#and she prefers it! she doesn't want to know!

[togament]

𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌. sakura, ume, kaji, suo.

"ever thought how it would be like to kiss them? here's how they love to do it."

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : SUGGESTIVE KINDA SPICY, kaji is a mess (i’m in love), ume is a puppy man and he is needy, pls protect sakura, SUO????? SUO.

𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐑𝐀.

- shy, shy SHY. You gotta guide him through it, babe. But once he gets the hang of it (and once he gets over the embarrassment), expect him to be all over you. - Handsy when he hasn't seen you for the longest time, caressing softly and he pulls you into him so tightly you feel like you'd merge into one being. if he’s pissed, his hands are fiery, all over your body, groping and pulling at your clothes. - please don't kiss him in public. not like he doesn't want to. of course he really does. but he can't take the teasing and the attention it brings. (he also can't prevent himself from blushing, ok? you know how red he gets!)

𝐔𝐌𝐄.

- BIG SMILE KISSER. Your teeth kiss before you both do sometimes. Likes holding you in his arms when he’s kissing you. God. You know those sort of movie kisses where the love interest cups the lead’s cheek so lovingly, so softly like she’s about to break? Whispers sweet nothings to the main lead before leaning in for a perfect kiss? lmao you’re definitely not having that with ume. Sorry. - He’s a goofy kisser, giggles sometimes when you both are into it. Like, he’s just happy to be there, y’know? He whispers how much he loves you, how good you smell, how pretty you are though. who am i kidding? Any kiss is a good movie kiss with ume around. - Just expect him to ask for more than just a kiss after your lips leave his. firing all cylinders too. puppy eyes, all cutesy and stuff. He’s very needy. And I mean NEEDY.

𝐊𝐀𝐉𝐈.

- of course, goes without saying that kissing kaji’s sweet. If he can’t kiss you in public, he gives you his lollipop. You tease him often, twirling your tongue along the candy, puckered lips slowly sucking it in. you know he's staring. you know he's blushing. he hates how he loves it. - Once he gets you alone? GOD. he presses you up against the nearest surface and kisses you feverishly, fingers harshly tugging at the base of your head to control you the way he wants. You yelp and he takes that opportunity to ram his tongue into your mouth, only to have you suck on it like how you did his lollipop. - But when he’s not super pissed or it’s just a lazy day for him, he looooooves lazy make out sessions while listening to music with you. His hand’s on your cheek, pulling you close. Your arms around his neck, pulling him closer until you’re straddling him already. (his go to is deftones btw.) - Kaji’s kisses are fiery and needy one moment, slow and sensual the next. No in between.

𝐒𝐔𝐎.

- likes teasing before he leans in to kiss you. You could just be talking about mundane stuff and he’s looking at you with a hooded eye, gaze flitting from your eyes to your lips and back again. Tongue darting out his lips to wet them only to pull his lower lip slightly between his teeth. He knows how to work you way too well. - He likes it when you kiss him so desperately after he teases you. With how neat and proper he is, you’d expect him to prefer slow and languid kisses. au contraire, he likes it MESSY. Tongues battling for dominance, hands yanking and threading through hair, him biting your lip when he pulls away, whispered dirty talks. - it's crazy how he pulls away from you and he looks so neat and tidy while your hair's frazzled.

a/n: ok another one before i head to bed. goodness i really do have to fix my body clock soon lmao goodnight sweetpeas~

#wind breaker #windbreaker #nii satoru #satoru nii #windbreaker x reader #suo hayato #hayato suo #hayato suo x reader #suo hayato x reader #windbreaker headcanons #wind breaker headcanons #kaji ren #ren kaji #kaji ren x reader #kaji ren x you #ren kaji x reader #umemiya hajime x reader #hajime umemiya x reader #umemiya x reader #sakura haruka #haruka sakura #umemiya hajime #hajime umemiya #umemiya fluff #sakura haruka x reader #haruka sakura x reader #bibi yaps

[dododrawsstuff]

Ikevil OC Atlas Fowler

Edit!!!!: the profile template was made by @natimiles

“The star that burns twice as bright, burn half as long” ~ Estella about him

“Where does your loyalty lay, little Robin?”

I'm on a trip with my family this week, so I have plenty of time to work on my OCs and catch up to the expression requests remaining

I had a lot of fun desiging him and his curse (that I took inspiration from filibusterfrog's "Umbralysis") and ended up making a ref sheet of sorts, but I'll still draw his back and some other expressions, other than his little shit smile. I still feel like I can improve him a lot, but I'm impatient and wanted to share him with you.

More about him under the cut! And as always, I'll keep tweking this post as I think of stuff to add or change. Hope you like him!

OC taglist: @olivermorningstar @keithsandwich @scummy-writes @aquagirl1978 @sh0jun @mxrmaid-poet @violettduchess @floydsteeth @lorei-writes @ikeprinces-stuff @flimflam707 (let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist)

I'm also tagging some people that showed interest in him on my other post, let me know if you don't want to be tagged and I'll remove you @errethebunny @bicayaya @natimiles @venulus @rou-luxe

Name: Atlas Fowler

Age: 27

Birthday: Nov 22

Height: 181 cm

Affiliation: The Circus

Hobbies: Collecting information, baking, pissing off people he doesn't like

Skills: Singing, styling hair

Likes: Chocolate chip cookies, freedom

Dislikes: Fish

Resents: Disloyalty

Weapon: Daggers

Personality: Atlas is a very charming and charismatic man, always displaying a pleasant smile, he is a natural entertainer. He is always in a good mood and is very positive, almost as if he doesn't even experience bad emotions…?

Beneath that facade he is arrogant and thinks he is untouchable, and believes his ability is a blessing, rather than a curse. The thing most valuable to him is loyalty, he despises betrayals the most.

He is smart and cunning, and is not afraid to use his ability to get information for his own benefit, though he mainly uses it on people who have been unfaithful.

Curse: Peter Pan

It makes so that Atlas’ shadow can move independently from him. He can know what his shadow experienced while apart from him, allowing him to be “at two places at the same time”, he has full control of the shadow and prefers to use his powers at night, as to not rise suspicion from others.

Atlas also discovered a peculiar characteristic of his ability, he can divide his emotions between him and his shadow, it acting almost as a storage for him. The curse manifested when he was still an infant, so he had some time to figure it out on his own.

One thing Atlas doesn't know is the fate of those afflicted by the Peter Pan’s curse, every single one of them uses their shadow as a way to get rid of "troublesome" or "useless emotions", but as they keep pouring those negative feelings, the shadow begins to gain sentience. In the end it usually kills its owner and itself in the process.

Backstory: When he was little his parents got freaked out by seeing him playing with his shadow, they thought he was cursed, or possessed but nothing they did cured him. What broke the camel's back for them was when Atlas told them the culprit of a series of murders in the neighborhood and days later the police caught them, when his parents asked how he knew, he explained that his shadow had seen it and told him.

Not too long after that they tried to get rid of him, but the church nor the orphanage wanted to accept him, since his complicated background preceded him. Until they found an itinerary circus, they lied and abandoned him there. Most of the crew were kind and welcoming to him, especially Estella, the magician, she became a mother figure for him and the reason he decided to follow her steps and become a magician.

Random headcanons:

He learned to style hair from Estella, she says that presentation is everything for a magician

After every presentation, the circus crew gets together to bake chocolate chip cookies

#dodo ocs #oc atlas fowler #my art #ikemen series #cybird #cybird ikemen #artists on tumblr #ikemen villains #ikevil #ikemen villains oc #ikevil oc #my beloved #I made him >:)

[starless-nightz]

Hallo, i hope this actually fits for your rules and i'm so sorry if it doesn't 😥

Yinlin x F!reader fluff HC where reader is so down bad for that woman and tries to be sneaky about it 🫢 (being a lesbian on this game is difficult with so many pretty girls sigh)

Yinlin with a fem! S/O fluff HCs

note -> YOU ARE SO REAL FOR THAT ANON, I CANT WAIT FOR THE NEXT QUESTS!

warnings -> none.

content includes -> general fluff, kissing, gifts, dates, cuddling.

Yinlin knows how down bad you are for her, even tho you two are dating you still follow her around like a helpless puppy and you still get flustered whenever she kisses you

She loves all the flowers and gifts you give her whenever you two go on a date, you even refuse to let her pay her fair share

Yinlin loves to kiss you, she doesnt care about PDA, she wants to kiss you whenever and whenever she wants, but she will back off if you are uncomfortable

She loves to cuddle with you, Yinlin prefers being the big spoon but she wouldnt mind being the small spoon of you convince her

#yinlin #yinlin x reader #wuthering waves #wuwa #ww #wuthering waves x reader #wuwa x reader #ww x reader

[thewebcomicsreview]

So, Gunwild, the writer of Cassiopeia Quinn, made a comment on that post about webcomics turning into illustrated prose

gunwildversuseverything said: I was hoping this would prompt a discussion about formats and expression, but no, it’s about artist versus writer workloads and “amount of story” being reduced to equations and word counts and update schedules. Figures.

And you know what, it's a good point. So instead of getting into the Artist vs Writers debate for the millionth time, let's take a look at how you, and artist and/or writer, can get a story told on the internet. For the sake of this discussion, lets assume you don't have any actual preference for a given medium that might influence you, you just want to know what's right for your story and will learn whatever skills you need.

TRADITIONAL WEBCOMIC

Comics are the most visual-heavy medium that a solo project can realistically do. This has several business advantages (pictures do better on social media), but it's also a good fit for stories with a bunch of things that are interesting to look at. Cassiopeia Quinn is a story heavily featuring weird alien races, cool spaceships, and attractive young women with extraordinarily casual dress codes. These are visual things! And visual things can be conveyed super quickly and subtly using visuals. Imagine just the "Cassiopeia doesn't wear pants" gimmick, if this was written out. If Cassiopeia gets a description of her appearance the first time she shows up in chapter one and then it's kind of glossed over, the reader would forget. If every time Cassiopeia entered a scene Gunwild had to go

Cassiopeia sauntered up to the motorcycle rack. Her own rack was barely contained by a dangling strip of black fabric, visible through an open orange jacket. Black elbow-high sleeves, covering her hands, matched her thigh-high stockings, separated from her black panties by her thigh pouch.

Somehow it's a lot less cute when it's written out like this, huh? And it also takes way longer to read that then it does to just look at her on the page, which increases the chance your readers might get bored. Comics are the medium that takes the most time to make and also the least time to read, which makes readers a lot more likely to put up with exposition or a plot tangent that doesn't really connect with them. Even if your comic has bits that don't grip your readers, they can grip themselves if you show them interesting bits.

The main downside of comics is the "equations and update schedules" part. They take a looooooong time to make, even compared to everything else. It's also got issues with how people read it. A comic that looks good on a desktop often looks too small on a phone.

TEXT UNDER A PANEL

This style is so strongly associated with Homestuck that a lot of people who weren't making explicitly Homestuck-themed comics seem to have been scared off it. But it's a perfectly cromulent format. It reads well on both desktop and mobile, and lets you use art for all your visuals while using text for dialogue and character thoughts. It's not, however, the best fit for every story. Because each panel is separate, it can be hard to make an exciting action scene this way, which is part of why this format is also associated with special animated pages (I mean, besides "Homestuck did it"). The panels don't really flow into each other, and there's a constant switching between looking and reading.

ILLUSTRATED PROSE

Distinguished from the Text Under a Panel Style mostly by the ratio of text to art, without a hard line demarcating the distinction between them. This style also reads well in desktop and mobile. Well, it should, but a lot of webcomics who switch to this style tend to stay in their webcomic format, meaning it's a picture of text that doesn't resize legibly, grumble grumble. I don't....I don't know if I need to explain the concept of "text" to people. You know what words are, and if you don't there's nothing I can say to explain it.

VISUAL NOVEL

I'm not going to claim to be a visual novel expert, but the main advantages are that it's the most art-efficient medium of any of these (because you can flat-out reuse art), the main disadvantages are that you'll usually need music, it's maybe not as well suited to long monologues, and most importantly that it's not a good method for drip-feed three-day-a-week updates. You kind of have to release the entire thing all at once, or at least in large episodes.

ALL OF THE ABOVE

A comic like Out-of-Placers is mostly traditional, but uses illustrated prose for lore updates. Prequel is text-under-a-panel but not always, and of course Homestuck is the absolute king of format switching, even ignoring the animations. The upside is that you can use the best format for any given scene, and that you're constantly keeping your readers on their toes. The downside (besides having to learn to do all this shit) is that you kind of have to commit to the bit and get your readers on board early with the idea that you're going to just be doing whatever this week. It's also harder to take full advantage of any one medium if you're constantly switching them up

I'm sure I'm forgetting about two hundred formats, but what are the biggest ones I'm missing?

#Cassiopeia Quinn #Prequel Adventure #Coquette Dragoon #Homestuck #Paranatural

[wxntxr-cxtrxs]

looks good on you - yandere hxh

Yandere’s that pick out your clothes- chrollo, pakunoda, illumi, shalnark, sometimes machi and feitan 

Chrollo- 

Chrollo brings all of your clothes from you home when he takes you, because every article of clothing is yours, and that makes it precious. But if he doesn't like something on you, he’ll gently remind you not to wear it again. He doesn't throw it out, but you best remember not to wear it again. As well, he integrates new clothes into your closet. Nice clothes, beautiful really, so nice you wish you had somewhere to wear them to. If you want to be really good, put on the new clothes as soon as you notice them. His good mood is well worth it. If you earn the privilege to go outside with him, he always picks out exactly what you wear. 

Illumi- 

Illumi doesn't allow you to bring clothing from home, but when you get to your new home, there’s already a full closet of carefully curated outfits for you to wear. There’s a vast variety of things- from comfortable, to formal, to outfits that almost remind you of the strange things he wears. In general, he lets you wear anything out of your closet, since he picked out all of the outfits with the intention of seeing you in them. But sometimes, he insists on a particular dress- long, and pretty white, with sleeves that sit off your shoulders. When you wear it, he seems almost unable to breathe as he stares you down. 

Pakunoda- 

Pakunoda picks out your outfits daily, every morning you wake up to an outfit carefully laid out on the end of your bed. Always something comfortable for around the house, in colors and materials she knows you like. She values your comfort greatly. However, one uncomfortable and nearly suffocating thing she insists on is helping you get dressed. It’s embarrassing and scary, but she’s always so careful with you. 

Shalnark- 

Shalnark likes the control that picking out your clothes allows him, he likes knowing you're dressed up for him, and he likes knowing that you hate it. He picks out clothes that are somewhat cute, like something you would’ve worn on a first date before you were kidnapped. It makes you feel a little bit like a love interest in a movie. 

Machi- 

Machi doesn't pick out your outfits often, afterall, just the sight of you makes her feel unbearably shy. But, sometimes, the fantasy of seeing you in something special gets to her. Maybe something she made for you? Maybe something that makes you match with her? She’s wordless when she offers an outfit up to you and tells you to get changed, swiftly shutting the door to allow you privacy. 

Feitan- 

Feitan doesn't normally pick out your outfits, though he doesn't bring yours from home either. When he brings you home, he picks up some clothes for you at random. All a little too big for you, all random aesthetics and colors. In general, he doesn't care what you look like, in fact, he prefers you look a mess. He thinks about you in his clothes often, but would never actually give them to you- the idea is overwhelming. 

#yandere hxh #yandere chrollo #yandere feitan #yandere shalnark #yandere machi #yandere pakunoda #yandere illumi #chrollo lucilfer #feitan portor #illumi zoldyck #chrollo x reader #illumi x reader #hxh x reader #shalnark x reader #phantom troupe #hxh #hunter x hunter

[in-flvx]

Look... the point of all the "sirius and james are extraordinarily bright" posts is NOT to say that needing or even just WANTING to study between tests is smth that makes remus (the person this usually is about) less intelligent than he actually was, nor to shit on people who do that, or call them dumb.

We know for a fact that sirius considers snape a highly intelligent person. And snape spent most of his time after the dada owl revising. He does make fun of him for the way he writes, but not for the fact that he keeps writing until the papers are collected. He never says a word about remus deciding to study more, other than that it's not his preferred way to spend the time between exams. He regards all of the golden trios comments as equally valuable, even though hermione studies the most, and the others just do it when necessary.

Sirius has a good understanding of the divide between book smarts and street smarts, and he doesn't discriminate. He enjoys the Wensley twins ingenuity, and Harry's joy in quidditch, he regards mundungus fletchers intel as important and dumbledores plans as overall working for the grand scheme. He never shows impatience with remus' way of regarding the world around them (other than when sirius is bored and remus wants him to study with him)

The point of this is never. NEVER. That remus is stupid in any kind of way. Nobody thinks that wanting to study for exams is a sign of stupidity. If that were the case, there would be a large part of the fandom who think of hermione as barely literate or whatever. Bc she studies all the times, as well as between exams. But this is not the case.

The point of the "james and sirius were smart though" posts is this: they became animagi at 15, and helped peter to do the same. They developed the two way mirrors (once again, most accurate and reliable form of long distance communication in the wizarding world) at some point before their last year. They were two of the people who developed the map of hogwarts after all of that. They also were regarded as incredibly bright by Minerva McGonagall (who rarely gives out compliments EVER - even to those she likes, yet she was complimenting sirius at his worst), Flitwick at the same time, snape whenever he went on one of his angry rants about james, hagrid whenever he felt like it, and dumbledore - regularly about james, once about sirius after his death.

So. Again.

The point of these posts is not to be mean to remus for shits and giggles.

It's about the fact that most of marauders art and writing almost compulsively includes lines and comments about sirius and james being stupid. It's about the trend of making james a himbo - to only show his intelligence in some arbitrary grades, if ever, and to make the people around him always commenting on his stupidity.

It's about the fact that all of sirius' accomplishments have to be sourced out to remus. Its about how sirius' general interest in the world at large has to be focused solely to the fact that he wants to fuck remus. Or be fucked by him whatever.

Its about all those stupid ass incorrect quotes that call sirius and james stupid to their faces. It's about all the fics that do the same.

This isn't about the sirius fans calling remus stupid, or showing him in a light that makes him look stupid.

It's about the fact that it's barely possible to find anything about sirius or james in which they aren't explicitly called stupid in the text of the incorrect quote, art, or fic presenting them. Always in service of making remus, lily, and regulus look more intelligent

[scribbledghost]

I unfortunately had to put my dog down a few days ago, and I just have this thought of how comforting fem!Simon would be in that kind of scenario. Especially for me, I was weeping like a baby so being soothed by a 6'4'' muscular butch woman would lowkey be some great comfort.

First, I'm so sorry you're experiencing this. I know how difficult that grief must be to handle right now, and I wish you peace and healing in your future 💖💖

I'd like to think that Simon goes with you to the vet for the final appointment. She wants to be there for you when all this occurs; she doesn't want you sitting in a cold, sterile vet's office by yourself when your beloved dog passes on.

She holds you while the vet walks you through everything, and continues to do so as everything unfolds. Afterwards, she'll help you out to the car, making sure you're comfortable for the drive home.

Through everything - before, during, and after - she holds you. She holds you as you weep, as you mourn, as you grieve. She's experienced loss too, of all kinds, and she knows that pain intimately.

Simon is quiet. She doesn't try to tell you platitudes like "they're in a better place" or whatnot. Words simply aren't her preferred comforting style. Instead, she prefers actions.

So she makes sure you eat, even when you don't want to. She makes sure your water is always topped off (and encourages you to drink plenty to replenish what you lose in tears). She runs a warm bath for you. Turns on that show you like. Your comfort right now is her priority, and she wants you to have as few responsibilities as possible for a while, because she knows it will be better if you let yourself feel your grief.

You crying always breaks her heart, but she also knows it's better than having you bottle everything up. So most of the day is spent taking care of you and letting you cry on her shoulder as much as you need.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #fem simon #ghost scribbles

[mixelation]

so i think the order of events in (a)synchronicity is this. btw this is going to fully lean into shinigami shenanigans incuding...... sexy shenanigans

minato saves tori and she decides she is going to kill him

tori makes minato soup

some other stuff happens including minato tracking her back down and her breaking minato's arm

minato is obsessed with her now

over the course of this tori has been killed a few times to really drive home what happens when she "dies"

jiraiya and kushina both promise minato they will help him get laid

minato is reporting on tori at the beginning but he lapses and fails to communicate adequately to anyone how deadly she is. he's in love, okay, and the only people he respects are egging him on

he kills a bunch of people at her request and tori decides she DOES like him back. this isn't even the "kill one thousand iwa-nin in one go" thing btw

the "kill one thousand iwa-nin in one go" thing happens and it's not even on konoha's orders. minato just does this to get his girlfriend back. he's super happy about it too because now they're together <3

konoha is finally like: wait. wait what the F U C K

hiruzen is like: drop yur girl and take this genin team and minato is like: no i can do both >:(

konoha goes to check out tori but she's just. some. lady????

and so konoha is like. oh my god, the yellow flash has completely lost it. let's wok him to death

and then that DOESN'T WORK

konoha decides the solution is to kill tori. but they want to send minato a lesson because he's actively ignoring direct orders to dump her and they can't let him realize they actually can't stop him from doing whatever he wants.

so the plan is: use jiraiya to distract minato with a mission. kill tori and physically cut the hiraishin marker off her skin. then move her somewhere and mutilate her corpse for the "lesson" part. thy'd prefer to mutilate her FIRST but also they don't know if she has a way to summon minato. so the priority is to kill her and get the marker off

however jiraiya is not stupid and also he's a nice guy who really does want to get minato laid. he realizes something is up after minato says something incongruent with something hiruzen said to him

minato show up just in time to see tori is freshly dead, and then all the konoha-nin still on the scene just. die? he didn't even do anything???

tori flips out bc the shinigami si still possessing her and it gets ~greedier~ every time she dies but she LIKES minato and NOT HIM--!

the shinigami is like: you know what. you're right. even though i'm perpetually starving, this guy is the only one who's ever filled me.

and then the shinigami is like: in want him inside us though, right now

tori: minato. fuck me. right now minato, confused and overjoyed and also sensing something is weird and terrible: you were DEAD??? tori: i'm fine. we want you to. minato: all the grass around you is dead

jiraiya has been completely ignored in this and he's run off to hunt down someone from the konoha team who went off as a messenger. jiraiya takes him captive to come back to tori alive again and doing. whatever the fuck that is

minato instinctively kind of knows what happened and he's freaked out but also. that's his cute girlfriend and someone stabbed a senbon through her neck. :<

they get the full story out of jiraiya's captive

this is some sort of moral turning point. tori decides she does want minato for forever, and to do that she'll have to end the war and maybe konoha itself. minato suddenly finds his faith in his own village tanked. jiraiya is beginning to suspect hooking up with tori is a bad idea

also

tori: please? pleeeease?

minato, in tears: no i'm NOT going to choke you to death in bed to have kinky shinigami sex

tori: i have never been hornier for you though :<

minato: (sobbing)

and maybe

tori: hey if the shinigami kills everything but you while we do it. do you think you're shooting blanks or what

minato: please stop trying to run experiments on my dick

#asynchronicity #toriverse

[waverlyyhaught]

You know, the Mafin scene today could be the start of their reconciliation. I think this tweet (google translated below) is spot on and I can totally see this happening: Mafin discussion is coming, with Fina complaining to Marta that why she ignores her, that she doesn't even look at her and behaves as if nothing had happened between them. Marta says something to her like "do you know why I don't look at you? because if I look at you, I'm going to lose my composure. If I look into your eyes all I'm going to want is to caress you and kiss you and know that I can't. That's why I don't look at you, so as not to fall into temptation and not let it show how much I love you and that I can't forget you, no matter how hard I try, so I prefer not to look at you, it's easier to cope with that immense pain. I feel immensely inside for not being able to be with you." Source: gini__us on Twitter I picture a busy Marta working late in her office and an upset Fina confronting her there. Or another late night run in in the kitchen? Marta is there first, Fina walks in, Marta tries to leave but Fina grabs her arm, etc. The second option is less likely but I've been wanting another Mafin kitchen scene so that's more wishful thinking. What do y'all think?

Also, Jaime said today that he has a conference in however many days so there's finally hope for some Mafin alone time!!

#I didn't realize how much I missed Fina until I saw her today #I let out an excited yell when she appeared ngl #I'm also really happy to see badass bitch boss Marta again #mafin #marta y fina #marta x fina #marta de la reina #fina valero #sueños de libertad #suenos de libertad

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for telling my friend it's ok if she doesn't want to talk?

My friend Chloe (20F) and I (20F) used to be best friends, however due to our friendship becoming long distance we're not as close anymore. We don't chat very often.

However, Aisha occasionally messages to say hi and ask me how I'm doing. She often tells me that she misses talking to me, and I tell her that I feel the same way. The issue is that once we start talking, within a few exchanges of messages she doesn't give proper responses, just your typical 'lol,' 'lmao' and stuff like that. I give her plenty to work with but her responses are extremely short.

It made me wonder if she feels obligated to talk to me because we were so close in the past, and I started feeling bad for her. I was very dependent on her growing up so I could see her maybe feeling as though she had to keep up contact. So the next time our conversation started to get dry I told her it was okay if she didn't want to talk.

She got defensive and said that she liked talking to me and that she cared about me. I apologised and said that I was just feeling insecure, but she still seemed pretty upset about the whole thing.

I don't see how she can genuinely enjoy talking to me when the conversation is completely one-sided, but maybe I've misinterpreted the situation. Perhaps she would prefer phone calls? It's also almost always her that starts up a conversation, which is making me question what I said to her even more. I don't know, I just feel guilty and confused now.

So, AITA?

#aita #am i the asshole

[kiryoutann]

Before reading, please check series masterlist to read the warning(s), disclaimer, and to make sure you’re on the right chapter. Minors do NOT interact.

WHEN YOU WERE A CHILD, the world was a small, uncomplicated place. Mom and Dad don't have much money to travel abroad and their jobs only allow for little leisure, so the furthest vacation spot is a beach four hours' drive from your home city. School fills your days with lessons, friends, and the promise of weekend sleepovers. Every day, you stroll down the same street and greet your neighbors by name. Happiness was as close as your mother's freshly baked blueberry pie.

But now? When your world becomes wider and the reach of your hand becomes longer, it seems that happiness finds further hiding places. It grieves you that childhood was too brief; that bubble of safety from the world's woes and tribulations burst before you could even appreciate it.

The five-year-old you looked in the mirror, twisting your tiny feet to see the new shoes from all angles. Despite your repeated protests that you preferred the blue one, your mother purchased the bright pink one—she said it matched her favorite dress, and mother knows best, so you don't have to bother thinking about what you wanted. You shrugged to yourself; at least it's better than your old one.

Walking down the hall, you found your father. He's not in his usual play clothes – he's dressed for work, eyes crinkling as he smiles. "My little princess, you look so pretty!"

You beamed at his praise, chubby cheeks glowing. Nothing makes your heart sing like Dad's smile. You spin around like a princess in a fairy tale, showing off your shoes by stomping gently on the wooden surface.

“Mom bought it for me. It's not blue, but I like it!”

Dad chuckled. “Well, at least she spent my money on my favorite girl.”

Your mother emerged from the kitchen, your lunch bag in hand. “I saw them on sale at the store and just knew they'd be perfect for school,” she says proudly. Your father turned to you, opening his mouth to say something but, Mother interrupted. “We'd better get going or she'll be late for class.”

Dad sighs, mumbling a “yes, I know,” and kneels to sweep you into a tight hug. Your secret handshake is special – finger guns with “pew pew” noises, then knuckles bumping before more hugs and kisses. Your mother rolled her fondly eyes. “You two are always conspiring, sharing your little secrets. Now say goodbye, Daddy has to get to work."

You dislike it when Dad has to leave for work—in fact, you prefer him to Mom. But, Mom said he had to go or else there would be no food on the table for dinner; Besides, Daddy will definitely come back home and you can play with him again. You waved, forcing a smile to look as happy as possible.

"Bye, Daddy!"

"See you soon, princess." With a wave of his hand, your father answered and vanished behind the wooden door.

As Daddy's car pulls away from the curb, you hear Mom walking over to where the car keys are kept. You take a deep breath before exhaling slowly, but that strange tightness in your chest persists—one that usually occurs when it's just Mom and you. She opened the door and told you to go to the car. You followed her in silence, eyes fixed on the pattern on your new pink shoes.

Sliding into the backseat, you peer out the window. The car engine started, and the radio played the same playlist. You watch the buildings and trees move backward. Mom glances at you in the rearview mirror and corrects you about your slumped posture, saying it's an ugly look for a young lady. You sat up straight in your chair and muttered an apology. Satisfied, your mother returned her attention to the road.

Secretly, you wish it could be your dad driving you to school instead. He's more fun, telling silly stories to make you laugh, and doesn't mind your messy crayons or clothes that don't match perfectly. Your mother always finds fault with anything that is unclean or out of place.

Looking up at the clear sky, you hope the sun will soon be above, indicating that lunchtime is approaching. Lunchtime means it's a few hours until sundown, and dinner will soon be served.  You want to quickly see Dad and hear whatever stories he has during the day—that is, if he comes home. Lately, work has been keeping him from home more and more. However, if he's too busy, then tomorrow will do—Sunday sounds fun. He never missed a Sunday with you.

The weekend comes quickly, and you can barely contain your excitement when Dad takes you to the park Sunday morning. You walk hand in hand down the busy sidewalk, you chat a mile a minute about school. Laughter and barking greeted you both.

A fluffy golden retriever catches your eye, and you tug Daddy's hand, pointing excitedly. “Can we get a puppy, Daddy? Please? I'd take such good care of it, I promise!”

Your father chuckled, then shook his head. “You know how your mother feels about furry friends making a mess in the house.”

Disappointed, you scruff your shoes in the dirt. Dad never refuses what you want, no matter how ridiculous it is, unless it contradicts Mom. Unfortunately, the majority of what you desire is always something your mother despises. You continue walking.

Then he points – an ice cream cart! “Can I have one?” You ask, only to remember. "Mom said no sweets before dinner."

Dad crouches to meet your downcast eyes. “But Mom's not here. And you and me, we're partners in crime, right? I won't tell if you won't. What do you say we keep our sweet treat just between us?”

Gasping for joy, bubbles of laughter escaped your lips. "Okay!" Dad got you cones, of course, chocolate ones, and you swung your clasped hands and gawked at all the colorful, melted options. There's no better way to spend a Sunday than taking a stroll with Dad in the sunshine.

Monday night, however, was spent with you lying in bed with a fever ravaging your little body. Through the haze, you hear raised voices carrying down the hall—Mom scolding Dad for letting you have that ice cream.

“I can't believe you disobeyed me, Peter! One ice cream and now she's sick as a dog.” Her shrill voice pierces your pounding head.

“C'mon Anna, the girl's allowed a treat now and then.” Dad's calmer rumble does little to quell your mother's fury.

“If you'd listened to me from the start, this never would've happened. But you always think you know best.” Their arguing grows more heated, and you curl into a tight ball, wishing you could disappear.

Your mother's booming footsteps grew farther away as their conversations ceased. You open your eyes. When your door creaks and you turn around, the light from the corridor peeks through a tiny opening, and your father's form fills the frame. He sits next to you with a strained, contrite expression on his face.

“Hey, honey,” he started. “I'm sorry our secret got out. Mom's just worried about you being sick.”

You try to smile, though it comes out as more of a grimace. “S’okay, Daddy.” You said, and he stroked your damp hair tenderly; concern etched deep.

“Jesus, you're burning up. How about a story to take your mind off feeling bad?”

As if on cue, you remember – “The Nutcracker, please!”

With a kind grin, your father got up to get the cherished book. He takes a seat next to you, acts puzzled as he flips through a book and clears his throat.

"Now let's see, how did this story go again?" You chuckled at his attempt to divert your attention from your fever.

Soon later, he starts reading aloud with a low, comfortable voice. Sometimes, he stumbles over long words or loses his place, but each time he simply smiles sheepishly before continuing on. His favorite part is the dialogue, as he frequently adopts a different voice to portray different characters. You find yourself entranced, following each magical adventure.

For a little while, you can forget about the uncomfortable heat covering your body and Mom's angry shouts. In these quiet moments with your father, nothing else matters but his gentle company. In this once kinder world, he is still your father and you are still his favorite daughter—his one and only. Even if getting an ice cream is what makes you sick, you would do it all over again just to share this time with him.

By the story's end, your eyelids grow heavy enough, but not quite heavy. Dad chuckled, closing the book. “Still awake, little love? You must be feeling better.”

Your lips curve into a smile, glazed eyes glistening as flushed cheeks rise. “Mom signed me up for ballet classes,” you mumble sleepily.

A gasp escaped his lips, his forehead shot upwards emphasizing the already existing wrinkles. He looked at you with irises the same color as yours. You chuckle from his reaction, but your smile fades when his features swim and blur before you like figures in a dream. His gaze was always so kind, looks darker than you recall. Stubble shadows his jaw. When he smiles now, it doesn't reach as far.

He said your name—but it sounded foreign, it felt wrong. Why can't you see him clearly anymore?

“My little princess, you’re going to be the greatest ballet dancer the world has ever seen.” You wanted to answer, to hold this moment with him forever; but heavy eyelids won the battle and ultimately dragged you down. As the darkness enveloped you, Dad's hazy face was the last thing on your mind.

Thin curtains block the dreary morning light as you begin your daily ritual of waking up. The city has just woken up below; fog still hangs on the streets of London as you pad barefoot to the kitchen, the hardwood cold under your feet.

Filling the kettle, you set it to boil and retrieve your favorite chipped mug from the shelf. Your hand reaches for a packet of instant grounds—two scoops of it go inside, followed by a splash of cream. After lifting the whistling kettle, you poured in the boiling water slowly before taking a tea spoon to stir. The sound of the drizzle striking the glass was amplified by the apartment's quiet, and a small clink! sound is added each time your spoon meets your porcelain mug.

Lifting the mug, you breathe deep its comforting aroma before taking a careful sip, sighing as warmth spreads through your body. Coffee in hand, you turn to the task of packing your bag, put the essentials: water bottle, warm up shorts, warm up sweater, leg warmers, two pointe shoes, skirts, and a pouch containing deodorant, hair spray, comb, pins , and band aids.

Feeling quite satisfied, you finish your coffee and rinse the mug before leaving it to dry. You go shower and do your skincare routine. Pulling out your clothes drawer, you retrieve the leotard and tights, sliding the familiar fabrics over still-damp limbs.

Before the full-length mirror, you start to stretch. First position – feet turned out, heels together, arms graceful at your sides. Middle split – breathe in, reach for your toes, feel the burn in your thighs. Forward fold, palms flat on the floor, spine lengthening. After feeling warmed up for the day, you slowly got up and grabbed your bag towards the door.

The city was already starting to get busy, with the hustle and bustle of commuters making their way to work. The aroma of freshly baked pastries and brewing coffee wafting through the air. You quickened your footsteps on the cobblestone streets.

When the train door opens, you rush out, clutching your bag tight. Racing up the stairs, you burst through the exit and meet the cold air from the rain. You rubbed your hands against your arms in a desperate attempt to warm yourself. Overhead, heavy clouds hung low. You set off down the sidewalk at a brisk pace.

But, as your building comes into view, you slow down—memories from last night fill your head. It was just here—under the awnings of that little café—that you first took shelter from the rain with him.

Simon. His name whispers through your mind like fog swirling around lampposts. If only the place was still open, maybe you would come in for a sweet warm drink instead of that crowded pub. Must've been nice, you think—it must've been nice to chat between sweets, enveloped in comfort that stretches time to be longer. Maybe he won't be so guarded and you'll get more than a name and a job—a promise to meet tomorrow at breakfast, for example.

Realizing you had completely stopped walking, you shook your head as embarrassment settled on your cheeks. Why do you dwell on such fantasies? Despite his kindness, Simon is just a stranger with just a name, one of many faces in this city that you will never meet again.

With a sigh, you continued your walk and disappeared behind the large doors of the opera.

The heavy doors creaked open as you pushed inside, warmth enveloping your cold body. Long hallway echoed with the conversation of the dancers who had arrived, sitting cross-legged on the cold floor while exchanging a joke or two with each other. You turn into the dressing room. Hanging up your coat, you saw a familiar sight—girls chatting and gossiping as they got ready.

You sat down at one of the dressers, placing your duffel bag at your feet. The sound of a zipper being opened sounded in the air; you bent down and reached for your pouch. Then, you pull out your trusty lip balm before applying it to your lips and gently massaging in the colorless formula.

Just then, a girl came and stopped at the door frame, panting. “It's up! The casting announcement is on the board!”

Squeals of excitement and joy were heard as they rushed to see who got what role. You hurriedly closed your balm, returned it to the pouch before getting up from the chair following the others. They had gathered at the end of the hall, jostling to see a piece of paper stuck to the board.

Air fills your lungs slowly when you inhale. It felt like your hammering heart was going to drop to your stomach as your legs started to swing. The pessimistic side of you says to turn around—why bother? It said tauntingly, you know which role you ended up having. But the hopeful side—the little girl still full of dreams stored somewhere in your ribs—insisted on peering and feeling.

As you stepped into the crowd of dancers, they turned around and some started smiling at you. One of them, Jasmine, approached you after calling your name.

“You did it! You got the role!”

As she hugged you, you scanned down the long list. Your eyes freeze on the main role. The Swan Queen. Beside it is printed in big black letters, your name. The Swan Queen.

You detach yourself from Jasmine's embrace, muttering excuses as you flee down the hall to the toilet. Step by step opening each stall to make sure the space is totally empty, you then lock yourself in one of them and sink into the closed toilet lid. Your mind is racing with a plethora of feelings as your eyes are fixed on the sections of tile plaque.

Joy, pride, disbelief... But underneath it all lies a hollow ache you can't place. Why? Isn't this what you've always wanted, to to become more than just another dancer in the group, to stop at precisely the thirteenth, and somehow take on the role of the Swan Queen—the one who shines the most on stage? Perhaps it's the self-conscious part of you, believing that the director must have made a mistake and mistook you for someone else.

Or perhaps this emptiness was once occupied by the never-ending quest for approval. In truth, that person no longer exists; you have no one left to tell this good news to. The chairs in the crowd were empty.

The cost of keeping everyone at a distance, indeed.

You clutch on your leotard, the fabric wrinkling in your tight grip. Gazing up at the ceiling and inhaling again, you make the decision to push up on unsteady legs and get out of the stall.

The hallway seems louder than before. Every footstep and whisper amplified in your mind, eyes tracking you as you pass—all judging, wondering. A flush creeps up your neck. You speed up your steps, hoping to quickly get out from under their scrutinizing gaze. However, no matter how hard you try, your ears cannot be deafened by the snatches of hushed conversation that follow.

“Can't believe they chose her; she's so soulless on stage.” Your throat constricts, and your hands are clenched into pale fists.

Claudine's piercing stare cuts through the crowd as your eyes meet. She rakes her gaze over you slowly, as if trying to decipher what the director found so special. You lowered your eyes, hurriedly passing to the safety of the empty dressing room. Grabbing your bag with shaky hands, you flee once more to the practice studio, desperate to lose their judgment.

The studio door's knob turned, and as you pushed slightly to get a glimpse inside, the hinges creaked. With the coach and pianist, the director was engaged in a serious discussion. He gives you a quick glance and gestures for you to enter.

“(Y/N), it's so wonderful to have you here. I know this role is in excellent hands with you.” His kind words did little to calm your fraying nerves, but you took the crumbs of his appreciation.

More dancers arrive behind you, their excited chatter filling the hallway. Risking a glance over your shoulder, you catch sight of familiar faces: Jasmine, Sophia, Eloise, long-faced Marie—surely she's not used to not being the main star, and you feel like you've taken her place even though you're not good enough. You swallow hard and turn back, placing your duffel bag in the studio's corner.

The director clapped his hands to get everyone's attention. “Bravo to each of you for earning these coveted roles through your talent and dedication. Now, let us begin our work to bring Tchaikovsky's magic to life for our audiences. Places everyone, we'll start from the beginning!”

Your shoulders rise as you inhale a deep breath. Swan Lake. First time becoming the Swan Queen.

Does the director know that his gaze carries a heavy weight? The more sighs he lets out, the more you suffocate, as if the air has been tainted with butane and you've reached the vertigo stage. His eyes followed your every move, but it was his lips that showed dissatisfaction. Something isn't up to his expectations, and it's not the techniques and poses your ballet teacher has been drilling you in since childhood. You are deficient in something that you are unaware of.

The director calls to a halt, praising and giving notes to the other dancers before turning to you. You brace yourself with a deep breath.

“Your technique is truly flawless as always. But I wonder, could you try injecting just a bit more... feeling?” he began. “You portray her innocence and loneliness beautifully. But what is missing is the glimmer of hope she finds in Prince Siegfried's promise to free her.”

Hope? The girl had lived most of her life as a swan; what silly hope did she still have and seek in a man? As if their hearts have the ability to keep a promise. Swan Lake wouldn't be Swan Lake without the prince declaring his love for another woman and Odette jumping off the cliff from the realization that her dreams had ended in vain. Is it not more fitting that she feels only emptiness—the result of years of loneliness leeching any warmth or longing from her soul?

You tell yourself that, if not merely to cover up your poor performance. The director is many years older than you and has directed and seen many ballets throughout his life. If anyone knows how to bring a character to life, it's him.

It begs the question, though, of whether a cursed being like her seems capable of wishing for miracles or fairy tale things like love. Can a withered flower, beaten down by countless rains, still hold the memory of the sun in its crumpled petals?

“I'll do better.” You said.

The director gives a pitying smile; you felt small beneath him. “Good.” Then raising his voice, “Well done everyone today. Let's call it a day and start again tomorrow fresh!"

Snatching up your bag, you rush towards the exit before anyone can speak to you. With your head down, you push through the doors and into the night. Breathing in trembling, you let your legs carry you down the well-known pavement. The sights and sounds of bustling London blur around you.

You shouldn't have believed that girl. You shouldn't have given that dreamy girl the chance to lead a version of herself that has grown far beyond her—because you know her judgment means nothing, just a limited view of the world through rose-tinted glasses. She is that way because a liar once said that she would make a great ballet dancer, and she stuck to it like a devoted disciple to the words of her God.

It was stupid, perhaps a misplaced self-confidence. With your every step, the negative voices in your mind grow louder, jeering relentlessly at your foolishness. This was a mistake from the start. As if you could ever do Odette justice. Best tell him you're stepping down; let Claudine or Marie have the role they deserve. Your heart is heavy, weighing you down to the floor. 

You almost pass by without noticing, but there, through the haze, glows the warm orange light of that pub. The one Simon and you ducked into that stormy night, where you shared pleasantries over pints of bitter. As you watch the door open and close for the newcomers, you halt.

You're not sure which Satan incited. But when you push open the pub door, warmth immediately envelopes you, scents of ale and smoke mingling with the bustle of chatter. A lively folk tune played on the sound system as patrons laughed together in the booths and around the bar. Steeling yourself, you approached awkwardly.

The bartender looked up, his eyes widening briefly before his lips curved into a flirtatious smile. "Well hello gorgeous, what can I get for ya?"

Warmth floods your cheeks and you shift from foot to foot. “Um, do you have anything non-alcoholic?” You said, awkward voice breaking easily. Why did you come in here again?

He raised an eyebrow but maintained a friendly smile. “Sure do, love. Give me a mo.” As he turns around to prepare your drink, you glance around helplessly.

Faces blurred in the dim light—all engaged in lively conversation. You sit alone at the bar like you're waiting for a friend while watching everyone else meet theirs. A feeling of loneliness overtakes you – what were you thinking coming here?

Bartender returns, sliding your drink across with a wink. “On the house. Let me know if you need anything else, yeah?”

Giving a mumbled thanks, you take a sip acting busy. As you sit alone nursing your drink, you believe you understand why. Deep down, beneath all the self-doubt and shame, is a glimmer of truth you loath to admit – you desperately seek companionship, if only for a moment.

And the only person close enough for you to consider a friend is a masked stranger you will never see again. That's pathetic; you're pathetic. Clinging to the irrational part to watch Simon walk through that door. He claims he's a regular here—his “I'm here often enough” seems to make you hold out for the chance of running into him again.

Twenty minutes pass in a haze, and Simon still hasn't appeared. Maybe he's not a regular after all. You finally glance at your phone—it's time for your usual subway.

Signaling the bartender, you place some cash on the bar as a tip. “Thanks again,” you murmur, then gather your coat and slip out into the chill night.

“Sorry,” you mumble when you bump into a figure about to enter.

“No worries, love,” a British-accented voice replies smoothly, and you glance up, thinking it's someone. A stranger—tall, broad shoulders, but not Simon. Perfectly coiffed hair and skin as smooth as porcelain. He shot a charming smile at you. “Off somewhere?”

Instantly on alert, your eyes start looking for a way to get away from him. “Just heading home, thanks.”

Making a sidestep, his arms extended to block your path. Your mind's alarm goes off. His gaze burned as it swept over you, lingering in places it had no right to be before he licked his lips. You felt a cold sweat run down your back.

“Don't be like that, darling. I just want to chat. Buy you a drink, maybe?” His smile grows, and the sick glint in his eyes shows how much it amuses him to see you trembling.

“Sorry, I—”

“I believe the lady said she’s not interested, mate.”

A gruff, familiar voice cuts through the haze. You whip your head around to see Simon standing there. His face is half obscured by his black mask, but you'll recognize that steel gaze everywhere. For some reason, your heart gradually calms down in your ribs.

“And who the fuck are you?” the other asked angrily, puffing up his chest. A daring move, you think. His too-tight t-shirt reveals his consistent gym muscles, but if Simon is his opponent, you can be sure he's no match.

“Just not a fan of creeps harassing women. Now do yourself a favor and fuck off before I make you.” Simon threatened.

The color drains from the guy's face when he sees Simon's seriousness. He walked away, swallowing his wounded pride with a huff. The pressure recedes from your rigid frame as you watch the figure leave before turning to Simon.

"You hurt at all?" he asked, doing a scan of you to check for himself.

You shake your head, then manage a shaky “No, I'm fine. Thank you.”

Simon looked at you, then looked behind you towards the pub. When he turns back to you, his eyebrows raise slightly questioningly.

“You were in there your own?”

The warmth from his question traveled across your cheeks, striking a contrast with the night breeze. You didn't dare to meet his eyes, choosing to settle on your shoes instead. Despite having come here just to meet him, feeling under his judgment is like getting a shot of adrenaline into your legs—so much so that you want to run to get away from him.

“I, um…” Words fail you beneath your embarrassment.

How pathetic you must look—a lone girl nursing a drink with no companions, seeking solace in other people's conversations. You can't, however, just reveal your total lack of friends. Your mind searched frantically for a convincing reason.

“Just… needed to clear my head after a long day of practice. Thought the atmosphere might help.”

Even to your own ears, the lie falls flat. You didn't know if Simon noticed. Though you're pitiful, he doesn't furrow his brow or look at you that way. He asks no questions at all, not even about poor attempts at lying, and he doesn't press people on matters they would rather leave unsaid. Simon doesn't pry; you think that's his good quality.

Simon looked up at the dark sky instead. “Getting late, this is. I'll walk you to the tube.” He nodded, gesturing down the empty sidewalk.

Thick clouds rolled low. The two of you make your way towards the subway station, passing one by one the buildings constructed from buff-colored brick. Simon is striding beside you, his long legs eating up the pavement with ease. Secretly, you steal glances at his broad figure against the lamplight. Your eyes follow the line of his shoulders under his leather jacket—the way it molds into muscular arms.

This is different from your first meeting. There's no need now for nervous small talk to fill the quiet; you're not much of a talker, and Simon also finds more peace in silence.

Simon's presence feels more companionable than awkward. Warmth bloomed in your ribs as your lips curled into a small smile before it disappeared again. You both walk in wordless sync before you become bored and break it.

“I didn't really expect to see you again.”

Simon glances down at you, his brows quirking questioningly. Did you sound ungrateful? You rush to explain. “I mean, it was all like a chance thing, running into each other like that. Figured it was just... a one-time thing, you know?”

He thought about your words for a moment. “Funny how things work out sometimes.”

Up ahead, the glow of the station sign begins to appear. You bit the inside of your cheek as you slowly slowed down your pace, but you made sure it was unnoticeable. Your journey's end draws near, but you hope this togetherness can last longer.

Summoning your courage, you try, “Were you meeting someone at the pub? Before…” Your words trail off, but he seems to understand.

“Nah, wasn't meeting anyone,” he said casually. “Just fancied a drink, is all.”

You nodded, acting satisfied, but actually feeling a little disappointed. It seemed that he was in fact a frequent visitor, coming and going on any given evening; it was just for a drink, like before he met you. Meanwhile, you cling to the prospect of another chance to meet like a lifeline. As the station came into full view, your eyes fell, brewing more embarrassment and desperation in your stomach. Maybe he has someone waiting for him. What were you thinking, letting yourself hope?

Yet, though small, the rebellious part of you refuses to let this end.

"What do you usually drink?" You ask again, grasping for any excuse to extend your time, no matter how little.

“Bourbon,” he replied gruffly. “Kentucky, usually. Good drop.”

Twenty-three years old, but this discussion is still foreign territory for you. Your fingers can count the few times you've tasted alcohol—each occasion marred by your mother's voice in your head, warning of its evil. It's rather comical, considering how it once became her loyal companion for several years—that damned thing became the only thing she looked for after coming home from work and gulping it down flat on the living room sofa to dull her broken heart. You cannot yet judge her as a hypocrite or someone who has learned from her mistakes. As if a single glass would transform you into some fallen woman. It was always all or nothing with her; there was no concept of moderation.

Such inhibitions are not for Simon, though. A man of the world who has seen and done things that you could scarcely fathom. For him, a pint after work is as regular as taking a breath.

All too soon, you reach the stairs leading down to the station entrance. Your feet stopped when he did. Turning your body to face him, you gathered your courage and looked up. His eyes meet yours, and you see him about to open his mouth behind his surgical mask. No, you can't bear to hear that final goodbye.

“Do you..” You started. “Like anything else to drink, besides bourbon? I probably have… something at my place.”

There was a change in his gaze before he returned to his usual guarded gaze. Your cheeks screamed on fire at the implication that you didn't quite mean to make. Such an invitation should be the last thing a girl like you offers to a stranger she's only met twice, particularly at this hour. To your defense, though, he's now an acquaintance, and desperation influences people to do the unthinkable. The nights are getting colder and your lonely apartment won't do.

It seems that your question surprised him too. Simon scanned your face carefully before releasing the tension.

“Tea.”

When Simon replies with a single gruff word, you can't help but smile, ducking your head to hide it behind loose tendrils of hair. Lifting your eyes once more, you find him staring at you. Two people engaging in a silent game of deciphering, each trying to unravel the secrets of the other piece by piece.

“Tea,” you repeat softly, as if savoring the taste of the word.

Fingers twisting together, you steel your nerves before turning toward the stairs to lead the way down. You hear his footsteps fall solidly behind you. Not daring to look back out of fear that this dream will shatter, you mentally urge your feet faster.

At the platform's edge, mist curls between the rails like grasping fingers. Simon was standing right next to you. Slowly, the lights of an approaching train emerge, growing brighter by the second. With a weary hiss, the sliding doors open in front of you in welcome. You turned to Simon, then stepped aboard, and he followed, as you already knew.

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[a-french-coconut]

Solangelo

His day begins wonderfully.

Truly, it's one of those days where you wake up and think :

Nothing can go wrong !

And for two minutes, nothing goes wrong !

He doesn't stub his toes on the bathroom counter, his hair decided to cooperate on this fine day and the sun doesn't burn his eyes when he gets out in the open air.

Then, he sees Kayla an Austin trying, and failing horribly, to hang an enormous bander on Apollo's porch.

For one second, he is left in utter incomprehension as of why they would hand a sign saying Hyppe Bathdirt Will !

Then, to his grand horror, the bright orange letters makes a lot more sense when they spell Happy Birthday Will !

It's August 23rd.

Will's sixteenth birthday.

And Nico doesn't have a single gift to present to his boyfriend tonight.

Nor does he have a romantic date planned out, no fancy restaurant, not even a picnic on the beach.

"Nico !"

Kayla screams his name, making with her hand the universal sign of get over here.

One he can't ignore considering the bow hanging loosely on the girl's shoulder.

He has learned the painful way Kayla doesn't take too well being ignored.

But it's no problem, he's a demigod who fought two wars, survived Tartarus, he's capable of making a plan, of thinking rationally. He can still get Will a gift, doesn't have to be something big or shiny. It can be flowers or a box of chocolates.

What flowers does Will like ?

What kind of chocolates does he eat ?

Knowing him, he could eat the plainest almond chocolate or a specific pistachio with rose petals and lavender flavored one.

He had seen his boyfriend gulp down a raw egg yolk, claiming its "protein values.". From since, he likes to keep his mind open to any culinary gustos his boyfriend might have.

"Hey Nico, could you-"

"Help me."

"-help us ?"

Kayla drops the banner, eliciting a groan of frustration from Austin, and looks at him seriously.

"Nico Di Angelo, if you tell me on this day of all day that-"

"I forgot."

It's quite interesting to see Kayla's face reddens with anger, then slack with disbelief to finally settle in a disappointed glare.

"You've been dating for-"

"Four months, twenty-two days and five hours, I know, I keep track."

"Stop cutting me off or I'll shoot you."

"Hum, not to interrupt but Kay, we really need to put-"

"Austin," Nico cuts him off, "I am in dire need of both your assistance. Who, or what, is more important, the banner or me ?"

"The banner." The two children of Apollo answer at the same time.

First step of the plan, failed epically.

On to phase two, bargaining.

"If you help me choose a gift for Will, I'll buy you whatever you want for your upcoming birthdays."

"My birthday was two months ago."

"Yeah, and mine is like, in five months."

Phase three, the one he wanted to avoid.

"Please."

It's not that he isn't polite, he wouldn't want his mother turning in her grave, but he deems a annoying little sister like Kayla isn't worthy of his respect.

Not when she obviously takes great joy in seeing him in such a predicament.

One he caused himself, but that's not the point here.

"Okay, we'll help you." Kayla relents.

"For free even !" Austin adds.

They look at him expectantly, while he looks them waiting the just promised aid.

"The magic word if you may." she enquires.

"I already said it."

"The other one."

"Oh, thank you."

Kayla's face glows, while Austin, bless his gentle soul, gives him a gracious "you're welcome."

"I was thinking to get him something like flower or chocolates-"

"Boring."

"Okay... then Star Wars thingies ?"

"He already has every merch ever created."

"Flip flops ?"

"Don't feed his weird fetish of flip flops, I beg of you."

"Hum, lipgloss ?"

"Now you're just out of ideas." Kayla cackles, "and nice to know Will's lips are as chapped as they look. He thinks that because dad is the sun, we are immune to it. And he's the doctor. A miracle everyone is still alive."

"My preference for Will's lips are no concern of yours," He replies, cheeks slightly red. "And don't talk bad about him on his sacred day."

"It's not like he can hear me."

"Where did you even sent him ?"

He should have known something was missing when Will didn't barge in his cabin, pulling open the curtains like the psycho he is, always ranting about how he needs more vitamin D.

"He's in New York the whole day," Austin pipes up, "he's spending his birthday with his mother and then we will celebrate together tonight."

"Which means I have the rest of the day to find him a gift."

"Yep, open to suggestions ?"

"That is literally what I asked of you. Tell me, Kayla, do you perhaps miss a few braincells ? That would explain a lot of things."

"At least my remembering my boyfriend's birthday date cells are working."

"Okay, stop fighting you two." Austin intervenes, placing himself between the both of them. "I think you should get him something that remind him or your couple. It would be a sweet gift, right ?"

"What he said."

"I'm keeping that in mind, thank you Austin, and Kayla, for your assistance."

"You're welcome, now come one Kayla, we really need to hang that thing..."

Something related to their couple...

What could symbolise their relationship, the love they feel for each other ?

Better to have other ideas if inspiration doesn't come.

"What's on your mind, Nicolas ?"

"Don't call me that, Stoll."

"Only if you guess which one I am." The son of Hermes leans on him, looking at him expectantly.

"Connor, now get off me."

"Nothing could have prepared me to this betrayal-"

"So you're Travis, get off me."

"-from a such close friend, who I have known for years-"

"Aren't you supposed to be in college ?"

"-and still doesn't recognise- oh yes but this my best friend's birthday !"

Travis hugs Nico, ignoring the his protests.

"He's turning sixteen ! I remember when he was a small, fray child, such an easy victim !" He sighs, shaking his head, "they grow so fast, don't they ?"

"Mmmhh !"

"What ? Oh sorry, there you go."

He lets him go, Nico putting two good meters between them to avoid any kind of other physical attempts.

"What are you getting him ? Must be something nice !"

"That's the problem, hum, I don't have anything."

Travis' face falls.

"But-" he stutters, "you're his boyfriend !"

"I know !" Nico snaps, "I know and that' why I need to fix this."

"Do you have any ideas ?"

"Austin and Kayla think that I should gift him a present related to our relationship."

"That's a good idea !" Travis' face brightens.

"But I don't know what, yet."

"Oh..."

"Yeah..." Nico mumbles, twisting nervously his skull ring.

"Ooooh" Travis says, excited, " I know the perfect gift !"

"What it is ?"

"A motorbike !"

"Travis..."

"It's perfect ! And he already know how to drive, we used to do races in his grandpa's farm fields and he loved them !"

"There's no way I'll find a bike in less than twenty four hours."

"No, but I can ask Nyssa to build one," Travis shrugs, "she'll have it ready before sundown."

"Tell her that I owe her." Nico screams to Travis as he sprints toward the forges.

---------------------------------------

"Shhh ! He's coming !"

"Yeah , I see him."

"Is he glowing ?"

"Obviously, Lou Ellen, he just spent the whole with his mother, who he adores."

"Shut up Travis."

"Make me-"

"If you two ruin this surprise, I'll send you to my father right now."

"So grumpy, and it's not a surprise. Have you not seen the gigantic banner ? By the way, why is it not on Apollo's cabin like it was supposed to ?"

"We had complications."

"That's slight way to say that you didn't want to help me, Kayla."

"Don't listen to Austin, Travis, he's lying."

"Everybody close their dam mouths ! He's getting closer."

"I understood that reference."

"And I understood that reference."

"Gods give me strength."

When they hear Will's footsteps passing their hiding place, Cecil mouths to the group a countdown.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY WILL !" They all scream while standing up to hug Will, who is effectively glowing.

"Guys, you really didn't need to do all of this." His boyfriend says, cheeks a bright red.

"Nonsense Willy !"

"Travis ! You came !"

"Everything for my best friend."

They hug, Will laughing at something Travis whispers in his ear before his gaze falls on Nico.

The way his face lights up, a beautiful smile gracing his features, makes Nico's heart pound faster, skeletons butterfly flying in his stomach.

"Nico !"

Will's hugs are the warmest embraces Nico ever felt, they're comforting, heart-warming, familiar now.

Even so, he never gets tired of them.

"Happy birthday, amore mio." He whispers in his ear.

After lot of embarrassing stories, Travis being the main reason of that, and new created memories, it's finally time to open the presents.

Austin and Kayla gave Will a charm bracelet, with customised charms relating different stories the three of them shared.

Drew offered him a very nice sweater, something about she can't have friends wearing only flannels and cargo shorts.

Travis' gift was a photo album, enchanted by Lou Ellen so that the pictures were alive, going from their childhood to today.

Finally, it's Nico's turn.

"I actually have two gifts for you."

"So thoughtful of you." Will smiles, looking at him fondly.

"The first one is Travis' idea though."

"Yeah, you can thank Nyssa later too."

"What did you- oh by Apollo !"

He has to say, Nyssa did a wonderful job.

The motorbike is gleaming, freshly painted and even though Nico has no knowledge of bikes, he can see that it is a true beauty.

"This is amazing !" Will swoons over the bike, "I can't wait to get my licence to drive it !"

"You know, technically you don't need-"

"Travis, I'm going to get my licence."

"If you insist."

Will rolls his eyes before looking back at Nico.

"Thank you, love, this is a wonderful gift."

Nico's throat goes dry, nervousness jolting his body.

"I have to warn you, the second gift is, hum, well, I'm afraid you might find it too intensive."

"Nico," Will takes his hands, "nothing from you is too intensive."

"Then here you go."

He takes out of his pocket a little box and opens it.

Two matching rings, one golden and the other black, are inside. On the metal is engraved "I love you".

Will's breath hitch and Nico is afraid to have gone too far.

"I know this is a big gesture-"

Will kisses him, a light kiss since they have a public but Nico feels the passion behind it, the underlying love and affection Will holds for him.

"I love them", his boyfriend softly says, putting on his ring, "I love you too Nico di Angelo."

"Oh my gods, did they just get engaged ?"

"Cecil, please shut up."

Will laughs, his cheerful laugh that you can't help but join and soon, sounds of joy and happiness echo in the night as they party the whole night.

"How did you get the harpies to leave us alone ?" Will asks Travis, contently seated next to Nico, an arm around his waist.

"I'm full of surprises."

"He volunteered to help them the whole week in kitchen duty."

"Cecil ! Stop spilling my secrets !"

#percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #percy jackson #heroes of olympus #will solace #travis stoll #drew tanaka #camp half blood #lou ellen blackstone #cecil markowitz #nico di angelo #solangelo #apollo cabin #kayla knowles #austin lake

[sneeb-canons]

heart is the lowest-empathy of the bunch. he gets caught up in his own emotions, no time for anyone else's. if someone else is upset when it's happy, it'll be annoyed at them. if someone else is happy when it's upset, it'll... also be annoyed at them. it's an involuntary response, sometimes he feels bad about it later. usually he doesn't. whether or not he acts on it depends on how pissedoff he is

mind is the highest-empathy, by some counts; she is the most capable of properly understanding others' feelings, but what she decides to do with that information varies. they generally (try to) remain composed, of course.

soul doesn't know what an empathy is. has considered herself low empathy in tthe past due to not really reacting to others pain with much more than 'uhm. Awkward!!..." but also cannot bring himself to kill an ant in his shower because it Feels Bad despite threatining the other two's lives as, yknow, a major point of the loop so?? who even the fuck knows. Not them certainly (just like me fr)

theyre all also alexythemic as shit. they rarely know how they feel unless the emotion is very powerful and even then it's basically either 'Good' or 'Bad' with little recognition for nuanced tones--with the exception of anger, which they feel clearly and distinctly.

that even applies to heart, of course! must suck being an incredibly emotionally driven person who cannot distinguish their emotions (minus anger and spite, of course) to save their life. not like i would have any experience with it. haha. slowly turns to the camera

On a slightly lighter note, uhh

i have a special interest in rain world so. they all get to be rw fans. yayayayay.

[rain world spoilers from here on out LOL sorry.brainrotting]

mind mains spearmaster, and has probably actually speedrun their campaign once or twice. big into movement tech. once wanted to make her own region mod but couldn't come up with any interesting ideas and eventually gave up. sees themself in five pebbles in a 'recognition of the self in the other (derogatory)' way, but would never admit to it.

heart mains artificer. has claimed to relate to them, mind told him that this is what some might call a 'red flag'. has several really cool region mod ideas but no lediting skills, alas. a lore guy more than a tech guy. despite not knowing much in the way of movement, is a force to be reckoned with in arena mode. also relates to pebbles, but in a slightly different way

soul mains rivulet (gotta go fast!) and genuinely cried when getting their ending with moon. tends to prefer vanilla to downpour, but has an attachment to each individual downpour campaign (it's complicated). ascension supporter. out of all of them, i think soul is the most likely to actually engage with the fandom. saint kinnie, because of fucking course they are /silly

Headcanon #602

#chonny jash #submission #cj mind #cj heart #cj soul #chonnys charming chaos compendium #i have never played rainworld however the rest seems interesting tho!!!

[ripleylove]

Daring woman.

pairing: Rhea Ripley x fem reader.

genre: angst

summary: Rhea, even after a long period of getting to know each other,still didn't open her heart to you,her old and indifferent behaviour taking the best of her,but you still fought for her.

A/N: based off this song below! Listen to it to get all the feelings 🤭

⋆ ˚｡⋆𔓘⭒๋࣭

You were heavily interested in Rhea,and you could tell she was too.

So why isn't she smiling to you? Why is she cold only to you?

Was it because she was afraid of falling for you,so she closed herself in her own shell?

That was her charm: her cold and closed off demeanour has always been attractive to you,and you weren't afraid to often do the first move or to express your interest in her.

Her indifferent tone and gaze sparked a fire within you,a fire of determination, that motivated you to get to know better,wanting to feel her love and affection.

For example, some weeks ago,you invited her to go out for a walk,and during said walk,her shoulders were almost heavy,as if she couldn't have her feelings bottled up anymore.

When you were walking in front of her,guiding her through all of the busy people on the street,you could feel her gaze burning your head.

Even while your hands were almost touching,she didn't utter a single word,and to break the ice (and mostly to show how much you care about her) you offered her a meal,going to a restaurant she preferred.

But that didn't really break the ice,like,at all.

Why was she behaving like this?

In the past few days,she didn't call you or text you,and you believed that if you didn't text her or call her she wouldn't bother to do it on her own.

You wanted her to tell you how she feels,that she wants you to be her woman,that she waited a long time to have you for any reason and that her heart desired you.

If you would speak first,telling her about your feelings,would you lose?

You knew you were inexperienced in this whole relationship thing,you knew that you were young,but that didn't stop you from longing for her more that anyone.

She didn't,she wouldn't,understand you: always disinterested in any of your hobbies or any of the things you told her,and you were starting to think that the whole pushing-away thing was being done on purpose,just like her blunt way of speaking and her indifference.

You knew she had real feelings for you,like you have for her,and you also knew that she would never come to you and tell you that she wanted you for herself.

You were like a little flower and Rhea was the water: you couldn't stand living without her in any universe or in any life.

You hoped she didn't have already a lover and that she wasn't actually hiding that from you.

At the beginning of this whole thing,you asked her that,and she declined: you were the only one she was talking to,and you believed her.

Sometimes it looked like it's a lie though, it looked like she loved to have many women behind her,courting her.

But you always believed otherwise,because she's actually a woman who doesn't easily give her heart to anyone,keeping it protected until she could.

One day you asked her:"What do you think of me?"

"Nothing."

That was her only answer. Her honey-like deep voice said that hurtful word so gracefully,that you almost didn't notice the way she said that: boringly and thoughtlessly.

This,and many other moments,didn't let you sleep at night,forcing you to toss and turn in your bed,phone in your hand with her whatsapp contact open,writing and deleting many messages you wanted to text her.

You kept fighting for her,you were bold,

you were a daring woman.

taglist: @stellakiddsblog @bibibi-tchx @p-mp @teenagedramaqueenlisa

#rhea ripley #italian moment #rhea ripley x reader #rhea ripley imagine #rhea ripley oneshot #rhea ripley angst #Cooked with this one

[yanderes-galore]

hello hello, may I request a Jolyne Cujoh concept? :3

Man I love girly sm.... Sorry for the long wait!

Yandere! Jolyne Cujoh Concept

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Clingy behavior, Stalking, Violence, Jealousy, Blood, Threats, Overprotective behavior, Delusional behavior, Dubious companionship/relationship.

From what I've seen/remember of her, Jolyne would have two different dynamics.

I imagine around her darling she's submissive and clingy.

She thrives off attention from her obsession.

Any attention will do, too.

She cares deeply for her obsession, often becoming very receptive to you.

However, Jolyne can be cruel and determined.

She may be affectionate and caring with her obsession, but she can just be mean to others at times.

There's times in the manga/anime where she's just savage as she goes through her part.

She's fun-loving, extroverted, and always wants to help...

Yet can easily sabotage others with her Stand.

She no doubt considers her obsession as part of her close friend group in prison.

Regardless on if you're new here or not, she's quick to judge your character and make you her obsession.

Jolyne does seem like she'd be obsessed fast once she deems you as an ally. Not Anasui fast, but fast.

She's interesting due to how fast she can go from genuinely affectionate to masking.

For example, if an inmate or guard is causing trouble for you, Jolyne sabotages them quickly with Stone Free.

She'd do downright anything to impress you, too.

I feel she's similar to Josuke and Johnny (maybe even Giorno) when it comes to that.

She just wants your attention on her.

She'd straight up knock someone messing with you down using Stone Free before going to coo at you, asking if you're okay and not bothered.

In private she definitely threatens other inmates.

For example, maybe she's jealous of your cellmate for having more time around you?

She'd be cruel enough to make that cellmate a target.

She doesn't seem like she's a yandere most of the time.

She's clingy and judging of others at times, yet usually so nice with you.

She plays off her darker behavior well, the first few times she's caught make her nervous...

But she just learns from her mistakes and hides it more.

She's always all smiles with you.

I imagine Jolyne is easily jealous and hates it when her obsession ignores her.

She never leaves your side and often hates it when she has to part from you.

If you refuse to acknowledge her presence then she pouts and steps in front of you.

There's times she's impatient and snappy with both you and others.

But immediately apologizes to you.

She believes her obsession is a good person no matter what.

These thoughts can be genuine or delusional depending on the type of person you are.

Jolyne wouldn't be very forceful with her obsession.

She's fine as long as you pay attention to her and would do just about anything for it.

It's shown in her part that she's not afraid of killing others due to what she's gone through.

She'd use it as a last resort but she's capable.

She prefers just to use sabotage or non-lethal violence, similar to her father.

Jolyne seems like she'd be unable to take her hands off you.

I mean as in hugs and maybe more depending on her intentions.

She'd want to protect you in the prison you're both trapped in and maybe even break you out with her.

Oh, speaking of which, you being in the prison makes escape harder.

You can't leave, you're stuck with her, and she's enjoying every second of it.

Jolyne's overall behavior teeters between submissive and intimidating.

She knows how to get you to like and trust her, but she also knows how to keep others away from you. She's a no-nonsense type of person.

You're the only one she acts clingy with and lets her guard down fully with.

Unless you betray that trust, you don't want to do that....

She knows how to get you to listen by just acting cute around you.

However, just because she acts tame doesn't mean she's harmless.

She can be just as bad as her father, Jotaro, at times.

Sometimes she may even lose her patience around you and snap.

She's quick to correct herself.

She's manipulative even when she doesn't mean it.

She just can't help it but follow you around the prison.

Enemy Stand Users are bad news, yeah?

So... she just can't leave you alone.

Which leads her to "stalking" you (she doesn't see it as that, of course).

Why are you even worried about her getting into fights?

People die in prisons all the time.

She always tells you they're going to harm you if she's not around.

Guards can take advantage, inmates could mug you...

Your best option is with her, right?

Jolyne will never harm you.

She's overbearing, but swears to only help you.

At some point in this place... the blood on her hands doesn't matter anymore.

Jolyne can tell you she means well and adores you all she wants...

But you're still trapped here with her with no form of escape possible.

#yandere jojo #yandere jjba #yandere jojo's bizarre adventure #yandere jolyne cujoh

[angy-grrr]

I keep seeing people worried abt potential Iz/ch but like. We know that he probably wanted to talk about the same thing they did at the cliff, and she will keep thinking about Toga.

Yeah, for a second I also got slightly worried -bc yk, heterosexuality can just happen at any moment-, but after reading it all it doesn't look romantic at all. At least to me.

I am going to use this ask as an excuse to discuss the leaks under the cut, elaborating on this too

This chapter, to me, looks like Izuku is considering what means for him to be a hero himself, and if he even gets to be called that.

He is really... reflecting, if we pay attention to his facial expressions. After that student who used to had Aizawa-sensei as her teacher says she realized she really wants to be a hero after dealing with his "pranks", he is contemplative, maybe thinking about what he believes a hero should do -and if he fulfilled that role.

Ochako is the person who opened up about her complicated feelings towards a villain -while keeping to herself her admiration for certain things-, and probably he wanted to know more about her fight/confrontation. Because Uraraka interrupts him to comment on his hair, they probably haven't talked during their time in the hospital -idk about medical stuff, but im pretty sure he already went thru the operation and had his head shaved in chapter 424, that's why im guessing they were more focused on healing physically than meeting each other.

Because of this, I believe Izuku doesn't know what happened between her and Himiko, and because she probably isn't as relevant for the public as AFO, the end could also be unknown to him, including Ochako's thoughts. But after seeing how she is all okay apparently, chatting like nothing happened just like most of them... he probably felt more alone.

I can't confirm what he feels bc, well, he doesnt say it. Izuku just looks to me like he is looking for someone who could understand his goal of saving a villain, and how it could hurt failing, even if you are glad everyone is okay, but the only people who were open about it -Ochako, who also was focused on stopping and saving a villain who is "not related" to her, and Shoto, who wanted to save his villain brother- don't seem to want to talk about it with him. Like they can move on into other things.

Uraraka seems fine, idk what that says about Himiko's fate -I'm hoping she is okay and we'll get to see it later-, and Todoroki directly says it... is he alone in this? Is he a bad hero bc he couldn't save Shigaraki fully, or because he's stuck in that moment?

This chapter doesnt go against the idea I expressed here -it was a promise to themselves, and he expected Ochako to tell him about the aftermath and the internal conflict of being a hero that saves villains, just like before. But now, Ochako isn't opening up to him, she is keeping it light, and he doesnt want to be a burden.

Izuku rn is isolating himself bc he isn't being vulnerable with others first -the only people he is like that is All Might, and slightly Katsuki because he can't just lie to their faces. Before, both Shoto and Ochako were the ones who would spill their feelings to him, and he expected to be able to also be honest in return -but not being the first one. If he starts it, he risks making others feel sad, angry or down for things they might not even think about, so he prefers to shut up and keep it to himself.

Him and Katsuki... is complicated, because with his feelings he ends up pushing Izuku to places he might not be comfortable with -for example, expressing his admiration and closeness to the point of being nasty and inappropriate, and not hating it bc they are parts of Kacchan. He doesn't feel like he can say that, yet Katsuki makes him see those sides of him instead of focusing on other practical things.

Izuku is a clueless character, who prefers to put others' happiness over his own, and feels conflicted over his fight with Shigaraki. He is the definition of the bad at feelings tag. When he looks for support in the people he knows could be in the same position, and start the conversation for him -give him permission to express his thoughts- he finds they are doing okay. They are not lost, confused, or stuck. They look... fine.

But he is not okay.

Making that moment just an izu///ocha moment... idk, I think that takes a lot from their characters and from Shigaraki and Himiko, like the villains are just tools to make them a couple.

#grrr talking #bkdk #dkbk #togaocha #ig??? #i dont want to elaborate a lot on togachako rn as I need to see more of ochako n what could have happened #also I love how its June in their world too lol happy pride month everyone #bnha spoilers #bakudeku #using this tag so the antis can't find the post