend. Things were starting to look up.

Over the last three weeks since he had met his soulmate, he’d only felt the soreness in your shoulder along with a dull ache in his stomach. He shrugged off the pain, easily having worse injuries in his life. However, when your period came around, Tom struggled. While your cramps weren’t awful, Tom never had to get used to dealing with them and he simply found it way too uncomfortable.

As the days went on, Tom noticed you feeling more lightheaded and less pain came from your shoulder and stomach. Tom ignored it, assuming that you had finally healed up the wounds. He had tried to ignore any thoughts or emotions about you. It was too hard to think about the look on your face when he last saw you. Your eyes were wide with pain and a frown sat firmly on your lips. It was hard to process the fact that his soul was forever connected to another person and now he had a face to match with the sensation.

A swift knock sounded on Tom’s office door. Tom called for the person to enter and turned to see who it was. Jason, the drug dealer who was in charge of the southern part of the city, walked in. His blue eyes beamed and the stubble on his face added an extra disheveled look to the man. Tom greeted him and he nodded.

“How was the day? Did you make any sales?” Harrison asked, arms crossed. Harrison kept track of the finances in the mob. He knew that Tom was shit with numbers.

Jason chuckled and leaned back. “There was this one bird who came today. Poor thing,” he muttered with his thick cockney accent. He shook his head and lit up a cigarette. “Had her arm in a sling and a nasty scar.”

Harrison and Tom looked at each other. Without saying a word, they both were on the same page. “What arm was in a sling?”

“Where was the scar?” Harrison added, looking at Jason, intently.

Jason looked at the two of them for a brief second. Tom knew this sounded insane, but he didn’t care. Why would you be buying drugs? Jason took a deep drag off his cigarette and sighed, letting all the smoke blow out of him. “Her right arm was in the sling and the scar was right on her sternum. Looked like it went further, but the shirt covered it. What’s the big deal with her?”

Tom shook his head. “Jesus fuck,” he groaned. “Jason, if that woman buys from you ever again, call me as soon as she leaves. Got it?”

Jason furrowed his brows. “Can I ask why?”

Tom chuckled, but there was no humor in his laugh. He shook his head and threw his empty whiskey glass at the wall. It shattered right behind Jason, causing the drug dealer to jump to his feet. Most people had grown to fear Tom and despite his distaste for that power, he used it to his advantage more often than not. “No you fucking can’t,” Tom shouted. “Get the fuck out of my office.”

Jason walked out of the office without another word, leaving Tom and Harrison alone. Harrison looked at Tom in disbelief. Despite the two of them being best friends, Tom had grown distant from Harrison. “Tom,” he whispered. “What’s going on in your head?”

Tom shook his head, trying to ignore the massive amounts of guilt he was feeling. Most nights, before he went to sleep, he’d feel fear and anxiety build up in your bones. He felt you shake awake from nightmares in a cold terror. Tom could feel the ache still present in your body and worst of all, he could feel every time you took drugs. It just took you buying them illegally from one of his drug dealers to finally face the truth. Tom knew that this was a new behavior. In fact, he felt your anxiety earlier today, but assumed it was something normal, not a drug deal. The guilt was crawling into Tom’s lungs and nestling itself firmly on his chest. It was his fault that you were now breaking the law and abusing drugs. “It’s my fault,” he sighed.

“No, it’s not, Tom,” Harrison spoke, confidently. He took a step closer to Tom, but Tom shook his head.

“Don’t fucking lie to me, Harrison.” Tom looked at the open office doors and took a deep breath. He closed his eyes and tried to think of his father. In moments like this, Tom could always count on his father to help him get his thoughts in order.

*

“I know you’re excited that you met your soulmate, Tom, but you cannot meet her. You know that you can’t, right?”

Tom took a bite of his cereal and nodded. Tom was getting better at focusing on the future of his mob rather than the vague-faced woman he saw in his dreams. “I know, dad.”

“Good,” he sighed. Tom’s father was always loving and encouraging to the boys, but when it came to soulmates, he wouldn’t budge. Tom knew that the distaste for soulmates was because of what happened with his mother, but Tom never dared to mention such a thing to his dad.

“Dad, what if I accidentally meet her?”

Tom avoided his dad’s cold stare from the other side of the table. It was a genuine question, on Tom’s part. He knew that meeting his soulmate wasn’t allowed, but what if she happened to be in the same store one day? Or what if she was a cop that he ran into one day? Tom’s dad finally sighed and shook his head. “Tom, you won’t meet her. And if you do, then you’ll start feeling her every thought, feeling, and emotion. That makes you weak, Tom. You can’t let yourself be weak. Not when you belong to this family and you have this job.”

Tom nodded at the bowl of cereal in front of him. His dad had been preparing him for the lifestyle that he was expected to continue, but Tom was still not ready to shut out normal emotions in the way that his father expected him to. Tom tried to ignore the nagging feeling he had in the back of his throat that meeting you in your dreams as frequently as he did was worse than actually meeting you. Tom had already grown attached to the way you laughed at his serious tone or the way you’d be able to tell when he didn’t want to talk about meaningless things. He was attached to the way you were so easily there for him, even when he was being a relentless asshole. Tom couldn’t help but feel like he was already breaking your heart despite only knowing each other for a few weeks. And even then, you didn’t even know what the other one looked like. Tom looked up at his dad who raised his eyebrows. Tom knew that his dad was expecting him to agree and to show submission to his father’s request. Tom sighed, ignoring the soul crushing guilt he felt when he slowly nodded at his father. “Okay, dad.”

*

You walked back to your flat and shut the door with a sigh. Your hands were shaking as you popped open the pill vile and took two pills. At this point, your body was so used to taking the pills that two weren’t enough for you, but you weren’t sure if there was a difference in illegal pain killers and legal pain killers. You took a deep breath, trying to ignore the overwhelming sense of guilt that you could feel coming from Tom. Your first instinct was to find him, hold him, and comfort him. After a few seconds you shook your head in disgust. If Tom gave a single shit about you, he’d come over every time you woke up with tears streaming down your face because of nightmares. If Tom cared about you, he would check up on you every time he felt you get high. If Tom cared, he wouldn’t sleep with random women nearly every day. If Tom didn’t care, why did you?

You ignored the ache in your heart that was now because of your own thoughts. Instead, you focused on the way your body felt lighter with each step you took. You focused on the soft fabric of your shirt and the way the rug under your feet felt. You sighed, drowsily, as the pain killers slowly took effect on your body. You flopped onto the couch and felt your body sink into the plush cushions. You turned on the TV, planning to watch some trashy reality while you enjoyed your high, but your phone ringing caught you off guard. The phone number wasn’t recognized, but you didn’t care enough to worry if it was something serious. You silenced the call without another thought.

The phone started ringing, again, however. You groaned and silenced it again, not wanting to talk to anyone. If it was that important, they could leave a message, you reasoned with yourself. The phone rang for a third time, and you felt anger prick at your cheeks and burn into your chest. You suddenly put the sensation with the incessant calling and realized that it was Tom calling you. Tom was calling you and you ignoring him was pissing him off. You smirked at this realization and chuckled. Before you could think of any reason why Tom would be calling you, you shut your phone off and turned the volume of the TV louder. You popped open the pill container you were given and took a third. With the smile still lazily spreading across your cheeks, you walked over to the kitchen and poured yourself a glass of wine. Without thinking, you guzzled the whole glass and poured another. “Fuck you, Tom Holland,” you muttered to yourself, as if toasting to this statement. You raised the glass to your lips and took another drink, already feeling sick.

Your stomach was flipping and lurching, but you didn’t care. All you could focus on was the fact that you were feeling a cigarette burning your throat and the warmth of Tom’s anger. You were pleased with yourself for dragging these feelings out of Tom. It was high fucking time that he was suffering because of you just as much as you were because of him. You finished the second glass, forcing the alcohol to burn every inch of your throat and stomach. You knew you were going to be sick, but the thought of making Tom feel your suffering and pain was too glorifying for you. You filled a third glass and took a drink as you stumbled into the living room with drunken giggles. Maybe you didn’t care so much about the scar you now held forever, or the fact that your future was put on hold because of Tom. Maybe you could pretend for a small minute that everything was okay.

You flopped on the couch, spilling the wine on your shirt, but all you could do was giggle. You were growing more tired and sick, but you couldn’t let yourself be bothered. All you could do was chuckle, lazily. You forced your eyes to stay as open as they could, but the alcohol mixing with the pain killers was making you so incredibly drowsy. It didn’t matter, though. You could never sleep, lately.

The last few weeks, you would wake up in a cold sweat, thinking of the man who held you against him and slashed your chest open. You hadn’t slept a full night since the assault, but the drugs were helping. You smiled at the thought of being able to sleep for a few hours without seeing or hearing that man. Maybe one day, you’d sleep through the night without the help of drugs, but for now, you were medicating yourself. What else was there to do?

Before you could stand up to fill a fourth glass of wine, your apartment door busted open. Your reflexes were slowed and your logic was out the window. You stood up and wobbled back and forth, trying to balance yourself. Ignoring the smallest rational voice in the back of your brain telling you that it was Tom, you still walked towards the door. You stumbled and peered your head around the corner to see Tom and Harrison both standing there. Anger filled your bones as you looked at their dumb faces. You could see Tom wobbling slightly, but he wasn’t nearly as affected by you. You stumbled into their view and threw the wine glass at Tom as best as you could. It missed his head, narrowly, and shattered at his feet.

Tom whipped his head to glare at you. “What the fuck are you doing?”

You chuckled. “Fuck you, Tom Holland,” you slurred. A laugh erupted out of your diaphragm, even though you knew this situation was far from funny, but this was all you could bring yourself to do in this moment. You shrugged at the boy. His brown eyes were concerned and his eyebrows were knitted, but the drugs in your system blocked his feelings from you. Tom took a step closer to you and you flinched backwards, causing you to trip over the rug behind you. Your ass hit the ground with a pathetic thud and Tom walked over to you. He knelt beside you and helped you up. “Get the fuck off me,” you whimpered as tears slipped out of your eyes. An uncontrollable sadness was washing through your veins and you knew it was yours. It was the sadness over your lost career, your lost soulmate, and the weight of the trauma that you’d experienced in your life.

Tom helped you sit on the couch as he pursed his lips. You could see the fear and the guilt dancing along his eyebrows. He shook his head as he wiped a tear from your cheek. He pushed the hair off of your face and slowly rubbed your back. The last thing you wanted right now was to be comforted by Tom, but you couldn’t ignore the ache in your soul to just be with Tom. “Why are you doing this?”

You sniffled as the world kept shifting around you. The alcohol was fully hitting you and all you could do was accept it. “I can’t sleep; I can’t eat. I have nothing. All I can think of is…is…him,” you sputtered. “All I can think of is the fear and the smell of him. I can’t sleep without seeing him and I can’t eat without feeling the knife against my chest. I can’t function with you sleeping around with other women. I can’t escape this-this anger and sadness.” You wiped your eyes, roughly and shook your head. “You’re not here because you care. You’re here to make sure I don’t fuck with your mob or the cops.” Your lips curled in a sneer as you spit on the ground. The more you talked, the more saliva filled your mouth. Or maybe it was the tears that were now uncontrollably falling from your eyes that were filling your mouth. It didn’t matter to you, not right now. “I won’t fuck with anything. I’m just trying to keep my head above water.”

Tom’s heart was breaking at the sight of you. The scar was clearly visible and tears were freely falling down your cheeks, but you were still speaking your mind. He knew that the universe made you his soulmate because you weren’t afraid to speak your mind to him. “Love, let’s get you into some pj’s and get some rest, okay?”

“What’s the point,” you spat. “I don’t sleep anyway.”

“C’mon,” he ushered, softly. He helped you stand and walked you towards the bedroom. You didn’t fight him as he wrapped his arms around you waist and you certainly didn’t fight him when he held you close to his side. He helped you with every stumble and wobble, but his grip never wavered.

Once in your bedroom, Tom held you up as you grabbed some sweatpants and a loose t-shirt. He covered his eyes as you changed, but his hand was still softly at your side. Maybe it was the drugs or the alcohol that was lowering your ability to think clearly. Two hours ago, you would’ve punched Tom so hard in his face, but in this moment, as he took care of you, you couldn’t feel the anger anymore. You could feel his guilt and his sadness, but you didn’t feel angry anymore. His brown eyes were so concerned as he helped you lay on your bed. Without asking, he took off his heavy knit sweater and climbed into bed, next to you.

“I’m so mad at you,” you whimpered as tears fell out of your eyes. “I can’t fucking stand you.”

Tom could hear the weakness in your tone and knew that you were trying so hard to come off menacing. He couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle as he heard Harrison sweep up the broken glass and tidy up the flat. “I know, princess,” he whispered. “Let me try to help you sleep, okay? You need to sleep, love.” Your eyelids slipped shut as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’ll be right here. I promise.”

You couldn’t fight it anymore. You let the wave of sleep wash over your exhausted body. Tom’s arms were tightly wrapped around you, filling you with a sense of security. You listened to his steady heartbeat and felt your soul rest, finally.

And for the first time in weeks, you finally slept through the night without any nightmares.

                                                  part four

#tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fan fiction #tom holland au #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fic #tom holland #mob!tom holland #mob!tom #au fanfic #au fanfiction #au #soulmate au #soulmate fanfic #soulmate fanfiction #soulmate!tom holland #soulmate!tom #writer #writing #writerscommunity

[twiceinadream]

“Anon.”

Requested: Yup

Request: Tzuyu is the popular girl who everyone wants to either be or date, Y/N is the quiet loner with only a handful of friends. In everyone's eyes, Tzuyu is the perfect girl who's always happy, but one day Y/N catches Tzuyu breaking down and crying in secret. Since then, she has been anonymously leaving notes in Tzuyu's locker. Among all her secret admirer letters, Tzuyu finds the notes with positive words and goes on a search for the sender [High School AU]

a/u: Hey, everyone! So I have to admit, my bad. I’m sorry for hyping this up and doing absolutely nothing for like 2 months, but I’m so happy that I finally got it done and I hope you all love it. I love you guys and thank you so much for all the support. Also, thank you so much for 2.3k+ followers, that’s insane!

Category: Fluff and Angst

Word Count: 2.9k

You frowned down at your notes as a soft breeze blew in from the open window next to you, the pages of your notebook fluttering in the wind as you placed a hand on top of them to prevent them from blowing as you sat back in your chair. Your teacher’s voice seemed like a monotonous drone that filled the classroom’s silence as he continued talking about the effects of the Scientific Revolution and the Enlightenment movement and how it changed the world’s thinking of space and the world they lived in, but in all honesty in this moment in time you could honestly care less about what he was saying. Your mind was already too preoccupied with the most popular girl in all of JYP Academy, Chou Tzuyu. Your eyes had left your notes long ago as you couldn’t help but stare, she was so effortlessly beautiful that it was almost infuriating. If you didn’t know any better you could say she was perfect.

She had everything any high school student could ever hope for. She’s beautiful, popular, rich, and oh so perfect. If time would allow you, you probably wouldn’t stop thinking about her at all. But, just as you were about to dive deeper into thought a sudden shrill ring of a bell pulled you out of your thoughts as you blinked, shaking your head as you realized class had ended. You sighed as you closed your notebook and reached for your backpack, stuffing your things inside as you stood from your seat but before anyone could leave your teacher suddenly announced, “Remember, we have a test on this chapter next week! And it’s the last one before the end of the quarter so this will severely make or break your grades!” A loud chorus of groans followed as all the students began filing out of class and out to lunch.

You shook your head as you threw your bag onto your shoulder, ‘Shit.’

-

You breathed out a sigh of relief as you got out of the class, dodging the flow of students heading out of the school halls towards the cafeteria as you made your way to the back of the academy, where the art building was housed. Set on retrieving your friends so they wouldn’t miss lunch and beg you for food later.

The walk there was surprisingly peaceful as you used most of the time lost in thought, your mind filled with images of Chou Tzuyu and history. The halls toward the back buildings were much quieter, save for the sound of a piano being played in one of the practice rooms. A smile growing on your face as you followed your ear towards the music, stopping in front of the open door that housed the source of the sound.

Your eyes landed on the brunette playing, then drifted to the silver-haired fox next to her as their heads both swayed to the rhythm of the song. A small chuckle left you as you knocked on the open door, “Knock, knock.” The interruption does its job and the music stops as Chaeyoung and Dahyun turn to face you, smiles growing on their faces as they get up from the piano to hug you.

“Y/N! Finally!” Chaeyoung says happily as she punches you lightly in the shoulder, “I was starting to think you forgot about us back here.”

You laugh as you lean into her, “What? Never. Classes just ran late since we have finals next week.

Dahyun groaned as she threw an arm over her eyes dramatically, “Don’t remind me, I hate this time of year.” You shake your head as a giddy smile takes over your features.

“But, hey, it’s Friday! Wanna go to, Cup of TT, after school. My treat?” Both Chae and Dahyun nod enthusiastically.

“Sounds good, but you’re paying. No take backs.” The brunette says with a playful smile as you wave her off.

“I know, I know. I’m not gonna come up short, unlike some people.” You raised an eyebrow that was directed to Chaeyoung as you dodged her about to tackle you.

“I swear to all things holy if you make one more short joke.” The tiny tiger seethed as you and Dahyun laughed, putting your hands up in surrender.

“Sorry, I can’t hear you from down there.” You smile as you start running down the hallway, your’s and Dahyun’s laughter filling the halls as Chaeyoung chases after the both of you.

-Finals Day-

The crisp spring air did nothing to relieve the pounding you felt in your mind as you rested your head in your hand, flipping through your notes about world history as you could faintly hear Chaeyoung explaining something about a mountain painting she had seen at an art exhibit recently as Dahyun listened. Her attention fully on the shorter blonde as you absently flipped through every page, trying to cram any last minute information you could before the final next period. But, to be fair, not paying attention in class wasn’t your fault.

How could they expect anyone to focus when Chou Tzuyu was in their midsts?

But your brief study of about three months of work had come to an end with the sound of a shrill bell, signaling the start of your history period.

“Alright, good luck Y/N! Hwaiting!” Dahyun smiled as she squeezed your shoulder.

“Good luck, and don’t get distracted!” Chaeyoung winked as she moved just in time to avoid your reach, cackling as you were left in your classroom. Watching your classmates file in as you let out a breath.

‘I can do this.’

-1 Week Later-

Your stomach has been in knots for the past week as you waited for your teacher to post the grades of the final. Making silent prayers to whatever divine being that heard you as you held your breath waiting for the teacher to post the paper on the bulletin. The lack of air in your lungs makes you dizzy as you had to remind yourself to breathe.

Your heart raced as your teacher opened the door to his classroom, regarding his anxious students with a quick look over as he kept his body in front of the board. Taking his sweet time to staple the papers to the corkboard to prolong his students anticipation before finally taking pity on their bated breaths as he finally moved.

Barely dodging the stampede of students that nearly trampled him in their haste to see their scores. Some rejoiced while some looked close to tears as you finally got to the board, running your finger down the column on the paper till it landed on your name. You held your breath as you removed your finger, revealing...an A!

You had to stop yourself from jumping in excitement as a large smile was plastered onto your face, running to find Dahyun and Chaeyoung to tell them the good news.

-

“Guys!” You yelled happily as you finally found them. Slightly out of breath since you had to run around a bit to find them.

Chae turned first as she took in the smile on your face, “Survey says?”

You smiled brightly, “A!” Both your friends smiled excitedly as they sandwiched you between them jumping in celebration.

“Alright, get together at my house?” Dahyun asked you and Chae as you both nodded, “Great!” You smiled as you slung your arms around both your best friends, the three of you walking towards the entrance of the school before you stopped.

“Aww, crap. I left something in my history class, I’ll be right back.” You turned back as you began running to your classroom, the halls pretty much void of students as you made it through the last corridor before your class. Barely rounding the corner when you spotted Tzuyu in front of the board. You quickly stopped yourself as you hid on the side of the wall, peeking over the side as you watched her, scared to face her head on. So you just waited for her to leave, but what came next surprised you more than just seeing Tzuyu by herself instead of surrounded by her entourage.

She began to cry.

For a second you felt very unsure of what was happening. ‘She’s crying. Chou Tzuyu is crying. I should probably do something.’ Your thoughts seemed to finally catch up to you as you tried to spring your body into action, ‘I should probably do something!’ But your body was frozen in place, unable to move as Tzuyu sniffed loudly. Her head down as she began to walk away, leaving in the opposite direction as you. (Thank God)

You finally felt movement come back to your body as you stepped into the light, walking slowly towards the board as you searched down the list for Tzuyu’s name. Your breath catching as you found it, D. Oh no. That’s not good. You purse your lips in thought as you forgo getting your forgotten pencil as you walk towards the way Tzuyu left, deciding you might as well see if she was okay. But, you turned up empty handed, having no idea where she had run off to and decided to just cut your losses and return to your friends.

A look of relief on Chae’s face as she spotted you, “There you are! We thought we’d have to send out a search party for you.” You smiled weakly at the comment, Dahyun’s smile faltering as she took in your shift in mood.

“Is everything alright, Y/N?” You shook your head, clearing your thoughts.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m good.” You gave her a thumbs up as you put your arms around them again, “What are we still doing here? Let’s go!”

-The Kim’s House-

The three of you had gone through at least two movies as you laid your head on Dahyun’s lap. Her finger’s threaded through your hair as your brows furrowed, the action usually calming you but had no effect on your consciousness as your mind still replayed the events outside your history class.

The brunette glanced down as she saw the serious look on your face, reaching over to pause the movie. Chaeyoung looked at her, ready to say something but stopped as Dahyun held up a hand, “Y/N,” No response, “Y/N.” Her tone became firmer as you blinked, turning your attention to her.

“Did you say something?” Dahyun sighed, making you sit up.

“What’s going on Y/N, after you came back from your class. You seem...sad?” You frowned slightly as you looked at both of your friends.

“Uh...okay, you got me. When I was going to my class, I saw Tzuyu outside since our grades were posted today then she started crying. I didn’t know what to do so I waited till she left and saw she got a, D.” To your surprise you heard Chaeyoung groan in annoyance.

“Dammit Chewy, I told her she needed help.” You and Dahyun both raised an eyebrow as you looked at your silver haired friend.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Chae shook her head, “I told Tzuyu that she needed to get herself a tutor since she was struggling with the paper. But, she didn’t want to since her parents are such hard asses about her being ‘perfect’ and what not.” But this only seemed to confuse you and the brunette further.

“Hold on. You know Tzuyu? Like personally?” Chaeyoung just nodded like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Yeah, we’ve known each other since we were in diapers. Our parents are family friends, so we’ve spent our whole lives around each other.” The shorter Korean continued talking, oblivious to your’s and Dahyun’s shocked faces. “So, I know all about her grades and things. She was having such a hard time with it, I feel so bad.”

You sat in shock for a little longer, “Wait, so you know Tzuyu and just never thought you should mention it.” Chaeyoung shrugged.

“Must have slipped my mind. But,” The silver haired girl smiled at you, “I think I know how to make her feel better.”

You looked at your suspiciously, “What do you have in mind, Chaengie?”

But Chaeyoung just smiled.

-Monday-

It was early in the morning as you stood in front of Tzuyu’s locker, a small note in your hand as you tried to psych yourself up to put it in. ‘Come on Y/N, she doesn’t know it’s you. You’ll be fine.’

You bit your lip as you slid the note in, saying a prayer as you ran off.

-

The bell rang, signaling the start of school as Tzuyu stood before her locker. Opening it as she watched a few pieces of paper flutter to the ground, ‘More secret admirer letters.’ The Taiwanese girl shook her head as she opened them briefly, tired of reading about how beautiful she was since it was kinda getting old. Until she came across a note that differed from the rest.

Tzuyu, keep your head up. You’re so smart and don’t forget to live while you’re young and wild :) -Anon

Tzuyu nodded as she read the note, ‘Huh, now that’s new.’ She smiled to herself as she secretly tucked the note back into her locker, her head held higher as she walked to her class.

-Wednesday-

It been two days since the first note you had written and you were back with another, holding it to your chest as you breathed out. Before pushing it in.

-

Tzuyu yawned as she moved her hair away from her eyes, opening her locker as a note fluttered to the ground. A smile growing on her face as she noticed the handwriting was the same as the one she had seen on Monday.

Hey, Tzu. Hope your days are getting better! Remeber you are smarter than you know and stronger than you think ;) -Anon.

The Taiwanese girl smiled as she tucked the note with the one she had received on Monday. She was really starting to like this admirer.

-1 Month Later-

It been a month since you had started leaving notes at Tzuyu’s locker every other day, and unbeknownst to you, Tzuyu had actually started looking forward to those days. You stood in front of her locker again, placing a kiss to the note as you slid it in.

-

When Tzuyu arrived to the academy she rushed to her locker. Pulling it open as the note she waited for to fall to the ground.

Tzumong! I hope your classes are going well, remember you are strong enough and amazing. If I had the courage you did I’d ask you out on a date if I could. Have a great day ^ㅊ^ -Anon.

Her eyes widened at the last sentence, so this person did like her. And she couldn’t deny, she had also fallen a little bit for the person writing her, her favorite letters.

-1 Week Later-

You sat bored in your history class as you absentmindedly spun your pencil around your fingers. Barely listening to your teacher as he explained a project he was having the class do on Imperialism. Your eyes focusing slightly on Tzuyu, who you hoped still had no idea it was you leaving the notes.

“Y/N. Y/N!” You shook your head as your gaze was ripped from looking at Tzuyu, to face your teacher.

“Yes?”

He shook his head, tutting, “I said, you’re partners with Tzuyu. Move so you can sit next to each other.” You felt your heart rate spike as your lungs seemed to be completely void of air, getting up on shaky legs as you moved to sit next to Tzuyu.

A small smile on her face as she mouthed, “Hi.” You gave her a smile as the teacher explained the project, before finally allowing the class to talk.

You swallowed the nervous lump in your throat as you faced your crush, “H...Hi, I’m Y/N.”

The brunette smiled, “Hi, I’m Tzuyu. Nice to meet you.”

You nodded, “You too.”

The class went by in the blink of an eye as you talked about the project and how it would work out when the bell rang. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I have to go. Can you write your number.” Tzuyu held open her notebook as you quickly wrote your name and number on the lined sheet of paper as she rushed out of the class. Your eyes following her retreating form as you sat back in your desk.

‘Well that just happened.’

-

The Taiwanese girl had to run to the student council meeting since she was behind on one of her projects. Panting as she entered the room. Taking a seat as she opened the notebook she had given you to write in. Her eyes barely glanced at the paper, when your handwriting caught her attention.

Her eyes widened as she pulled the note she had received this morning out of her binder, holding it next to your name and number. An exact match.

‘Oh my god.’

-The Next Morning-

You walked sleepily to your locker as you ran a hand through your hair, yawning as you put in your code. Pulling it open, only to have a piece of paper come fluttering out. You raised an eyebrow as you squatted down to pick it up, turning it over as you gave it an experimental sniff. ‘It smelled like Tzuyu’s perfume?’

You felt your heart begin to pound in your chest as you slowly opened the note. Your eyes widening in shock.

Found you! Now how about you keep your promise about that date you wanted to take me on. -Tzuyu <3.

You couldn’t believe what you were seeing as you read the note over and over again. Tzuyu stood quietly behind you. Her chuckle greeted your ears as you turned around slowly, catching her gaze. A smile growing on her lips as she looked at you expectantly.

“So. What’ll it be, Anon?”

#fortwice #twice #twice imagines #twice prompts #twice oneshot #twice fluff #twice angst #kim dahyun #son chaeyoung #chou tzuyu #twice dahyun #twice chaeyoung #twice tzuyu #chou tzuyu x fem reader #anonymous #twiceinadream

[inkandpen22]

Cuppa Tea, Cuppa Tea

Request: The first request is that the reader kinda is yawning a bit, but "oh, it's fine, I'm just studying a bit harder" but they're either lying and doing a bunch of work deep into the night (maybe translating old books or something) or it's insomnia, or actually studying til 4:00am or something (lots of "ors" I'm so sorry) and of course spike finds out and is like "I'm supposed to be the nocturnal one??" And I had a brief thought of somehow the reader being tricked to drink sleepy time tea or something that will make them sleep as much as they need, but idk if that would be weird 🤔 but anyway, I hope that made sense ^^;

Pairing: Spike x gender neutral reader 

Warnings: swearing 

Word Count: 1.3k 

Summary: Y/N is at Spike’s studying for a chemistry exam when Spike starts to worry for them. 

A/N: sorry for the delay!!! This was so easy to write because honestly it’s relatable. Enjoy X

Masterlist

The words on the page start to blend and nothing makes sense anymore. No matter how hard I try, I can't seem to process the words I'm staring at here. I have to pass this chemistry exam. I'm not even a chem major, stupid general education classes. I hear Spike move about behind me while his Passions episode comes to an end. Being one of the token full-fledge humans in the Scooby Gang means I'm sometimes dropped off at Spike's for safekeeping. Lately, there's a water demon terrorizing Sunnydale, so I've been instructed to come straight here after classes. Yet, Spike insists on meeting me right after the lecture. He went about finding out my course schedule so he can be thereafter my last class. Since I finish when the sun is still out, he has to use the tunnels on campus. He's the definition of smothering.

"Y/N, you need to go to bed," he advises, appearing beside the crypt I'm set upon.

My notes and textbook are laid perfectly on the crypt to study.

"Five more minutes," I yawn.

The candlelight is starting to radiate enough heat to feel it. They've been going all afternoon and well into the evening. Its light is starting to burn my eyes.

"You said that twenty minutes ago," Spike sighs, kneeling next to me.

"Oh bet, I thought it was only ten," I check my watch for the time.

Spike huffs in annoyance and snatches my textbook away.

"Hey!" I reach for the pages, but he moves it away.

"I'm so supposed to be the nocturnal one! Not you!" He reminds me with a fuss.

"Ever heard of insomnia?" I sass.

"It's not healthy," he preaches, setting my textbook down.

"Nor is being undead. That's a little pot calling the kettle black," I shrug while I reopen my book to the proper page.

"The more tired you get the more annoying you are," he grumbles, tossing his head back dramatically with a sigh.

"Dope," I nod with narrowed eyes.

"I hate you," Spike growls.

"Love to hear it," I mutter subconsciously as I continue reading.

"Ugh, oh my g-"

Absentmindedly, I read the chapter on proper chemical mixing. I can't even read the periodic table, how am I supposed to remember all of this?  

I start to sing a familiar tune under my breath without much thought. "Oh say can you see by the dawn's-"

"Stop!" Suddenly, Spike's hand is covering my mouth. "Stop while you're ahead!"

"I was just getting started." My voice is muffled by his hand.

Spike slips his hand around and brings up the other to make me stare into his eyes.

"You're getting delusional!" He accuses.

"What's life without a little bad trip? Adds some spice," I dismiss carelessly.

"You're psychotic," he determines

"Says the serial killer," I shrug.

"You're! Losing! It!" He emphasizes.

"You! Eat! People!" I fire back mockingly.

"I need to so I can exist. You don't need to study to exist," he takes my textbook away again and strolls away.

"I need to so I can get a good job," I reason.

"Industrial America is overrated," he declares monotonously.

"You're also an old English man," I grumble.

"Yeah, so I know a few things," he smirks proudly.

"You never took school seriously?" I climb down from the crypt to fetch my book from him.

"Well... I went if that's what you mean. I had a rather expensive education," Spike describes vaguely.

I reach for my textbook and take it back civilly. "A White, upper-middle-class, during the Victorian Era, given a well-to-do private education? Well, color me shocked!"

"I can hardly stand you when you get in this mood. You need sleep," he rolls his eyes annoyedly.

"I hardly tolerate you every moment of every day. I need coffee," I correct.

"I will kill you," he threatens as per usual.

"Oh yes, bring me the sweet release," I grumble as I head back to my spot.

"You sicken me, you know that?" Spike questions sarcastically.

"Glad to hear it," I laugh humorlessly.

"Normally, people aren't so keen on being threatened," he reminds.

"Fair enough, granted I'm not 'normal,'" I form quotation marks with my fingers.

"Clearly," he mumbles.

"'Clearly,'" I mock his voice. "You even sound old!"

"I'm only one hundred and twenty-six!" He states, yet again, this week.

"Oh my goodness! You're right! My bad! You're practically a new spring chicken! Now get out there young one, and seize the day!" I tease.

"I'm going to make you a cup of tea," Spike declares, heading over to his make-shift kitchen. In reality, it's an electric kettle he plugs into an extension cord that's connected to somewhere outside.

"Coffee," I request, returning to my reading.

"Tea! You don't need any more coffee," he ridicules.

"You're depressing," I insult under my breath.

After a short time, Spike returns with a mug. I've managed to get through the last paragraph I've been struggling with.

"Here," he hands the white porcelain object to me.

The warmth of the mug contrasts the cold of my hands.

"What kind," I ask as I go to sip it.

"Green," he nods.

"Oo, so you are giving me caffeine," I wiggle my brows right as the liquid hits my lips.

"Only to shut you up," he sighs.

"Always the charmer," I wink.

After a moment of consideration and pondering, I can determine that this is good tea. Spike stands around waiting for my approval.

"This is nice, what brand is it?" I go in for another sip.

"An old one my mother used to use, been around for a while," he stammers.

"Lovely, thank you."

I compliment and he grumbles some response. ______________________ The sound of a distant lawnmower wakes me up in a jolt. I gasp for air, having been so deeply asleep that I hardly felt alive. I must've been more exhausted than I originally comprehended. My blurry vision adjusts to my surroundings and I'm tucked into a bed, but not my own. No, I know this bed. I've seen it before. The bright red sheets are hard to forget. Spike.

"What the-" I scream, "Spike!"

The bleach blonde vampy appears from behind a pillar across the room.

"Yes, Pet?" He says slyly, as though it's just any other morning.

"You asshole!" I curse at him as I hurry to get up.

"Feel refreshed?" He smirks.

"Did you drug me?" I come to the realization as I stand up that I don't remember falling asleep or getting into Spike's bed.

"Eh, somewhat," he explains vaguely. "I gave you camomile tea and maybe crushed up some melatonin in it."

My jaw drops, "you're insane!"

"Knocked you out like a bloody babe," he snickers, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

"What time is it?!" I shake my wrist to my watch.

"Noon," Spike answers before I have the chance to check.

My eyes go wide as the harsh reality that I'm late to my class sinks in.

"Shit! Shit!" I rush to gather my things. "Fuck me! I have my test in thirty minutes!"

Spike strolls about casually around me, not giving two shits.

"You'll be fine," he assures calmly. "The sleep will help."

"It better!" I growl at the vamp.

"I'll pick you up after your class. We'll get coffee," he suggests with a smug expression.

"You don't drink coffee," I glare as I pack up my backpack.

"Damn straight, but you do. My treat," he offers.

"Oh, so kind!" I remark sarcastically as I struggle to slip my arms through my backpack and get my shoes on at the same time.

"Have fun!" He waves as I head to the door. "Good luck!"

"Fuck you!" I bid farewell as I slam the tomb door behind me.

"Coffee!" He shouts from inside as I stroll away. "Four o'clock! I'll pick you up!"

"Okay! Fine! Fine!" I yell in agreement, despite everything that just happened.

God, I hate to love him. 

__________________________

Masterlist

Tags: @mx-pibbles​

#spuffy #spike x buffy #spike fanfic #spikexreader #spike #buffy summers #buffy the vampire slayer #buffy the vampire slayer imagine

[thevindicativevordan]

You did one for Hulk (incredible btw). Got any thoughts on Spider-Man?

He used to be one of my favorites.

It's easy to see why Spidey took off as Marvel's premiere character, and competitor with Batman for the most popular superhero ever. If you'll indulge my DC bias, Spider-Man sits at the intersection between Superman and Batman. Like Superman, Spider-Man never knew his birth parents, and was instead adopted and raised by an elderly couple. Uncle Ben and Aunt May are the people Peter thinks of as his mom and dad, and it's their lives that help shape Peter. Both Superman and Spider-Man wear colorful red and blue costumes, both have iconic jobs working for newspapers with cantankerous bosses, and both have a lot of Jewish DNA in them because of their creators. Like Batman however, Spider-Man has a tragic parental figure's death to motivate him, he has a very poor reputation with the public, they both style themselves on animals, and both have strong roots in the cities they protect. That Peter's greatest foe, the Green Goblin, also stands at the intersection between Lex Luthor and the Joker makes for a great parallel. Add in that Spider-Man has the second best Rogues Gallery in comics, and it's clear Peter drew on the best attributes from his predecessors as a foundation.

What separates Peter from them though is that he was the first hero with real problems. Neither Superman or Batman had to worry about paying rent regularly like Peter did. Both stood apart from their peers by choice, while Peter wanted to make friends but wasn't able to do it. Krypton and the Waynes died through no fault of Supes or Bats, but Uncle Ben's death was something Peter was at fault for if indirectly. Then you had Gwen Stacy killed as a direct result of Peter's superhero career, introducing the idea of heroes who could fail. Spider-Man was pitched as the flawed hero, the human hero, the guy you could think of yourself as being if you got superpowers. You would screw up and make mistakes, but you'd try your best regardless. Of course the readers would be drawn to, and identify with him, and that's both the secret to his success and what keeps fucking him over. A lot of guys see Peter as their self-insert, so they keep trying to return to their youth through him which keeps derailing him as a character. My entry into Spider-Man fandom came during one of the brief lulls from Marvel trying to reset him to what they see as his "roots".

I remember seeing the Rami Spider-Man movies in the theater and being utterly entranced. I played the first Spider-Man movie tie-in game pretty religiously as a kid (fuck that level where you infiltrate OsCorp, those robots were insane), as well as other Spider-Man games such as Web of Shadows. Can still hear the theme song of the 90s animated Spider-Man show in my head, that show's versions of Green Goblin and Venom are still my favorite takes. All this is a rambling way of saying that "my" Spider-Man was formed during a period where Marvel seemed ok with Peter being more adult, something they've been trying to roll back ever since.

Peter was a college student in the 90s cartoon, the comics had him and MJ married (my first Spidey comic was vol. 1 of JMS' Amazing Spider-Man run, so Peter and MJ being married is the "default" for me), the video games were set in the Ramiverse so he was a college student there as well. It's such a weird era to look back on in retrospect given what's to come and what came before. Peter had problems and was flawed, but he was also so much more mature and thoughtful, intelligent in a way beyond just being a science whiz. He and MJ had a great dynamic as a couple under JMS. They were so clearly in love and also utterly unwilling to take each others shit that it was just a joy to read. That relationship really was something I dearly loved, and of course I took it poorly when Marvel broke the two of them up. Making it a plot where not!Satan comes down and takes their marriage away only rubbed salt in the wound.

Suddenly Peter was a lot more immature and stupid, and Marvel was insisting that this was "how he should be". Marvel was claiming that Spider-Man was all about youth, thus he needed to remain young and marriage free in order to work, which flew in the face of the character as I understood him. To me, Spidey was a character about the opposite, he was about growing up.

More than any other character in the MU, Peter was the guy who embodied character development. In his early years under Lee and Dikto, Peter was an asshole with a chip on his shoulder. Far from being the martyr figure everyone sees him as today, Peter initially just kept trying to make money with his powers. He was constantly moaning and bewailing his lot, because he was a fucking teenager! EVERY teenager treats ANY setback like it's the end of the world. Yet over a period of years, both in universe and out, Peter grew into the great hero everybody sees him as today. He became kinder, more charitable, and made friends with his peers. He acquired a steady stream of super hot girlfriends, ultimately marrying MJ. Peter married MJ before Clark Kent married Lois Lane, that's a huge freaking accomplishment! Totally makes sense that Peter would get married first because while Superman was more or less frozen in place like all DC heroes, Spider-Man was the one who embodied the Marvel trait of growth and change. The world kept throwing shit at him and Peter dealt with it as best he could, and that gave me hope because if he could overcome the forces arrayed against him to find some degree of happiness, so could I.

One More Day completely obliterated all of that. I didn't recognize this character anymore, I didn't care about the shallow relationships they teased him entering, relationships we all knew didn't matter. If Peter couldn't stay married to MJ, he wasn't going to last in a relationship with Carlie Cooper or any of the girls Slott set him up with. Peter being immature worked great when he was actually in high school and college, but Marvel wanted to write him as a high schooler without actually deaging him. The contrast between how he was characterized before and after OMD was just too jarring for me.

Ultimately I left for a while. I read Superior and Spider-Verse, but I was no longer religiously following Amazing Spider-Man any more. Checked out Ultimate Spider-Man which I had never read, and I enjoyed it, but I also held a grudge against it's success. Clearly this was the series that enshrined high school Spider-Man as the "ideal" status quo for a lot of people, and I couldn't help but blame the series for Quesada's successful torching of a more mature Peter Parker. I also read Spider-Girl which took place in an alternate continuity where Peter was still married and he had a daughter with MJ named Mayday. I loved that series a lot, and Mayday became my favorite Marvel superheroine. Eventually I came back to ASM with Spencer because a few of my fellows told me he reminded them of JMS, and I've enjoyed his characterization of Peter. Doubt the marriage will be coming back any time soon but it's nice to read a more adult Peter after how he was characterized under Slott.

Hard to say what the future holds for Peter. Tough to say for certain but with the end of high school Peter in the MCU approaching, it feels like we're on the edge of another shift in status quo for Spider-Man. May be that the creation of Miles is allowing Peter to finally start to mature again since Miles can be the corporate wet dream of an eternally young "diverse" Spidey. The insistence on putting Miles into more and more of Peter's stuff, with Peter mentoring him, makes me hope that Marvel is becoming more ok with Peter growing up. The Insomniac Spider-Man is a college graduate, he feels the closest in tone and character to the Spider-Man I grew up with under JMS and Rami. They even got to kill Aunt May off, something Marvel is still terrified to do in the comics, and the relationship between Peter and MJ is portrayed as crucial to both (as it should), even if MJ is a little too Lois Lane lite for my liking.

Hopefully Spider-Man can shake off Quesada's lingering influence and start being what he was created to be: the guy who moves forward rather than running in place.

#spider man #peter parker #marvel

[itsclydebitches]

RWBY Recaps: Volume 8 “Amity”

Welcome back, everyone! I hated this episode.

As in, I’m nominating “Amity” for the Most Stupid Episode of RWBY award. Was there some cool action? Yes. Good Penny development? Mm hmm. Some surprise cameos in the Maya Engine? You know it. Was all of it almost entirely undermined by the sheer number of times I went, “Wait, what?” over the course of twenty minutes?

Sadly, yes.

But let’s start at the beginning.

We get a gorgeous opening shot of Amity Tower and, aesthetics aside, my first thought was, “There’s no one around to protect it?” I mean, this was Ironwood’s super secret project. Watts just tried to sabotage it a few hours ago. Prior to the reveal that Amity wasn’t finished (cough), Team RWBY was trying to convince Ironwood to give calling others a chance, but you’re telling me after all that there’s not a single guard there? Pietro, Maria, and Penny just waltzed up without any problems? The only reason it might be abandoned—yes, even with a grimm attack looming—is if it was useless. Because remember, it was supposed to be useless. Unfinished. Not worth protecting in its current state because its current state is non-operational. That would have explained why Ironwood would leave it undefended, yet as we’ve known since the premiere, Amity was apparently finished by magic at some point, leaving the question of why it’s unguarded (or why Ironwood wouldn’t want to use it himself for something) up in the air. Pun not intended. 

So these three have free rein to do whatever they want and what they want to do is, apparently, blow up the dust mine. Love that we spent an entire volume worrying about dwindling resources! I’d find the sacrifice justifiable under the circumstances if this Amity plan weren’t so foolish. Also, I’m not going to pretend that I know anything about explosives and whether providing that kind of “thrust” would actually work, but in this case I think RWBY’s sci-fi/fantasy status gives it a pass.

Penny, however, isn’t so sure. “Dad? This… does not seem like a very good idea.” Yeah. Pietro gives a short speech about good ideas not necessarily being best ideas, which would have been a great perspective to adopt for the series’ massive Ironwood arc, not a three minute solution to a problem I didn’t even know existed until now.

Pietro also weirdly teleports during this scene? He’s talking to Penny outside of the tower, tinkering with things, and then the next sentence he’s suddenly deep inside it. I mean, based on the dialogue this sentence could have come later, but it doesn’t read that way given that they were just chatting. It feels like a continuous conversation. He was outside one second, now he’s not. 

During all this Maria is doing… something with a mech. That she got from who knows where. I really don’t know what the point of this was besides a very brief airship fight, but I’m just happy Maria is doing something. In fact, she’ll do far more later in the episode—we’ll get to that—so congratulations, RWBY, we can officially ignore half of your Maria square on the bingo card. Keep her alive for the next nine episodes and you’re golden. 

Our trio has the message ready to go which they recorded… when? Sometime before everyone split based on the fact that Ruby is standing in the Happy Huntress’ hideout. This episode throws out a LOT of information that seems to come out of nowhere and doesn’t hold up well in terms of timing. Or, you know, general sense. Take, for example, the next exchange between Penny and Pietro. She wants to stay here in case no one is able to come help Atlas and Pietro panics about her staying with them, heavily implying that they’re leaving leaving. Once they go up they can’t come back down because otherwise… why not just send out the message, land, and then Penny goes off again to help? Later in the episode landing seems inevitable and then it seems planned for—what, are Pietro and Maria just going to hang up there forever? So what’s the conflict here?

Specifically, what’s the conflict for Penny? Amity should just be a quick side mission she completes before heading back into battle. Why does she care about doing what’s essentially an errand while Ruby nurses Nora back to health? She’s not missing anything. I’m having a hard time understanding why she’s acting like getting the message out means she’s removed from the fight indefinitely. Pietro, however, makes a little more sense if we read it simply as him not wanting Penny to be involved in the fight, period. As we see later, he fears for her safety and will do everything he can to keep her here with him, safe: “I’m your father. I’m telling you, you belong on Amity.”

Penny gives a sad “Yes, sir” and Maria chides Pietro with, “Don’t you think Penny has had enough people telling her what to do?”

Oh boy. There’s so much wrong with this line. The general demonization of ever following orders, even when those orders are sound. The comparison between Ironwood’s new villainy/his “bootlickers” (“Yes, sir”) and a father’s justifiable fear. Ignoring that Ruby has also been giving orders and no one is reminding her that Penny is an autonomous person capable of deciding things for herself. Where was this sort of chiding when she took away Penny’s scroll and spoke for her to Ironwood?

So Penny, of course, flies up and I guess provides them with the launch sequence or something? She sort of perks up and makes tech noises, then the tower is ready to go. Just like that. 

Pietro makes a joke about not having time to install seatbelts.

Funny, shouldn’t there be safety measures for the people operating the tower? If the tower was finished and ready to go? 🙃

Everything is going to plan until Cinder shows up, melting a giant hole while Neo pilots the airship through it. So she came! Too bad she’s not going to achieve anything. Despite the stowaways, the bomb Penny left goes off and the dust mine explodes in a massive cloud of color, sending Amity up into the sky. This pops up on Ironwood’s feed and he gives an ominous “It’s time.”

For the first minute or so no one can move due to the pressure and Cinder takes the time to taunt Penny some, saying she expected her friends to be here and, since they’re not, she’s just “a tool to be used.” While she lashes verbally she also summons a massive number of swords. When they’re able to fight Penny is briefly overwhelmed…

…Until Maria comes to her aid!

“Get away from her, you bitch!”

That was great. If anyone other than Tyrian was going to curse, you know it had to be our snarky grandma. So I’m cheering, watching Maria make use of her (acquired off screen) tech to help, despite the fact that she’s too old to fight anymore and—

Wait.

Okay, here’s my problem with this battle. First of all, Cinder’s group should have decimated them. This is an experienced Maiden (see: Raven fight) with a grimm arm vs. a girl who only got the powers a few hours ago. I know a few weeks back I mentioned how insanely powerful Penny is in theory, but that was before she was nearly taken out by the Ace Ops. You know, the group who was all knocked unconscious by a bunch of half-trained, exhausted teenagers. So the comparisons here don’t make Penny look too good. More importantly—because Cinder doesn’t have a great track record anymore either—she’s backed by ‘I was kicking a Maiden’s ass before she whipped out her magic’ Neo and ‘I can make anyone see anything and I just mentioned last episode that I’ve been working on this semblance’ Emerald. They are a power team. Who is Penny backed by? A non-combat scientist and a woman who stopped fighting years ago.

Right?

I have no problem with Maria being powerful. In fact, after her Grimm Reaper reveal I had hoped we’d see her fight, both to give the group a power to aspire to—here’s what a fully trained huntress with experience looks like. This is what our personal inspiration and a huntress beloved by the world looks like—and to have an older fighter providing diversity. Sure, there’s Ozpin, but he reincarnates into young bodies. Maria is a Mexican coded, disabled, old as balls fighter and that’s AWESOME. Problem is… she never fought. She hobbles around with her cane, using it in a way Ozpin never used his, implying that she really needs it. She’s not spry anymore. Every time there’s a battle she’s in an airship or other tech, providing help through the use of an assistive device. She never offers to train anyone. We never see her accompanying a group—like JNOR—to provide extra protection. During the grimm attack Maria exchanges a fearful look with Pietro and then presumably hides in his shop off screen. Why has the story been ignoring Maria when she can fight like this? How can she fight like this when we haven’t seen her throw so much as a punch since we met her? 

I mean, this is Neo! Neo. One of the most powerful, non-Maiden fighters we’ve seen to date. She took out Jaune, Nora, Ren, and Oscar without breaking a sweat, but a few minutes with Maria has her collapsed on the ground?

Something is very wrong with this fight. Either the writing nerfed Neo to allow Maria to win, or the writing has been pushing one of the most powerful characters off screen, relegating her to comic relief. Maria should be insanely powerful given her Grimm Reaper status. I had come to accept that she was powerful and, like people in real life, simply lost that with age. Now, the story suddenly reveals that this was never the case.

During all this Emerald helps Neo one (1) time, despite presumably standing there watching the entire fight. Before it begins Neo randomly decides to turn into Ruby, but then has dropped the illusion by the time we return. Maria is laughing like a loon for the first half of the battle. The only reason she (briefly) looses is because she gets distracted. Then Penny K.O.’s Neo’s aura with a single blast.

See, this is why I rarely enjoy the fights anymore. Beyond that fact that I thought some of it was rather lackluster compared to our Penny vs. Ace Ops fight, it just doesn’t make sense. There’s moment after moment that has me scratching my head and if you’re going, “Huh?” at the screen the whole time, it’s pretty hard to get immersed in the story.

During all this they reach the necessary altitude to broadcast, but it won’t go through because of a “stabilizer fail.” You mean the giant hole that Cinder blew in the side of the tower? 

Never mind that everyone except Penny should be dead by now. How are they breathing up there? It’s like if someone blew a hole in your airplane and everyone just went about their tasks as usual. 

You’ve gotta input the code, Penny.

I joke, but Pietro does start desperately typing. I guess because stabilizers might be fixed with a code or something? Anything is possible in this show.

It’s the Penny vs. Cinder fight that I’m bored with though. At least before Cinder manages to nearly the powers. I think part of it is because we already got this fight last volume, partly because they don’t do much that we haven’t seen from them both before: Penny flies around a lot, Cinder tosses variously summoned weapons, etc. Details I did appreciate though were the return of Cinder’s arrows and the fact that she didn’t let Penny lead her from Amity for long. Look at our villain making a smart decision!! Love that.

Cinder starts destroying the tower instead and Penny asks why she’d want to serve Salem. “I don’t serve anyone and you wouldn’t either if you weren’t built that way!” Penny looks sadly down at Pietro and for one horrible moment I thought the story would actually have her buy into that nonsense, but then Penny rallies and announces that she chooses when to fight because she wants to protect those she loves.

Penny has some really great moments here. What’s less great is the setup for them. I mean… why is Pietro in danger? Penny is clearly trying to keep the top portion of the tower from collapsing after Cinder’s attack, but you’re telling me the tech-obsessed scientist hasn’t put flight capabilities into his chair? That’s not how he got way up high on the outside of the tower, it was just a random hatch or something? When every piece of tech in RWBY serves triple-duty, the Atlas tech mastermind hasn’t included the one thing in his massive chair that would save him here? It’s all very… “Really?” Especially when Cinder is smart enough to realize that Penny cares about the tower, but not realize she cares more about her dad. Just grab Pietro and threaten him, demanding that Penny stand down so Cinder can grab the powers. Penny, horrified by her father’s potential death (and ambivalent about having this responsibility in the first place) lets her. Something other than this weird setup of destroying the platform itself. 

Penny’s scream though is fantastic. Kudos to Taylor for that moment. So yeah, Cinder starts taking the power—did she get a bit then, like with Amber?—before Penny rallies and knocks her off. From then on Cinder doesn’t stand a chance. Emerald reappears to provide assistance in the form of an illusion, except that Penny’s tech allows her to see through it with ease. The real Cinder is marked with ‘Danger’ and Penny takes her out easily once Cinder doesn’t think she needs to dodge anymore.

I should be feeling something considering that Penny just won a battle against the woman who orchestrated her murder volumes back, in the exact same place where she died… but I’m not. Penny’s resurrection was shrugged off. Amity was used for joke license parties. I’m endlessly confused about what message RT is aiming for in regards to Penny’s autonomy (a real girl, but hackable) and this fight has been a collection of power ups, power downs, or skills just conveniently not working. What improvements has Emerald made to her semblance? This is everything we’ve seen from her before. When did we establish that Penny’s android nature makes her immune to techniques of this nature? I don’t mind that she is immune—in fact, it’s a cool skill to give her—I just wish this sort of stuff didn’t suddenly appear in the story only when the plot most needs it to. Or, to be more charitable, it would be a cool reveal if the rest of the fight held up better. I don’t mind a, “Hell yeah, Penny had the trump card she needed to win!” if the whole scene wasn’t Team Cinder being oddly weak the whole time. The most they manage to do is escape via Emerald threatening to fill the tower with holes from her gun… after the tower has had a hole blown through it, shot with flaming arrows, and had two of the beams keeping it in place melted. The most Cinder accomplishes here is unintentionally putting Penny in a position where she falls when she’s hacked. That’s it.

The villains should have won. Not just because of the team dynamics making victory a very likely outcome, but because allowing the group to successfully get their message out was one of the worst things RWBY has done to date. 

Gimme just a moment to get there. 

Amity is drifting back down, out of the range they need to send the broadcast, so Penny offers to “hold Amity in place” until the message is done. Pietro freaks out… why? He starts to say “Even just the temperature out there—” implying that the cold and altitude can kill Penny, except she fought Cinder outside no problem. Literally minutes ago. Hell, Cinder was fine outside and she’s not an android. 

There’s that massive hole letting the atmosphere in too. I’m so confused by these conflicts that randomly appear and, as such, I can’t take the emotion attached to them seriously. How can I be invested in Pietro’s worry about this killing Penny and Penny offering to sacrifice herself when I don’t understand why it’s dangerous to begin with? 

And it is treated like a sacrifice. Penny tells him that she’s trying to “live her life,” kisses Pietro as a sort of goodbye, and spends a few moments enjoying the beauty of the night sky. 

She’s acting like she’s about to die and yet none of this comes across as particularly dangerous. Indeed, Penny pushes Amity for as long as Ruby’s message needs her to and then, presumably, would have come back inside, a-okay, if she hadn’t been hacked. This is like that Parks and Rec moment:

Except it’s treated seriously. Penny is doing something mundane based on what we’ve seen her do before and the fact that this cold/pressure isn’t negatively impacting anyone else who experiences it, let alone the android. So why is the story trying to convince me that this is a death sentence?

Combine this with Penny’s origins: she was built to “save the world.” That’s why Pietro created her, to fight these exact sort of battles. So why is he so resistant to her doing just that? I’m not saying he can’t change his mind and grow to love her as more than a tool—in fact, their relationship is one of the few things I’m enjoying about this volume—I just wish we’d seen how that came about. When did Pietro move from building Ironwood a weapon to having a daughter? Back in Volume 3 he was on Ironwood’s side about Penny not having friends or going out because it was too dangerous for someone like her. She has secrets to maintain and responsibilities to prep for because she was, first and foremost, created for a specific task. We get an inkling through is admission that he can’t bear to see her die again that Penny’s first destruction really changed his view of her, but all of that happened off screen. We had a whole volume with Pietro prior to this where we might have watched him struggle with his new understanding of Penny as his child, rather than dumping this on us literal seconds before she engages in this non-sacrifice. We know almost nothing about Pietro except what tiny scraps we’ve been told, so dramatic lines like, “I don’t care about the big picture, I care about my daughter!”—while wonderful—appear to come out of nowhere in regards to his development. It’s jarring. Early RWBY presented Pietro as a morally ambiguous scientist aligned with Ironwood, then he suddenly became a scientist who loved his creation in Volume 7, the scientist who betrayed Ironwood, then Volume 8 has Penny dropping “Dad” left and right and Pietro willing to throw away helping a kingdom for her sake. When did all these changes happen? Where’s the progression?

Also, I hope people understand that this is why the world needs someone like Ironwood. Is it heartwarming that Pietro wants to ditch their plan at the last second for the sake of his daughter? Hell yeah. Is that good for the millions of other people who would like their own family members to survive this war too? Nope. “I don’t care about the big picture,” while human and great characterization, is dangerous when the rest of the world depends on you. Whoever runs this show doesn’t have the luxury of saving their preferred, individual life at the expense of everyone else.

So Penny goes out and gets Amity high enough for Ruby’s recording to start, complete with her acting funny-awkward for the first few seconds.

The cameos we get throughout this? Excellent. The speech itself? Rather horrifying. So the good: we get glimpses of everyone else in this show that the story has essentially left behind. Saphron, Terra, and Whitley start things off. 

(Interesting that Whitely went to his father’s office rather than his room...) 

Sun and Neptune (even though that “Dude” again messes with tone).

Ilia getting a call from Ghira.

The group sitting with a recovering Nora while Ruby watches her own words with the most ridiculous expression.

Tai, desperate not to lose the one link to his daughters he’s seen in years. (Side note: I’m not interested in any of the Tai hate. He’s still at home because the writers don’t know what to do with him and because Ruby literally ran away. Are people made at Ghira and Kali for not running after their daughter too? No, because they’re minor characters that the story needed to sideline.)

Tyrian, sitting beside a very pleased looking Salem... 

(Love that she’s petting him.)

Even the shop dude!

Oh yeah, and MOTHERFUCKING GLYNDA.

I’m thrilled to see her. In the sense that I love getting her in the new engine, but I’m salty that she’s unlikely to become an important part of the story again. In fact, there are so many characters at this point that she shouldn’t be re-incorporated, just because that would bloat the cast even more. That… and did they really have to give her massive cleavage? The darker glasses are fine—even if I personally found them a bit distracting compared to her original lenses—but seriously, why does a woman always reappear with even bigger breasts?

At this point everything in RWBY has a sour taste attached to it because it’s been handled so badly for so many years. It’s only now, watching them do many of the things I wanted them to do volumes ago, that I realize how badly they’ve played themselves. RT messed up so many core aspects that when they re-appear they can’t hope to provide the same sort of enjoyment we would have gotten if they’d never been dropped and/or messed up to begin with.

Case in point: Ruby’s speech. I’m not going to cover the stupidity of telling the world about Salem because I’ve already talked about that to death on my blog, but I do want to add that Ruby managed to accomplish that dubious task in the absolute worst way possible. I need a list for this one.

So, about RWBY ruining core parts of its story? We had a whole volume about how horrifying learning about Salem’s immortality was, something we never resolved because the cast randomly went from thinking they’d entered a doomed war to being #confident about how they’ll win. But at the very least they’ll be careful and considerate when they tell others that very demoralizing info, right? Ha. Ruby never even uses the term “immortal.” She mentions Salem being around for “centuries”—which, remember, was info the group also had but never put two and two together—and then says that “Just because she can’t be destroyed doesn’t mean she can’t be beaten.” What does that mean to people who have never heard of Salem before now? Ruby doesn’t even explain who she is! What’s a “force” in this context? A person? An entity? Endless grimm? She gives the people nothing here.

Alongside just casually dropping that Salem has been around for “centuries,” Ruby says that she is “a force we’ve faced before,” as if the world has ever had to deal with an outright attack from her. No, Ruby. They haven’t faced this before. That’s the point.

“I know the idea of Maidens and Relics seems crazy”—does she even mention them before this?? I don’t think she does. Ruby just name dropped two things and never bothered to explain wtf they were.

Also, great job telling the whole world, filled with bad guys not already aligned with Salem, that there are two powerful, mystery things out there that they can now start hunting down. That’s why Ozpin decided to keep the Maidens quiet in the first place. He says in Volume 3 that people were killing them when they knew they existed.

She tells everyone that Glynda and Theodore can vouch for all this information, just casually dropping that responsibility into their lap. I mean, can you even IMAGINE being Glynda right now? This kid you taught for one year heads back home after your school falls, you lose touch with the inner circle after Ozpin dies, and then said kid suddenly appears on every scroll and TV in Remnant, telling the entire world that YOU, personally, can explain to them the things you’ve helped keep hidden for a good portion of your adult life. You are one of two people they can now turn to for answers. If I were Glynda I would be furious.

She also says that Theodore and Glynda “might even be able to organize a way to fight back” RUBY. WHAT DO YOU THINK THE INNER CIRCLE WAS? A KNITTING CLUB? WHAT ELSE HAS OZPIN BEEN DOING FOR A THOUSAND YEARS EXCEPT “ORGANIZING A WAY TO FIGHT BACK”? 

“But, sadly, General Ironwood can no longer be trusted.” Wow. That’s one hell of a simplified take to give to a world already working under the incorrect assumption that Atlas caused the Fall of Beacon, an assumption Ruby admitted was wrong to Cordovin. So let’s unite the world except for this one leader, right? So much for practicing what you preach. 

“If she was really unstoppable she wouldn’t have acted with such caution before now.” Oh boy, that’s risking a lot on Ruby’s interpretation of Salem’s motives. After eight years even we, the audience, don’t know why Salem didn’t attack until now, so where did Ruby get the idea that it must be because she fears them? That’s not the real explanation based on how happy Salem looks while hearing the message. When did Ruby even think about this? Outside of Nora’s realization that maybe someone other than Ozpin could beat her, we haven’t seen the group discuss Salem at all, but now Ruby thinks she has everything figured out? I honestly want her to explain her thought process here. Does she think Ozpin was mistaken about the immortality business and if he’d just had the guts to unite everyone and attack her, Salem would have been defeated lifetimes ago? 

(Funny how that was Ironwood’s plan...) 

Ruby ends with another call to band together because “That’s how we’ll win!” complete with smiling energy.

With the exception of the cameos I hated every moment of this. The unclear reason why Ruby thinks bringing the world together is the answer in the face of how badly that’s gone each and every time others have done it, Amity magically becoming available for them to use, her dropping in random beliefs we’ve never seen her express before, turning the whole world against Ironwood, failing to actually explain any of this… I mean, imagine you’re in Remnant’s place for a second:

This child (looking entirely unprepared) suddenly hacks every device and tells you that the most powerful kingdom in the world is under attack. Who is attacking it? It’s someone you’re familiar with! But not really. It’s Salem. Who’s Salem? I won’t say, but she’s responsible for every bad thing from the White Fang to the grimm themselves. Those Relics and Maidens, those are real crazy sounding, huh? Oh, I forgot to say what they are? Nm that’s not important. Talk to my old teacher and someone I’ve never met if you’re confused. What is important is that we all come together. Except Ironwood. I don’t trust him. But I expect you all to trust everyone else, including me! Because we can totally win against this “force” I haven’t defined. You should help us. In whatever non-specific way you choose. Should you come to Atlas and save us all from the confusingly explained attack we’re under? Fight an immortal enemy somehow, with the forces you don’t have, cross who knows how many miles in under a day? I don’t know. You all can figure the preparations part out :) 

If I were watching I would, at best, think this was a prank. At worst I’d be panicking over a whole lot of scary information, none of which I understand. Which in this world brings grimm.

Ruby should, in an internally consistent story, have just caused a massive number of attacks across the globe. She should be responsible for the biggest mass grimm death Remnant has ever seen. In fact, that’s my final hope for the series. I want the world to lose its mind at this confusing, terrifying announcement, from rioting in the streets to grimm swarming major cities. Ruby is left dumbfounded at the destruction she’s caused. No one can—or will—come to assist Atlas. The Kingdom falls, taking plenty of civilians with it. Ozpin escapes and is finally allowed his anger, wanting to know how the safety measures he spent lifetimes building were undone by her in one profoundly stupid move. Ironwood (if he’s still alive) coldly tells them that they could have left and saved who and what they had at the time. Ren is proven right.

I need this story to decimate our heroes, humble them, and then let them rebuild. Teach Ruby something and let her grow from it, making up for her mistakes as she goes. Because for two and a half seasons now we’ve watched this girl commit one horrible act after another—whether it’s attacking allies or unintentionally giving the world the most damaging message possible—and something needs to come out of all that.

Can’t say I’m too hopeful of seeing that though :/ 

The rest of the episode isn’t any better. Ironwood continues his stupidity streak by trusting Watts to do the hack himself. I really can’t believe this is what his character has been reduced to. Granted, it appears as if Watts really did do what he was asked, it’s just that none of them could have known Penny would be outside of Amity and at the height of an airplane when her systems went offline. That trust does, however, allow Watts to nab Ironwood’s crushed scroll before he’s taken back to his cell. Because, you know, at this point Ironwood is so stupid he just chucks personal tech at a villain and thinks nothing of it. 

Also... all this happens before the jail scene last episode when Watts was returned, but after Ruby’s group gets to the Schnee manor. The bingo board is getting another check.

Ironwood says that “It seems Polendina’s proxy trick worked.” So Pietro deliberately built Penny with this kill switch (for lack of a better word) embedded? In this villain!Ironwood world, is the story ever going to acknowledge that Pietro is far from innocent, having helped to create and support all the things people hate about how Ironwood (supposedly) interacts with Penny? 

Penny’s hack doesn’t take until Ruby’s message is complete, because of course it doesn’t. 

Yang’s group is all excited—“That was the broadcast!”—despite not having a signal last episode. If they can use their scrolls at the outpost, why didn’t they call for help?

Penny then says “I love you” to Pietro before she—maybe?—falls to her second death. I don’t know. This absolutely deserves a longer rant because either Penny was resurrected for a brief, narratively meaningless existence before dying again, or we’re expected to believe that she’s falling far and fast enough to become a meteor, but will turn out just fine. Perhaps the show will forget that Pietro said he couldn’t rebuild her again. I pretty much expect it at this point. 

(Either that, or Pietro will sacrifice himself for Penny. Coming at it from a father-daughter relationship, I like the idea. As a black man dying for his white daughter in a show notorious for how it has handled its race allegory... ehhhh.) 

Then, we end this episode with “a river of grimm.”

????????????????????

What?

Seriously, am I the only one who laughed during that moment? It sounds ridiculous. What does that even mean, “a river of grimm”? Did Salem expand her territory somehow? Is this the same grimm soup she makes them out of? What, can she just cover the whole world with grimm making goo now? Out of everything that could have been coming out of the ice, THAT’S what we end on? 

I think this episode may have broken me lol. There was so much that I knew I was meant to be invested in, so many moments trying their hardest to be emotionally compelling… and only the tinniest slivers of it worked. I want to care about Penny falling. I want to care (more) about an unexpected Glynda appearance. I want to be cheering for Ruby’s message getting out, but it’s all just so badly done. I ended this episode feeling like I had watched a RWBY parody rather than an episode. Like for funsies someone had pulled together the most ridiculous ideas they could think of, like:

The villains come and then immediately leave again, like in Fury Road except in this case that’s not the point of the story.

Super powerful fighter gets her ass kicked by laughing grandma.

Nonsensical sacrifice going on but give it just a hint of ~real~ emotion.

Huge reveal for the rest of the world but the message with be near incomprehensible.

Toss in random characters we haven’t seen in years, people love that.

End the episode with grimm soup flowing towards the kingdom.

It honestly feels like someone set out to write an absurd episode, but then gave it just enough artistry that the viewer finishing the vid goes, “Why am I actually invested in this omg lol.” Except when that’s your canon we’ve got a problem.

I don’t know. At this point RWBY is so broken I can’t even articulate everything that’s continually going wrong when we get an episode like this one. For anyone who may have missed it, we’ve got two more episodes before a six week hiatus and frankly I’m glad. Mostly because I obviously want our crew to have the time they need to keep their sanity intact during the hell that is 2020 and the likely hell that will be 2021, also because that will give them time to spruce up the second half of the volume… but there’s also a part of me that’s just glad for a break. There are still pieces in RWBY I enjoy (like the Hound, or dad!Pietro, always Ozpin) and I love writing these recaps, but it says a lot about the writing that I hear we won’t get RWBY for two solid months and I am, at best, indifferent. Can’t mess up what you don’t air, right? 😂

Man, this bingo card… it’s getting three marks today. “Two day timeline wreaks havoc on continuity,” “Needless episode cliffhanger” (grimm river??), and “The team gets Amity up and running.” Yet we somehow STILL don’t have a bingo. Amazing.

Alright, I’m done. If you enjoyed this episode, bless you. I’m really glad. Please enjoy it for the both of us. And pray for us all over the next two weeks 💜

[Ko-Fi]

#rwby #rwby spoilers #rwby volume 8 #mymetas #rwby recaps